Diary Snippets, Faded Memories, and Missed Opportunities from July 1985

Portrait of the Artist ... (1985)

 

 

Monday 1 July

 

Sent my proposal for a Malcolm McLaren biography to another 13 publishers. [1]

 

 

Tues 2 July

 

Virgin have decided to pay me £500 a month: £100 less than expected; £250 less than hoped. Pissed off. [2]

 

 

Weds 3 July 

 

Met with a Greek woman called Versa Manos from Arista Records. Offered me a job as a press officer: £9000 a year, expenses, and a car. I told her I didn't drive and would prefer a horse. Everyone says it's a great opportunity and I should take it. But do I really want a career in the music business ...? Thinking of moving to a remote cottage in Scotland instead. [3] 

 

 

Sat 6 July

 

Lee Ellen [4] begged me to go and see Bruce Springsteen at Wembley with her. The problem is, whilst he was born in the USA, I belong to a generation that professes boredom with the USA. After an hour, therefore, I'd had more than enough, so left. He's good at what he does, but I don't care for it. 

 

 

Fri 12 July 

 

Carrolle came over with a (very) belated birthday present: a copy of Guy Debord's Society of the Spectacle. Kind of her. Love the cover of the book, but don't really understand a word of it. Perhaps I can get Roadent to explain it to me one day! [5]

 

Later, I met up with Keith and David Gedge of the Wedding Present: they gave me 35 copies of their excellent debut single ('Go Out and Get 'Em Boy!') and some press cuttings. Agreed to help promote the record, even if Charisma won't be offering them a recording contract. [6] 

 

 

Tues 16 July

 

Went to a party at the NME: a leaving do for the editor, Neil Spencer. Listened in to his conversation with Lee Ellen: he's a boring socialist - just like Billy Bragg, who was also banging on about what a great bloke Neil Kinnock was and how he was proud to support the Labour Party, etc. [7] 

 

 

Fri 19 July

 

My fascination with Mozart continues: decided to investigate the practicalities of having a suit of clothes made in late 18th century style and went to a tiny tailor's shop off Carnaby Street which, apparently, has dressed all the stars in its time. 

      The strange little man with the measuring tape said he could do whatever I wanted and that the entire ensemble would cost £610 (including buckled shoes for £85 and a cape for £150; but not including a wig or cocked hat which would be extra). 

 

 

Sat 20 July  

 

Deciding the Amadeus costume might be a bit much, I went to Hyper Hyper to see if I could find an interesting new outfit there: I couldn't. Hated everything and everyone. Felt much happier in Kensington Market, although the mass-produced punk style clothing now feels very regressive and is worn by people who having arrived Nowhere now fully intend to stay there.   

      On the tube home, some idiot gave me a hard time about the book I was reading; Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil - told me I was a fascist. 

 

 

Fri 26 July  

 

To the Savoy for a press conference announcing a new musical project by Dave Clark called Time, featuring various artists including Freddie Mercury, Stevie Wonder, and Julian Lennon (thus the reason Lee Ellen and I were there, as Julian's a Charisma act). 

      Apparently, Time would be both a stage show and a concept album that combined a rock soundtrack with a science fiction narrative (groan). Cliff Richard had also been roped in and he was there alongside Dave Clark at the press conference, answering questions: I DO NOT LIKE HIM.  

 

 

Weds 31 July 

All packed and ready for my trip to France (leaving tomorrow - train and ferry). Ticket £42.80 rtn. Bought 1800 francs (ex. rate = 12 to the pound, so cost £150). Very excited to be getting out of England for the first time and, of course, to be meeting Sophie. Qui sait comment les choses vont évoluer? [8] 

 

 

Notes 

 

[1] Rejected by all - including Virgin Books.

 

[2] I don't know what the average wage for a 22-year-old working in London in the music business was in 1985, but I suspect it was more than the £125 a week Virgin paid me. The offer made by Arista of £9000 a year (see the snippet that follows dated 3 July) was, I suspect, closer to a typical entry level salary at this time.     

