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Very interesting. So Chuck Berry's music publisher helped in getting The Stones their recording contract. Some criticize The Stones for having been "just a covers band" early on. But this article reveals that it was indeed a strength for them, in terms of their getting signed, which might not have happened at that time otherwise. A fascinating new insight I hadn't been aware of before, so thanks for posting this latebloomer!
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New and old interviews with Andrew Loog Oldham
Posted by:
latebloomer
()
Date: January 3, 2013 01:11
Rock'sbackpages has a couple of articles about Oldham in their latest edition. You can access these yourself for free because they are located in rock'sbackpages free access section. However, you do have to create an account first. I decided to put them here as well, but in two posts.
Here's the first one, an interview with Andrew about his new book.
Everybody Must Get Stoned: Andrew Loog Oldham Speaks
Paul Trynka, Rock's Backpages, December 2012
ANDREW OLDHAM'S two books of memoirs, Stoned and 2Stoned, are not only vital, entertaining works on the genesis and growth of the Rolling Stones; they provide a crucial insight into the '60s in general.
Oldham bonded with his Stones like no other manager, and as Mick Jagger recently commented, scripted out "the part" that Jagger still plays today. Stone Free was designed to be the final segment of what Oldham terms his "triography". It's both more random, and more personal than its predecessors, for it focuses above all on Oldham's treasured art: the hustle.
This theme, in many ways, tells you all you need to know about Andrew Oldham; for it is the zest, the excitement, the imagination and, perhaps, the irresponsibility of the hustler that defined his role as a manager of the Rolling Stones and the boss of Immediate Records. Stone Free opens with a loving paean to the hustle, and then goes on to tell the story of practitioners whom Oldham loved or admired.
There is a chapter devoted to Alec Morris, the part-time partner of Oldham's always mysterious mother, Celia; Morris's hat, his bravado and style were formative influences, as were the Hollywood movies, like Sweet Smell of Success, which the teenage Oldham studied obsessively. Other character sketches give some of the deepest insights into the world of the '60s rock manager, although those insights are not invariably flattering. There's affection in his sketch of Brian Epstein, but also a gimlet-eyed analysis of his insecurity and occasional passivity; conversely, Oldham retains respect, even affection, for what many of us would regard as obnoxious characters like Don Arden or Allen Klein. Elsewhere, with his chapter devoted to Adrien Millar, who created and then lost the Babys, we are reminded how in the music biz, the biz is often more exciting than the music.
Oldham, as ever, is engagingly candid and unashamedly partisan; and, although it's unstated, much of this beguiling book seems to me to set out, and almost convince, of an outrageous premise: that where the money ended up was largely irrelevant, that what matters was the momentum these managers helped their clients build.
There are many fascinating personal anecdotes about Oldham and the Stones here, but without a doubt the main appeal of Stone Free is its varied cast: some of the most fascinating, inspiring, scurrilous and contradictory people in the history of popular music. Their stories are all the more compelling because we see them in their decline, as well as their pomp, recorded with a sensitivity you might not expect from Oldham's previous writings. A mod-suitedand booted Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus, this is obligatory reading for anyone who's ever contemplated signing on that dotted line.
Stone Free is published by Escargot Books
There's a enduring love for both, and constant competition between them in the book, so I have to ask – which is more important, the music or the hustle?
"Love and marriage, goes together like a horse and carriage," as the old song went . You can't have one without the other. The music is the foundation, the thing that has to resonate long after the hustle is done. The hustle is the springboard, the music is the long distance runner. Or a quick sprint, as in one-off. The long distance is of course preferred.
There's also seems to be a fascination with grandiose failure – e.g. Jobriath– as much as success in the latest volume. True? And if true, why?
Does the swimming pool have water in it when you jump? The hustler is not supposed to look. You gotta have faith, to quote NW3's finest driver, and therefore grandiose failure is always a big possibility, just as possible as success. I'm not sure I believe that talent will out. It may.
The segments on Allen Klein are fascinating – generous, especially considering that he, ultimately, gained control of the catalogue you midwife'd, and that his work with the Stones' catalogue is often described as a disaster. Are you speaking up for him because no one else will?
Well, Sam Cooke is dead and Mick's busy. Seriously, I could make the analogy between the Stones going with Allen alone and the Small Faces coming to Immediate – a great initial burst of music from both bands but the end of the original kill, that original passionate killer elite of youth. Money does that. Fame as a regular member of your family does that as well. Unfortunately when an Allen Klein is needed the music is already Number 2 on the band's agenda. It's inevitable. It's not Allen's fault, and I really ought not to say "an Allen Klein" , 'cause there was and will forever only be one Allen Klein. To return to the question, I write about Allen as I experienced him, that was the job of this book.
Do you/ did you have any input into the ABKCO Stones rereleases, or items like the Charlie Is My Darling DVD? If not, does that pain you?
The last re-release I had anything to do with was the singles collection around '86 or ' 87. This SACD stuff I had nothing to do with. It's crap. SACD made Mick and Keith's background vocals on 'Get Off Of My Cloud' sound like Freddie and the Dreamers. I own the picture on Charlie Is My Darling and approve of what was done for the recent release. I guess the Stones like it as well, as I'm told it is the meat and potatoes of Crossfire Hurricane.
You write a warm appreciation of Malcolm McLaren - but no comments on his role in Sid's descent and demise. Do managers have a responsibility to their charges, beyond making them famous?
Well, I was not there for the whatever of Sid's demise. I don't know how much Malcolm, Lydon, Nancy or Sid's mum all had in egging the end on. As a member of the addiction club I know I only paid lip service to those who cared and only cared about what I thought. Elton John has a management wing that is supposed to provide counselling to its artists. A grand gesture, I really, really hope it works. But I ask you: if your artist will not go onstage in front of 20,000 punters without a line, what would you do?
There's a lovely vignette of a Canadian immigration official who extracts the information that you discovered the Rolling Stones and closes by asking "are they grateful?" Should they be?
I know what I am grateful to the Rolling Stones for. Can I leave it at that ?
You're remarkably non-judgmental of many people who are widely disliked, for instance Allen Klein and Don Arden. But every mention of Brian Jones, bar the last one, is coupled with a put-down. Did you really dislike him that much?
An older @#$%& in a school in the next barrio does not interfere with your life. But if he's the same age and going to the same school, then @#$%& him. He may be able to score brilliant goals, but you cannot rely on him. I should add that Brian was either a leader or a liability. Once he was not the leader he found it hard to be a team player. I smelt him out from the word go.
There's a hilarious anecdote of a meeting with Phil Spector and Seymour Stein; even while indicted for murder, Phil wants Stein to sign a record deal with his new wife, Playboy model Rachelle. Was there always such a thin dividing line between genius and insanity?
I guess so. It was a very, very strange day. Patrick McGoohan could have directed it great for a Columbo episode. Or perhaps it was better suited to the Twilight Zone. But there was a hilarious real amount of love in the room.
The chapter on Brian Epstein is touching. You mention his insecurity, at some length, the fact his parents despaired of him. Was that insecurity apparent to you at the time?
Brian Epstein's insecurity? For sure. He was so scared of people finding out. And I do not mean the gay thing, I mean the fact that he was scared. Dreams come true and for the unbalanced they can become nightmares. That is, of course, an over-simplification.
Your revisiting the subject of Mick Jagger is fascinating; especially the mention that you never had a "real" conversation. Is he unknowable? Or is he just the straightforward, ambitious, good blues singer you also portray him as?
As you can imagine the writing of many of the chapters in Stone Free was a learning curve, a summing up, as I've said influenced by Willie Maugham's The Summing Up. I'd come to bits and go, Oh, do I really think that? And I did. It is easier to talk with you here about what I wrote because when I wrote it a lot of the subjects were on death row with the possibility of a reprieve. Today we both know they didn't get it. And I'm glad you said "Good".
You leave us with the sense that the "feud" between Keith and Mick is getting tedious. What would you tell them to do, if you were still in charge?
It is tedious. It's Mick with instrumental accompaniment. Keith is like Gary Oldman at the end of State Of Grace, when his brother Ed Harris kills him. 'Cept this brother has better hair. And I was never in charge. Regardless of the occasional detail and ennui. If I'd been in charge I'd have been managing the Yardbirds.
Was it cathartic, completing the trilogy?
I looked the word up recently after blindly using it for zonks of time. I'd be loathe to admit to it, play to it, even if it was true. Even if it was true, I'd iron it out of my system. That's not the job description, if you want that go into therapy. And I have upon occasions when I felt my luggage was getting in the way of my capacity. I say, or I said, triography, as opposed to the word you used. But there could be more. Our world is both so stupid and so brilliant. I started on Stone Free in 2004 – look at us now. Mick and Lady Gaga, Bill Wyman reduced to one song, record companies living off ludicrous box sets that are like bits of furniture, selling to the remaining few who care a toss.
I've always loved George Melly's description of you, quoted on the Stoned dust-jacket, as "calculatedly vicious and nasty, but pretty as a stoat". Did he miss anything out?
Oh, pretty is an acceptable exaggeration...
© Paul Trynka, 2012
Here's the first one, an interview with Andrew about his new book.
Everybody Must Get Stoned: Andrew Loog Oldham Speaks
Paul Trynka, Rock's Backpages, December 2012
ANDREW OLDHAM'S two books of memoirs, Stoned and 2Stoned, are not only vital, entertaining works on the genesis and growth of the Rolling Stones; they provide a crucial insight into the '60s in general.
Oldham bonded with his Stones like no other manager, and as Mick Jagger recently commented, scripted out "the part" that Jagger still plays today. Stone Free was designed to be the final segment of what Oldham terms his "triography". It's both more random, and more personal than its predecessors, for it focuses above all on Oldham's treasured art: the hustle.
