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 I only actually bought this recently being a pretty scarce chunk off the
old planet Rock, having had a tattered taped copy for several lifetimes. 'Tis a
little meteor whizzing about the stratosphere occasionally banging into
things like people who go "Fuck me, this is quite splendid, why weren't
these funny chaps supporting The Stones", and causing catastrophic
delights all over the place. See, King Bee, being in Manchester, isn't big
on metal - rawk and metal being kinda more provincial - so finding this
amongst like two Motorhead albums, the odd KISS album, and an
AC/DC single
was fucking staggering, like the first shot of Tanqueray (or should that
be the last shot?) and made me a very happy, though unfortunately not more
handsome, cat, indeed. Very much with the cream.
I was like 8 when this came out, so, apart from my old man digging good
music, didn't get to hear it till, I guess I was about 16/17 when Max (see
Crybaby's piece) got it taped off someone or other from
Hull's then
burgeoning Rawk scene or some tramp infested place nearby, like historic
York. Anyway, piffly details aren't important in this regal tale. Needless
to say the Maxster did then travel merrily around to my house to play me "Pickin'
the Blues" and "Old L.A." in particular, as I recall. More on them in a
bit. But this record has then been a constant traveling companion and
pick me up for years, always reminding you of just why Rock'n'Roll is
King. And ain't noise pollution. And so on.
I find it strange that this was released in '85 really, cos when you flick
through old Kerrang!'s of the time, The Babysitters just seemed so out of
place with all the rest of the shit in there. Alright, the odd bit of Hanoi
and that, but y'know. But '85 it was, as history does attest when this
masterclass of 10 self-penned anthems of grubbiness and red-rimmed dirty
morning eyes plus a gleefully swashbuckling maraudering ransacking of a
couple of old chestnuts was put before the rocksters of the day.
It's a very hazy trail that leads up to it, and I've tried, in vain so
far sadly, to track down Sitters singer Buttz, but a brief history of Babysitters time is
that these leery loons leapt from some asylum in some strange netherworld
and first seem to have appeared on Flicknife Records 1983 "Trash on
Delivery" compilation, which I don't own, but is notable for having
The
Dogs D'Amour's impossibly brilliant "Teenager" on it, which I believe was
on their first demo ever and had Ned Kelly (alright, Christie) on vocals
and a 14 year old Tyla just on guitar and backing vocal duties. Anyway,
back to the boys in question. Their composition was "Living Out Rock'n'Roll" and was a divine blast of spiky Ramones and Special
Brew fuelled salvation about running amok round London in tight pants,
ending with the soon to be typically bizarre Buttzness of "Livin' out
Rock'n'Roll.......pineapple" for no apparent reason whatsoever. This just
set the scene, 'twas an aperitif for the album to come. An album of some of
the most punky rock'n'roll craziness, jollity and eternal greatness there
ever was and will be. Not for them the archness of, say, Sigue Sigue
Sputnik, this is what they were.
What happened next is uncertain, except one can safely assume they spent a
while playing, what I can only imagine were fun drunken blitzes of sets
in such classy dens of iniquity and dereliction as Fulham Greyhound
and
The Bull and Gate amongst many others, finely tuning their own peculiar
brand of beery brawling Ollie Reed Rock'n'Roll and practicing their vocal
harmonies, before procuring a little deal with HM Records for the price of
a pint, a couple of tabs and some chips. They put the vocal harmonies in
particular to brilliant usage on the barbershop quartet swish of "The
Beard Song", about how he digs his girl's long blond hair and curves, but
her beard gets on his nerves. And she's a cute girl to, tho she has false
teeth and size 11 feet. Believe me, it works. They also open the whole
glorious ragtag shebang with a vocal group "Hello" "Helloo" "Hellooo" "Hellooooo"
before stumbling into, and around, "Can You Hear It?", choicest prime cut
of a lyric line here? "Open your eyes and open your ears, open up your
wallet and get me some beer" and ending with the signoff "What's he say?"
