MAIDA VALE RE-OPENS

In 1971, when 8-track first came into Radio 1 music studios, BBC management were adamant that there would be no additional session time set aside for remix.

At that time, the only programme that had managed to swing extra session time was John Peel's Top Gear. The content for this programme was considered more experimental than the others (which was true), and so it was deemed ok for Top Gear sessions to be double sessions. This meant that, instead of having to record three or four tracks in a standard three hour session (14.00 - 17.00 or 18.30 - 21.30), the entire afternoon and evening could be spent on the same three or four tracks.

By late 1974, when Maida Vale came on line, we had managed to winkle the same session time for all Radio 1 evening programmes (the ones featuring the likes of Genesis and Steeleye Span, rather than the bubblegum pop of the daytime programmes). So, by the time I did my first recording and mix in Maida Vale 4, the recording process wasn't quite such a rush, although it was still far more challenging than working in the average commercial studio on an album.

On many sessions, this time pressure remained a negative influence. However, on some sessions, the limits on time and resources turned out to have quite the opposite effect.

It has to be said that a lot of bands recording at this time were tending towards self-indulgence - to the point that many of them wouldn't actually rehearse before walking into a plush recording studio to spend money at £n per hour producing their latest album. More than a few record business executives suffered from the delusion that if they could boast to their peers that they had spent £x grand on their latest act, it was somehow better than something that cost less than £x grand. The results often proved otherwise. Not a few bands ran up huge studio bills producing, frequently, mundane recordings of eminently forgettable material.

However, in BBC studios around this time, the improvement of facilities from mono to 8-track, and the extension of studio time from single to double sessions proved just enough for the average band to "get their shit together" in order to record about 15 minutes worth of broadcastable music.

Although the new equipment was professional enough for the bands to take the session seriously, they generally didn't try for the nth degree of perfection - either in their performance, or in the sound-mix - compared to the approach they might have taken in recording the album.
The irony was that the feel of the BBC recreations was often more spontaneous and less sterile than some of the original album tracks.

Also, by the time the bands got to the BBC to record their session, they had learned the tracks, overdubs and arrangements thoroughly during the recording process. Often, this contributed to a less tentative performance than the original - and not infrequently, a more musically adventurous approach than the one recorded on the album. Around this time, it was surprising how frequently bands left the studios remarking wistfully that they wished they could replace the original tracks on the album with the BBC cut. Mostly, the album had been released by the time the band recorded a BBC session, but there were a few instances in which BBC tracks were commercially purchased and released in preference to material produced in commercial studios.

But to imply that there were no disasters on 8-track would be far from the truth. I can remember a few of my early mixes being particularly fraught, especially with a band called Snafu - as well as my first Average White Band session (which was even more of a bring-down for me because the band included a number of friends of mine from the '60s Glasgow music scene). And then there was The Clash! (More of this later).

THE MAIDA VALE COMPLEX

When I was working there, Maida Vale had 6 recording studios. Studio 1 was exclusively for the use of the BBC Symphony Orchestra. Live broadcasts were frequently put out from this venue, and more than once, I fantasised about strolling into MV 1, walking on stage during a performance, (which I could easily have done), elbowing the soprano out of the way, and screaming at the top of my voice "Rock and Roll!..........." I never had the balls to do it!

At the time of writing this, I find that my memory of Studio 2 is a bit of a blank. It wasn't a concert hall, but I'm sure that, like MV1, it was dedicated to "serious music" - i.e. lots of polished wooden flooring and very live (reverberant) acoustics, but I can't be sure.

Studio 3 was for the BBC Radio Orchestra (a Big Band lineup doing jazz, swing and standards), so I didn't use that much, although I remember recording Johnny Mathis and Demis Roussos there.

4, 5 and 6 were the multi-track studios, with 4 and 5 being the main venues for recording "pop" music - both for Radio 1 daytime stuff (chart oriented) and the evening programmes (John Peel, Bob Harris, Ian Black, Mike Harding, Pete Drummond - i.e. Sounds of the Seventies).

Studios 4 and 5 were the first to go online, and they had identical equipment to Langham 1, except that the Neve recording consoles had 24 inputs rather than 16 - which was great! Unlike Langham 1, which had had absolutely no money or effort invested in upgrading the studio itself, Maida Vale 4 & 5 had just had the benefit of a tip-to-toe acoustic refit. Unfortunately, my take on it was that studios 4 & 5 never sounded as good as Langham 1. So much for capital investment!

Off the top of my head, and in no particular order, a few of the acts I remember recording in Maida Vale are:
Thin Lizzy (of course!), The Police / Sting, Annie Lennox / The Tourists, Yes, Phil Collins / Brand X, Adam & the Ants Stealer's Wheel / Gerry Rafferty, Andy Fairweather-Lowe, Climax Chicago Blues Band, Be-Bop Deluxe, Don Everly, The Jam, Lulu, Barbara Dixon......