This theme, in many ways, tells you all you need to know about Andrew Oldham; for it is the zest, the excitement, the imagination and, perhaps, the irresponsibility of the hustler that defined his role as a manager of the Rolling Stones and the boss of Immediate Records. Stone Free opens with a loving paean to the hustle, and then goes on to tell the story of practitioners whom Oldham loved or admired.
There is a chapter devoted to Alec Morris, the part-time partner of Oldham's always mysterious mother, Celia; Morris's hat, his bravado and style were formative influences, as were the Hollywood movies, like Sweet Smell of Success, which the teenage Oldham studied obsessively. Other character sketches give some of the deepest insights into the world of the '60s rock manager, although those insights are not invariably flattering. There's affection in his sketch of Brian Epstein, but also a gimlet-eyed analysis of his insecurity and occasional passivity; conversely, Oldham retains respect, even affection, for what many of us would regard as obnoxious characters like Don Arden or Allen Klein. Elsewhere, with his chapter devoted to Adrien Millar, who created and then lost the Babys, we are reminded how in the music biz, the biz is often more exciting than the music.
Oldham, as ever, is engagingly candid and unashamedly partisan; and, although it's unstated, much of this beguiling book seems to me to set out, and almost convince, of an outrageous premise: that where the money ended up was largely irrelevant, that what matters was the momentum these managers helped their clients build.
There are many fascinating personal anecdotes about Oldham and the Stones here, but without a doubt the main appeal of Stone Free is its varied cast: some of the most fascinating, inspiring, scurrilous and contradictory people in the history of popular music. Their stories are all the more compelling because we see them in their decline, as well as their pomp, recorded with a sensitivity you might not expect from Oldham's previous writings. A mod-suitedand booted Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus, this is obligatory reading for anyone who's ever contemplated signing on that dotted line.
Stone Free is published by Escargot Books
There's a enduring love for both, and constant competition between them in the book, so I have to ask – which is more important, the music or the hustle?
"Love and marriage, goes together like a horse and carriage," as the old song went . You can't have one without the other. The music is the foundation, the thing that has to resonate long after the hustle is done. The hustle is the springboard, the music is the long distance runner. Or a quick sprint, as in one-off. The long distance is of course preferred.
There's also seems to be a fascination with grandiose failure – e.g. Jobriath– as much as success in the latest volume. True? And if true, why?
Does the swimming pool have water in it when you jump? The hustler is not supposed to look. You gotta have faith, to quote NW3's finest driver, and therefore grandiose failure is always a big possibility, just as possible as success. I'm not sure I believe that talent will out. It may.
The segments on Allen Klein are fascinating – generous, especially considering that he, ultimately, gained control of the catalogue you midwife'd, and that his work with the Stones' catalogue is often described as a disaster. Are you speaking up for him because no one else will?
Well, Sam Cooke is dead and Mick's busy. Seriously, I could make the analogy between the Stones going with Allen alone and the Small Faces coming to Immediate – a great initial burst of music from both bands but the end of the original kill, that original passionate killer elite of youth. Money does that. Fame as a regular member of your family does that as well. Unfortunately when an Allen Klein is needed the music is already Number 2 on the band's agenda. It's inevitable. It's not Allen's fault, and I really ought not to say "an Allen Klein" , 'cause there was and will forever only be one Allen Klein. To return to the question, I write about Allen as I experienced him, that was the job of this book.
Do you/ did you have any input into the ABKCO Stones rereleases, or items like the Charlie Is My Darling DVD? If not, does that pain you?
The last re-release I had anything to do with was the singles collection around '86 or ' 87. This SACD stuff I had nothing to do with. It's crap. SACD made Mick and Keith's background vocals on 'Get Off Of My Cloud' sound like Freddie and the Dreamers. I own the picture on Charlie Is My Darling and approve of what was done for the recent release. I guess the Stones like it as well, as I'm told it is the meat and potatoes of Crossfire Hurricane.
You write a warm appreciation of Malcolm McLaren - but no comments on his role in Sid's descent and demise. Do managers have a responsibility to their charges, beyond making them famous?
Well, I was not there for the whatever of Sid's demise. I don't know how much Malcolm, Lydon, Nancy or Sid's mum all had in egging the end on. As a member of the addiction club I know I only paid lip service to those who cared and only cared about what I thought. Elton John has a management wing that is supposed to provide counselling to its artists. A grand gesture, I really, really hope it works. But I ask you: if your artist will not go onstage in front of 20,000 punters without a line, what would you do?
There's a lovely vignette of a Canadian immigration official who extracts the information that you discovered the Rolling Stones and closes by asking "are they grateful?" Should they be?
I know what I am grateful to the Rolling Stones for. Can I leave it at that ?
You're remarkably non-judgmental of many people who are widely disliked, for instance Allen Klein and Don Arden. But every mention of Brian Jones, bar the last one, is coupled with a put-down. Did you really dislike him that much?
An older @#$%& in a school in the next barrio does not interfere with your life. But if he's the same age and going to the same school, then @#$%& him. He may be able to score brilliant goals, but you cannot rely on him. I should add that Brian was either a leader or a liability. Once he was not the leader he found it hard to be a team player. I smelt him out from the word go.
There's a hilarious anecdote of a meeting with Phil Spector and Seymour Stein; even while indicted for murder, Phil wants Stein to sign a record deal with his new wife, Playboy model Rachelle. Was there always such a thin dividing line between genius and insanity?
I guess so. It was a very, very strange day. Patrick McGoohan could have directed it great for a Columbo episode. Or perhaps it was better suited to the Twilight Zone. But there was a hilarious real amount of love in the room.
The chapter on Brian Epstein is touching. You mention his insecurity, at some length, the fact his parents despaired of him. Was that insecurity apparent to you at the time?
Brian Epstein's insecurity? For sure. He was so scared of people finding out. And I do not mean the gay thing, I mean the fact that he was scared. Dreams come true and for the unbalanced they can become nightmares. That is, of course, an over-simplification.
Your revisiting the subject of Mick Jagger is fascinating; especially the mention that you never had a "real" conversation. Is he unknowable? Or is he just the straightforward, ambitious, good blues singer you also portray him as?
As you can imagine the writing of many of the chapters in Stone Free was a learning curve, a summing up, as I've said influenced by Willie Maugham's The Summing Up. I'd come to bits and go, Oh, do I really think that? And I did. It is easier to talk with you here about what I wrote because when I wrote it a lot of the subjects were on death row with the possibility of a reprieve. Today we both know they didn't get it. And I'm glad you said "Good".
You leave us with the sense that the "feud" between Keith and Mick is getting tedious. What would you tell them to do, if you were still in charge?
It is tedious. It's Mick with instrumental accompaniment. Keith is like Gary Oldman at the end of State Of Grace, when his brother Ed Harris kills him. 'Cept this brother has better hair. And I was never in charge. Regardless of the occasional detail and ennui. If I'd been in charge I'd have been managing the Yardbirds.
Was it cathartic, completing the trilogy?
I looked the word up recently after blindly using it for zonks of time. I'd be loathe to admit to it, play to it, even if it was true. Even if it was true, I'd iron it out of my system. That's not the job description, if you want that go into therapy. And I have upon occasions when I felt my luggage was getting in the way of my capacity. I say, or I said, triography, as opposed to the word you used. But there could be more. Our world is both so stupid and so brilliant. I started on Stone Free in 2004 – look at us now. Mick and Lady Gaga, Bill Wyman reduced to one song, record companies living off ludicrous box sets that are like bits of furniture, selling to the remaining few who care a toss.
I've always loved George Melly's description of you, quoted on the Stoned dust-jacket, as "calculatedly vicious and nasty, but pretty as a stoat". Did he miss anything out?
Oh, pretty is an acceptable exaggeration...
© Paul Trynka, 2012
Re: New and old interviews with Andrew Loog Oldham
Posted by:
latebloomer
()
Date: January 3, 2013 01:13
Here's the second article, from 1964.
Andrew Loog Oldham: Secrets Of The Stones' Man
David Griffiths, Record Mirror, 15 August 1964
The Stones are no longer a challenge... they need no pushing... the Andrew Oldham Orchestra doesn't exist
A NEW PHASE of the amazing career of Andrew Oldham gets under way next month. Of The Rolling Stones (whom he co-manages and has enthusiastically published for the last year) Andrew says: "They are now their own publicists. They've got past the stage of needing any pushing. Therefore, there's no challenge in it for me."
At the age of 20 he has achieved all he set out to do. He's tasted a measure of fame, considerable wealth, fast and massive cars, costly clothes and eager employees. Now he says: "Once I'd done all this it didn't seem important any more. I've sold out my publicity business – too much of a strain. And I no longer care about clothes. I've made a lot of money and spent most of it. What I want to do is produce records and be an artiste myself."
Hence, in the next few weeks, we'll see the release of two LPs by The Andrew Oldham Orchestra. One is a collection of numbers from Maggie May – the Lionel Bart musical which opens in Manchester on August 17 for a pre-London run – and the other contains 16 numbers, 14 of them hits from the past and two would-be hits written by Andrew. He calls his compositions "in the social comment category." The titles: 'The Lonely Rocker' and 'Theme From Mod Summer Night's Dream'.
DEMO DISCS
He's also done some demo discs of Wayne Fontana and the Mind-Benders which they're hoping Jack Baverstock – Wayne's recording manager at Philips – will take an interest in. And Andrew has organised a session "with a man I've idolised since I was 14 – Marty Wilde."
But the first man to catch Andrew's interest in pop music was Bill Haley. "I thought he was great when I was 12 and from then on I wanted to get into the business. Pop music is often regarded as a stage in kids' musical development from which they progress to other things. You know, when they get to 16 they take up jazz and pretend they understand what it's all about. To me, that's pseudo culture. Pop music is what I understand and love and such success as I've had has come from the fact that I've always believed in what I'm doing."
