Wreckless Eric News Page February 2001

The first reviews have come out for the Stiff re-issue compilation "Stiff, Stiffer, Stiffest". I think we need to keep a little diary on this and I'll tell you what I think as we go along. First up we've got The Independent, Friday 9th February:

The Independent 9th February 2001
VARIOUS ARTISTS | Stiff, Stiffer, Stiffest (Union Square)
Established in 1976 with a £400 loan, Stiff Records was the prototype indie label, the model for countless shoestring operations. Sadly, these days it's all too easy to understand the impulse that brought it into existence. Consider the climate of the time: a moribund record industry pumping out formulaic prog-rock and pop pap, reluctant to nurture any new musical shoots - sound familiar? Originally serving as a conduit for stalwarts of the mid-Seventies pub-rock scene such as Ian Dury and Nick Lowe, Stiff was soon swept up in the punk tidal wave, courtesy of The Damned's "New Rose", the first true UK punk record. The label's biggest successes (Dury, The Damned and Elvis Costello) are all absent from this compilation, which favours instead the Stiff roster of idiosyncratic one-hit-wonders - lone moments of true pop genius such as Wreckless Eric's "Whole Wide World", as unique now as the day it was released; The Adverts' anthemic "One Chord Wonders", an enduring masterpiece of punk ambition; Roogalator's fluid R&B funk groove "Cincinnati Fatback"; and Lene Lovich's quirky "Lucky Number". Stiff developed a knack for this kind of novelty pop, spawning hits for the likes of Tenpole Tudor, Jona Lewie, Tracey Ullman and Kirsty MacColl, but losing its identity in the process. Still, it was fun while it lasted.

Andy Gill

Andy Gill is my kind of reviewer - and it's even the crap re-mix speeded-up! Yes, it was fun while it lasted. Here's a piece I myself wrote for an interview conducted by email:

Stiff Records was a great label in 1976 and '77 when it was run by Jake Riviera. But he left at the end of '77, and Stiff finally died after a long illness halfway through the eighties. In that time, under the direction of Dave Robinson, and with an upwardly mobile attitude and slogans like "money talks, people mumble", it certainly caught the spirit of the age - a model label for Thatcher's Britain.
I haven't spent my life being bitter and twisted - a Stiff casualty. I faired better than most, and I'm lucky enough to have seen the best of Stiff and to have got out before the worst.
Ultimately, Dave Robinson's big mistake was in promoting the label at the expense of the artists. He had no respect for artists and musicians - he frequently referred to them as pebbles on the beach, and my own band weren't alone in being treated like dirt. Talent was never there to be nurtured, it was just a raw material which he could turn into a commodity.

In the beginning Stiff Records was funny, offensive and exciting. Later on, in the throes of the illness which eventually killed it, Stiff developed a "One Big Happy Family" image, and the stars of the label were the staff. The Rhino box set includes a list of every staff member, but I don't see any mention of the musicians that played on the tracks. When Dave Robinson got married, the two bands that played at the reception were Madness because he'd just signed them, and a band made up of members of the office staff. I remember finding this vaguely insulting.
Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled at the resurgence of interest, but with only the remnants of the Stiff catalogue at their disposal - no Ian Dury, Nick Lowe, Elvis Costello, Madness, I'll be interested to see how Union Square/Metro are going to promote the Stiff the label with these re-releases. I can see it makes sense - more than one eighties record executive was heard to say, "this'd be a great business if it wasn't for the artists". I only hope the quality is up to scratch - some of the former re-releases have been appalling.

Here's Dave Simpson in the Guardian:
Guardian Review Friday 9th February 2001
Various Artists Stiff, Stiffer, Stiffest (Metro) ***
Given that Jake Riviera's 1976-formed indie label gave the world Madness, Elvis Costello and the Damned, any Stiff "best of" without them is scarcely worthy of the name. However, such is Stiff's legacy that they can omit such greats (presumably for contractual reasons) and still field a team of miscreants and anti-heroes capable of putting on a show. If Stiff ever had a "house sound", it lay somewhere in their artists' undefinable, magical spirit. Gumption, if nothing else, unites the Untouchables' Northern Soul stomper Free Yourself with Tracy Ullman's deranged Breakway. However, despite similar big successes with Jona Lewie's number one Stop the Cavalry, Kirsty MacColl's Billy Bragg-penned New England and Tenpole Tudor's awesome Swords of a Thousand Men, Stiff will be remembered primarily as a pioneering new-wave label. A heap of nuggets, from the supreme amphetamine punk of The Adverts' One Chord Wonders to Wreckless Eric's indefatigable Whole Wide World, underline this reputation, with Graham Parker and Ian Dury sounding even better for the passing years. The Motown stomp of B.A.B.Y., sung by Rachel Sweet in 1978, is a glorious lost song, which could surely provide the Spice Girls with another hit. (DS)

