Savoy Browns and South Parade Blues: Part 1 

At first sight, Southsea seafront and promenade doesn’t seem to change from one year to the next.  The tide ebbs and flows with seasonal regularity.  Wind blown walks along the near empty pebble beach under steely grey November skies are as exhilarating now as they were forty years ago.  Lone fishermen with thermoses of tea still stare hopefully at the horizon.  Nevertheless changes there have been and not all mark progress and those changes have not been merely physical. 

Some buildings have gone, others have taken their place.  Some of those missing buildings housed live music.  Music is part of the DNA that defines an era.  Although we can’t go back, we can remember.  In the act of remembering, events long past return.  Reliving special moments is part of the human experience that energises and refreshes the spirit.  For those of us who become energised by hearing music played live, the atmosphere at the places from which sounds emerge is an essential part of that experience and at the heart of those memories. 

Growing up within three hundred yards of the beach that forms the southern fringe of Portsmouth, Britain’s only island city, was, itself, a special experience.  From the age of seven, each day during term time, I caught the number 6 bus outside the long ago demolished Southsea Odeon at the top of Festing Road.  A couple of minutes later it would turn right past the Cumberland House Museum and skirt around the Canoe Lake.  Still populated by a game of swans, the rowing boats and canoes of my childhood have long been replaced by naff looking, swan-shaped fibreglass paddle-boats.  The sea was in full view to the left as the bus headed along South Parade.  Two of the landmarks that we passed were to play a part in my musical education.  Both have been destroyed as a consequence of the actions of outsiders.  With the demise of those buildings, it’s not only the physical appearance of South Parade that has been altered.    

The first of these landmarks, the South Parade Pier – or ‘the Pier’ as it is known to locals – was built in the Victorian era.  Indian-influenced, pavilion style towers, elaborate wrought ironwork, a grand music hall and a splendid deck were just some of its original features.  When we were kids we used to play hide and seek around the outside areas and tag on the deck.  When the weather wasn’t so good we repaired to the penny arcade.  The most satisfying of the machines was a primitive football game with static players whose right feet responded to a series of metal levers.  One penny would also operate a ventriloquist-dummy like sailor in a glass case who, somewhat curiously, ‘sang’ ‘The Laughing Policeman’.  The record was originally made in the 1920’s by Charles Jolly (ne Penrose) and includes chorus after chorus of macabre sounding laughter.  It terrified my sister.  The sailor, still in his glass case, still operational and still with his macabre cackle, is now in the City museum. 

During the summers of the sixties, a series of ‘Beat Cruises’ departed from the end of the Pier.  Featuring local groups and costing just a few shillings, battered old steamers edged around Spithead.  Locals and holidaymakers from up north would get pissed on Brickwoods beer, chat each other up and do the Twist, the Shake and the Mashed Potato.  I was too young to participate and, even if I hadn’t been, there would no doubt have been parental proscription against me doing so. 

At the centre of the Pier there was a theatre that originally housed a music hall.  In the early sixties I was taken to summer shows there featuring the likes of Mike and Bernie Winters, The Billy Cotton Band Show and Bob Monkhouse.  It was also used for Speech Day and Prize Giving at my first school, Mayville.  Behind the theatre, there was an open area that jutted out into the sea.  On the 17^th July 1968, the last night I spent in Portsmouth before we moved up to London, it was transformed into an open air venue for a special gig.  Three cutting edge British bands playing new music were coming to town.  Apparently there were 2,500 music fans on the Pier that night, though, even through the misty eyes of nostalgic remembrance that seems to be something of an overstatement.

Opening the bill was a band called Family.  Then relatively unknown, the band was led by Roger Chapman whose strangulated vocals and manic upper body movements suggested he'd been connected to a 10,000 volt charge before taking to the stage.  Along with guitar, bass and drums, Family also included the rasping tenor sax of Jim King and the electric violin of Rick Grech.  Family blew us away as they raced through a set that included numbers taken from their eclectic first album ‘Music in a Doll’s House’.  ‘Winter’, ‘The Chase’, ‘See Through Windows’ and ‘The Breeze’ all made an immediate impact.  Varied tempos, interesting instrumental combinations and Chapman’s unique performance style instantly hooked me.  A few days later with a birthday record token I hurried to the nearest record shop and, minutes after opening time, I was back home with the album under my arm.  I retained my devotion to Family right through University, buying several of their albums and seeing them live on a number of occasions.  Chapman’s movements predicated the rise of ‘idiot dancing’ that was the direct precursor to head-banging; entertaining to watch but less alluring to indulge in. 