Andrew's family has no show business background and he received no training. His first, short, job was as a tea boy at Hardy Amies' fashion house, which explains the passion for clothes that gripped him until recently. "I liked wearing good clothes, they were important when I had no money because they attracted attention and helped me to become noticed in show business. But I've realised that once you have made it, people don't like to see you well dressed – they think it's flashy I suppose."
After a few months in the fashion world Andrew set off for the South of France where he became a con man – invaluable experience for learning how to handle people. "I lived off English tourists. I approached them using a public school accent and said 'Excuse me, Sir, I wonder if you could help me. I've run out of money and can't get a job because I haven't been able to get a work permit. My mother would be worried sick if I wrote to her for money. I'm getting a permit in the next few days but meanwhile could you lend me 10 francs?'
TOO DRUNK
"The tourists loved it, particularly the upper class people. I was just 17 years old and pulling in £8 a day, living in Cannes, Juan-les-Pins and St. Tropez. Sometimes I'd run into my benefactors in night clubs but they were too drunk to recognise me! I stayed on the Riviera for eight months, went to jail briefly for vagrancy. On the whole, though, I found it dead easy and felt like Cary Grant in a comedy."
Back in England he worked for an industrial PR agency, then got a job in show business publicising Mark Wynter. His next client was Kenny Lynch, he met Brian Epstein and started publicising his stable. Brian Hyland, Chris Montez, Johnny Tillotson and The Bachelors also employed his services. For Gene Pitney he produced 'That Girl Belongs To Yesterday'.
And there were The Rolling Stones. "Peter Jones suggested I go and hear them at Richmond. I went with Eric Easton, from whom I was renting an office. We became their managers."
They didn't make the Stones stars,says Andrew. "The public did. Three years ago it was possible for manager to make star. These days it is the fans who dictate who will be stars. We simply helped draw attention to the Stones and the public accepted them."
He's considering going to America for at least a year where the rewards of record producing are greater. But first he wants to establish The Andrew Oldham Orchestra. "Trouble is, the Orchestra doesn't really exist. They're session musicians and it would be impossible for them to tour because the guys are too busy with other commitments. We've been offered TV dates but the musicians just don't look the way they sound. So we'll have to concentrate on trying to make hit discs."
© David Griffiths, 1964
Andrew Loog Oldham: Secrets Of The Stones' Man
David Griffiths, Record Mirror, 15 August 1964
The Stones are no longer a challenge... they need no pushing... the Andrew Oldham Orchestra doesn't exist
A NEW PHASE of the amazing career of Andrew Oldham gets under way next month. Of The Rolling Stones (whom he co-manages and has enthusiastically published for the last year) Andrew says: "They are now their own publicists. They've got past the stage of needing any pushing. Therefore, there's no challenge in it for me."
At the age of 20 he has achieved all he set out to do. He's tasted a measure of fame, considerable wealth, fast and massive cars, costly clothes and eager employees. Now he says: "Once I'd done all this it didn't seem important any more. I've sold out my publicity business – too much of a strain. And I no longer care about clothes. I've made a lot of money and spent most of it. What I want to do is produce records and be an artiste myself."
Hence, in the next few weeks, we'll see the release of two LPs by The Andrew Oldham Orchestra. One is a collection of numbers from Maggie May – the Lionel Bart musical which opens in Manchester on August 17 for a pre-London run – and the other contains 16 numbers, 14 of them hits from the past and two would-be hits written by Andrew. He calls his compositions "in the social comment category." The titles: 'The Lonely Rocker' and 'Theme From Mod Summer Night's Dream'.
DEMO DISCS
He's also done some demo discs of Wayne Fontana and the Mind-Benders which they're hoping Jack Baverstock – Wayne's recording manager at Philips – will take an interest in. And Andrew has organised a session "with a man I've idolised since I was 14 – Marty Wilde."
But the first man to catch Andrew's interest in pop music was Bill Haley. "I thought he was great when I was 12 and from then on I wanted to get into the business. Pop music is often regarded as a stage in kids' musical development from which they progress to other things. You know, when they get to 16 they take up jazz and pretend they understand what it's all about. To me, that's pseudo culture. Pop music is what I understand and love and such success as I've had has come from the fact that I've always believed in what I'm doing."
Andrew's family has no show business background and he received no training. His first, short, job was as a tea boy at Hardy Amies' fashion house, which explains the passion for clothes that gripped him until recently. "I liked wearing good clothes, they were important when I had no money because they attracted attention and helped me to become noticed in show business. But I've realised that once you have made it, people don't like to see you well dressed – they think it's flashy I suppose."
After a few months in the fashion world Andrew set off for the South of France where he became a con man – invaluable experience for learning how to handle people. "I lived off English tourists. I approached them using a public school accent and said 'Excuse me, Sir, I wonder if you could help me. I've run out of money and can't get a job because I haven't been able to get a work permit. My mother would be worried sick if I wrote to her for money. I'm getting a permit in the next few days but meanwhile could you lend me 10 francs?'
TOO DRUNK
"The tourists loved it, particularly the upper class people. I was just 17 years old and pulling in £8 a day, living in Cannes, Juan-les-Pins and St. Tropez. Sometimes I'd run into my benefactors in night clubs but they were too drunk to recognise me! I stayed on the Riviera for eight months, went to jail briefly for vagrancy. On the whole, though, I found it dead easy and felt like Cary Grant in a comedy."
Back in England he worked for an industrial PR agency, then got a job in show business publicising Mark Wynter. His next client was Kenny Lynch, he met Brian Epstein and started publicising his stable. Brian Hyland, Chris Montez, Johnny Tillotson and The Bachelors also employed his services. For Gene Pitney he produced 'That Girl Belongs To Yesterday'.
And there were The Rolling Stones. "Peter Jones suggested I go and hear them at Richmond. I went with Eric Easton, from whom I was renting an office. We became their managers."
They didn't make the Stones stars,says Andrew. "The public did. Three years ago it was possible for manager to make star. These days it is the fans who dictate who will be stars. We simply helped draw attention to the Stones and the public accepted them."
He's considering going to America for at least a year where the rewards of record producing are greater. But first he wants to establish The Andrew Oldham Orchestra. "Trouble is, the Orchestra doesn't really exist. They're session musicians and it would be impossible for them to tour because the guys are too busy with other commitments. We've been offered TV dates but the musicians just don't look the way they sound. So we'll have to concentrate on trying to make hit discs."
© David Griffiths, 1964
Re: New and old interviews with Andrew Loog Oldham
Posted by:
latebloomer
()
Date: January 3, 2013 01:19
Oops, there was one more, from 1995.
The Rolling Stones: How It Happened
Johnny Black, Q, May 1995
By 1963, The Rollin' Stones lacked only a "g" and a manager. Enter Andrew Loog Oldham, 19-year-old music publicist and soon-to-be Stones Svengali...
Andrew Loog Oldham: "In early 1963 I was doing public relations on a freelance basis for The Beatles and some other Brian Epstein acts. Contrary to popular opinion, I wasn't looking for anything else to do. I was a very happy man. One day, I went to see Peter Jones of Record Mirror, trying to sell him something, probably an Epstein act, but he wasn't interested, He kept talking about this other group, they were still called The Rollin' Stones then, playing around London. Record Mirror had decided to allow its R&B expert, Norman Jopling, to write an article on them."
Norman Jopling (journalist): "I was just amazed, because Record Mirror's policy was only to write about people who had records out, but there was such a buzz about them, Peter told me to go ahead. To be honest, I was reluctant. British R&B was a contradiction in terms. Our bands were all like Alexis Korner or Cyril Davies's band, coming out of the trad movement, with no resemblance to real R&B."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "On Peter's recommendation, I went down to see them that Wednesday (April 23, 1963) at the Station Hotel in Richmond, which was run as The Crawdaddy Club by Giorgio Gomelsky. As I walked down an alley at the side of the hotel to get to the entrance at the back, This couple in the alley were having a very loud lovers' tiff. I just said, 'Excuse me' and went past. It wasn't until Jagger came on stage that I realised it had been him outside, and the girl was Chrissie Shrimpton."
Norman Jopling: "They came on looking like students, but what amazed me, because I was a huge Bo Diddley fan, was that they could replicate his raw sound. I'd never seen a British band that came anywhere near that."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "Right off, I liked the appearance of the front line – Brian, Mick and Keith. That I did understand. Bill and Charlie, they were different, but cool. Bill was sort of just standing there, next to the amp that had got him into the group. Charlie, even then, looked as if he'd just zoned in from Ronnie Scott's. Then there was Ian (Stewart). It's a subjective opinion but...he was ugly. He didn't look right. But what was really running through my head was that I didn't know a really successful group with six people in it. Peter Jay And The Jaywalkers? Cliff Bennett And The Rebel Rousers? The public can't count up to six. Even so, there was this one-ness between them and the audience. And the sheer power of the band. That strength, that passion, was the thing I remember.
"On that first night, I didn't go and talk to them. The next day I went to Eric Eastern, a music business agent from whom I was renting an office at the time, and told him what I thought and made arrangements to see them again the following Sunday. I wanted to manage them, but GLC regulations at the time meant that you could not function as a manager without an agent. You could manage, but you couldn't book gigs without the licence. I needed Eric because he had the licence."
Eric Easton (agent/manager): "I went along hoping the evening wasn't being wasted. Outside the hotel was a queue of teenagers, all dressed in the clothes of the day. We tagged on the end, feeling conspicuous. Inside, it was the most exciting atmosphere I'd ever experienced in a club or a ballroom. The Stones were producing this fantastic sound which was obviously exactly right for the kids in the audience."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "From Eric's point of view, they had a number of things against them. For a start, as far as someone like Eric was concerned, Mick Jagger simply couldn't sing. They had also failed a BBC audition, which was very important because it could stop them getting exposure on the radio.