"Dunno mate didn't hear it." Ho ho. Such possibly inanity is all over the
record, but depending on your point of view, it is complete genius.
Actually, it IS complete genius, just on the same shiny coin as
buffoonery. Sod and sick on your point of view. In my rule book, thin as
it may be, anyone who can write a song called "Tel Aviv", yes, as in
literally, "it's a long way to...", is an utter star barking maestro. A relevant
and up to date version of the old First World War anthem "It's a Long Way
To Tipperary", though quite why Buttz has/had such an affection for the
place is unclear, at the time of writing. Similarly dredging up from the
mists of Pot Noodles, Bensons, and cider haze "I Wanna Be on the TV" from
the couch whilst watching dismal daytime TV, which back in the mid 80's
must've been really bad, the poor barstads, is simply heroism on a grand
scale. Perfectly capturing many a person's thoughts better than any
fucking Smiths record could/can. This is part of the mystery shrouding the
lack of success of the band, especially if you couple that with "Give Us A
Loan", the old problems trying to get some dolly out of the bank, with
some of the best Pinky and Perky backing singing since The Dolls did
"Stranded in the Jungle". And "Old L.A.", a jazzy, loungy, bouncy, broken bedspring tune, where
Buttz gets all Elvis on our asses, well ears, is a stunner. Yup, cor blimey,
guv'nor. All topped and trimmed with what I think is a cornet. Hell, and I
guess it may well have been, it sounds like it was recorded in some sleazy
jazz joint bar in LA, but perhaps more likely in Soho, at 2am such is the
Gaulouise smoky atmosphere on it. Buttz wandering about the stage with a
vodka martini - in a pint glarss please, guv - spilling drops on the last
remaining slack jawed patrons, perched perilously on the edge of....oh
well, there he goes. Right through the squeaky door.
This whole slice of drooling fantastico-ness reminds me of nothing more
than an 80's underground version of Keith Moon, Harry Nilsson,
Ringo
Starr, and Viv Stanshall and co hanging out in the 70's, been gloriously
daft eccentric English types (Harry being an adopted Angle), just
unfortunately not having the necessary readies to totally unleash all
their spontaneous impulses on the world. Or be fully clothed. I mean, just
look at the cover, which kinda makes Captain Sensible, well, look as
though he was living up to his name. They look like they just woke up in a
skip after trying to break into the offie on the way home.
And those two covers. Well the first is a pretty perfuntory and
faithful run through of Mr. Chuck Berry's "No Particular Place", so we can
leave that be, and the greatest of all is "Rock En Roll Chicken", taking
Bo Diddley's "Pills" to pastures new and leaving it stranded there for
ever more. Daft as hell, still funny. But not as much as closer "Alright
O.K.", set in, or about, some clip joint or other called The Embassy
where "You can spend your wages on a pint of beer, or camp it up and play
the queer", and featuring some choice one liners reminiscent of
Moonie and Ringo on Moonie's "Two Sides of the Moon" album (a criminally under-rated
and of course quite insane masterpiece) like "'ere mate you got 20 pence
for a beer?" "yeah here's 10 get us half" and "why do they call you Disco
Dave?" "I d-d-d-d-d-d-d don't know".
And to end with, there's the prophetic "Everybody Loves You When You're
Dead", which is sadly too true, Buttz lurching in and out of his
Elvis
mannerisms, fittingly enuff. Buttz knew it, just like Thunders knew it
when he wrote "Disappointed in You" with "The only way you get respect is
when you die, if you're a friend of mine." I remember after being written
off for years all the nice accolades that were devoted to Stiv and
Johnny,
oh typically. But there we go, such is the way of things. And following this,
Buttz only went and managed to outdo himself and get
together The Last of the Teenage Idols, didn't he? But I think that's over
to someone else.
The Babysitters - truly one of the best records ever and hot diggedy do
here's to Rock'n'Roll, y'all.
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