It ain't no sweet thing, the toll of the bell ...

Well, this is unexpected - gobsmacking, even.

You may recall that some time ago, in the Gnome Thoughts series about David Bowie's early influences, I briefly alighted on the Myles Rudge and Ted Dicks song Toll the Bell For Minnie Dyer, recorded by Kenneth Williams on the album For Pleasure Bent with an arrangement by Baz Booth.

The song can be heard on Mr Booth's own website but tonight I searched youtube to see whether a higher-fi version might have been uploaded there. The answer is no - at least, not as recorded by Kenneth Williams.

New David Bowie musical

I was surprised - no, make that gobsmacked - to learn that there are plans to fashion a stage musical out of David Bowie's Deram era songs. While I'm very fond of many of these whimsical or bizarre numbers and would be delighted to be proven wrong, I can't help thinking that the idea is destined to fail: Sister Josephine Kicks the Habit all over again.

Ashes to Cinder Koala Bears on Ice (it's complicated)

Leafing through a copy of Chris O'Leary's book Rebel Rebel in Foyles in Charing Cross Road a few years ago, I felt a surge of what can only be described as Pooterish dismay.

Will new Bowie documentary mention Alan Klein?

Advance publicity for Finding Fame, a documentary about David Bowie's early years, promises newly unearthed material; the enterprise has even been injected with an element of jeopardy by a question mark over whether a particularly fragile piece of videotape, not included in preview copies of the programme, will be restored in time for the scheduled UK broadcast on BBC 2 on the 9th of February.

It will undoubtedly be worth watching either way but I note that at least one reviewer has already mentioned that "the significant role played by ’60s manager-mentor Ken Pitt in Bowie’s development is largely overlooked", so I'm guessing that the answer to the question posed in the title of this piece is likely to be no.

Pitt is the obvious link between Bowie and Alan Klein, whose album Well At Least Its [sic] British was released on Decca in 1964, and there is a strong case to be made for Klein as an influence on David Bowie's approach to songwriting, particularly on his first album.

For those unaware of Alan Klein I will try to sum up his importance both to Bowie and to the development of British pop generally - but if you're already confused at this early stage perhaps I need to point out that the Beatles' sometime manager was Allen Klein.

Waterloo Sunset performed by Ray Davies at Olympics Closing Ceremony

Waterloo Sunset was the highlight of the Olympics' Closing Ceremony for me. Not sure how much the surrounding acrobatics, nor the (literal) flagwaving added to the song, but that's not really the point: it's an anthem, and it was great to see it being celebrated.

Gnome Thoughts ... 37 (Over the Wall We Go)

There hasn't been much to add to this series of posts about Bowie's early influences lately, but idly looking through post 16, about the original version of My Old Man's a Dustman (you can read it here), I suddenly remembered where I'd heard the term "nana" used on a record before, namely a composition by one ... David Bowie.

Stands back in amazement, as Eddie Large (ne McGinnis) used to say. Actually, the version I heard, on BBC Radio 2's Sounds of the Sixties a while back, was actually by Oscar (aka Paul Nicholas), embedded below, alongside what sounds like a pretty rough demo version by Bowie.

The arrangement on the Paul Nicholas recording is brassy and bouncy, calling to mind Quincy Jones's This is the Self Preservation Society, though I'm not sure, and can't be bothered to check, which came first..

While it would be a cheap gag to describe the "Oscar" version as winning, there is one detail which I can't resist pointing out as further evidence of what can only be termed intertwangularity in these posts. There is a direct  quotation from Spike Milligan's Wormwood Scrubs Tango produced by George Martin: we hear a prisoner who is desperately attempting to file the bars exhort the musicians, who've suddenly stopped: "Keep it up lads - another chorus and we're out."

Trouble is, that explicit invitation to compare this song with the material Martin produced for Peter Sellers or Spike Milligan in the fifites does show up the limitations of Master Jones's composition.

Gnome Thoughts ... 34 (The first rock'n'roll record?)

This series started as an exploration of David Bowie's early influences ("Gnome" as in The Laughing Gnome) but has drifted some way from its moorings: in recent posts about rock'n'roll's impact on fifties Britain, Bowie has been mentioned only in passing.

But then again - and do correct me if I'm wrong - the country's denizens in that decade did include one David Robert Jones, born in 1947. And according to wikipedia, as with Alan Charles Klein (b.1940) and so many others, Master Jones's musical epiphany occured in the magical year of 1956, even though he was only nine at the time:

Gnome Thoughts ... 19 (Reasons to be Cheerful, Lipstick on Your Collar, Joe Brown)

Further musical connections, presented in more fragmentary a form than usual; an explanation will be furnished for the above image in due course.

Engaged in the happy task of buying books for work for work on Thursday, I chanced upon a tome entitled Desert Island Lists. Yup, it did what it said on the tin: several decades' worth of the choices made by Plomley's guests.

On the offchance, I skimmed the index for Alan Klein: nope.