"That was the night we introduced ourselves to them. The following day I rang and asked Brian to come and see us and discuss whether we would like to get into bed together. Brian was the leader then, and he was the one we had to negotiate with. One stumbling block was Giorgio Gomelsky. He saw the potential and wanted to be their manager. He had given them a great gig, done a little promo film about them, set up some recording sessions and, in the world they lived in at that stage, these were all very important moves up."
Giorgio Gomelsky (Promoter): "If I had drawn up a contract, I suppose I might have become a very rich man, but I never believed in those stupid bits of paper."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "I can't say I had a master plan. Luck had a lot to do with it. As it happened, Gomelsky was out of the country for his father's funeral. During the discussions about management, they didn't mention Gomelsky. Really, I think they were stringing him along."
Ian Stewart (Rollin' Stones pianist): "The Stones liked Andrew. Like us, he was young, irreverent, full of enthusiasm and eager to make a fortune."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "We formed a new company, Impact Sound, for the deal, which was to be a three-year management contract with Eric and me getting 25 per cent between us. Brian Jones signed it on behalf of them all on May 1 1963. Three days later, he signed a three-year recording contract, which gave them six per cent between them. The only side-deal was that Brian Jones, as leader, got an extra five pounds a week. He did that with Eric."
Giorgio Gomelsky: "I thought we had a verbal understanding and felt tremendously let down when they left me. But I never like to work with monsters, no matter how talented. They had this satanic power. Jagger was organised and ambitious, but selfish. Keith was very spoilt. Jones should have had treatment. His responses were never those of a normal person."
Ian Stewart: "In the office, Easton, who didn't know anything about pop music, said to Brian, I don't think Jagger is any good. And so Brian said, OK, we'll just get rid of him. I felt sure Brian would have done it. I said to him, Don't be so bloody daft."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "I told them Ian had to be removed from the stage during a gig at Eel Pie Island. He could still play piano for them, but not on stage."
Cynthia Stewart (widow of Ian): "Whatever Stu or anybody else said, he did care about being relegated. The bottom line for Andrew was that Stu's face didn't fit. Andrew loved the pretty, thin, long-haired boys. Stu felt bitter about the savage way he was kicked aside."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "Then, after everything was signed, they said, we forgot something. We are signed to IBC studios. This was the session Gomelsky had set up, engineered by Glyn Jones. The deal gave IBC a specific time period in which to do something with these tapes. So we rehearsed Brian to go to them and say he felt the band was going nowhere and he had this big opportunity to join some other outfit, and so could they let him go if he managed to pay back the £106 in studio costs? And they went for it. Thank God.
"Once I had them for management, I explained to Eric that I didn't want a standard record company deal for them. My strategy was based on what I had learned, not from Phil Spector as is usually written, but from another producer, Bob Crewe. He had signed The Four Seasons direct to VeeJay Records, and they got @#$%& – made hits but never got paid. So they got out and went to Philips and did a tape lease deal. This meant they made the records and delivered them. Philips just marketed them."
Norman Jopling: "My feature appeared in Record Mirror dated May 11, but it was on the streets three days earlier and immediately three of the four major British record labels, Philips, Decca and EMI, were on the phone to me. They all wanted to know where they could contact The Rolling Stones. I put them on to Andrew."
Eric Easton: "Because there was a lot of interest from other companies, I could go after a really good royalty rate on record sales. And we got it."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "I wanted them to be where they'd be the Number 1 priority. EMI already had The Beatles, so I was really only interested in Philips or Decca. But I knew that Joe Meek had already done a tape lease deal with Decca, which meant they were open to exactly the deal I wanted. So I targeted them, partly 'cos their A&R man, Dick Rowe, was vulnerable."
Dick Rowe: "When I saw them live, I was fascinated by the audience reaction, and the dancing. As I'd turned The Beatles down earlier, I didn't want to make the same mistake again."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "Sure, I exploited that. I had called up Chuck Berry's music publisher and told him how we were planning to record all these Chuck Berry songs. He was sufficiently impressed to call up Dick Rowe two days before I did and tell him he'd just heard the best thing since sliced bread – The Rolling Stones.
"The deal we signed was for two years, giving Decca first option on any Stones product we produced. I was still only 19, so my mother had to sign for me. I felt like everything I'd done up to then had been a rehearsal. I thought I was looking at the rest of my life. It didn't quite turn out that way..."
© Johnny Black, 1995
The Rolling Stones: How It Happened
Johnny Black, Q, May 1995
By 1963, The Rollin' Stones lacked only a "g" and a manager. Enter Andrew Loog Oldham, 19-year-old music publicist and soon-to-be Stones Svengali...
Andrew Loog Oldham: "In early 1963 I was doing public relations on a freelance basis for The Beatles and some other Brian Epstein acts. Contrary to popular opinion, I wasn't looking for anything else to do. I was a very happy man. One day, I went to see Peter Jones of Record Mirror, trying to sell him something, probably an Epstein act, but he wasn't interested, He kept talking about this other group, they were still called The Rollin' Stones then, playing around London. Record Mirror had decided to allow its R&B expert, Norman Jopling, to write an article on them."
Norman Jopling (journalist): "I was just amazed, because Record Mirror's policy was only to write about people who had records out, but there was such a buzz about them, Peter told me to go ahead. To be honest, I was reluctant. British R&B was a contradiction in terms. Our bands were all like Alexis Korner or Cyril Davies's band, coming out of the trad movement, with no resemblance to real R&B."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "On Peter's recommendation, I went down to see them that Wednesday (April 23, 1963) at the Station Hotel in Richmond, which was run as The Crawdaddy Club by Giorgio Gomelsky. As I walked down an alley at the side of the hotel to get to the entrance at the back, This couple in the alley were having a very loud lovers' tiff. I just said, 'Excuse me' and went past. It wasn't until Jagger came on stage that I realised it had been him outside, and the girl was Chrissie Shrimpton."
Norman Jopling: "They came on looking like students, but what amazed me, because I was a huge Bo Diddley fan, was that they could replicate his raw sound. I'd never seen a British band that came anywhere near that."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "Right off, I liked the appearance of the front line – Brian, Mick and Keith. That I did understand. Bill and Charlie, they were different, but cool. Bill was sort of just standing there, next to the amp that had got him into the group. Charlie, even then, looked as if he'd just zoned in from Ronnie Scott's. Then there was Ian (Stewart). It's a subjective opinion but...he was ugly. He didn't look right. But what was really running through my head was that I didn't know a really successful group with six people in it. Peter Jay And The Jaywalkers? Cliff Bennett And The Rebel Rousers? The public can't count up to six. Even so, there was this one-ness between them and the audience. And the sheer power of the band. That strength, that passion, was the thing I remember.
"On that first night, I didn't go and talk to them. The next day I went to Eric Eastern, a music business agent from whom I was renting an office at the time, and told him what I thought and made arrangements to see them again the following Sunday. I wanted to manage them, but GLC regulations at the time meant that you could not function as a manager without an agent. You could manage, but you couldn't book gigs without the licence. I needed Eric because he had the licence."
Eric Easton (agent/manager): "I went along hoping the evening wasn't being wasted. Outside the hotel was a queue of teenagers, all dressed in the clothes of the day. We tagged on the end, feeling conspicuous. Inside, it was the most exciting atmosphere I'd ever experienced in a club or a ballroom. The Stones were producing this fantastic sound which was obviously exactly right for the kids in the audience."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "From Eric's point of view, they had a number of things against them. For a start, as far as someone like Eric was concerned, Mick Jagger simply couldn't sing. They had also failed a BBC audition, which was very important because it could stop them getting exposure on the radio.
"That was the night we introduced ourselves to them. The following day I rang and asked Brian to come and see us and discuss whether we would like to get into bed together. Brian was the leader then, and he was the one we had to negotiate with. One stumbling block was Giorgio Gomelsky. He saw the potential and wanted to be their manager. He had given them a great gig, done a little promo film about them, set up some recording sessions and, in the world they lived in at that stage, these were all very important moves up."
Giorgio Gomelsky (Promoter): "If I had drawn up a contract, I suppose I might have become a very rich man, but I never believed in those stupid bits of paper."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "I can't say I had a master plan. Luck had a lot to do with it. As it happened, Gomelsky was out of the country for his father's funeral. During the discussions about management, they didn't mention Gomelsky. Really, I think they were stringing him along."
Ian Stewart (Rollin' Stones pianist): "The Stones liked Andrew. Like us, he was young, irreverent, full of enthusiasm and eager to make a fortune."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "We formed a new company, Impact Sound, for the deal, which was to be a three-year management contract with Eric and me getting 25 per cent between us. Brian Jones signed it on behalf of them all on May 1 1963. Three days later, he signed a three-year recording contract, which gave them six per cent between them. The only side-deal was that Brian Jones, as leader, got an extra five pounds a week. He did that with Eric."
Giorgio Gomelsky: "I thought we had a verbal understanding and felt tremendously let down when they left me. But I never like to work with monsters, no matter how talented. They had this satanic power. Jagger was organised and ambitious, but selfish. Keith was very spoilt. Jones should have had treatment. His responses were never those of a normal person."
Ian Stewart: "In the office, Easton, who didn't know anything about pop music, said to Brian, I don't think Jagger is any good. And so Brian said, OK, we'll just get rid of him. I felt sure Brian would have done it. I said to him, Don't be so bloody daft."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "I told them Ian had to be removed from the stage during a gig at Eel Pie Island. He could still play piano for them, but not on stage."
Cynthia Stewart (widow of Ian): "Whatever Stu or anybody else said, he did care about being relegated. The bottom line for Andrew was that Stu's face didn't fit. Andrew loved the pretty, thin, long-haired boys. Stu felt bitter about the savage way he was kicked aside."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "Then, after everything was signed, they said, we forgot something. We are signed to IBC studios. This was the session Gomelsky had set up, engineered by Glyn Jones. The deal gave IBC a specific time period in which to do something with these tapes. So we rehearsed Brian to go to them and say he felt the band was going nowhere and he had this big opportunity to join some other outfit, and so could they let him go if he managed to pay back the £106 in studio costs? And they went for it. Thank God.