 

[3] I didn't. In fact, three months later and I decided to quit London and have nothing further to do with the music business; fleeing south to Madrid with the intention of writing a novel beneath the radiation of new skies.  

 

[4] Lee Ellen Newman, Head of Press at Charisma Records. 

 

[5] Carrolle Payne, McLaren's PA / office manager at Moulin Rouge Ltd. Roadent was her boyfriend and the one who got her the job with Malcolm, whom he had known since the old days with the Sex Pistols. 

[6] Keith Gregory, bass player with the Wedding Present, was someone I knew from my time in Leeds as a student. The view at Charisma was that the Wedding Present's jangly guitar style of indie rock was passé. The band, however, went on to have great success, including eighteen singles charting in the top 40. Can't really say I had any role in this, although I did manage to get them an interview with someone from Sounds in July '85. 

      To play the band's self-financed single 'Go Out and Get 'Em Boy!', released on their own label (Reception Records, 1985), click here.    

 

[7] In November 1985, Spencer helped found Red Wedge with British musicians Paul Weller and Billy Bragg. The collective aimed to engage young people politically and garner support for the Labour Party in the lead-up to the 1987 general election. All of the usual suspects gave support, including Jerry Dammers, Tom Robinson, Jimmy Somerville, and alternative comedians such as Lenny Henry and Ben Elton. 

      After the 1987 election produced a third consecutive victory for Margaret Thatcher's Conservative Party, many of the participants drifted away and funding eventually dried up. Red Wedge was formally disbanded in 1990. 

 

[8] Actually, things turned out very well and I'm pleased to say that Sophie and I are still in touch forty years on. 

      For those who might be interested, 19 year-old Mlle. Stas and I had agreed to meet up having exchanged a few letters and phone calls after she contacted the Charisma press office with a query about Julian Lennon. 

      The photo at the top of this post was taken by Sophie on my last night in France (5 August 1985).   

 

 

Memories of Summer '84: Charisma

Just another day in the press office at Charisma Records 

for Jazz and Lee Ellen (1984)

 

 

Entry from The Von Hell Diaries Tuesday 7 August 1984

By the time I got into Charisma this morning, Lee Ellen was already freaking out because Malcolm had cancelled three cover-interviews [1]. As she tried to re-arrange things, I was sent over to McLaren's office on Denmark Street with two cheques: the first for £5000 (a video fee) and the second for £20,000 (advance against the next album). 

 

I had also been given a letter, marked private and confidential, that I was instructed to hand personally to Malcolm. Unfortunately, there was no one in to receive either the letter or the cheques when I got to Moulin Rouge. However, on the way out I bumped into Malcolm and we both went up to his first floor office.

 

Clearly, the contents of the letter were not to his liking. And when Carrolle [2] arrived, he told her she couldn't have the half-day agreed, but would have to type up an immediate reply, which I was to then take back to Charisma. While they worked on the letter, I chatted with Andrea [3] who, by this time, had also arrived at the office. 

 

As well as the letter, Malcolm also gave me three tape cassettes and a small box containing 'valuable jewellery' that he wanted to have couriered to Nick Egan [4] in New York without the US customs knowing anything about it. I was told to wrap the things up carefully and if anyone asked at Charisma what the package contained I should tell them it was a rubber fish. 

 

For security, I was put in a cab by Carrolle - even though the walk from Denmark Street to Wardour Street is literally only a few minutes via Soho Square.              

 

Later, Lee Ellen called me and said I should meet her at 6 o'clock at the Soho Brasserie on Old Compton Street, where Malcolm was going to give an interview to someone from Time Out. Had a fun night chatting, eating sausages, and drinking Black Russians. The Melody Maker journalist Colin Irwin joined us - he's clearly in love with Lee Ellen, but then, to be fair, who isn't?

 

The terrible trio - Glen Colson, Jock Scott, and Keith Allen [5] - also briefly came over. Not sure I'm a fan of the latter; a bit too aggessive for my tastes, so glad when he and his pals headed off to the Wag Club. 

