| Start at: Marble Arch Yes, I *know* the Centrals trail passes right through it too - but I wanted a fairly big landmark to begin with, so you don't get lost before you start. I'm also more than aware you could put the former site of Pye Studios as the first stop, but as there's nothing to act as a buffer between those and Manchester Square....I didn't. So we're doing it this way and getting out towards west London as soon as we can. Find your way to Edgware Road, cross over to the right-hand side and proceed smartly, keeping a lookout for Seymour Street on the right. Go down here, and first on the left should be Seymour Place. Along here, after *quite* a long way admittedly, ought to be..... |
Seymour Hall (lat:
51°31'7.02"N long: 0° 9'48.72"W) Our first port of call is the Seymour Hall, built and opened in 1937. It was designed to be a facility for the local community where lectures, concerts or exhibitions and the like could be held, and who among us could not fail to be enchanted by stamp collecting conventions or dog shows? I could for a start. Less sedentary activites were also catered for: boxing, wrestling and swimming, both amateur and professional, used to put bums on seats back in the day. Notably the first ever televised badminton competiton came from Seymour Hall, although as it was in 1948 I suspect there were more competitors than viewers. Even the 1969 Disc and Music Echo awards took place within, at which Jimi Hendrix happily personally collected the gong for 'World Top Musician', albeit not a position he held for very much longer afterwards. Before that even it was the site of the first West Indian carnival in 1959 - years before Notting Hill's one got going courtesy of the London Free School (the former site of which we'll visit later). Seymour Hall was where Pink Floyd tried hard to cause structural damage by topping the bill at 'Freak Out Ethel' on the 6th of January 1967, a mixed-media event with slides, films, belly dancers, puppets and about six or seven other bands too - none of which I've even remotely heard of. Pink Floyd's setlist has long since been lost in the collective cerebral ether, but it's safe to assume it consisted of the same kind of frightful semi-improvised din they were creating at the newly-opened UFO club in Tottenham Court Road. One further assumes the gig passed off without incident for the band, but certain members of the audience fared less well: almost thirty years after the show, Pete Townshend revealed that he'd bunked off a concert of his own with The Who to see the entertainment here, and brought Eric Clapton with him to see the Floyd in particular. This nugget of stale gossip only came out at the 2005 British Music Hall of Fame Awards, at which Pink Floyd were being inducted by Townshend. The ceremony was held at Alexandra Palace, the huge gothic barn which this leg of the tour concludes at (if we're lucky). Something that could have been interesting if a)the story's true and b)it'd taken place was a proposed gig by Stars, the band which Syd Barrett briefly became part of in early 1972. Following a largely catastrophic short run of shows in Cambridge, an infamous review in 'Melody Maker' seemed to put Syd off playing ever again. Afterwards Stars recruited a replacment guitarist and were apparently booked to play Seymour Hall - but once it became clear Barrett wasn't involved anymore the promoter pulled out or lost interest. So, that's about it. As for this place? Pink Floyd paid no further visits to Seymour Hall, and to this day haven't revealed who Ethel was or why she deserved to be terrorised either.... Next, continue down Seymour Place for a very short while until the crossorads with Crawford Street. Turn left, and follow Crawford Street along until Homer Street appears on the right. Go down here, and at the very, very end you ought to come out at the irritatingly busy Old Marylebone Road. Fortunately though, on your left you should see a bus stop. Plonk down here for a breather if the seats are still there, until either a (27) or (205) comes along. This will, in the fullness of time take you to Paddington railway station, the main terminus for train services to the south-west of England and of course where a little bear finally arrived on his voyage from darkest Peru. Get off here, walk up to the traffic lights, cross over and head to the right down Eastbourne Terrace to bus stop E. When it comes, catch a (46) towards Warwick Avenue station, noting as you go the change in the houses you see once you've passed through the gigantic roundabout under the Westway and into Warwick Avenue itself. Now I know we've only just got on the bloody thing, but if you want you can get off the bus at the Blomfield Avenue stop when the electric mistress and display board says it's approaching, and walk a bit further up until you see Maida Avenue on the right. But why, I hear you plaintively cry? Well, we know someone who used to live down here once upon a time. This might get me into a bit of trouble, but....fuck it - everything I'm about to show you is out there in the public domain. So go on, walk down Maida Avenue - but not too far..... |
| 31 Maida Avenue So then. This is a tidy little pile, is it not? Too right it is, along with it's neighbours. How did it get here then? Well, centuries ago this all used to be farmland and woods, real estate which was apparently owned by the Bishop of London. No idea how he (or his employer) got hold of it, but presumably it was an act of parliament - or failing that, God. In or about 1790 the woodland and farms began to gradually disappear under the stately march of gentrification. It took a long, long time though, during which the Regent's Canal was being constructed and earmarked to cut through the district. The canal connects the river Thames at Limehouse in east London (not that far away from Abbey Mills Pumping Station) to the Grand Union Canal just past Little Venice, which I'll bore you about a bit later on. For now though, let's return to the stuccoed opulence of Maida Avenue. For reasons that are far too dull to research, let alone relate, Maida Avenue wasn't even called that until 1939 - it used to answer to the name of Maida Hill West. Maida Hill was an entirely separate (if nearby) locale, and for some reason or another the name fell by the wayside down the ages. So far as I can make out, leases were taken out on properties on Maida Hill West (as was) by a one John Taft from 1840 to 1851, probably including what became our target of choice: number 31. Curiously, properties on the other side of the canal along Blomfield Road were leased by someone with the appropriate, if unlikely name of John Pink. That aside, I've bored myself trying to relate this history by now so I'll get on with telling you why you're here anyway. Basically, number 31 used to be the quaint and humble garrett of David Gilmour from 1990 or therabouts to 2001. He bought it after his marriage to first wife Ginger had ended in divorce, the pair having grown apart for some years (not really aided by small work-related issues like Roger Waters striving to kill Pink Floyd throughout the mid 80's). First off, the Gilmours' marital palace was a farm in Roydon in Essex, then they moved to the extraordinary 16th Century Hook End Manor in Berkshire in the mid-70's (which came complete with resident ghost). This would remain their (huge) home until the early 80's, when they then found another remarkable place to hide away in: the six-bedroom grade-II listed Monksbridge in Sunbury-on-Thames. The walls surrounding the tennis court still look just like 'The Wall' album cover's wall apparently - which probably does little for one's game, and a passing acquaintance of mine who visited a decade ago also reported seeing framed animation cels from the film in the house itself. Having said that, she confidently asserted it used to be Nick Mason's place instead. *Anyway*, despite owning this delightful property it was while living here the Gilmours found each other less and less worth the effort of being around. Ultimately they got their decree absolute in 1990, and while Ginger stayed at Monksbridge David moved out and bought 31 Maida Avenue for an alleged 300,000 quid. Reasonably soon afterwards, and not long after the band's Knebworth '90 appearance, Q Magazine interviewed Gilmour here about this and that - and even provided a big picture which gave the great unwashed the merest glimpse of what lay beyond the stuccoed walls of number 31. Very nice it was too with a huge comfy sofa (well, it needed to be), expensive Fender and Gibson guitars lined up against a wall, a long, low table made of wood probably legally unobtainable nowadays with an assortment of carefully selected trinkets sprinkled atop it, a grand piano in the background and not quite in the foreground, the man himself: David Gilmour, all dark blue shirt and thinning, longish hair. The article informed us that the larder and fridge were "ill-stocked", which any weight-watchers might find laughable, his collection of vitamins and wine were top-notch and that the home was only so comparitively clutter-free because he'd not yet unpacked all his possessions properly. Of those that he had, it goes on to mention the bookshelf with Jay McInerny, Tom Wolfe, Ernest Hemingway, Paul Bowles, Ouspensky and Castaneda upon it. Photographs of his little aeroplane and Nick Mason's Ferarri 250 GTO, plus two of himself from the early and mid-60's were commented upon. It was also reported that a sitar and dulcimer were lying around too, alas unplayable due to having been comprehensively demolished by his children. To add real cultural gravitas, the article also picked up on the