"Once I had them for management, I explained to Eric that I didn't want a standard record company deal for them. My strategy was based on what I had learned, not from Phil Spector as is usually written, but from another producer, Bob Crewe. He had signed The Four Seasons direct to VeeJay Records, and they got @#$%& – made hits but never got paid. So they got out and went to Philips and did a tape lease deal. This meant they made the records and delivered them. Philips just marketed them."
Norman Jopling: "My feature appeared in Record Mirror dated May 11, but it was on the streets three days earlier and immediately three of the four major British record labels, Philips, Decca and EMI, were on the phone to me. They all wanted to know where they could contact The Rolling Stones. I put them on to Andrew."
Eric Easton: "Because there was a lot of interest from other companies, I could go after a really good royalty rate on record sales. And we got it."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "I wanted them to be where they'd be the Number 1 priority. EMI already had The Beatles, so I was really only interested in Philips or Decca. But I knew that Joe Meek had already done a tape lease deal with Decca, which meant they were open to exactly the deal I wanted. So I targeted them, partly 'cos their A&R man, Dick Rowe, was vulnerable."
Dick Rowe: "When I saw them live, I was fascinated by the audience reaction, and the dancing. As I'd turned The Beatles down earlier, I didn't want to make the same mistake again."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "Sure, I exploited that. I had called up Chuck Berry's music publisher and told him how we were planning to record all these Chuck Berry songs. He was sufficiently impressed to call up Dick Rowe two days before I did and tell him he'd just heard the best thing since sliced bread – The Rolling Stones.
"The deal we signed was for two years, giving Decca first option on any Stones product we produced. I was still only 19, so my mother had to sign for me. I felt like everything I'd done up to then had been a rehearsal. I thought I was looking at the rest of my life. It didn't quite turn out that way..."
© Johnny Black, 1995
Re: New and old interviews with Andrew Loog Oldham
Posted by:
24FPS
()
Date: January 3, 2013 06:27
fantastic read. thanks.
Re: New and old interviews with Andrew Loog Oldham
Posted by:
stonesnow
()
Date: January 3, 2013 06:46
Quote
latebloomer
Oops, there was one more, from 1995.
The Rolling Stones: How It Happened
Johnny Black, Q, May 1995
By 1963, The Rollin' Stones lacked only a "g" and a manager. Enter Andrew Loog Oldham, 19-year-old music publicist and soon-to-be Stones Svengali...
Andrew Loog Oldham: "In early 1963 I was doing public relations on a freelance basis for The Beatles and some other Brian Epstein acts. Contrary to popular opinion, I wasn't looking for anything else to do. I was a very happy man. One day, I went to see Peter Jones of Record Mirror, trying to sell him something, probably an Epstein act, but he wasn't interested, He kept talking about this other group, they were still called The Rollin' Stones then, playing around London. Record Mirror had decided to allow its R&B expert, Norman Jopling, to write an article on them."
Norman Jopling (journalist): "I was just amazed, because Record Mirror's policy was only to write about people who had records out, but there was such a buzz about them, Peter told me to go ahead. To be honest, I was reluctant. British R&B was a contradiction in terms. Our bands were all like Alexis Korner or Cyril Davies's band, coming out of the trad movement, with no resemblance to real R&B."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "On Peter's recommendation, I went down to see them that Wednesday (April 23, 1963) at the Station Hotel in Richmond, which was run as The Crawdaddy Club by Giorgio Gomelsky. As I walked down an alley at the side of the hotel to get to the entrance at the back, This couple in the alley were having a very loud lovers' tiff. I just said, 'Excuse me' and went past. It wasn't until Jagger came on stage that I realised it had been him outside, and the girl was Chrissie Shrimpton."
Norman Jopling: "They came on looking like students, but what amazed me, because I was a huge Bo Diddley fan, was that they could replicate his raw sound. I'd never seen a British band that came anywhere near that."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "Right off, I liked the appearance of the front line – Brian, Mick and Keith. That I did understand. Bill and Charlie, they were different, but cool. Bill was sort of just standing there, next to the amp that had got him into the group. Charlie, even then, looked as if he'd just zoned in from Ronnie Scott's. Then there was Ian (Stewart). It's a subjective opinion but...he was ugly. He didn't look right. But what was really running through my head was that I didn't know a really successful group with six people in it. Peter Jay And The Jaywalkers? Cliff Bennett And The Rebel Rousers? The public can't count up to six. Even so, there was this one-ness between them and the audience. And the sheer power of the band. That strength, that passion, was the thing I remember.
"On that first night, I didn't go and talk to them. The next day I went to Eric Eastern, a music business agent from whom I was renting an office at the time, and told him what I thought and made arrangements to see them again the following Sunday. I wanted to manage them, but GLC regulations at the time meant that you could not function as a manager without an agent. You could manage, but you couldn't book gigs without the licence. I needed Eric because he had the licence."
Eric Easton (agent/manager): "I went along hoping the evening wasn't being wasted. Outside the hotel was a queue of teenagers, all dressed in the clothes of the day. We tagged on the end, feeling conspicuous. Inside, it was the most exciting atmosphere I'd ever experienced in a club or a ballroom. The Stones were producing this fantastic sound which was obviously exactly right for the kids in the audience."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "From Eric's point of view, they had a number of things against them. For a start, as far as someone like Eric was concerned, Mick Jagger simply couldn't sing. They had also failed a BBC audition, which was very important because it could stop them getting exposure on the radio.
"That was the night we introduced ourselves to them. The following day I rang and asked Brian to come and see us and discuss whether we would like to get into bed together. Brian was the leader then, and he was the one we had to negotiate with. One stumbling block was Giorgio Gomelsky. He saw the potential and wanted to be their manager. He had given them a great gig, done a little promo film about them, set up some recording sessions and, in the world they lived in at that stage, these were all very important moves up."
Giorgio Gomelsky (Promoter): "If I had drawn up a contract, I suppose I might have become a very rich man, but I never believed in those stupid bits of paper."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "I can't say I had a master plan. Luck had a lot to do with it. As it happened, Gomelsky was out of the country for his father's funeral. During the discussions about management, they didn't mention Gomelsky. Really, I think they were stringing him along."
Ian Stewart (Rollin' Stones pianist): "The Stones liked Andrew. Like us, he was young, irreverent, full of enthusiasm and eager to make a fortune."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "We formed a new company, Impact Sound, for the deal, which was to be a three-year management contract with Eric and me getting 25 per cent between us. Brian Jones signed it on behalf of them all on May 1 1963. Three days later, he signed a three-year recording contract, which gave them six per cent between them. The only side-deal was that Brian Jones, as leader, got an extra five pounds a week. He did that with Eric."
Giorgio Gomelsky: "I thought we had a verbal understanding and felt tremendously let down when they left me. But I never like to work with monsters, no matter how talented. They had this satanic power. Jagger was organised and ambitious, but selfish. Keith was very spoilt. Jones should have had treatment. His responses were never those of a normal person."
Ian Stewart: "In the office, Easton, who didn't know anything about pop music, said to Brian, I don't think Jagger is any good. And so Brian said, OK, we'll just get rid of him. I felt sure Brian would have done it. I said to him, Don't be so bloody daft."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "I told them Ian had to be removed from the stage during a gig at Eel Pie Island. He could still play piano for them, but not on stage."
Cynthia Stewart (widow of Ian): "Whatever Stu or anybody else said, he did care about being relegated. The bottom line for Andrew was that Stu's face didn't fit. Andrew loved the pretty, thin, long-haired boys. Stu felt bitter about the savage way he was kicked aside."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "Then, after everything was signed, they said, we forgot something. We are signed to IBC studios. This was the session Gomelsky had set up, engineered by Glyn Jones. The deal gave IBC a specific time period in which to do something with these tapes. So we rehearsed Brian to go to them and say he felt the band was going nowhere and he had this big opportunity to join some other outfit, and so could they let him go if he managed to pay back the £106 in studio costs? And they went for it. Thank God.
"Once I had them for management, I explained to Eric that I didn't want a standard record company deal for them. My strategy was based on what I had learned, not from Phil Spector as is usually written, but from another producer, Bob Crewe. He had signed The Four Seasons direct to VeeJay Records, and they got @#$%& – made hits but never got paid. So they got out and went to Philips and did a tape lease deal. This meant they made the records and delivered them. Philips just marketed them."
Norman Jopling: "My feature appeared in Record Mirror dated May 11, but it was on the streets three days earlier and immediately three of the four major British record labels, Philips, Decca and EMI, were on the phone to me. They all wanted to know where they could contact The Rolling Stones. I put them on to Andrew."
Eric Easton: "Because there was a lot of interest from other companies, I could go after a really good royalty rate on record sales. And we got it."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "I wanted them to be where they'd be the Number 1 priority. EMI already had The Beatles, so I was really only interested in Philips or Decca. But I knew that Joe Meek had already done a tape lease deal with Decca, which meant they were open to exactly the deal I wanted. So I targeted them, partly 'cos their A&R man, Dick Rowe, was vulnerable."
Dick Rowe: "When I saw them live, I was fascinated by the audience reaction, and the dancing. As I'd turned The Beatles down earlier, I didn't want to make the same mistake again."
Andrew Loog Oldham: "Sure, I exploited that. I had called up Chuck Berry's music publisher and told him how we were planning to record all these Chuck Berry songs. He was sufficiently impressed to call up Dick Rowe two days before I did and tell him he'd just heard the best thing since sliced bread – The Rolling Stones.
"The deal we signed was for two years, giving Decca first option on any Stones product we produced. I was still only 19, so my mother had to sign for me. I felt like everything I'd done up to then had been a rehearsal. I thought I was looking at the rest of my life. It didn't quite turn out that way..."