Following Family there was Spooky Tooth.  They didn’t really do it for me, though various of those who passed through the band went on to bigger and better things.  

Topping the bill was Traffic.  Multi-talented, immensely musical, Traffic oozed class.  A fan of Stevie Winwood since his Spencer Davis days, I was familiar with their material and the band couldn’t and didn’t disappoint.  This was Traffic’s original line-up and included the often underrated Dave Mason.  Mason was unable to escape the shadow of Winwood’s giant talent and would leave not long afterwards for the USA from where he has subsequently pursued a successful solo career.  ‘Heaven is in Your Mind’, ‘Dear Mr Fantasy’, ’Paper Sun’ and ‘Gimme Some Lovin’’ were what we came to hear and we weren’t disappointed.  Mason’s tour de force ‘Hole in my Shoe’, however, didn’t make the set list albeit that his much covered 'Feelin' Alright' did.  Stevie Winwood is another of those musicians who I have seen perform live in every decade since – and deserves a blog entry to himself. 

There could have been no better way to have said farewell to my home town than spending a night under the stars on a warm July evening listening to great music from bands who have remained favourites ever since. 

I only attended one more gig at the South Parade Pier; it was a couple of years later during a weekend visit to catch up with old friends.  It was held on a bitterly cold and damp winter’s evening in the theatre.  Topping the bill was, I believe, Savoy Brown, an estimable blues band who were supported by a few others, not all of whom I can now remember.  One of them was a distinctly average three-piece called The Gun, who had then recently had a hit with a catchy riff-based confection called ‘Race with the Devil’.  The bill was opened by an early version of ‘underground’ favourites The Deviants, who were pretty awful from what I can recall. 

Famously, in 1974, much of the Pier burned down during the filming of Ken Russell’s ‘Tommy’.  Some arc lights overheated, exploded then started the conflagration.  Locals were outraged when a short clip of their beloved landmark in flames was included in the finished movie.  Russell’s thoughtless tokenism led the locals to blame the errant auteur personally for the blaze.  Eventually the damages claim was settled by insurers.  

Athough the framework and the forward elevations of the Pier survived the worst of the fire, the theatre and much of the main structure was destroyed.  What was built to replace it looks to be no more than a cheap and nasty 1970’s imitation of the original which, of course, is precisely what it is.  What has also been lost is the atmosphere of Victoriana that pervaded every inch of the old Pier and gave it its soul.  The space that was once occupied by the theatre was subsequently crammed, Las Vegas style, with slot machines.  A bouncy castle or somesuch was amongst the so-called attractions installed on part of the deck; kiosks selling food and drinks were located on other parts.  At some point in the last two years the Pier was closed by the local council for reasons of Health and Safety.  I am not sure if it remains closed.  I don’t have much time for much of the extreme nonsense that is pursued in the name of Health and Safety nirvana, equally I don’t suppose there is anything that can be done to restore the lost soul of the South Parade Pier of my youth.

‘The Laughing Policeman’ by Charles Jolly was a 78 PRM wax disc released in 1922 by Regal.  I don’t own it but it may be heard at    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DuPQjdRyXfs&feature=related  Most tellingly, along with ‘Little Wing’ by Jimi Hendrix, this was one of the records that was played at the 2002 funeral of the late Paul Samson, heavy metal guitarist, who I represented for the best part of 20 years.   

‘Music in a Doll’s House’(1968), ’Family Entertainment’ (1969), ‘A Song for Me’ 1970) and ‘Anyway’ (1970) are all vinyl albums released by Reprise; I also have the CD reissues on Mystic Records of ‘A Song for Me’ and ‘Anyway’ as well as those of ‘Fearless’ (1971), ‘Bandstand’ (1972), ‘It’s Only a Movie’ (1973);  there is also a Mystic release of ‘Family Live’ recorded on tour in 1971.  Castle Communications 1993 ‘Best of Family’ includes tracks originally released as singles such as ‘No Mule’s Fool’ and ‘In My Own Time’.  ‘Winwood’ is double vinyl album compilation released in the USA by United Artists in 1972 and includes Traffic’s ‘Heaven is in Your Mind’, ‘Dear Mr Fantasy’, ’Paper Sun’ and Spencer Davis Group’s ‘Gimme Some Lovin’’.  ‘Hole in My Shoe’ by Traffic is a 45 single released by Island Records in 1968.