bas-relief sculpture of Beethoven that glowered from a mantlepiece. This then was the best insight into what home life was like for the newly-single Gilmour, bravely hurtling towards his mid-40's. That, as far as I know, was the last we heard of 31 Maida Avenue until 2002. At the time Pink Floyd was semi-retired, falling back on things like live albums, remixed/remastered studio records, or occasional solo voyages to tide both them and their faithful over. Gilmour had since married journalist Polly Samson, and fallen into an even more domseticated way of life with a child count which would eventually total eight (four of which were by then grown up, admittedly). Being so contented, it seemed time to take stock of one's lot and think about downshifting and off-loading - and when Gilmour did, he didn't hold back. Having long been a supporter of the homeless charity Crisis in the past, he thought it might be quite nice to make an appropriate donation - 31 Maida Avenue to be precise. He said "A few years ago we moved to the countryside, leaving a huge house here which we visited once every two weeks. After a while my wife and I started thinking this is rather too much." Too much it was, and so they thought about what they might beneficially do with it. They decided against handing the property over to a housing trust to do with as they wanted, admitting that "In the area it was, it was much more realistic - more cost effective if you like, to sell it and give the money to this project." The project in question was Crisis's scheme to emulate an American model, where a disused hotel in Manhatten was converted and refurbished into a community of flats for the elderly, homeless, mentally ill, recovering addicts or low-paid workers and provide training facilities to reintegrate them into society, with an estimated price tag of 50 million pounds to make it happen. So did it? Well, Gilmour certainly sold the house: 3.6 million came from the cavernous pocket of Earl Spencer (brother of Diana), which to be honest gives you an idea of why a homeless hostel along Maida Avenue would have gone down like a sack of month-old shit with NIMBY-ish neighbours. At a press conference, Gilmour implored others with more houses than sense to perhaps do the same as him. The gesture was widely praised, applauded and whatnot by observers, but seemed to make both him and Polly a bit alien in the entertainment world for a while. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned months later "My friend Paul McCartney is meant to have more than 500million.....that's a crazy amount of money and nobody needs it." Apparently only Olivia Harrision took Gilmour's offer up by donating money in the end. In any event the project stalled completely when no suitable locations could be found in London anyway, with those that looked good falling foul of local objections to proposed plans. But what of life back in Maida Avenue? Well, Spencer was apparently a pain in the arse, having began noisy building work and bought out most of the villa next door in the meantime except one particular flat which he did agree to buy, and then backed out of leaving the prior tenant high and dry. Or something like that. There were also reports that a ghost lived in number 31 too, but I don't think even Spencer or his legal team were able to evict that in a hurry. Does he still own, live or rent it out nowadays? I don't know actually. Best not loiter too long, or you might find out the hard way.... Ho hum. Lifestyles of the ignoble, rich and famous, divorced, remarried or otherwise dead, eh? Turn round and make your way back to the top of Maida Avenue, turn right into Warwick Avenue and brace yourself. There's some *serious* walking ahead, mainly because the buses don't go where we want to and nor do any railways either. Bloody typical, I know - but apparently that's sod's law. You could always hail a taxi, but they probably won't thank you for a journey that'll only take five or six minutes by way of the internal combustion engine. So, first of all make sure you're on the left-hand side of Warwick Avenue, and cross over if you're not. It'll make sense in a bit, honest. Look over to your left, and drink in the splendour of Little Venice. Many residental houseboats are moored along the banks here, and consequently it's just as well Pink Floyd caused sonic mayhem at it's bigger Italian brother in 1989 instead of this sleepy little hollow. Away over on the far side of Paddington Basin, and just out of view on Westbourne Terrace Road is the Canal Cafe Theatre, where Guy Pratt did a trio of early 'My Bass And Other Animals' shows in 2004. I saw the last one, very good it was too (even if I nearly walked into Pratt's arse on the steep staircase on the way up) and no, I'd never been in such a small room with so many famous people before in my life. Start trudging down Warwick Avenue and, after the crossroads with Bloomfield Road, the lanes of Warwick split apart which is why I wanted you to cross over earlier. So, keep walking straight on past the tube station, straight over the mini roundabout and through into the remainder of Warwick Avenue. It'l take you about ten to fifteen minutes, alas. Eventually you'll come up to Sutherland Avenue. Just go straight across it and move into Delaware Road. As luck would have it, just about all of one side of Delaware is taken up by our next stop so you'll be hard pressed to miss it..... |
Maida Vale Studios
(lat:
51°31'33.84"N long: 0°11'27.91"W)This rather ornate alabaster effort is yet another recording facility for the BBC, in the not entirely unpleasant by any means west London suburb of Maida Vale. As we know, David Gilmour liked the area enough to buy, own, visit once every alternate blue moon and after twenty years subsequently sell a house in the Vale, so that's a stamp of approval if ever I heard one. So, as you walk through the neighbourhood these days you'd never believe that in times past, the jaded residents sought their thrills and spills in the pastime of roller-skating. But they most assuredly did, and here's where they used to do it until the place closed and the BBC swooped in to renovate it and build themselves a two-storey (if you include the basmement) recording studio. As with their other facilities past and present across London, many great and good musos have passed and indeed continue to pass through its soundproofed walls to this day - including (have you got it yet?) Pink Floyd. Their 1967 session for John Peel's Radio One 'Top Gear' programme was recorded in there somewhere on December 20th. They played 'Vegetable Man', 'Scream Thy Last Scream', 'Pow R Toc H' and 'Jugband Blues', every one a winner in keeping with the spirit of the festive tide. It was duly broadcast on New Year's Eve at two in the afternoon just to *really* depress listeners, even before their in-laws arrived to drink one's cabinet dry beyond midnight and the dawn of 1968. A little over two years later, Syd Barrett paid a rare visit along with David Gilmour on organ, bass and guitar plus Jerry Shirley on drums for a live session consisting of 'Baby Lemonade', 'Efferfescing Elephant', 'Gigolo Aunt', 'Terrapin' and 'Two Of A Kind'. Again this was for 'Top Gear', recorded on the 24th February 1970 and subsequently broadcast on the 14th March - except 'Two Of A Kind' for some reason or another, which finally aired on the 30th May instead. The entire session was properly comercially released in 1988 anyway, so it worked out nice in the end. Which is more than can be said for Pink Floyd's various radio sessions, however.... as an interesting aside (or perhaps not - but give it a chance), the BBC's celebrated Radiophonic Workshop was also based here They famously arranged composer Ron Grainer's signature tune to the enthralling/appalling (delete according to taste) sci-fi show 'Doctor Who' at Maida Vale, which Pink Floyd themselves ripped off shamelessly for the track 'One Of These Days' on their 1971 album 'Meddle'. Coincidence? Grand larceny? Dear reader, the choice is yours. Perhaps one ought to take into account that in early October of 1967 they came here for the very first time, just to have a look around. Inside, they met a sonic engineer called Delia Derbyshire who was in fact entirely responsible for the radiophonic arrangement of the 'Doctor Who' signature tune. She knew that in terms of hardware, there'd be nothing much to seriously impress her visitors - so she took them instead to see a man who lived in the south-west London suburb of Putney called Peter Zinovieff, who'd been cobbling together a primitive synthesiser in his garden shed. It was later to evolve into the fabled VCS-3 and then the keyboard-sporting EMS SynthiA, which the band bought two of and subsequently used on almost every album from 1972 onwards. So, in the best spirit of wild speculation, was that little snippet of the 'Doctor Who' signature tune in 'One Of These Days' in fact a nod to Delia Derbyshire for putting them in touch with the man who invented the VCS-3? I'd like to think so. Wouldn't you? Course you would. Something else which seems to have taken place here would have been a photo session, either when they met Delia or when they did the live session in the December. Whichever, our four loveable shaggy-tops were shot in the control rooms and at mixing desks, plus on the street outside where that tree is, lounging casually on, over and around a white convertible car of indeterminate make. Waters fails to acknowledge the camera by looking in the wrong direction while the other three either glare or squint directly at it. None of them look very happy to be honest, but then again if we'd have known why at the time then we'd have been pissed off to the back teeth in their shoes too.... **Update** 01/07 - apparently the BBC might be selling the studios off, because.....well, basically, it needs the money. Places on this poxy tour are dropping like flies..... **Update** 07/10 - they're still there by the look of it. Maybe it's not going after all now.... Right, more hiking I'm afraid. Keep going down Delaware to the end, and turn left into Elgin Avenue. Annoyingly this stretch of Elgin is bus-free, so we can't even prevail upon an omnibus to save our squealing tootsies. Now, after an estimated (or wildly-guessed) eight hundred feet or so, you ought to see Oakington Road on the left. Go down here, all the way to the end. At the bottom, bear round to the right into Maryland Road and shortly you'll see on the right Edbrooke Road. Stumble uncertainly into it, and hiding behind the trees on the right is..... |
