sweet effay

I was trying to avoid this, but kek-w on the joys of Hawkwind forces me to add my own two cents:

1972: I’m a small boy watching ‘Silver Machine’ on Top of the Pops; I’m not that impressed, but the grainy accompanying film of bizarre people is another matter. In the flat downstairs from us lives a band: It’s Arthur Brown and Kingdom Come. We kids live in mortal fear of his manager who used to yell at us for being noisy in the mornings; Arthur is a nice guy though. One afternoon he invites us in and plays the new Kingdom Come album and In Search of Space. I vividly remember being completely unable to wrap my head round the latter.

1975: My big sister returns from university for the summer holidays. She has a new boyfriend and is looking after his record collection. I fall upon it immediately. It contains In Search of Space and Doremi Fasolatido. I decide to give Hawkwind another try and am immediately blown away. I spend the summer obsessing over the covers and 'The Hawkwind Log' while playing the albums endlessly.

It’s interesting that kek-w should mention Hawkwind and motorik together because, at this point, I thought Hawkwind were in fact German. There were three reasons for this:
1. The only other music I had ever heard with such a heavy use of electronics was all German.
2. I was also listening to Neu, courtesy of my sister’s boyfriend and Dave Brock had written the sleevenotes on the back of their first album.
3. Members of Hawkwind seemed to have and aversion to putting ‘c’s’ in their Christian names (Dikmik, Nik Turner) and I thought this must have something to do with German spelling.

1977: I’m listening to Hawkwind all the time, but only the first three albums. The only other stuff I’ve heard is from the new album: The eponymous ‘Quark Strangeness and Charm’ on Marc Bolan’s TV programme and ‘Spirit of the Age’ on the radio. Because I haven’t heard all the later rockier stuff, I still think that they’re German. On 25 September we go to see them in Croydon. I’ve got a fair idea what to expect because I’ve seen two German bands on the TV: Kraftwerk, who stand around behind synthesisers, and Tangerine Dream who sit around behind synthesisers drinking from plastic cups. The lights dim, a violin wails, and a maniac hurls himself onto the stage dressed in some sort of black robes and waving a couple of scimitars.

It takes me a couple of minutes to realize that this is not, in fact, a second support band, by which time Robert Calvert is waving the swords about four inches above the heads of the audience. I assume that they’re theatrical props until he throws them down at the end of ‘Hassan I Sahba’ and one sticks in the stage (later to be retrieved to slash up a Stars & Stripes during ‘Uncle Sam’s on Mars’). The noise is phenomenal, the lights are brain warping, and Calvert is insane (literally, although I did not realize it at the time). It’s the best gig I’ve ever seen. I saw most of the major punk bands about the same time, but nothing was a patch on this. Later I learn that they were actually much better live between ’72 and ’74; this knowledge will haunt me until the end of my days.

In the next nine years I see them thirty times whilst their recorded output gets worse and worse. Some of the gigs were amazing and some were distinctly mediocre, but the mere possibility that they might be on form keeps me going. I’m not really sure why I stopped. They’re touring at the minute. I keep thinking about going, Arthur Brown actually guests with them now, but I’m always worried that it will be a disappointment. There’s also that look in Mrs effay’s eyes whenever I suggest it...

Coming soon (if you’re unlucky): I discover Space Ritual, the greatest album ever made.