© Johnny Black, 1995
Very interesting. So Chuck Berry's music publisher helped in getting The Stones their recording contract. Some criticize The Stones for having been "just a covers band" early on. But this article reveals that it was indeed a strength for them, in terms of their getting signed, which might not have happened at that time otherwise. A fascinating new insight I hadn't been aware of before, so thanks for posting this latebloomer!
Re: New and old interviews with Andrew Loog Oldham
Posted by:
belubettlo
()
Date: January 4, 2013 13:35
Andrew Loog Oldham: the mastermind of The Rolling Stones
"The Beatles were The Beatles – the Stones were the Stones... A lot of folks liked both."
Joe BossoJanuary 2, 2013, 20:45 GMT
A hustler is only as good as his hustle, and in 1963, 19-year-old Andrew Loog Oldham hit the mother lode. On the night of 23 April of that year, the budding teen tycoon, having already successfully hawked himself to fashion designer Mary Quant and Beatles manager Brian Epstein as a happening hipster who knew a thing or two about a thing or two, walked into the Crawdaddy Club in Richmond, England, and saw a six-piece blues band that had everything he needed to capture the zeitgeist of the '60s.
Well, almost. Oldham made some key tweaks to the Rollin' Stones to ready them for mass consumption, such as convincing the group to add an all-important "g" to their name and dropping piano player Ian Stewart from their onstage lineup; and then there was the matter of the band's songwriting – which was nil. Oldham famously locked Mick Jagger and Keith Richards in a room until they had a self-penned gem (Tell Me) worthy of inclusion on the Stones' debut album.
That Oldham scored his boys a record deal at a better royalty rate than The Beatles, showing up his onetime employer, Epstein, quickly cemented his status as a shrewd dealmaker. But he had a true ear for the music, as well, and unlike Epstein, who was an awkward, sometimes unwelcome presence in the studio with The Beatles, Oldham produced all of The Rolling Stones' albums until 1966's Between The Buttons.
Oldham's parting with the Stones in 1967 was about as messy as those things usually go, and for most of the next few decades, it looked as if his final chapter had been written – it wasn't until the '90s that he kicked the drug habit that almost kicked him. His personal and public rehabilitation – a veritable phoenix rising from the ashes – began with a pair of crackling autobiographies, 2002's Stoned and 2003's 2Stoned, which soon led to what he jokes is his "first regular job," DJing for Steven Van Zandt's Underground Garage on SiriusXM.
Coinciding (coincidentally) with The Rolling Stones' 50th anniversary celebrations of last year, Oldham, who has made Bogota, Columbia his home since the mid-'80s, is back in the limelight now more than ever with two fascinating offerings. There's Charlie Is My Darling, a 1965 documentary of the Stones (originally produced by Oldham and directed by Peter Whitehead) that captures the group in a mini tour of Ireland with an intimacy that approaches poetic voyeurism; and next we have Stone Free, his third book, an immensely entertaining examination of the bigger-than-life show-biz masters (Epstein, Larry Parnes, Phil Spector, Albert Grossman, among others) who paved the way for him. (You can order Stone Free, from Escargot Books, right here.)
In the following interview, conducted via e-mail, Oldham holds forth on a variety of topics: some of the legends he profiled in Stone Free, the difference between impresarios and "pimpresarios," how he came to film the Stones, working with the band in the studio, what Jagger-Richards songs he wishes The Beatles would have covered and much more.
So Wikipedia calls you, among other things, an "impresario" – which I guess you were at one time. Is that how you saw yourself?
"Never did. Impresarios were old farts in an old game. Anyway, an impresario usually refers to fellows – or gals – who present something, an attraction to the public at a specific venue. My venue was somewhere between ether and the world."
As opposed to "impresario," undoubtedly you'd prefer your own term: "pimpresario." The prefix gets a bad rap, but you don't see it that way, do you?
"No, I think if we strip away the protective layer to all our functions, eventually the two functions of pimps and whores are applicable, and that fact appreciated, a lot of the crap gets removed, and life is simple. Priests are pimps for Jesus, and lawyers are whores for the judge and/or their clients. And they are supposed to be the icing on the toxic cake we all want slices of."
Are there any current "pimpresarios" who remind you of yourself in the '60s?
"Tough. The guy who manages Justin Bieber, maybe – he should be. They did a great thing with that Canadian girl Carly Rae something… Jespen? He also got – I mean the manager – criticized for doing an interview with either Rolling Stone or the New York Times. Taking space away from the act can be fatal for a manager, although maybe Bieber doesn't mind him talking to the old folks.
"There is a big difference between the times and people I write about in Stone Free. Back in the '60s, in the beginning, a manager spoke for his act. Now, in this hurdy-gurdy, space-slurping tech world we function in, an artist is required to be able to promote themselves, to be able to handle all aspects of the selling and the media. JD Salinger would not get a deal.
"It's whores again. The selling is 90 percent of the gig. The manager is the bean counter and the bad guy. In the beginning, I had to shout about the Stones or Marianne Faithful or whomever. The act just did the playing and singing. Now they all have to do it all from the giddy-up. The public is not interested in the bean counter unless he marries the act's mum."
You also don't have a problem with the word "hustler." But what about a bad hustler, one who is unskilled or not transparent enough? Is there some degree of shame in being a clumsy hustler?
"Well, once upon a time, the art of hustle was given to a precious few. Then it was adopted by the gelled, four-buttoned majority malaise. They would say, 'I hustled him, because they preferred that to the truth: 'I @#$%& him.' They got it wrong. A good hustle and a good hustler leave no victims."
You've also been described as an "enfante terrible" of the London pop scene. Accurate? Did you enjoy your notoriety?
"Sure did. Nothing like that French tab. It meant you were not toeing the line, following the party orders, refusing to be suppressed into the ordinary."
Let's get into Charlie Is My Darling. How did it come together initially? Was the intention to get the band more comfortable in front of the cameras, with an eye of doing theatrical films, such as A Clockwork Orange?
"Completely. It was a screen test for the Stones made via our own private studio – i.e. my producing it and therefore controlling how or if it was seen. I wanted the Stones to get used to the cameras, and I wanted to see which one of them the camera took to. The most impressive was Charlie Watts, hence the title."
Why wasn't the film released at the time? I imagine that it would've been very well received.
"Where? It certainly would not have done business in the cinemas. A couple of art houses maybe, but it would not have been worthwhile, and in addition, it would have been contrary to our agenda. We were now having hits. On top of that, the other avenues supposedly open to us were not – the BBC, etc. The establishment still loathed the Stones and hoped we'd go away."
Charlie was filmed around the same time as the Dylan doc Don't Look Back. Were there any rock or pop documentaries you used as a reference? The art form was still in its infancy.
"Not really. If anything, French cinema influenced me – the tackiness of Godard. But it was not really in my hands – Peter Whitehead was filming it – so you really have to stand back and let him get on with it."
The scene with Mick and Keith working on Sittin' On A Fence – is that typical of how their songwriting sessions went at the time? You're with them in the room – what kinds of opinions or suggestions would you offer?
"It was not typical because there were cameras in the room. I don't think I offered suggestions on many occasions. On As Tears Go By I did for sure. Generally, I just offered enthusiasm and belief in their ability to become the writers they became."
The footage of the band backstage is surprising in how innocent everything seemed. The group tunes up, puts on a bit of makeup, signs an autograph for an elderly woman – by '72, things would be quite different.
"Wouldn't it just? That's part of what makes Charlie such an original and special item. It is of the time. The '60s in ' 65 was a small club. 1972 is really another chapter of the '60s with a whole lot more of the world joining in."
As depicted in the film, the fans at the shows went absolutely crazy – rushing the stage and literally attacking the band. Were the Stones ever concerned for their safety?
"No."
The picture shows the group being absolutely on fire on stage. Did they ever express irritation that people weren't listening to them at concerts?
"Not that I recall. As long as they bought the records, I suppose. They could listen at home and scream at the shows."
Brian's demeanor in the film doesn't really suggest the enormous problems he would soon have. He seems happy and engaged. Did you sense that trouble could be around the corner for him?
"Have a look at it again. That's not happy."
You had a huge interest in a film version of A Clockwork Orange starring the Stones. How far along did that ever get? Was the band all on board?
"It didn't. I never even got my foot in the door. The rights were in the hands of lawyers who sold it to Kubrick who fancied Malcolm McDowell who fancied himself."
What went into your decision to cast the Stones as the "anti-Beatles"? Was there a definite anti-Beatles faction in England at the time? I always thought it was possible to like both groups.
"I didn't. That is a particular misconception that is unfortunately promoted today by the Stones. Maybe they have bad memories. The Beatles were The Beatles – the Stones were the Stones, and as you say, a lot of folks liked both. I've seen Mick and/or Keith both say that I cast them against The Beatles. Not true. I cast them as they were. I had more respect for the Stones than to compare them to something else."
On early records, The Beatles were looking to Motown, The Beach Boys and Dylan. Who were the Stones looking to as either competition or inspiration? Who were you inspired by?
"Who I was inspired by did not enter the picture. I was inspired by the Stones. I served that inspiration. My own private inspirations were not appropriate except as a force of energy for me to use."
On the band's debut album, Phil Spector is credited as playing maracas on Little By Little. Did he offer any production advice or insights?
"He advised me to own the masters – good advice. He also played a great bass on Play With Fire."
Mick and Keith became the songwriters, but what was the relationship between Keith and Brian as guitarists? When they got in the studio, did they have fun playing together?
"You can hear it. During the two periods they enjoyed playing together the results were magic. The in-between period was pretty good as well – Between The Buttons, for example."
Your poetry for the album December's Children – what did the band think of it?
"I never asked."
Although Aftermath had some great singles, it's the first album that really feels like just that – an album. Was the group starting to think of the album as a sophisticated piece of art unto itself rather than just a collection of singles?