Blackhill Enterprises (first
location) So, what have we here then? Remember when I told you on the Centrals trail about The Pink Floyd Sound playing the Spontaneous Underground events at the Marquee Club in 1966? Even vaguely'll do. Bored college lecturer and far-out music fan Peter Jenner heard about this new band setting ears alight in Soho, went to investigate and liked what he saw. So he hunted Roger Waters down at his lodgings in Stanhope Gardens in Highgate, asking if he and the band wanted to sign to Jenner's and Joe Boyd's floundering DNA record label - who desperately needed an act that might make them something close to money. As it happened, all of the band were going off on their summer holidays: Mason to America, Waters and Wright to Greece, and Barrett? I'm not sure actually. That said, I don't suppose he was either. Once everybody who'd actually left was back in England, Jenner was still interested, in pursuit and pestered them again at Stanhope Gardens, which we'll get to later - but not on this leg. Waters let Jenner know that a record label was a bit forward at this stage, given that they'd only just decided among themselves to keep the band going in the first place following a degree of disillusionment (or unemployment) after the end of the Spontaneous Underground happenings in June '66. But Jenner liked the idea of becoming a manager too, and brought in fellow bored lecturer Andrew King who had the useful attribute of inheritance money to spend. Despite the fact he'd never heard or seen the band, it failed to put him off the idea - and nobody else wanted to deal with the group either so they both became their managers, spending King's money with wild abandon. A new PA system was first on the shopping list, which was misappropriated as soon as they'd bought it. So they had to buy it again on hire purchase. In terms of getting their new charges some work, luckily Jenner's association with the recently established London Free School in Notting Hill and it's constant need for money fitted perfectly: the chief architect of the Free School, John Hopkins, decided to stage benefit shows at a church hall just off Powis Square, around the corner from the Free School HQ in Powis Terrace. The Pink Floyd Sound, as they were then, were booked by Jenner to perform their hideous racket in very late September '66 - and after a slow debut, quickly found themselves an audience. But more of that later, as we'll be seeing all those places (or the remains of them) anyway. What more can be said about Blackhill Enterprises themselves? Well, they were named after Andrew King's parents' cottage in Wales (obviously), and only set up here in Edbrooke Road because Peter Jenner lived in a flat there. Wisely deciding it'd be cheaper than finding a proper business headquarters, it also proved fotuitous in locating other staff members: Blackhill's first secretary lived in the flat downstairs, meaning she didn't have far to go to work in the mornings. It probably made throwing a sickie more difficult, but there you go. Said clerical operative was a girl called June Child, who would later maximise her employment by marrying someone who would later join Blackhill's roster of artists: Marc Bolan. Pink Floyd and Blackhill were formally married on the 31st of October 1966, and Blackhill's arrangement with the band was an atypical one for the times, on a business level at least: Jenner, King and the four Floyds were equal partners, each owning a sixth of the company. The music industry just didn't work that way back then, usually seeing managers get considerably more than the band. Not only would everyone reap the spoils from Pink Floyd's expected meteoric rise to success but Jenner, King and the four Floyds would also scoop the pool from other artists Blackhill Enterprises might go on to sign. But hey, it was all in the spirit of the times. Man. Jenner now says it was all 'organised in the appropriate hippie way', and King with hindsight reckons it was 'a sweet idea'. Of affairs here at Edbrooke, the place was apparently in disarray pretty soon. The band used to loaf around on the furniture regularly when not out and about traumatising the eardrums of Britain, and use the building for storage purposes. Of what exactly has never been specified though. Writing in his book 'Inside Out', what Nick Mason credits June Child for is, in a way that many a woman will recognise, bringing order to the apparent chaos which four slovenly, smelly, long-haired faceaches seemed to create with indecent haste. Not only did June man the phone(s), she was also the assistant road manager, van driver, personal assistant and again, Mason observes, brought "the missing element of organisation to our working lives." Yes, you're right - that's what Peter Jenner and Andrew King were supposed to be doing, but they'd never really done this band management lark before. That's not to say they were inexperienced to the point of negligence; they were committed and devoted to their charges, but somewhat out of their depth when it came to the practicalities. By such means did financial worries blight most of the early days of Blackhill - they were in debt to the tune of around 17,000 quid, not least because after initial success with the album 'Piper At The Gates Of Dawn', plus the singles 'Arnold Layne' and 'See Emily Play', it became clear that not only did people beyond the safety of London not like the band very much, Syd Barrett was becoming increasingly wayward and unpredictable, endearing him to nobody. But you know all this anyway. The only other bits of information I've been able to turf out about Edbrooke Road concern the allegation that on the night of the 29th of April 1967, having flown in from Holland following a gig, Barrett and Peter Jenner somehow stopped off here briefly to drop some acid and then drove haphazardly up to Alexandra Palace for the 14-Hour Technicolor Dream. It'd certainly corroborate reports of Syd's demeanour that night if nothing else. It's also posited, by David Gilmour himself, that it was here at Edbrooke Gardens that he first met up properly with Blackhill and thrashed out the business aspects of joining Pink Floyd. It can't have been terribly easy; Jenner and King were still loyal to Barrett despite all the evidence strongly suggesting he was a liability. Despite the usually parlous state of health at Blackhill, they were able to up sticks and relocate in...well, 1968 I'd guess, to a new headquarters at Princedale Road between Shepherd's Bush and Holland Park (a block away from where their penultimate management company, Steve O'Rourke's EMKA Productions, used to live). Whether or not Peter Jenner continued living here after Blackhill moved out, I don't know. That aside, my muse has run dry - just like the bottle of Guinness I've just finished.... So, having ruminated on how important Edbrooke Road was, it's time for a bit more walking now. Only a bit though. Alright, a moderate amount. Turn back and go right into Maryland Road, following it down to the end which ought to take you out onto Harrow Road. When you get there turn left, and crawl wearily along, crossing over Sutherland Avenue in the fullness of time and on to the bus stop up ahead. Take a (36) for three or four stops to Royal Oak tube station, and as the bus trundles down Harrow Road peer grimly though the windows and remind yourself that Roger Waters once said he used a basement flat along this road somewhere to record noises - fortunately not his own - on a ferrograph for a sound effects tape that played in the foyer of the Queen Elizabeth Hall on the night of the 'Games For May' concert on the 12th of May 1967. Or with the band as they played too if you prefer, but as usual the truth is lost in the ether. As we continue along Harrow Road, you might well realise that we've happened upon the Westway again but a bit further along, and I've basically led you round in a bloody great circle. There was no other way. Honest. Anyhow, as the bus turns into Porchester Road and the electric mistress informs you the station's coming up, ring the bell and disembark your chariot when it stops. If it stops. You'll probably twig that you've overshot the tube station by a few metres anyway, but it doesn't matter. We don't want it in any case - we want what's on the other side of the road instead.... |
Porchester Hall (lat:
51°31'2.60"N long: 0°11'18.79"W) Another piece of civic benevolence by the local authorities, Porchester Hall was opened in 1929 and intended to be not just a building for lectures, concerts, official banquets and exhibitions, but naturally also incorporated steam baths in the basement for the great unwashed to luxuriate in. At some indeterminate point the district library was bolted on to the side, a facility which has doubtless been vital to the community throughout the decades - although as a mine of information it fell rather short when I went in and asked a librarian to confirm if next door was indeed the Porchester Hall I thought it was. He didn't know. Either way, these days the place has the opulent 650-seater concert hall as used by lots of solo artists and groups, especially if they're filming live sessions for the BBC. It still has the Turkish baths, plus a pair of gyms (gymnasia?), two swimming pools and the sauna amongst other facilities not to mention the fully-featured kitchen for catering events in the actual hall. Would it then unnerve you to the core if I said that Pink Floyd have played here or that its members have attended functions at some stage? Of course it wouldn't. The first (and only) visit the band paid was on November the 7th, 1968, and also on the bill were the Edgar Broughton Band and Barclay James Harvest, both managed by Blackhill Enterprises - as were the Floyd until Syd Barrett left. But I'll tell you all about that later. Nobody seems to know what they played here anymore, unsurprisimgly. It's a fair bet environmental health officers retreated in agony though. It's also alleged that a post-perfornance jam with Alexis Corner and Arthur Brown rounded off the night. Which was nice. The next occasion which saw anything remotely related was very special indeed: Gilmour's 60th birthday party on the 6th March 2006. Presumably as bounteous as his 50th was (as once again I wasn't invited), all the usual suspects turned up for Nebuchadnezzars of champagne and tons of nibbles - Mason, Wright, Phil Manzanera, Robert Wyatt, Bob Geldof, Jools Holland, Mike Rutherford, Damon Hill, Chris Jagger (not Mick), Ray Cooper and even some thespians: Ewan McGregor, Denis Lawson, Leigh Lawson and Twiggy. I suppose the logic was that Gilmour and family have been to so many film premieres over the years, the very least they could do was let some actors swipe *their* complimentary food and drink for a change. Also in attendance were assorted wives, girlfriends and children plus the band's current manager Tony Smith, the Hagrid-a-like who also looks after Genesis. Anyone else I either don't know or can't be bothered with. Having said that, not only was it Gilmour's birthday party but it also marked the launch of his third solo album 'On An Island'. His band performed a set comprising of the entire record plus 'Wish You Were Here' and the Syd Barrett song 'Dominoes'. Afterwards a giant cake, fashioned rather like the 'Island' album cover, was brought on and everybody roared a drunken round of 'Happy Birthday To You'. Or so I'd imagine by that stage in the evening. Gilmour's wife Polly Samson also gave him a present: a fetching guitar strap that used to belong to Jimi Hendrix, which was used that evening and throughout the subsequent tour. There's a wild allegation that Guy Pratt then did his cabaret comedy turn, and afterwards everyone went home well fed, watered and very happy indeed. Fortunately nobody ate *so* much they exploded like Mr. Creosote did in the Monty Python film 'The Meaning Of Life'. I only mention him because the whole sequence of Terry Jones erupting in a torrent of gastric slurry was shot here at the Porchester Hall in 1983, and by sheer luck alone the scenario didn't repeat itself on the solemn occasion of Gilmour officially becoming eligible for a pensioner's free bus pass.... Now then. Walk past the halls and very very soon you'll see Queensway on your right. Go down here, which runs alongside the Porchester Hall - or more accurately, its gyms, saunas and swimming pools. Follow it round and down to the end where you'll come up against a busy junction with Bishop's Bridge Road on your left and Westbourne Grove on your right. If you can get over to the far side of Westbourne Grove to the bus stop on the right, you want to be waiting here for a (7) which'll eventually take you towards Westbourne Park Road. Get off near or close to the junction with Powis Terrace. The bus stop you want is just past Powis Terrace, by a bathroom showroom (if memory serves). The bus's electronic female automaton will let you know you're getting close anyway. Assuming the bus actually stopped for you, disembark, walk back a bit and turn right into Powis Terrace. Almost immediately you'll most probably see this on the right.... |
Powis
Terrace and Powis Gardens (lat:
51°31'0.28"N long: 0°12'6.23"W The London Free School started out on the 8th of March 1966 with the intention of being (amongst other things) a sort of Citizens' Advice Bureau and concerted effort to bring further learning to the community, inspired by similar schemes in Amercia recently witnessed by rising counterculture icon John Hopkins. Somehow along the way it also gave birth to a record label of sorts, DNA - established primarily for the (very) experimental outfit AMM, who made indistinct noise really, dispensing with wasteful things like tunes. Despite the Free School's lofty ideals, initial enthusiasm diminished, financial difficulties eventually took hold and within a short time it had slipped into being a place to smoke dope and, if you were a local band, rehearse. Peter Jenner, the Floyd's manager of sorts, had helped Hopkins set the place up. The Spontaneous Underground at the Marquee (see Centrals ) had folded more or less in June 1966 leaving Pink Floyd with nowhere much to practice or play and, thanks to Jenner's association with Hopkins, they were able to use the building to rehearse. Aggravatingly, conflicting opinions on exactly *where* the bloody place really was still rage today. Or they do in my neck of the woods. Those who really should know (stand up, Nick Mason) say the Free School met in a now demolished house in Tavistock Crescent, about 500 metres north of here. Most others however reckon it was actually this: the basement of 26 Powis Terrace, rented from Black Power activist and prominent local landlord/hardman/headcase/psycho/terrorisor Michael X (who perversely did a lot for and gave a lot to the London Free School). But back to 26 Powis Terrace. Doubt all you like on the location - I wouldn't blame you. I often get it wrong, as you'll see in a minute. At least this one still exists, though. When I first visited in the late 1990's, and perhaps even back in the 60's, the lower floors used to look like the weatherboarded and very definitely weatherbeaten shed you can see in the small picture; owing to Notting Hill's revival in fortunes at the back end of the 20th century and beyond, it now looks rather like the light blue thing down there. Whether that's a roof garden or just weeds poking out of the top, I can only speculate....  Walk
down to the end of Powis Terrace, and turn right. Carry on, and
shortly you'll pass The Tabernacle on the right. This is Powis Square,
which you should search Google for because *so* much has happened here
involving so many people that I can't even begin to fit it all in, so
see the links page for details
on that.
All Saints' church is up ahead as the road bends round to the right and
into Powis Gardens. As time progressed, the London Free School
published a community newsletter called 'The Grove', which needed more
money to keep going. So Peter Jenner and Andrew King, themselves from
religious stock, got permission to use or more likely just
hired the church hall from the priest - apparently the Reverend John
Henry
Milward Dixon, no less - to hold some euphemistically-titled 'social
dances'. It was at these 'dances' (ha!) that the Floyd played, the
first time being 30th September 1966 and where their oil light shows
- courtesy of some visiting San Franciscans who
initially provided them - eventually became a famous
crowd-puller. The first night here was apparently so sparsely attended
that Syd Barrett recited Shakespeare instead to only a handful of
people, but it didn't take long for the word to get around though. When
Joel and Toni Brown, the lighting San Francisans, went back to America
it fell to Jenner and co-manager Andrew King to knock up their own
version based on the
Browns' original contraption (which one assumes they took back home
with them). Fortuitously, a young student called Joe Gannon came
to the club to see the band. He also attended the Hornsey College of
Art's Light and Sound Workshop, run by the lecturer Mike Leonard -
who'd been, and in some cases still was the band's benevolent landlord
at the time. Gannon took
over from Jenner and King's lights and improved them greatly, if not
with the biggest regard for his own safety sometimes. What
with
Hopkins' concurrent London-wide International
Times newspaper not getting enough revenue from advertising, and the
'social dances' also losing money despite being packed to the rafters,
a bigger venue seemed the best way out for the LFS to pay some bills.
Hopkins and another associate, Joe Boyd, went forth, sought and found
the Blarney Club in
Tottenham Court Road. The last show here was 29th November 1966,
and just under a month later the Blarney was in use and renamed
'UFO' by Boyd.  Nowadays
All Saints' church hall has long since gone to that great pile of
rubble in the sky, and the good Reverend's surely gone the
same way too. Records say that the he only lasted at All Saints for
about a year anyway - whether or not he departed on account of his
permitting activities definitely not in the (holy) spirit
of religious worship to take place on consecrated ground, I
don't know.
However, searching for Dixon's moniker on the web reveals that a
clergyman with
exactly the same name resigned from a post in northern England in 1957.
Was it the same bloke, causing an ecclesiastical commotion in Durham?
