Pop – John Vincent

It’s something to ague about. My view is that pop songs don’t have to have “official” meanings. If you listen to a song and it means something to you then there’s no point in arguing with someone else about what it means. Well, not much point other than the pure fun of it.

That doesn’t stop an argument. It’s like answers to quiz questions. There’s that strong desire to be the one with the right answer. With a song it’s not so easy to be literally right or wrong. There may be clues left by the song writers or a generally excepted interpretation. It’s not a subject to place major bets on. There’s likely to be no definitive answer.

This week, I popped into a small shop that is full of retro bric-a-brac. In one corner there’s a display of second-hand vinyl records. 45s and LPs nicely arranged in alphabetic order. I find it fascinating what’s fashionable, and thus pricy, and what’s not. This trendy little shop aims at a student market. What caught my eye is an album from the band 10cc[1] from 1976. It has a colourful fold-out album cover which is a story in of itself. It’s a real photographic artwork. And strangely profound in the age of the mobile phone. Lots of people holding telephone handsets.

“How Dare You![2]” is an immensely creative but almost incoherent jumble of wandering songs. It’s a kind of progressive rock music exposé but much more popular, in the sense of pop. And in its time, it did well for the band, giving them two charting singles from the album. It’s a 70s vinyl masterpiece that will not be entirely lost and forgotten.

10cc is part of my student history. From what I could see from the price, it’s not so fashionable with today’s students. In good condition, for £5, I was more than happy to spend my hard-earned cash. At the till, the young lad who was minding the shop took one look at the album cover and asked: do you mind if I take a photo of that? We both agreed that streaming music is fine but there’s something more satisfying about handing physical artwork like this album cover. It’s tangible. It’s real. It’s an artifact.

The most notable song on the album is “I’m Mandy, fly me”. What is known about 10cc and their song “I’m Mandy, fly me” is that it was kicked off by a National Airlines poster. Like so many American airlines, National got swallowed-up and those who swallowed them up suffered the same fate. But in the 70s they were going strong. What they will be remembered for is that one of their publicity stunts caused controversy. It’s the sort of situation that kicked-off protests and rightly so.

In the early 70s, to sell their long-haul seats National’s posters ran a slogan saying: “I’m (flight attendant’s name). Fly me.”. The sexist nature of the advertising slogan got heavily criticised. These airline posters must have been up in Manchester, UK. Enough for seeing them to inspire 10cc to write the song “I’m Mandy, fly me”[3].

What’s it about? I think it’s pure imagination. Wandering a street, seeing the poster and going off on a fanciful muse. In my view it’s not literal. There is no plane crash. The fantasy is that the flight attendant in the poster rescues the singer from the dullness of everyday Manchester. After a few moments he snaps out of it, realises that he’s been daydreaming, and life carries on.

[1] https://www.10cc.world/

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/How_Dare_You!_(album)

[3] https://genius.com/10cc-im-mandy-fly-me-lyrics

Inflation. A sign of our times. What in days gone by could be bought for a penny, now you need at least 50 pence. Coins exist for a few more years but their fate is sealed. This week, my 50p got me a 7-inch single from 1973. A flash of memory. Top of the Pops with Alvin Stardust[1] appeared like magic. It was in an unregarded box in the corner of a high street charity shop. What a delight to pick up such an important historic artifact for only 50p. A relic from my past.

With a typically glam pop music title, “My Coo Ca Choo” gave Alvin Stardust a Christmas hit in the 70s. On TV, he dressed in black leather like an imaginary Gene Vincent. Mind you, most of us kids of 1973 had no idea about 1950s rocker Gene Vincent. So, Stardust carried it off, acting out a rock-a-billy character to the delight Christmas audiences. He’ not remembered the way that Slade are remembered. To me there a connection that unique.

These threads. These recollections centre around brief and happy moments. The formidable farmhouse of my youth had more rooms than we ever used. Downstairs at the front of the house were the two square living rooms. Both with tall sash windows looking out to the South. On the one side was our everyday living room. On the other was a room that was kept for special occasions. High days and holidays. Oddly that room was called by us “New Room”.

We all decamped into the New Room for Christmas. That’s where the Christmas tree sat. That’s where the decorations went up. It took a while to get the room into a comfortable, liveable state. Most of the year it was relatively neglected. After the fireplace had been stoked up, bringing warmth, and drying out the damp outside walls, the room became the centre of our Christmas days. The “nice” sofa was pulled up to get the most warmth from the compact fireplace. Still there was plenty of space to litter the room with games, toys and torn wrapping paper.

It was the Philips company that introduced the first compact cassette recorder[2]. Until I looked it up, I didn’t know that it was as early as 1963 that the cassette first appeared. Cassettes dropped in a world dominated by vinyl records. So, the ability to record sound, without spending a pile on a reel-to-reel tape machine, was a great novelty and a lot of fun.

At first, I thought this Christmas memory was from 1973 but it couldn’t have been. It must have been 1974. That’s me at 14. Already at that age, I had a strong interest in electronic bits and pieces. My hobby was finding out how things worked. Often testing them to destruction. Living on a working farm there was plenty of opportunity to get to know about mechanics, hydraulics, and electrics. A little of chemistry too. However, for me circuits, valves and transistors had a particular fascination.

Christmas present in 1974? Well, it was a classic Philips compact cassette recorder and a K-tel compilation cassette called “Dynamite”. I must have had some blank cassette tapes too. What a compilation tape that was! Mud, Wizzard, Suzi Quatro, Mungo Jerry, Nazareth, Steeleye Span, Alice Cooper and, you guessed it, Alvin Stardust. 70s glam pop at its hight.

My flash of memory was sitting on the carpet to the left of the tiled fireplace engrossed in 1974’s Christmas present. I still have K-Tel’s Dynamite in a box somewhere. From yesterday, I have at least got a 7-inch single, in good condition from that distant era.

[1] https://www.theguardian.com/music/2014/oct/23/alvin-stardust

[2] https://collection.sciencemuseumgroup.org.uk/objects/co465542/philips-portable-tape-recorder-tape-recorder