"The Stones always attempted and, on most occasions, succeeded in making the three parts of the art seamless and respectful of each of them – the road, the records and the presenting of themselves in the media. Most bands did not have their hands on the pulse of all three."
What went into the decision to record Aftermath in California?
"That was our new recording home, RCA on Iver and Sunset. Great time, great Dave Hassinger, great Jack Nitzsche, great weather."
The song Goin' Home is over 11 minutes long. Was that precedent setting for the time?
"It just sounded right to keep it going at the time, in that moment, and luckily Charlie saw me waving and kept it going."
Back to your book – in one passage, you mention being impressed by the "profundity of superficiality." That seems like a contradiction...
"I was told by my book editor that I never met a cliché I did not embrace. I also like a question of opposites. Opposites attract."
One of the master hustlers you write about is ballet impresario Sergei Diaghilev - how do you think he would have fared in rock 'n' roll?
"I think he fared very well. There's something of the wild card in Epstein, Parnes, McLaren, Jerry Brandt and a couple of Americans I did not write about – Artie Ripp and the who sold Bruce Springsteen to John Hammond at CBS. I nearly forgot his name, a great disservice – Mike Appel. Now, boy, he had as much faith in Bruce as Diaghilev did in Nijinsky or Erte or Stravinsky.
"Kit Lamber's father composed and conducted for Diaghilev. Now, where Kit and Chris Stamp showed The Who what could be was quite amazing. We were all looking over our shoulders when that mob showed up."
Pauline Kael compared the first screening of Last Tango In Paris to the debut of La Sacre du Primtemps, the latter of which Diaghilev presented. Both events disturbed audiences deeply – like rock 'n' roll used to. Do you think we're incapable of being shocked by art anymore?
"I was shocked by Kanye West on the 12-12-12 thing, but I think that's not the shock you are looking for. Lady Gaga at the Grammys a couple of years ago – that yellow theme was just amazing. The problem with rock 'n' roll being able to shock us is that there is no school on the road anymore. You gotta deliver all at once, so pop will triumph over rock.
"Do we realize how many state fairs Elvis played before he did The Steve Allen Show? A whole slew. Same with The Beatles in Hamburg. Who's the last band that did that gruel? The Police? I'm not talking about stuff like Dave Matthews – that's like Woody Herman or Glenn Miller."
You write about Malcolm McLaren, who said that "anybody can be a Sex Pistol." Do you think he was being intentionally ironic? Surely, you wouldn't have said that "anybody can be a Rolling Stone."
"We must remember that not being able to play was an inherent part of the Sex Pistols' makeup. With the Stones, the opposite was true… and they wore makeup."
You claim that integrity bothered Albert Grossman. Yet he fought fiercely for Dylan's artistic freedom. Something of a paradox?
"Did I? In those words? Well, he could not tell Dylan to go out and shoe-shuffle and sing Louis Prima songs, so he saw the glove that fit Dylan and wore it. That involved fighting folks to allow his artist to do whatever he wanted.
"Dear Albert gave that same advice to a lot of acts who were not as strong, as focused, as viable as Dylan, and it's tough to recall their names. Some acts need to be told what to do, and that's not a put-down, though as a gig it's pretty unrewarding."
The names that Larry Parnes gave to his stable of stars – Billy Fury, Vince Eager, Lance Fortune, etc. – did they seem cool or silly at the time? I guess Dickie Pride got the best or worst name, depending on one's point of view.
"Dickie Pride had talent, and so did Duffy Power. Both came out of the jazz and R&B cycle. Bully Fury was James Dean. It's not any different from Fabian, is it?"
Your chapter on Phil Spector is riveting and heartbreakingly personal. You don't take a stand on his guilt or innocence, but for a lot of us, when we heard the news of Lana Clarkson's murder, it didn't come as a big surprise – it's as if we expected it. Has the tragic myth eclipsed the music?
"I always say that come Christmas I won't play Phil's Christmas album, for obvious reasons. But come Christmas, Ella is always good, The Beach Boys have managed to remind us what facile and juvenile pricks they are, so it's always back to Phil. C'mon – Darlene Love saying, 'But it's December the 24th and I'm longing to be up north' puts a pop lump in my throat and a tear in my eye every year."
You related quite strongly to Tony Curtis' character, Sid Falco, in Sweet Smell Of Success. Where there any real-life JJ Hunsecker's in your world?
"Interestingly, yes. John Stephen, the king of Carnarby Street clothing stores. I went into a meeting with him when I was 17, unprepared. He took no pity on my age. He just snarled and spat me out on the street for wasting his time and not coming up to what being in a room with him required. An important, very important lesson that I'll never forget."
Last question, and it's on the Stones: The band famously covered I Wanna Be Your Man. Tell me, which Jagger-Richards song would you have loved to hear The Beatles cover?
"Great question. Never been asked that in my life. Paul McCartney could do a tremendous Ruby Tuesday, and George could have done a great She Smiled Sweetly. John Lennon doing 19th Nervous Breakdown. I was going to suggest Something Happened To Me for Ringo, but without Richard Perry?"
"The Beatles were The Beatles – the Stones were the Stones... A lot of folks liked both."
Joe BossoJanuary 2, 2013, 20:45 GMT
A hustler is only as good as his hustle, and in 1963, 19-year-old Andrew Loog Oldham hit the mother lode. On the night of 23 April of that year, the budding teen tycoon, having already successfully hawked himself to fashion designer Mary Quant and Beatles manager Brian Epstein as a happening hipster who knew a thing or two about a thing or two, walked into the Crawdaddy Club in Richmond, England, and saw a six-piece blues band that had everything he needed to capture the zeitgeist of the '60s.
Well, almost. Oldham made some key tweaks to the Rollin' Stones to ready them for mass consumption, such as convincing the group to add an all-important "g" to their name and dropping piano player Ian Stewart from their onstage lineup; and then there was the matter of the band's songwriting – which was nil. Oldham famously locked Mick Jagger and Keith Richards in a room until they had a self-penned gem (Tell Me) worthy of inclusion on the Stones' debut album.
That Oldham scored his boys a record deal at a better royalty rate than The Beatles, showing up his onetime employer, Epstein, quickly cemented his status as a shrewd dealmaker. But he had a true ear for the music, as well, and unlike Epstein, who was an awkward, sometimes unwelcome presence in the studio with The Beatles, Oldham produced all of The Rolling Stones' albums until 1966's Between The Buttons.
Oldham's parting with the Stones in 1967 was about as messy as those things usually go, and for most of the next few decades, it looked as if his final chapter had been written – it wasn't until the '90s that he kicked the drug habit that almost kicked him. His personal and public rehabilitation – a veritable phoenix rising from the ashes – began with a pair of crackling autobiographies, 2002's Stoned and 2003's 2Stoned, which soon led to what he jokes is his "first regular job," DJing for Steven Van Zandt's Underground Garage on SiriusXM.
Coinciding (coincidentally) with The Rolling Stones' 50th anniversary celebrations of last year, Oldham, who has made Bogota, Columbia his home since the mid-'80s, is back in the limelight now more than ever with two fascinating offerings. There's Charlie Is My Darling, a 1965 documentary of the Stones (originally produced by Oldham and directed by Peter Whitehead) that captures the group in a mini tour of Ireland with an intimacy that approaches poetic voyeurism; and next we have Stone Free, his third book, an immensely entertaining examination of the bigger-than-life show-biz masters (Epstein, Larry Parnes, Phil Spector, Albert Grossman, among others) who paved the way for him. (You can order Stone Free, from Escargot Books, right here.)
In the following interview, conducted via e-mail, Oldham holds forth on a variety of topics: some of the legends he profiled in Stone Free, the difference between impresarios and "pimpresarios," how he came to film the Stones, working with the band in the studio, what Jagger-Richards songs he wishes The Beatles would have covered and much more.
So Wikipedia calls you, among other things, an "impresario" – which I guess you were at one time. Is that how you saw yourself?
"Never did. Impresarios were old farts in an old game. Anyway, an impresario usually refers to fellows – or gals – who present something, an attraction to the public at a specific venue. My venue was somewhere between ether and the world."
As opposed to "impresario," undoubtedly you'd prefer your own term: "pimpresario." The prefix gets a bad rap, but you don't see it that way, do you?
"No, I think if we strip away the protective layer to all our functions, eventually the two functions of pimps and whores are applicable, and that fact appreciated, a lot of the crap gets removed, and life is simple. Priests are pimps for Jesus, and lawyers are whores for the judge and/or their clients. And they are supposed to be the icing on the toxic cake we all want slices of."
Are there any current "pimpresarios" who remind you of yourself in the '60s?
"Tough. The guy who manages Justin Bieber, maybe – he should be. They did a great thing with that Canadian girl Carly Rae something… Jespen? He also got – I mean the manager – criticized for doing an interview with either Rolling Stone or the New York Times. Taking space away from the act can be fatal for a manager, although maybe Bieber doesn't mind him talking to the old folks.
"There is a big difference between the times and people I write about in Stone Free. Back in the '60s, in the beginning, a manager spoke for his act. Now, in this hurdy-gurdy, space-slurping tech world we function in, an artist is required to be able to promote themselves, to be able to handle all aspects of the selling and the media. JD Salinger would not get a deal.
"It's whores again. The selling is 90 percent of the gig. The manager is the bean counter and the bad guy. In the beginning, I had to shout about the Stones or Marianne Faithful or whomever. The act just did the playing and singing. Now they all have to do it all from the giddy-up. The public is not interested in the bean counter unless he marries the act's mum."
You also don't have a problem with the word "hustler." But what about a bad hustler, one who is unskilled or not transparent enough? Is there some degree of shame in being a clumsy hustler?