I don't quite know what the word "indefatigable" means when a reviewer uses it because it is just that - a word that reviewers use. But in this case I'll take it as a compliment. "The Motown stomp of B.A.B.Y., sung by Rachel Sweet in 1978, is a glorious lost song, which could surely provide The Spice Girls with another hit" is a load of bollocks. Dave Simpson needs to go back to pop school, or wherever it is these people come from. B.A.B.Y. was a Stax number, not a Motown rarity. It was written as far as I remember by Isaac Hayes and David Porter, and recorded by Carla Thomas who had the great distinction of being Rufus Thomas' daughter. It upset me at the time (1978 that is) that people could listen to Rachel Sweet's white, sanitized version in preference to the totally sexy original. Sorry Dave but the idea of The Spice Girls doing B.A.B.Y. is obscene - for Christ' sake don't give up your day job and go for a career in A&R. That idea's just vile enough to actually go and happen.

The thing is, the Rachel Sweet version isn't telling the truth. The boys in the Stiff office were all getting little woodies when they first heard it. They'd been told she was (quote) "sixteen year old jail bait", and they just couldn't wait to have her over. They were slavering at the mouth and jockeying for position to meet her at the airport. Nigel Dick, the jumped up office boy who was later responsible for a lot of those bland looking Stiff videos, took her down to Brighton for a photo session. It's his leather jacket that she wore on the cover of her first album. The aptly named Dick was like the cat that got the fucking cream. But of course nothing ever happened because this was the beginning of "one big happy family", and Rachel was accompanied everywhere by a chaperone.

Not that one was ever needed. Rachel Sweet wasn't exactly, to quote the vernacular of the time, "begging for it" in the way that the record seemed to suggest to the lusty Stiff gang. Me and my band were given a warning - Dave Robinson said, "touch her and I'll break your fucking legs". But he needn't have bothered - it was a bit like the emperors new clothes. In our lowly position we could see that Rachel Sweet wasn't the remotest bit sexy, we wouldn't have touched her with Nigel's Dick.

In case you think I'm being a bit hard on poor old Nigel I'll remind you of what he said about me for that crappy Bert Muirhead Stiff book - you've probably seen this quote on one or two of the crappy re-releases that came out in the nineties - what a great way to sell a record:
"…I remain convinced that Eric will become the Buddy Holly of the 1990s. He'll probably die, drink himself into an early grave. A Linda Rondstadt type will come along and record songs from his Greatest Hits in rotation and have enormous hits…"
It didn't happen you patronising arsehole. The sleeve note goes on to say:
While the early portion of Eric's recorded career is questionable in terms of songwriting ability, there is no doubt that Whole Wide World and Reconnez Cherie were great little singles.
Oh yeah - if I was that talentless why bother putting out the re-release that these sleeve notes were on. As for "questionable songwriting ability" all I have to say in my defence is: Semaphore Signals, Personal Hygiene, Take The Cash, Waxworks, The Final Taxi, I Wish It Would Rain; some of that questionable early songwriting. So fuck you, whoever you are. And Nigel Dick. Elsewhere this often used sleeve note states:
Initially he was happy with the drunken loony image, but eventually it became a caricature. However, by the time of Big Smash his band was tight, Eric was 'together' and his songwriting had improved considerably. Had he applied this discipline from day one of his career at Stiff (it sounds as if I've been taken on as a clerk in the firm of a distant Uncle, as a favour to a dispossessed parent), there is no doubt that he would not be languishing in the obscurity that he is today.
Excuse my moment of bitterness - I think I've earned it. As I remember, everybody got drunk, took drugs, got out of hand, behaved obnoxiously - it's how it goes. Later on it got to being a problem for me personally. I became an alcoholic. I haven't had a drink for fifteen years. I learned the business in public, and as part of that learning process I found out pretty quickly that I couldn't do gigs blind drunk, so I didn't. I fucked up a handful of gigs through drunkenness - but so what, who didn't? But my private life was a different story. I would never have been happy to be a "loony". I've spent some time in a mental hospital because I had a nervous breakdown in the late eighties. "Loony" is no fun at all. My "idiosyncrasies" on the other hand are something I'm very proud of.

I see that both reviews so far pick up on the fact that Elvis Costello and Ian Dury don't appear. You can't tell me anything, because I'll repeat it: apparently Elvis said he didn't even remember being on Stiff, I find that hard to believe - you're bound to remember your first record, it's like your first fuck, except better. The music biz gets worse, fucking usually gets better. The man who looks after Ian's catalogue is a music business stalwart called Andrew King. When he heard that Elvis wasn't going to be included in the compilation he reportedly said, "well if fish face is going to throw a wobbler, then so are we".