Quite possibly. Still, he's an unsung hero in the annals of
counterculture folklore, so give him a cheer - even if his charred
remains are roasting in the bowels of Hades as we speak. For years I
always believed All Saints' Hall to be the Tabernacle, the brown
steeply thing in Powis Square hidden betwen the houses, especially as
the BBC used a shot of it to introduce an interview about the early
days with Roger Waters
in
1995. Obviously I now know they only did this because the hall had been
torn down in 1972. So, can we even imagine what it looked
like? We'll have to, as I don't have any pictures at the moment.
Internally it was
just like your average church hall, and probably externally quite
nondescript
too. I'll keep working on it though.....What one can do if they want is walk past Powis Gardens, over the paved section adjacent to the church, and then go right into Clydesdale Road instead. Down here's the proper front entrance of the church, and I'm guessing wildly that the bit with the trees just past that on the right, as seen in the picture, might well have been where the hall was. Certainly the flats which are next to *that* used to be home to the vestries and vicarage until they were flattened along with the hall in '72 or thereabouts. So it was definitely around here *somewhere*. If you want a picture of the church itself, go and see the one on the outtakes page. It has the benefit of being about ten years old, meaning the trees weren't mature and tall enough to get in the way. Either that or it's glowing testimony to global warming in action. Time to start praying, I think.......(or you could watch that episode of 'The Sweeney' - loving arms - in which it makes a cameo) Finished? Now carry on up Clydesdale Road until the junction with Westbourne Park Road. Turn left, and trundle along, keeping your eye out for Basing Street over on the right. Cross over and go down it. Pretty soon on the right, at the crossroads with Tavistock Road you can clearly see this.... |
Sarm Studios (formerly Sarm West, ZTT,
Island
and Basing Street Studios) (lat:
51°31'3.53"N long: 0°12'17.84"W) Originally
a chapel built between 1865-66 and looking more
like
a ancient Roman temple, this building has seen it all, done it all and
still
does it today, perhaps even better than Abbey Road or Olympic - and not
just because one's closed down and the other's struggling to stay
alive. Initially known as Basing Street Studios, it was opened by
Island Records supremo Chris Blackwell and used to record his eclectic
roster of artists, stretching from folky to reggae to glam to rock to
heavy metal.
Thus it wouldn't be unusual to see Fairport Convention, Bob Marley,
Roxy Music, Free and Black Sabbath in the area - not necessarily at the
same time, but
you know what I mean. Throughout the 1970's, the studio
continued to attract anyone who was everyone as well as those who
weren't. Chris Blackwell sold it to producer Trevor Horn's ZTT label in
the early 80's, from where they masterminded groups like Frankie Goes
To Hollywood. In 1984 a huge
ramshackle shower called 'Band Aid' were hastily booked for a session
and recorded 'Do They Know It's Christmas?' one hungover Sunday
morning, featuring a lot of booze, maybe some other pick-me-ups too,
but
not one single member of Pink Floyd. Even though Bob Geldof had starred
in their film a couple of years previously, I don't suppose any of them
were visually distinctive enough to warrant inclusion - or not when
stood
next to Boy George, George Michael, Spandau Ballet or Duran Duran.
Bearing all that in mind, what then have I led you this way for? Well,
it
all concerns a film released in 1970 called 'The Body', an offbeat yet
factually-accurate human biology affair based on the book of the same
name. Its author Tony Garrett, and the film's
director, Roy Battersby, wanted
a suitably idiosyncratic
soundtrack and sought out local hero Ron Geesin. Geesin was a rather
eccentric and resourcful multi-instrumentalist/composer/arranger from
Scotland, who'd
even been on the bill with Pink Floyd at the 14 Hour Technicolour Dream
in 1967 at Alexandra Palace (which we'll finish up at in a few hours if
we're lucky).
Trouble was, Tony Garrett wanted actual songs in the soundtrack as well
as instrumental padding - and Ron Geesin wasn't a lyricist by any
stretch. Fortunately he'd met and been friends with Nick Mason for a
year or so by that time, and when Mason presented Geesin to Roger
Waters, it was love at first sight. So when Geesin needed to find a
songwriter for the soundtrack, guess who he called upon? Waters
manfully accepted the challenge and in early 1970 the happy couple got
to work - separately. Geesin did his bits in the studio in his flat not
so far away
from here, and Waters did his at the house in New North Road. At some
stage
they reconvened and *perhaps* recorded some of the material here. I
don't know for certain. The film was duly released, and afterwards EMI
thought they'd like to issue an album of the soundtrack. Being a fussy
bugger, Geesin didn't like it much anymore as it stood and elected to
do the lot all over again, adding new stuff on top as well. Waters'
bits were certainly re-recorded here at Basing Street/Island. The whole
lot was then mixed within by September 1970. The
last track, Waters' 'Give Birth To A Smile', is notable for being
performed by, amongst others, three uncredited musicians: Gilmour,
Mason and Wright. I'm not sure why they didn't get a credit (unless
they didn't actually want it), but they definitely wanted the session
fees. In between whiles, Geesin would find himself working on
orchestrations for a forthcoming Floyd album which nearly brought him
to a nervous breakdown. 'Atom Heart Mother', the title track of which
Geesin *did* get credited for, was at best an unhappy compromise for
all parties. But we'll deal with that a bit later on. Returning to the
present day, after streamlining his business of late Trevor Horn uses
this place as
his main studio nowadays and a few years ago he also used to own,
amongst
others, SARM Hook End - a modest 14-bedroom cottage in
Berkshire which in a previous life used to belong to some old bloke
called
David Gilmour.....Finished? Carry on, going straight over Lancaster Road and up the rest of Basing Street, until you see it bend round to the right and become Tavistock Road. Sort-of straight on, but seeming to snake behind some of the maisonettes and flats of Tavistock Road, lives what used to be Tavistock Crescent. It still *is* technically, but what used to be here back in the day was demolished a long time ago. Rhaune Laslett, instigator of the Notting Hill Carnival and counterculture activist, lived at what used to be number 34 which also used to be where the London Free School first met up before securing 26 Powis Terrace to fester in. 34 Tavistock Cresecent also has the distinction of being visited by Muhammad Ali on the 15th of May 1966. He was in town to fight Henry Cooper, and we all know how that went in the end. But Tavistock Cresecnt has little to recommend it nowadays in terms of the tour, so instead turn left onto ...well, I don't think it's got a name actually. But go down it anyway, and it should bring you out in Portobello Road. Yes, *that* one, with the market and that house with the door in the bloody Richard Curtis film. It was here in late December of 1966 that flyers were distributed to inform anybody interested that a new club was opening up on Tottenham Court Road called 'Night Tripper' - and again, we all know what happened after that. Look around if you want, but keep an eye on the clock - we've got a long, long way to go yet. Come back this way and go under the bridge carrying the tube line, and the monstrous Westway (again) straight after it. After you've come back into daylight, glance over to your right. Down there somewhere in the distance is Acklam Road, which used to feature the London Free School's children's playground decades ago,before construction of the Westway had even begun. The playground was opened with a ceremony involving local kids burning rubbish. As you do. Apparently it was largely a wasteland with animal carcasses, human corpses, and frankly not very much of a playground at all - although it sounds quite in keeping with the Notting Hill of the mid-1950's. I've never seen photographic proof, but we've all seen a certain depiction of it: the promotional video for 'Another Brick In The Wall pt.2' and it's eerie playground was said to have been inspired by the Acklam Road site. Today a far better one exists, with no fires, corpses or animal skeletons - supposedly. Still, that's Acklam Road on the right; we want Cambridge Gardens on the left. Follow Cambridge Gardens all the way to the end, and it'll bring you out on Ladbroke Grove. Cross over, face to your right and ponder a bit. You probably don't fancy more walking, do you? Well, It's only about ten minutes or so. If that. Honest. GET ON WITH IT!!! Wander along Ladbroke Grove, passing shops, houses, flats and people of all nations. The first junction you'll come up against is Oxford Gardens, but we don't want that. The next one however, after about 100 metres more, is called Chesterton Gardens. We don't really want that either - but what lies on its corner is quite interesting.... |