"Well, once upon a time, the art of hustle was given to a precious few. Then it was adopted by the gelled, four-buttoned majority malaise. They would say, 'I hustled him, because they preferred that to the truth: 'I @#$%& him.' They got it wrong. A good hustle and a good hustler leave no victims."
You've also been described as an "enfante terrible" of the London pop scene. Accurate? Did you enjoy your notoriety?
"Sure did. Nothing like that French tab. It meant you were not toeing the line, following the party orders, refusing to be suppressed into the ordinary."
Let's get into Charlie Is My Darling. How did it come together initially? Was the intention to get the band more comfortable in front of the cameras, with an eye of doing theatrical films, such as A Clockwork Orange?
"Completely. It was a screen test for the Stones made via our own private studio – i.e. my producing it and therefore controlling how or if it was seen. I wanted the Stones to get used to the cameras, and I wanted to see which one of them the camera took to. The most impressive was Charlie Watts, hence the title."
Why wasn't the film released at the time? I imagine that it would've been very well received.
"Where? It certainly would not have done business in the cinemas. A couple of art houses maybe, but it would not have been worthwhile, and in addition, it would have been contrary to our agenda. We were now having hits. On top of that, the other avenues supposedly open to us were not – the BBC, etc. The establishment still loathed the Stones and hoped we'd go away."
Charlie was filmed around the same time as the Dylan doc Don't Look Back. Were there any rock or pop documentaries you used as a reference? The art form was still in its infancy.
"Not really. If anything, French cinema influenced me – the tackiness of Godard. But it was not really in my hands – Peter Whitehead was filming it – so you really have to stand back and let him get on with it."
The scene with Mick and Keith working on Sittin' On A Fence – is that typical of how their songwriting sessions went at the time? You're with them in the room – what kinds of opinions or suggestions would you offer?
"It was not typical because there were cameras in the room. I don't think I offered suggestions on many occasions. On As Tears Go By I did for sure. Generally, I just offered enthusiasm and belief in their ability to become the writers they became."
The footage of the band backstage is surprising in how innocent everything seemed. The group tunes up, puts on a bit of makeup, signs an autograph for an elderly woman – by '72, things would be quite different.
"Wouldn't it just? That's part of what makes Charlie such an original and special item. It is of the time. The '60s in ' 65 was a small club. 1972 is really another chapter of the '60s with a whole lot more of the world joining in."
As depicted in the film, the fans at the shows went absolutely crazy – rushing the stage and literally attacking the band. Were the Stones ever concerned for their safety?
"No."
The picture shows the group being absolutely on fire on stage. Did they ever express irritation that people weren't listening to them at concerts?
"Not that I recall. As long as they bought the records, I suppose. They could listen at home and scream at the shows."
Brian's demeanor in the film doesn't really suggest the enormous problems he would soon have. He seems happy and engaged. Did you sense that trouble could be around the corner for him?
"Have a look at it again. That's not happy."
You had a huge interest in a film version of A Clockwork Orange starring the Stones. How far along did that ever get? Was the band all on board?
"It didn't. I never even got my foot in the door. The rights were in the hands of lawyers who sold it to Kubrick who fancied Malcolm McDowell who fancied himself."
What went into your decision to cast the Stones as the "anti-Beatles"? Was there a definite anti-Beatles faction in England at the time? I always thought it was possible to like both groups.
"I didn't. That is a particular misconception that is unfortunately promoted today by the Stones. Maybe they have bad memories. The Beatles were The Beatles – the Stones were the Stones, and as you say, a lot of folks liked both. I've seen Mick and/or Keith both say that I cast them against The Beatles. Not true. I cast them as they were. I had more respect for the Stones than to compare them to something else."
On early records, The Beatles were looking to Motown, The Beach Boys and Dylan. Who were the Stones looking to as either competition or inspiration? Who were you inspired by?
"Who I was inspired by did not enter the picture. I was inspired by the Stones. I served that inspiration. My own private inspirations were not appropriate except as a force of energy for me to use."
On the band's debut album, Phil Spector is credited as playing maracas on Little By Little. Did he offer any production advice or insights?
"He advised me to own the masters – good advice. He also played a great bass on Play With Fire."
Mick and Keith became the songwriters, but what was the relationship between Keith and Brian as guitarists? When they got in the studio, did they have fun playing together?
"You can hear it. During the two periods they enjoyed playing together the results were magic. The in-between period was pretty good as well – Between The Buttons, for example."
Your poetry for the album December's Children – what did the band think of it?
"I never asked."
Although Aftermath had some great singles, it's the first album that really feels like just that – an album. Was the group starting to think of the album as a sophisticated piece of art unto itself rather than just a collection of singles?
"The Stones always attempted and, on most occasions, succeeded in making the three parts of the art seamless and respectful of each of them – the road, the records and the presenting of themselves in the media. Most bands did not have their hands on the pulse of all three."
What went into the decision to record Aftermath in California?
"That was our new recording home, RCA on Iver and Sunset. Great time, great Dave Hassinger, great Jack Nitzsche, great weather."
The song Goin' Home is over 11 minutes long. Was that precedent setting for the time?
"It just sounded right to keep it going at the time, in that moment, and luckily Charlie saw me waving and kept it going."
Back to your book – in one passage, you mention being impressed by the "profundity of superficiality." That seems like a contradiction...
"I was told by my book editor that I never met a cliché I did not embrace. I also like a question of opposites. Opposites attract."
One of the master hustlers you write about is ballet impresario Sergei Diaghilev - how do you think he would have fared in rock 'n' roll?
"I think he fared very well. There's something of the wild card in Epstein, Parnes, McLaren, Jerry Brandt and a couple of Americans I did not write about – Artie Ripp and the who sold Bruce Springsteen to John Hammond at CBS. I nearly forgot his name, a great disservice – Mike Appel. Now, boy, he had as much faith in Bruce as Diaghilev did in Nijinsky or Erte or Stravinsky.
"Kit Lamber's father composed and conducted for Diaghilev. Now, where Kit and Chris Stamp showed The Who what could be was quite amazing. We were all looking over our shoulders when that mob showed up."
Pauline Kael compared the first screening of Last Tango In Paris to the debut of La Sacre du Primtemps, the latter of which Diaghilev presented. Both events disturbed audiences deeply – like rock 'n' roll used to. Do you think we're incapable of being shocked by art anymore?
"I was shocked by Kanye West on the 12-12-12 thing, but I think that's not the shock you are looking for. Lady Gaga at the Grammys a couple of years ago – that yellow theme was just amazing. The problem with rock 'n' roll being able to shock us is that there is no school on the road anymore. You gotta deliver all at once, so pop will triumph over rock.
"Do we realize how many state fairs Elvis played before he did The Steve Allen Show? A whole slew. Same with The Beatles in Hamburg. Who's the last band that did that gruel? The Police? I'm not talking about stuff like Dave Matthews – that's like Woody Herman or Glenn Miller."
You write about Malcolm McLaren, who said that "anybody can be a Sex Pistol." Do you think he was being intentionally ironic? Surely, you wouldn't have said that "anybody can be a Rolling Stone."
"We must remember that not being able to play was an inherent part of the Sex Pistols' makeup. With the Stones, the opposite was true… and they wore makeup."
You claim that integrity bothered Albert Grossman. Yet he fought fiercely for Dylan's artistic freedom. Something of a paradox?
"Did I? In those words? Well, he could not tell Dylan to go out and shoe-shuffle and sing Louis Prima songs, so he saw the glove that fit Dylan and wore it. That involved fighting folks to allow his artist to do whatever he wanted.
"Dear Albert gave that same advice to a lot of acts who were not as strong, as focused, as viable as Dylan, and it's tough to recall their names. Some acts need to be told what to do, and that's not a put-down, though as a gig it's pretty unrewarding."
The names that Larry Parnes gave to his stable of stars – Billy Fury, Vince Eager, Lance Fortune, etc. – did they seem cool or silly at the time? I guess Dickie Pride got the best or worst name, depending on one's point of view.
"Dickie Pride had talent, and so did Duffy Power. Both came out of the jazz and R&B cycle. Bully Fury was James Dean. It's not any different from Fabian, is it?"
Your chapter on Phil Spector is riveting and heartbreakingly personal. You don't take a stand on his guilt or innocence, but for a lot of us, when we heard the news of Lana Clarkson's murder, it didn't come as a big surprise – it's as if we expected it. Has the tragic myth eclipsed the music?
"I always say that come Christmas I won't play Phil's Christmas album, for obvious reasons. But come Christmas, Ella is always good, The Beach Boys have managed to remind us what facile and juvenile pricks they are, so it's always back to Phil. C'mon – Darlene Love saying, 'But it's December the 24th and I'm longing to be up north' puts a pop lump in my throat and a tear in my eye every year."
You related quite strongly to Tony Curtis' character, Sid Falco, in Sweet Smell Of Success. Where there any real-life JJ Hunsecker's in your world?
"Interestingly, yes. John Stephen, the king of Carnarby Street clothing stores. I went into a meeting with him when I was 17, unprepared. He took no pity on my age. He just snarled and spat me out on the street for wasting his time and not coming up to what being in a room with him required. An important, very important lesson that I'll never forget."
Last question, and it's on the Stones: The band famously covered I Wanna Be Your Man. Tell me, which Jagger-Richards song would you have loved to hear The Beatles cover?
"Great question. Never been asked that in my life. Paul McCartney could do a tremendous Ruby Tuesday, and George could have done a great She Smiled Sweetly. John Lennon doing 19th Nervous Breakdown. I was going to suggest Something Happened To Me for Ringo, but without Richard Perry?"
Re: New and old interviews with Andrew Loog Oldham
Posted by:
RonRoss
()
Date: January 7, 2013 02:19
Please stop by Andrew's "offical" Facebook page.We're fans of IORR.
www.facebook.com/andrewloogoldham
Thanks,
Ron
www.facebook.com/andrewloogoldham
Thanks,
Ron
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