More to follow as it comes in.

© Eric Goulden, February 10th, 2001

February 9th 2001 - It'll Be Worth The Wait - The Stiff re-release

Pin your ears back, put your reading glasses on, re-boot – whatever you need to do, and I'll try and tell you how it goes….

What remains of the Stiff Records catalogue, after those artists who were blessed with decent management from the start, have grabbed back what is rightfully theirs, is owned by a company called ZTT. In one sense I have no problem with this, because they've always accounted to me, and they've sent regular royalty cheques for the various re-releases that have appeared over the years. But some of these re-releases – my first album re-released on Disky, speeded up to Mickey Mouse level, with a cover made from a colour photo copy of the original sleeve; "The Best Punk Album In The World Ever – Volume Two" - which continues to cause me enormous amusement, even though I once received (or didn't receive) a minus amount of royalties because it sold so badly; and all those crappy compilations like "Calling London", and "20 Romantic Punk Songs" (yes really), all of which contain Whole Wide World in various states of decay – speeded up, re-mixed, generally buggered about with – these releases have seriously pissed me off.

The man who is responsible for these atrocious releases, and who is thankfully no longer looking after the Stiff catalogue, is a former Stiff employee called Alan Cowderoy. I've been told that Cowderoy was on such a good commission deal that he stood to earn more from any licencing agreement he made for parts of the catalogue than any of the artists whose material he was spreading around. Obviously, if this is true, and of course I don't know if it really is true – it's just a story I've heard, but if it is, it would be to his advantage to secure as many re-releases as possible, regardless of the quality, and hence the Disky and Repetoire releases, and the plethora of crummy compilations. Incidentally, I've just found out that Disky is owned by EMI – one of those companies who are always bleating on about maintaining standards within the phonographic industry.

Maybe I shouldn't complain – after all I did get paid. It's just that I don't want to be remembered by degraded collections of my old records, available in airports, service stations and cut-out bins everywhere, a by-word in sub-standard quality; and some sort of low grade musical prostitute who's on every compilation going. I've also been touched by the fan response I get through this website, and feel that the least I can do in return is to try and ensure that my back catalogue is made available in the highest quality possible.

So I was very pleased when Cowderoy got the boot and a man called Pete Gardiner stepped in. Pete is a true fan of the music, an ex-musician himself, and he's as appalled at the previous re-releases as I am. It hasn't all been easy – the tapes haven't exactly been that well looked after at times. The original master tapes are long gone and all that remains of my stuff are production masters, which are tape copies of the original ¼" two track mixes, with the compression and equalisation which was added when the tracks were originally cut for vinyl. The tracks were never properly listed – speeded up versions which Stiff thought sounded more "peppy" and youthful, but which did nothing for the feel and the throb of what the tracks were really about, they were included, and in the case of Take The Cash an engineers reference tape had been substituted. Interesting if you want to hear the vocal and backing track eminating from a distant trash can, and all the overdubs blasting in your face, but not something you'd want to dance to! All these had been transferred to DAT when the re-releases started happening in the early nineties. Because it was all fast buck stuff there wasn't much care and attention to detail. And this was the material that was given to Union Square for the quality re-issue that everyone's so eagerly awaiting.

I sent a list of tracks out to everyone concerned before the thing was put into manufacture, but to be honest I think Union Square thought, "Oh no, another interfering, over-precious artist". It's a reaction I can well understand. Stories of Stiffs treatment of its artists are coming to light now, and most people are shocked. They find it hard to believe that such music biz barbarianism could've happened in their lifetime – something like that. There was a breakdown in communication – not some sort of animosity you understand, just that nobody sent me a pre-production CD for approval.

You can possibly imagine what happened when, last Friday, a copy of the finished item finally arrived – I went fucking mental. It was my worst nightmare, speeded up, bass shaved off, top end fizzed up into a load of of sibilance, pathetic Dave Robinson re-mixes – the lot. Oh dear, I hope this isn't too boring – I know, all you want is to hear the thing. And that's exactly what I want – I want you to hear the tracks as they originally were, as they were meant to be. So we did what we should've done all along – our hero, Pete Gardiner booked time in a mastering suite and I went in and remastered all twenty tracks – lovingly restored them to original, pristine condition. Nothing was added that wasn't there already, nothing was taken away. It was a great day – for the first time in years I felt proud of my tracks. I've always been embarassed by most of my back catalogue – wishing I'd done it better, an insecurity compounded by successive low quality re-releases. But now, for the first time, I feel I can stand by this stuff and be a bit proud of it.