 

Found it ironic that, interview over, Talcy Macly of all people should tell me he's never seen anyone as pale as I am. He asked Lee Ellen what she'd being doing to me. 

 

He also advised that I needed to 'calm down' a little, saying that he'd never want to rob a bank with me as I made him a nervous wreck. 'Listen Jazz boy', he said, 'you've got to learn how to make people feel comfortable. Be a bit more cunning; don't show so much enthusiasm'. Having acted as my mentor-cum-career's advisor, he then launched into a long (but fascinating) monologue about Oscar Wilde. 

 

With regret, I left in time to catch the last tube back to Chiswick. Lee Ellen told me the next day that Malcolm kept her up until 2am with his stories and his complaints that pictures from a recent photo session had made him look like Michael Bentine. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Lee Ellen Newman was the Press Officer at Charisma Records, a label founded in 1969 by Tony Stratton Smith and home to a few old hippies, such as Genesis, but also the label to which Malcolm McLaren was signed.

[2] Carrolle Payne was McLaren's Personal Assistant at Moulin Rouge (25, Denmark Steet). 

  

[3] Andrea Linz was a talented fashion student and McLaren's girlfriend and muse at the time. 

 

[4] Nick Egan is a visual artist and graphic designer who collaborated with Mclaren on many projects in the early and mid-1980s. 

 

[5] Glen Colson was a music publicist associated with Charisma Records; Jock Scott was a popular performance poet (about whom I published a post on 18 April 2016 in his memory - click here); Keith Allen was associated at this time with a group of British comic actors known as the Comic Strip. 

 

 

Musical bonus: Malcolm McLaren, 'Madam Butterfly (un bel di vedremo)', single released from the album Fans (Charisma Records, 1984) on 20 August 1984: click here. Video directed by Terence Donovan.

 

 

For further memories of the summer of 1984, click here and/or here.    

 

Double Dutch

Malcolm on set whilst filming the video for 'Double Dutch' and me 
receiving a silver disc to mark sales in the UK of more than 250,000 copies

One of the (many) joys of Martin Scorsese's The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) is an extensive soundtrack that affords one the opportunity to hear Malcolm McLaren's still remarkably fresh sounding single 'Double Dutch', taken from his debut album, Duck Rock, and released in the summer of '83 when, all over the world, high school girls were taking to the ropes ...
 
I don't know why Scorsese (in collaboration with music supervisor Randall Poster and executive music producer Robbie Robertson) selected this song, but it presumably has some significance to him as it's one of only 16 - out of 60 used in the movie - to feature on The Wolf of Wall Street: Music from the Motion Picture (Virgin Records, 2014).    

For me, it's a track that has a very special resonance and brings back happy memories of a time when I was working at Charisma Records as an assistant in the press office, alongside the very lovely Lee Ellen Newman, and as a sort of intermediary between the label and McLaren's office on Tin Pan Alley, managed by the indomitable Carrolle Payne.

I recall, for example, meeting those dark and lovely skippers from New York who featured in the video for McLaren's single and who are name-checked in the lyrics to the song (Hey Ebo! Ebonettes); I remember also riding around Town in a limo with the Rock Steady Crew who had come to teach Londoners how to breakdance and elevate graffiti into an urban art form (but that - as they say - is another story ...). 

Although there were other songs on Duck Rock I liked more than 'Double Dutch', the latter - co-written and produced by Trevor Horn - was undoubtedly the catchiest and, in reaching the UK chart position of number 3, also McLaren's biggest hit (though - surprisingly - not so in the US).

Whilst primarily about the sport of competitive rope jumping, 'Double Dutch' is also an excellent example - arguably - of McLaren's willingness to cheerfully engage in cultural appropriation and the racial fetishisation of young black girls in order to further his own commercial and artistic ends ... 

Play: Malcolm McLaren, 'Double Dutch', the third single release from Duck Rock (Charisma Records, 1983): click here. Note: this is the 12" version of the song.