Ron Geesin's Flat So, we've already seen Island Studios where the soundtrack for 'Music From The Body' was partially re-recorded and entirely mixed. We know that Waters originally set to work on his contributions to the project at his home in (184 New North Road apparently) in Islington, and that his co-conspirator and golfing partner Ron Geesin did his parts in his home studio. This house on the corner of Ladbroke Grove and Chesterton Gardens was where he lived, and up at the very very top on the fourth floor was where he decided to place his studio. It was apparently a fully insulated 12x12 feet box, really. Or that was his estimation. One can only marvel at how he managed to fit any instruments or recording equipiment in such a compact space, and then wonder what kind of contortions were required to get himself up there too. But Geesin was never the sterotypical artiste, always preferring to do things his way, bearing little resemblance to common practice. Born in Scotland in December 1943, by the age of 18 he was a multi-instrumentalist and touring musician both on his own and with the Downtown Syncopators, whoever they were. Two years later, he'd found a further outlet by composing and recording soundtracks for television documentaries and adverts, and left the Syncopators in May 1965. It was about this time he became interested in recording hardware, tape manipulation and sound effects. Being suitably tuned to what was culturally going on at the time, he also got himself on the bill for the 14-Hour Technicolor Dream at Alexandra Palace, although as he recalls he occupied a lowly poitsion at the bottom - unlike Pink Floyd, of course. This didn't mean they met for the first time that night; it would take until October 1968 for Geesin to begin a relationship with Nick Mason, after being matched by mutual acquaintance Sam Jonas Cutler. It would take roughly 12 months more before Mason let Geesin meet Roger Waters - and they got on like a house on fire, even becoming golfing partners. Geesin was better than Waters though, so only our imaginations can picture how delighted Waters must have been when he was beaten by a short head. Either way, Mason, Waters and Geesin (and their respective wives/girlfriends/partners/whatevers) all became the bestest friends and often went round each other's houses for drinks, dinner or just to, you know, sort of, hang out and smoke. That said, Geesin and Mason preferred to drink, leaving Waters, Wright and Gilmour (when they were there) to cloud both their minds and the surrounding air. Anyway, so as we already know, the 'Music From The Body' soundtrack was the first collaboration between Geesin and Waters. But not long afterwards, Pink Floyd were thinking about their next album - and as usual they didn't know what to do. After a frustrating spell in Rome working for director Michaelangelo Antonioni trying to come up with music for his film 'Zabriskie Point', they had to then come back home and concentrate on themselves again. Gradually, slowly, painfully and excruciatingly they came up with a long, meandering piece developed over several weeks in the early part of 1970. After testing it out live a couple of times on unsuspecting/unlucky audiences when they could to see what they liked and didn't, they managed to get it recorded at Abbey Road during a few spare weeks in March and one in April. Not terribly *well*, given the backing track featuring Mason and Waters wavered all over the place - but that was the best they could get in the circumstances. Playing it back, the band not only realised this but didn't think they'd like it much even if it was all at a constant tempo. So they called upon their Caledonian cousin Ron Geesin to see if he could write some orchestration/arrangements for brass and choir to fill it out. Being rather more musically gifted, Gilmour and Wright individually went to see Geesin here to give him some melodic pointers as to what they thought might fit the bill. Then they handed over the rough backing tapes, left him to it and buggered off to France (says Mason) or America (says everybody else) for some light touring. From the middle of May to mid-June, Geesin set to work up in his padded cell, decoding the wavy backing track's chord sequence and writing his own score for the brass and choir on top. Geesin's remarked in the past about the fact it was a stiflingly hot summer in 1970, and that he did this almost entirely disrobed and wore only his underpants. Perhaps his naked ambitions got the better of him. Certainly when it came putting his parts down at Abbey Road (that's *your* mind at work there, pal) the EMI session orchestra disliked his admittedly tricky arrangements so much, they decided to wind poor old Ron up to such an extent that he had to be removed from conducting duties before he snapped and gave a particularly irritating tuba player a Glasgow kiss. Luckily replacement conductor John Aldiss finally got a useable take out of them and so the record was thus complete - but not to anyone's total , or even partial satisfaction. Indeed it was *so* miserable that despite the effort putting it together 'Atom Heart Mother' is largely disowned by both Pink Floyd *and* Geesin. Or it was until he decided to perform it live at Westminster's Cadogan Hall in 2008 the way he thought it always *should* have been, with the plank-spanking assistance of one of it's most vocal critics down the ages too: David Gilmour. Nobody saw that one coming.... So there you go. Now, carry on walking up Ladbroke Grove until you hit the next bus stop. Wait until a (52) trundles up, and take it to....well, not *that* far away actually. It can be walked; I've done it myself. But get the bus anyway for two or three stops, because I've got even more walking for you later on and I don't want you needing an ambulance in a few hours' time. As the electric mistress says Leighton Avenue's coming up (or hopefully says as much), get off and cast an eye over the road to the school buildings you can see over the way. What happened here then? |
Chamberlayne Wood School Well, if you're as rabid a fan of the band as you surely must be for coming here, then I need only say five simple words: have you got it yet? Yes, it's alleged by David Gilmour and reported/reproduced in the 2010 book 'Syd Barrett - A Very Irregular Head' that the hitherto unspecified rehearsal session at which Syd uttered those words was indeed here at Chamberlayne Wood school. I suppose you already know the story, but let's go through it anyway for old time's sake. It was at the 'Christmas On Earth Continued' show at Kensington Olympia in December 1967 that the band had finally had enough of Syd Barrett's total disregard for them and their audience, given his habit of never letting things like having to perform concerts to paying punters hinder a bout of pharmaceutical gusto. Showing no apparent concern for anything or anybody but himself, and threatening the viability of the band as a going concern, it was decided after a band meeting that if nothing else they needed another member to prop Barrett up - or at least cover for him when he elected to loosen his strings, strum the same chord repeatedly or otherwise play nothing on stage at all. As luck would have it they knew who to turn to: Syd's old mate from Cambridge, David ('Fred') Gilmour. His old band, Joker's Wild, had split up and he'd been driving a delivery van for swinging London fashionista Ossie Clark. Gilmour had seen the band at a show at the Royal College Of Art shortly before the Olympia disaster, and either during the interval or after the show Mason asked him if he might be interested in a little job they had coming up. Over the Christmas break, the band went their separate ways to recover from the trauma but Syd, ever set on the path to oblivion, went to the band co-manager Andrew King's family cottage in Wales on an LSD orgy and unsurprisingly came back even worse - but at least he came back, physically if not mentally. So on January the 6th 1968, Gilmour left Ossie Clark (or was sacked - I know I've got a four-second clip of Gilmour saying he was sacked somewhere in my cupboard) and joined Pink Floyd. Announcements were made to the press and publicity photos of the new five-man Floyd were taken (I wish I knew *where*) showing Barrett haunting the rest, standing at the back with a face like none too delicate thunder. At almost exactly the same time, one must reasonably assume that Gilmour was 'auditioned' properly at Abbey Road so Peter Jenner and Andrew King could see the boy wonder for themselves. He certainly went over to Blackhill Enterprises HQ in Edbrooke Road to do the legal niceties and paperwork, but as we've already been there it's academic. Thus all the new expanded line-up had to do now was start rehearsing, and apparently they began in earnest here inside a hall at the Chamberlayne Wood School on the 8th of January 1968. Exactly *why* this place was chosen is beyond my imagining, but it's fairly safe to posit that the school term hadn't yet resumed following Christmas. The main thrust of the sessions was to allow Gilmour to learn the old songs and play them out with his new bandmates in preparation for the month's coming gigs, which (as I'm unaware of any reports to the contrary) must have gone like clockwork. It's not beyond the realm of possibilty that he was allowed to have a crack at material they'd only just written, as it's known that they all went to Abbey Road