THE POLICE / STING (Andy Peebles Show)   (Back to Top)

The Police surfaced during the punk era - although they weren't really punk at all.

Like many other emerging acts of late 70s, they felt the need to conform to the prevailing conventions by bleaching and spiking their hair, and they paid the obligatory punk dues by pretending to love being gobbed on during their early UK gigs.

I thought - and still think - the Police are one of the great bands of the period. However, in those early days, when they were struggling to make a name for themselves, they were considered uncool at Radio 1 - for reasons which I never understood, and which have probably now been the subject of a revisionist rewrite.

When Roxanne was first released, the band found it very difficult to get plays in the UK. Despite the lack of interest in the UK, they started charting in the US. After that, Roxanne was re-released in the UK, and everyone at Radio 1 said how good the Police were. At least David Jensen (the Police's first BBC session was for the Kid Jensen show) wasn't bothered about being considered uncool in the days before they became famous.

The Police's PA engineer, Kim Turner - who was a brilliant drummer - played on my aforementioned "album that never was" in 1976 - along with Francis Monkman (Curved Air), Tony Poole and Iain Whitmore (both of Starry Eyed And Laughing). Unfortunately for me, the album never saw commercial release, but later, after Kim had joined the Police road crew, he sent me a white label copy of "I Can't Stand Losing You". I spent quite a bit of time doing an unofficial plugging job (unpaid), which got me a mixed reception in the Radio 1 production offices.

The subsequent Police session in Maida Vale 4, which I recorded for the Andy Peebles show was good, but I can remember Andy Summers whingeing about the guitar sound - and while his performance was ok, I remember thinking that it wasn't brilliant. Sting was good and Stewart Copeland was excellent. Then they became megastars!

THE CLASH (Maida Vale 4 - aborted!)    (Back to Top)

As it happens, The Clash are one of the few bands of the punk genre that I can listen to nowadays, and think they are good, (although I must say that tracks like "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" owe more to the classic rock of the "Louie Louie" era than the gob-snorting crap of the greater part of The Clash's contemporaries).

One thing the Clash did have in common with many of their peers though was that they were a pretty obnoxious bunch. The exception being their drummer at the time of my session called "Topper Clubso" (later, to be redubbed Topper Headon - gerrit?... I don't!....)

Of course "Topper" - believe it or not - was only a stage name. I knew this because Topper was in fact called Nicky (can't remember his second name) who used to play with a heavy rock band called Michael Furay - who had two excellent Canadian guitarists, whose names I also can't remember.

In the days before the Clash, Nicky had an affectionate little mongrel dog, that he loved so much, he would bring it along to sessions, and it would sit or lie patiently at his feet (a bit like Greyfriars Bobby - except Nicky was still alive), waiting for him to stop beating the shit out of his skins and take him home again.

Anyway, Nicky (Topper) had just managed to negotiate himself the gig as the drummer of the Clash - having just taken over from the previous Clash drummer (whose name I don't know - and am not desperate to find out).

I arrived a bit late, and walked into the studio to find the producer, Tony Wilson, in conversation with two members of the band. I sensed that introductions had just been made, (no doubt there were warm handshakes over intros like ... "I'm Joe Farter, and my mate here is Stiff Arsefuck... " or whatever....)

Anyway, I also sensed that the atmosphere was a bit strained. Their demeanour signalled that they didn't think stars of their stature should be obliged to record a session at the BBC. I also got the clear vibe that I, a mere engineer, and therefore lower down the pecking order than Tony, the producer, wasn't really worth talking to. I found it quaint that the punk culture was so elitist and "pecking order" obsessed when their official public image was supposed to be so anti-authoritarian.

Regardless, Tony introduced me to the two stars, and as I was pressing the flesh with people who clearly didn't want to press mine, my eye caught Nicky (Topper).

Until this moment, it was news to me that Nicky was with the Clash. But I wasn't surprised, as I knew him to be a pretty good drummer. I reacted by grinning, and greeting him with a cheery, "Hi Nicky ... how's your dog?" This familiarity drew hoots of derision from the two stars who started mimicking.... "Hi Nicky, how's your dog ... ha! ha! ha!..." I think one of them even corrected me and informed me, with gravitas, "...that's Topper Clubso ..... " (Whoopee! I thought to myself.)

I felt sorry for Nicky, who I sensed was embarrassed, but couldn't afford not to conform to the collective Clash public image. The session didn't go very well - but it wasn't bad. They put down some reasonable tracks, within the limits of their competence - which in Nicky's case was a lot more than competent than his colleagues could match.