The new pressing should be going into production today, so everything's been delayed. I know that some of you have placed orders through The Turkey Zone – I hope you don't mind waiting a few more days. Tony's sitting on a hundred copies of the inferior pressing but we don't want to send that out – we want to take that to the dump – or make Alan Cowderoy and Dave Robinson eat it or something. This time you're going to get real value for money.

Before I go I'd like to thank Tony for being an absolute tower of strength and for running the site and everything; Pete Gardiner, and The Union Square people for putting up with me – their re-issues really are good! We should also thank my mum, Wreckless Dorothy as Ian used to call her, for carefully guarding unplayed original vinyl copies of all my records. Some of the tracks were remastered from these.

Friday March 16th - solo appearance @ The Victoria, 88 Victoria Road, Swindon
Thursday March 22nd - with The Blockheads @ The Concorde, Brighton
Friday March 23rd - The Dirty Water Club @ The Boston Arms, Tufnell Park, London
Friday April 6th – solo appearance @ The Neptune, Whitstable, Kent

"The Haemorrhoid Cream's In Your Banana Bag" – Middle-aged Rock Stars Get Together

Regular visitors to the site will remember me talking about former bass player, John Brown, of Wonderful World and Big Smash fame, who turned up at the gig at Gaz's Rockin' Blues the night before the Brixton Academy. Yes, we kept in touch, and now – he's back in the band! I went down to see him in deepest South Wales (the post Stiff John Brown story is an epic of tragic proportions) before Christmas, and in between reminiscences we got to playing some music together.

John's just been staying here in Brighton for a few days and we've started preparing to do some gigs. The first one is at The Boston Arms in London's leafy Tufnell Park area – I only said "leafy" to give it a cheap'n'snappy journalistic swing. I suppose I could as well have said "Tufnell Park in London", or "London's Tufnell Park", but I didn't. Fuck it. You've no idea how insecure I get writing this stuff sometimes. Now I've got so involved in writing pedantic drivel that I've almost forgotten to say when the gig is.

But of course I'm being pedantic – the great realisation that John and I have had is that we're both middle-aged now, and we're being very careful about what that seems to entail and imply. In the full flush of our youth we travelled the world together in jumbo jets and clapped out hire vans, and when I last saw him, we may've been getting a little uncrisp around the edges, but we were still basically young and beautiful. Christ - I've made us sound like gay lovers – which I can assure you we weren't.

Little mannerisms creep in – John has to be careful not to say "aah" when he sits down, and "ooh" when he stands up. I found myself saying the word "rotor arm" with a capital "R" when I suggested he'd have to put it back, in order to drive home. He'd taken the sensible precaution – which we would never have taken twenty years ago – of removing it to prevent car theft. And I'm afraid we reminisced and completed each others ancient on the road anecdotes with no shame whatsoever. John reminded me how we were all set to support The Who on the European leg of their 1980 world tour, and how the tour was cancelled at the last minute, leaving us with no alternative but to play in Germany to pre New Wave audiences who would've hated us if they could've got it together man. And then I reminded John of the night in Shrewsbury Town Hall when we took on Squeeze, and won by completing three encores by the time they arrived back from the hotel to do their set – Chris Difford said, "that's some applause – are you going to do an encore?" "We've already done three" I said. The next night we didn't get any foldback.

But it's so good to be able to talk about all that with someone who was there, someone who's not going to be bored, impressed or uncomprehending of the traumatic nature of what we went through as a successful rock'n'roll band. There were three or four years or so of touring and recording that shaped our lives. We fucked up – that is, the business fucked up, and fucked us up along with it. I well remember 1980 – touring the UK, Europe, then America, and then New Zealand and Australia. When we left for America nobody thought to tell us we'd be going straight to Australia when we'd done. Why the hell should they, after all, we were just the band, a bit like the hired help, a minor inconvenience in a successful business operation. They probably thought we were too thick to take the idea on board. When we came back, months and months later, I went in the Stiff office and the staff didn't know who I was. I had a meeting with the label boss, Dave Robinson, then I went to the pub and met my band. They weren't pleased to see me – they'd just been sacked. Robinson had never thought to mention it.

I don't know how either John or I have kept it together through the years of crap that followed. We're probably stronger for it. I heard Whole Wide World on a programme about Stiff Records on BBC Radio 4 the other day. I was doing a decorating job at the time – Whole Wide World sounded so good I found myself playing air guitar with the paint roller. I'm glad I was on my own. But fucking hell it sounded good. I think we're going to make a comeback. Oh. and the gig –

Friday 23rd March - The Dirty Water Club @ The Boston Arms, adm.£5/£6

Eric – vocal, guitar, fuzz bass, organ
John Brown – bass, backing vocal
Ina Weber – extraneous racket
Will Moore – drums, fiddly junk
Andre Barreau – guitar, backing vocal