two days later on the 10th to work on second album 'A Saucerful Of Secrets'. But while they were still here at Chamberlayne Road on the 8th, Syd had turned up for rehearsals with a new song. Eagerly they all set about working it out, and that's when things began to unravel slightly. Alright, a lot. Barrett being Barrett, he ran through the song to show the rest how it went, and then when they all joined in for a run-through.....he changed it, singing "Have you got it yet?" - for upwards of an hour, never apparently playing it the same way twice (lyrics notwithstanding). Opinion is divided as to the merits of Syd's actions that day. Waters has in the past called it "A real act of mad genius," and presumably with the benefit of a few decades added "I actually thought there was something rather brilliant about it, like some clever kind of comedy. But eventually I just said "Oh, I've got it now", and walked away." He also remarked on the fact that "The interesting thing was I didn't suss it out at all," but why he and he alone should have grasped it sooner that the rest is anyone's guess. Mason has called it a "final demonstration of all his anger and frustration" and Wright hasn't said much I can reliably find (and won't be doing so for a long time yet). As for Gilmour, he's said that even he walked out of early rehearsals (not necessarily the ones here at Chamberlayne): "Roger had got so unbearably awful, in a way I'd later get used to, that I stomped out of the room. I can't remember how long I was gone for." Tapes, and especially video, from these fraught sessions would make for interesting viewing and listening indeed, but I don't know of any that exist. What we do know is that the band would shortly begin playing live as a five-piece, and come to the rapid conclusion after only about six or seven gigs that even with Gilmour on board to back Syd up, it wasn't going to work. While en-route to pick him up from Andrew King's parents' flat on Richmond Hill, they decided.....not to......ever again. I suspect that a very short time afterwards, Syd got *that* little stunt completely..... In truth, I'm not *100%* certain that the school in question was the one you're standing outside now. There was another one further up the way, but it was demolished years ago - so as a representative edifice, this'll do nicely. It's definitely the right road, which should be enough. Well, I think it should. So, having finished ruminating on the joys of band politics, go back to the bus stop and plonk yourself down. When it comes, take a (52) and stay on it until you're trundling down Willesden High Road and the electronic mistress says Villiers Road is coming up. Ring the bell, get off here and walk back a little to Villiers Road. Right on the corner, and up Villiers Road iteslf for a bit, lives this: |
Morgan Sound Studios (lat:
51°32'49.69"N long: 0°14'0.86"W) This one ought to have come much sooner than it did, but then again it's only because I'm lazy it didn't. The former site of Morgan Sound here in Willesden was quite a popular place in the 60's and 70's, used by the likes of Led Zeppelin, Mott The Hoople, The Kinks, Beatles McCartney and Starr, Blind Faith, Lou Reed and Rod Stewart. Having realised recording in the woods in the dead of night was impractical, Yes went one further and tried to replicate a farmyard within Morgan Sound, complete with bales of hay and life-size wooden cow - and Rick Wakeman's keyboards suffered an infestation of earwigs as a consequence. But what of Pink Floyd? Owing to factors way beyond my comprehension the recording of 1971's 'Meddle' album took place at Abbey Road, AIR Studios, and this little hovel here. Luckily, we can say with cast-iron certainty which part of the record they worked on inside: the perennial crowd-pleaser 'One Of These Days'. As I'm feeling rather under par today, I'm going to let David Gilmour himself tell you a story about 'One Of These Days'. Ready? Then he'll begin. "We had this roadie called Scott, and we had two basses. Roger and I were going to double-track each other live, but this spare bass had dead strings on it. So we sent this guy off to buy some strings, and he never came back! He'd been off in some shop in the King's Road, he'd been pressing his trousers, he'd seen his girlfriend....in the meantime, we had to cut the track. And if you listen to the basses, one in the left and one on the right speaker, one of them's got this much duller sound to it - it had these ancient old strings on it. And he came back, and we said 'Where the hell have you been?', and he said 'I just went to get the strings and came straight back!' We said 'You just *didn't*, you've been four hours! We know where you've been, you've been off seeing people, you've been home!' He said 'I haven't been home, I haven't!' We said 'We know you've been home - you've changed your trousers!' And he said 'Alright, I *might* have been home - but I *didn't* change my trousers!' " Ah, the vagaries of showbiz, eh? Apart from the heroic/hapless Scott's sartorial transgressions, it's further alleged that 'Meddle' had it's final mixing session here at Morgan too. Why? Maybe EMI were pushing for the finished product as soon as, but perhaps AIR was already booked up and Abbey Road definitely still didn't have sixteen-track equipment yet. It's certainly alleged that Morgan would (much) later become the first studio in the country to install 24-track equipment, so that's my inexpert hypothesis and you can argue about it until the cows come home blue in the face when the sun goes down in the final analysis at the end of the day. Or something like that. Although the original frontage/entrance to the studios is now a shop unit and private flats, over on the far left in the picture, round the back there's still a studio complex - this time called Alpha Centauri Recording, conceived by singer/songwriter Steve Rhodes. No, I've never heard of him either. Fortunately the rest of the music industry has, so it's still at present a going concern being used by many popular beat combos currently in vogue and solo artistes du jour..... **Update 08/11** - it looks like Alpha Centauri's star has faded somewhat. The particular part of the complex which they apparently only rented in the first place is up for grabs, along with the equipment within. So.....who knows? There's other studios for rent within, so it won't mean the end of the building completely.... Turn around, walk back to Willesden High Road and use the conveniently placed zebra crossing. To your right you'll see a damnably handy bus stop waiting for you, so you can join it and wait for a bus (260, 266 or 460) to take you to Willesden Green tube station. On arrival get off, and take a Jubilee Line tube to West Hampstead station. It's only a couple of stops, so it won't take long. Those of a nimble mind might well deduce that you could just as easily go westbound on the train, all the way out to Wembley to see the Stadium and Arena - but that's *so* optional even I wouldn't try it. It's technically possible, certainly. But I've only got so much energy, and you've only got so much time. Anyway, we're approaching West Hampstead at the moment. Get out here, and walk up to street level. Cross over at the lights, turn right and walk along until you come to the first turning on the left, Broadhurst Gardens. Down here used to live this..... |
|
Decca Studios (lat: 51°32'46.57"N long: 0°11'25.64"W)  As
you walk down Broadhurst Gardens, you'll see a building with an English
National Opera sign above the doors. This
was originally a studio owned by the Decca recording company which
opened in 1934, and closed a mere sixty or so years later in 1997 after
which the ENO acquired it for storage and rehearsal. It's perhaps most
famous for its association with the
Beatles, as this was the place in which they auditioned (and failed)
for Decca on New Year's Day 1962. Apart from this small miscalculation,
Decca nonetheless always had a huge number of well-known, world-famous
stars on its books using this very studio, be they popular, jazz or
classical. They also happened to be on the cutting edge of innovation
and development in recording technology too, and this place was full of
their recording and duplicating toys up until its closure. But the
seventies weren't a time of great commercial success for them, despite
such signing coups as Father Abraham and the Smurfs. Odd then that the
early seventies saw Pink Floyd
use the
building for the purposes of mapping out 'Dark Side Of The Moon' on
paper,
bandying around ideas. 'Breathe' was developed as a result of the
sessions
here, as was the intro to 'Time' (minus clocks, which were added at
Abbey Road) and the bass riff to 'Money'. Allegedly. So, this is the
very building
where one of the world's best selling albums was partially concocted.
Rumours that the band also used the Rolling Stones' rehearsal studio in
Bermondsey to do more of the same kind of thing are true (as the
'Classic Albums - Dark Side Of The Moon' DVD prove) although publicity
and features
at the time of the album's 25th anniversary didn't worry about that
much, and concentrated on Broadhurst Gardens instead. By the time its
30th
birthday came around, the Bermondsey studio took precedence. You can
take that as the final word, or you can toss a coin. If you want to see
the Rolling Stones' place, it's here..