But Lionel Bart was there, and one of his choices was ... Peter Seller's Lonnie Donegan-style rendition of Any Old Iron.

Did that collision of things American and English - skiffle and music hall - help inspire Fings Ain't Wot They Used T'Be? Listening to it again (post 15, here), it rocks, however comical the intent. Which brings to mind Dave Marsh's summary of the Diamonds' cover of Little Darling (quoted way back in the Doowop Dialog[ue] here): a recording "as exciting as it is insincere."

On Friday I saw Reasons to Be Cheerful (above), a new musical featuring the songs of Ian Dury, at Theatre Royal, Stratford East - yes, the very same stage where the Fings ... mob and Alan Klein's characters in What a Crazy World first strutted their stuff. I'm not going to give a detailed review of it here except to say that it was a joyous occasion: the theatre is the right size to make musicals seem intimate, not overpowering.

Gnome Thoughts ... 15 (Myles Rudge and Ted Dicks alert)

This is to alert readers that a programme about the writers of Bernard Cribbins' comedy songs, Myles Rudge and Ted Dicks, is going to be broadcast on BBC Radio 7 on Tuesday 19th October at 2.30pm if you're in the UK. And even if you're not, Radio 7 has a Listen Again facility for one week.

Don't bother clicking (or, armed with this new knowledge, refrain from further clicking of) the above image, which is a screengrab. Instead, go to the relevant BBC 7 page here, where it should be available on the BBC iplayer soon after the broadcast.

I'll be very interested to hear the programme, as I don't know much about the writers (Rudge is on the right, above), although I do remember reading Noel Coward praising one of the Cribbins hits on Desert Island Discs.

Gnome Thoughts ... 14 (Alan Klein: corrections & clarifications)

Consider this post a Guardian-style Corrections and Clarifications column for earlier entries, as this is the first opportunity I've had to read the sleevenotes for the Well At Least Its British and New Vaudeville Band CDs.

Most of the information below, including direct quotations from Alan Klein, comes from these sources; Kieron Tyler and Mark Frumento are the respective writers.

First of all, the friend with whom Klein toured Europe before turning professional wasn't necessarily George Bellamy (above): Klein formed his "country and western duo" with Bellamy after the season at Butlins where the Tornado-in-waiting had been the guitarist with the Al Kline Five, though I suppose they could have been friends before that. And I note the pair played folk as well as country - which helps to explain the range of styles on Well At Least Its British:

Success seemed assured: appearances on the BBC's Saturday Club and billings with Alma Cogan and David Whitfield meant George and Alan [as the duo were called] were on their way.

But Klein eventually "had enough of interpreting the transatlantic sound and split from George," so it would seem that What a Crazy World was the result of his disenchantment with playing rock'n'roll at Butlins and country music with George Bellamy- plus a hefty dose of irritation with the charts:

Everything was so Americanised. All the hit records were covers of American songs.

Gnome Thoughts ... 12 (Damon Albarn on Alan Klein)

Have just come across the original context for Damon Albarn's remark about Alan Klein's influence - a 1995 article in Q magazine about Well At Least Its British, reproduced on a Blur forum:

This is the most colloquial record that I own. I discovered it quite by accident about five years ago in a charity shop, and it was instrumental in me making Modern Life Is Rubbish, and changing, and getting an idea of my own self.

Gnome Thoughts ... 11 (Well At Least Its British)

And so to the the holy grail of this series about David Bowie's influences: Well At Least Its British, Alan Klein's 1964 solo album. (Find details of the CD release with extra tracks on the RPM website here.)

That may overstate the case - I don't know whether Bowie has ever actually credited him as an inspiration - but as mentioned earlier Klein had the same manager (Ken Pitt), and Damon Albarn has said of him: "I can’t believe that David Bowie didn’t know him inside out, and the same with Ray Davies." 

So he's worth consideration, at least - and as there isn't much about the album already out there, this post could even be something of a public service.

But the big question is: now that I've had a chance to hear it, does Well At Least Its British provide the key to unlocking those early Bowie songs?  Or failing that, is it at all Kink-y?

Gnome Thoughts ... 9 (Ray is in the details)

This is more of a postscript to the previous two entries than a new undertaking, but worth placing separately as the ideas haven't come from me.

 Still fizzing with thoughts after the last entry, I was talking to a colleague about Waterloo Sunset and its possible influence on Bowie's songwriting. After a bit of mulling he cited Heroes - which instantly seemed obvious. It too couldn't really be described as a narrative, but it does have that image of a couple kissing which seems central to the song.

Gnome Thoughts ... 8 (Waterloo Sunset)

I must have been eight years old when I first heard Waterloo Sunset, in the year of its release, and - like just about everyone else in the world - realised it was something special.

Perhaps for a child the fact that it wasn't, strictly speaking, a love song had something to do with it, even though lovers figure in it. Certainly Davies' late friend and mentor Ned Sherrin said that was what made it unique in the pop charts of the time.