However, as the session wore on, the atmosphere got more and more negative until, towards the end, the band informed Tony that they wanted to cancel the whole thing. I must say I was pretty pissed off, as by this stage, most of the hard work had been done, and all that needed doing were a few overdubs and the final mix.

Tony, being a gentleman, gave in gracefully, and the session was cancelled. In all my time at the BBC witnessing the some of the biggest names working in sometimes challenging circumstances, it was the only time I can remember such an event.

I remain convinced that the real reason that they cancelled was that they couldn't handle the "Hi Nicky, how's your dog? .. " line. It clearly blew away their "street credibility" - whatever that was?

THE SLITS - THE WORST WOMEN IN ROCK (John Peel Show)   (Back to Top)

Another band from the daft punk era - and another classic if you are into shit.

I mention this one particularly, because it probably put the cause of women in rock back a century or so. I also remember Peelie and John Walters (Peelie's producer) sneaking into the back of the control room in Maida Vale 4 to have a listen. This was most unusual - I think John used to find the actual recording process a bore, and normally avoided sessions. Anyway, I clearly remember the two Johns pissing themselves laughing at the difficulties that Tony Wilson and I were having in getting anything coherent out of the circus act thrashing around in the studio. I also recall having to tune a guitar for one of the band, and I remember the German girl who used to sing (sing?) as a complete head-banger.

Since writing the above comments all those years ago in 1992, I recently (in 2008), read an account of this session as reported second-hand by an ex-colleague, who later became a producer at Radio 1. Many of the production staff I knew referred to him as Trevor Daft. He may not have known this at the time, but he'll know who he is.

In contrast to my scathing opinion, John Peel often cited this session as one of his favourites. Fair enough! But in a recent a Peel oriented hardback retrospective, Trevor Daft, who was never anywhere near the session at the time, bemoaned the fact that the engineers on the session were guitar players (which he seemed to think was some kind of a handicap), and reasoned that the session might have been even better if I hadn't tuned the punkette's guitar.

Trevor was an ex-journalist from local radio, which, I suppose, endows him with a lot more credibility than a mere guitar player.

WORST PEEL SESSION EVER, EVER, EVER! ... THE POP GROUP   (Back to Top)
...... were the most obnoxious bunch of prats I ever had the misfortune to record. Their instruments sounded bad, they couldn't play in tune or in time, their act (I refuse to use the word songs) was crap, and like many acts of the punk / new wave era, they were arrogant beyond belief.

I remember working hard to get the backing tracks to sound respectable - and when the band came in for a playback the reaction was to inform me by means of a high volume harangue that "You make a shit sound!"

The drummer then went on to insist that I make him sound "like David Bowie's drummer". I didn't even bother debating the issue with them. Because they were so bad, they overran the double session. We only just got the backing tracks down by the early hours of the morning, and had to arrange another session for remix. I was pleased, because I was dreading the mix, and hoped that they would not have the time to turn up for the second session.

On the remix session, just as I was about to lay down the first track on 1/4", the band turned up. They asked if they could hear the track before I laid it. The reaction was predictable ("the sound is a load of shit!.... etc). Anyway, as I played the track through again, trying to decode from the bullshit around me anything valid that might help get the recording more to their liking, the vocalist leaned over, pulled up the "lead vocal" fader to levels that were technically overloaded and artistically crass and said - "I want more vocal".

For a joke, I grabbed the fader and said "oh ... you mean like this!" - and I proceeded to wank the fader up and down furiously in time with the music. I fully expected to savour the satisfaction of insulting them all, but to my amazement, the reaction was "hey .... that's great!!!!"

Stung into action, I compounded the lunacy of the situation, and so I started doing the same alternately with the bass and drums and - not content with screwing around with the levels - I started to put the most ridiculous eq on everything, and to feed-back the delay lines and reverbs to each other - almost to the point of oscillation.

Looking back, I suppose the band had a point. If I hadn't done something ridiculous to distract the listener, the Great British public would have been that much more aware that what they were witnessing really was a load of crap.

Anyway, to add insult to injury, the following week the Melody Maker referred to the "amazing John Peel tapes" in reviewing the Pop Group - and I was told that on the strength of my tapes, the band had managed to get themselves on the Patti Smith tour. This was the only time I remember a BBC session getting a positive review in a music mag! What a travesty! It was about this time that I started thinking about making a move to earn a living outside studios.

The whole punk thing was a joke for me, and I became very disillusioned with some of my colleagues at Radio 1, who seemed to be succumbing to the "king's new suit of clothes" syndrome. I think the passing of time has sorted out the wheat from the chaff. Who remembers the Pop Group? For that matter who remembers Patti Smith?

But let's not dwell on the negatives.
Here are some positive stories from Maida Vale ... (Continue to Part 9)