Of course, nothing's ever simple when it comes
to Pink Floyd, especially their history - and don't I know it.... it
would
seem that the Dark Side sessions of '72 weren't in fact their first
visit to Broadhurst Gardens. No, they came here as overexcited
architectural students in very late 1964. Nick Mason suggests in his
book 'Inside Out' that it was
close to Christmas, and it was the first time that they'd been in
any studio of any kind whatsoever. Apparently Rick Wright had a mate
who worked here, and let them use the place free when nobody else was
booked in. Shortly after short-lived, but not noticeably short member
Chris Dennis had left the band to take up his obligatory RAF duty in
the Middle
East, the band (with Syd Barrett as the frontman, Bob Klose still on
rhythm guitar, Rick Wright on the organ and Roger Waters on bass) came
here to run through three
Barrett originals - 'Butterfly', 'Double O Bo', 'Lucy Leave' and a
cover of Slim Harpo's 'I'm A King Bee'. The fruits of their labours
were recorded on tape and even stamped on a small number of acetate
records, becoming a handy sampler to give interested parties looking
for a amateur R+B band for the night an idea of just what they were
letting themselves in for. Putting the dates together, one might
reasonably assume that one such venue sufficiently impressed by the
tape/record was the Coundown Club in Palace Gate, where they were
handed their very first residency in early 1965. Go and see the place's
own entry on the South and West circuit to learn why it didn't last. In
truth, I suppose this important recording session might *not* have
taken place here. Almost every respected (and probably a few useless)
sources of Floydian history give only the mention of a session, which
songs were taped and the general area in which it happened. Bob Klose had already forgotten where it was by 1973, so
he's no good. Even Mason in 2004 only says "the
studio in West Hampstead" without explicitly naming it - and then
mentioning "Broadhurst Gardens" and "demos" casually in passing a bit
later. So I'm going
to say it was this very studio, largely because we're
here now anyway. Even Barry Miles says it was West Hampstead too.
Annoyingly, the 2010 book 'Syd Barrett - A Very Irregular Head' reckons
the session actually took place at Regent Sound Studios in Denmark
Street - but there you
go. It was never going to be simple, was it? Finally, 'Dark Globe' by
Julian Palacious goes with Broadhurst Gardens too, which makes it three
to one in favour which is enough to sway me. Either way another band
who nearly made it were Jokers Wild,
featuring a youthful, slim, handsome and dashing David Gilmour. The
renowned
harelip pederast (and, less infamously these days) former industry
impresario Jonathon King auditioned the Jokers here with a view to
getting them signed to Decca. Go and see Regent Sound Studios on the
Centrals leg if you want to know why Decca didn't want them, and
speculate on which of them King probably would've liked to take home
afterwards in any case....Finished? It *is* quite boring when you can't go inside and make a nuisance of yourself, I know. On we go, down Broadhurst Gardens for a bit until you see the first on the right: West Hampstead Mews. Follow it round, and soon you'll see the arse end of the studios. A bit further on from that, and Exeter Mews presents itself on the right - and you can go down the *side* of the studios. The excitement never....begins. Don't try anything too clever - the place is covered by security cameras quite extensively. The inhabitants of the mews houses nearby might call a constable too. This little circuit of the place is poor consolation for not being able to go inside - not that there's much left within anyway, I shouldn't think. Peer through some windows if you like. In any case, the only external surface you've now not been able to see is the roof, and Google Maps can take care of that if it keeps you awake at night. Trudge onwards to the top of the Mews, where it ought to come out at West End Lane (although there probably won't be a sign saying so). Turn left and keep walking until you find the bus stop up ahead. When it comes, take a bus (139) on its winding way to Abbey Road. The electronic mistress calling out the stops doesn't actually include the studios in her repertoire, so you'll have to keep a sharp lookout. They do appear quite abruptly, so be aware. Or beware. Or both.... |
|
Abbey Road (lat: 51°31'55.54"N long:
0°10'42.35"W) Floydian activity here is well documented, both in print and on film. The band first set foot on the premises on the 21st February 1967, to record 'Matilda Mother' in studio 3 - a session which apparently began at the somewhat anti-social time of 11:00pm. This didn't set a precedent though; just four of their studio albums were entirely made at Abbey Road. Only 'A Saucerful Of Secrets', 'Atom Heart Mother', 'Dark Side Of The Moon' and 'Wish You Were Here' were completely produced at these studios. The rest were either done elsewhere, or only partly at Abbey Road. Individual activities are confined to Syd Barrett's two solo albums, the third ill-fated and aborted one in 1974, Roger Waters' 'Amused To Death' (or some of it at any rate - including a promotional video shot inside Studio 2 for 'What God Wants (Part Two)') and David Gilmour's work on records for almost everybody else in popular music. In 2003, Abbey Road made a thoroughly unexpected cameo appearance on the 'Live at Pompeii - The Director's Cut' DVD. Aside from the usual footage that was previously included on VHS releases, newly-shot clips of the zebra crossing, the wall outside and even a nearby Tube station inexplicably turned up around thirteen minutes in, while the band play 'Echoes' - which of course, wasn't even originally recorded here anyway. In 2005, the Abbey Road Film Festival gave a select few a chance to see the film of 'The Wall' inside the cavernous Studio One plus a privileged wander around Studio Two. I was fortunate enough to be one of those people, and mightily impressed I was too by the holes in the ceiling, tired parquet flooring and cracked plasterwork. Tinkering away within later in the year was David Gilmour, for what would emerge in 2006 as his third solo album, 'On An Island'. After his subsequent European tour had concluded, Gilmour and his band were filmed running through four songs from 'Island' in studio 1 on August 29th 2006 for Channel 4's series, 'Live From Abbey Road'. It aired in March 2007 and portions were eventually issued on retail DVD too. There was a small audience present, made up of technical crew, friends and family plus a couple of competition winners. Reports of an exclusive, spontaneous acoustic version of 'Echoes' performed after the session was over were rife, but the official line was largely that the cameras had stopped turning by then and no footage of it existed. Gilmour's own website kept the pretence up all the way and upon the release of the 'Remember That Night' DVD, it oh-so-magically appeared as an unlisted and unannounced extra. Nice of them to include it, I suppose. It's just a shame that when I first saw it I'd long forgotten the rumours and initially mistook it for a jokey - if inexplicable - attempt at a Riverdance piss-take. Then, when Gilmour's 'Live in Gdansk' DVD was issued, it was a properly creditied track anyway so all mystery was finally banished for ever.... **Update
06/07** - EMI, or what's left
of them, were taken over by a private equity firm last month. It's
rumoured
(probably by the neighbours) that Abbey Road will subsequently be sold
off to developers to do with as they will. If true, it'll certainly
bugger this website to pieces, and knock a substantial hole in all the
Beatles tours too.... **Update
07/09/09** - Hardly worth mentioning really, but Nick Mason was
in today, recording drum parts for the forthcoming BBC's annual
'Children In Need' charity appeal album. A key figure in the
charity, broadcaster Terry Wogan, announced his retirement from his
long-running radio show the same day, then went to Abbey Road to record
his contrbutions for the album. Speaking on BBC News24, Mason was asked
for his reaction to Wogan's retirement and intimated it was both tragic
and the end of an era. Amusing then, that I remember an interview for
the Times newspaper in 2006 where David Gilmour was asked about his pet
hates, one of them being Wogan - even though his breakfast show on
Radio 2 was a firm champion of 'On An Island' when it came out..... And as it's my tour, I thought Abbey Road would be a nice place to conclude Part One. Have you enjoyed yourself? No, me neither. Unfortunately the second leg of More of the West and North is even less fun that the first, but it's up to you. Camden, Islington, Finsbury Park, Highgate and Alexandra Palace amongst others await your attention - or not if you can't be bothered. I know the feeling if you can't. It's completely possible to walk to the beginning of the next leg, but your legs won't thank you for it when you get there. I know mine didn't. It's unlikely you'll have time left in the day to even set out on Part Two, but if chancing your life in darkness through various urban cesspools gets you all excited, then you'll want to be walking down to the crossroads of Abbey Road and Circus Road. Turn left, and follow it all the way, all the way, all the way down to the traffic lights and junction with the main road - the A41.Go straight across, and carry on past the curiously named Panzer Delicatessen. In time you'll come across St. John's Wood High Street on the right. Go down here, trying not to look like you're about to take off in a yummy mummy's Range Rover (however strong the urge). Second on the left is Allitsen Road - go down this, and second on the right is Charlbert Street. Along here is the beginning of the next leg - More Of The Wast And North Part Two. Truth be told you'll probably want to get a taxi from Abbey Road, as it's a fuck of a long way...... |