For someone growing up in Scotland, however, the song's setting was enough to suggest something magical, even if the Engerland in my head may not have swung like a pendulum do. My childish notions of the country and its capital came largely from Ealing films on the telly, all decency and community spirit, tempered by odd glimpses in police series of a modern day city seemingly awash with criminals, spies and pyromaniacs like George Cole  (below) in Gideon's Way.

Gnome Thoughts ... 7 (Bowie and the Kinks)

I've belatedly realised this series about early influences on David Bowie can't end without mention of Ray Davies and the Kinks.

Gnome Thoughts ... 6 (music hall to rock)

This series of vaguely Bowied-related musings may be coming to a natural end. Or not. But this entry has the feeling of tying  up loose ends.

One question I've been wondering was whatever has Alan Klein being doing since 1970, as wikipedia isn't any use in this respect. And why didn't he write more musicals - assuming he didn't? And why did that whole vigorous genre of Theatre Workshop musicals die out?

Gnome Thoughts ... 5 (What a Crazy, Violent Playground)

Have just found details of the 1975 Stratford East revival of What a Crazy World in which Ray Winstone (not playing the lead) made his debut. Seems like his real-life father had a touch of the Harry H Corbett character about him, as he was so unimpressed with his son's performance he advised him to "Give it up, while you're ahead".

The songlist below is taken from a theatre programme reproduced on the Ray Winstone  tribute website, copperlilly, here. Interesting to see that numbers which  were written for the film like Independence, have been retained - in fact, Winstone's character, Chas, is one of the singers.

Gnome Thoughts ... 2 (Anthony Newley, Alan Klein)

More thoughts and connections suggested themselves after I finished the previous entry.  My own fault, I suppose, for picking up Spencer Leigh's book (below) again. But it is a very enjoyable read.  Drawing on interviews with over a hundred musicians for a radio series, the story of the early days of British pop is told almost entirely through the words of the musicicans involved, and there is a mass of detail which I haven't read elsewhere. Apart from a few chapters in individual artists it's arranged by theme - US stars on tour, novelty records, early British idols (including Anthony Newley), skiffle, TV programmes, the trad boom, etc.

In between each chapter there are a few pages of archive music paper cuttings, allowing you to see less than overwhelmed initial responses to records - did you know, for example, that Love Me Do "tends to drag about mid-way, especially when the harmonica takes over for a spell"? Glad I wasn't within Lennon's orbit when that little pronouncement appeared.

Another cutting announces that Stanley "Scruffy" Dale (a devious character known to me from Graham McCann's biography of Frankie Howerd) is the new manager of Johnny Kidd and that "this should get the 'Kidd' really going places."; in the main text one of Leigh's interviewees angrily laments the way the trusting Kidd was duped by his management.

Quotations are numbered, so it's very easy to use the index of contributors to focus in on individuals such as Newley (the book was first published in 1996) and Ken Pitt. You can buy it directly from the author's website, here, rather more cheaply than through a well-known shopping website. It's not a lavish volume but it is packed with fascinating comments from a whole herd of horses' mouths.

I've already mentioned my surprise on learning from the book that Ken Pitt, Bowie's early manager, was involved in Anthony Newley's management. Going systematically through all the the contributions from Pitt and Newley has yielded further information. The difference between Anthony Newley (above, on location for Jazz Boat, 1960) and performers who "came out of that rock'n'roll chain" is spelt out by the man himself.

Gnome Thoughts from a Foreign Country (The Vintage David Bowie)

 Now here's a real oddity (no pun intended). This 1983 songbook, recently obtained for work purposes, has several previously unpublished early Bowie songs, from his self-titled first album (1967) on Decca's hip offshoot label Deram, plus a few from his second album, also known as David Bowie, otherwise Space Oddity or Man of Words, Man of Music (1969). There are a few copies of the book on the net at the time of writing. The cover of the songbook, like many of the vinyl repackagings of the 1967 material, is deliberately misleading, but who cares if you already know what you're getting?

More unfortunate, in my view, is that the songbook is split between the two albums, possibly for fear that a book's worth of novelty songs would be too unpalatable. Space Oddity apart, the earlier songs are perhaps more interesting - although not necessarily for Bowie fans. Many have a distinct music hall influence, reflecting the pop of the time - the Kinks and Barrett-era Pink Floyd - and apparently it was released on the same day as Sergeant Pepper (which rather reminds me of Dave Clark - although in fairness it may have have been Clark channelled by Mark Shipper in his spoof biog - declaring that his group's rivalry with the Beatles could only be beneficial for both sides). 

But Bowie's vocals go back earlier, aping Anthony Newley's singing style.

Canal ... plus

Before drifting away to other matters I'd like to talk about another of Ralph McTell's songs, Barges, which must have featured on that lost cassette of the Apollo concert (see previous post) as I hear it in my head as voice and guitar, unadorned.