1/ We find in your songs a certain innocence with childhood nostalgia. "
The Sky Children " is still one of the most charming song of English rock and while listening to this song, we think about
adolescent dreams ... So here we are, what were your secrets to make
such beautiful songs?
**The band were on holiday together in summer 1964. We were staying at
Swanage, a traditional seaside holiday town in Dorset on the south coast
of England.
Just outside the town was a small Victorian castle perched high on a
rocky bluff over-looking the sea.
Late one morning we decided to walk up to the castle. It was a fine
summer`s day with an almost clear blue sky, with just a few light clouds
high above, moving
slowly in a light breeze. We searched around the castle for awhile --
and then found a steep path leading down to the sea. We decided to climb
down. At the bottom
we found ourselves on a rocky shore, huge boulders having tumbled down
from the cliffs probably hundreds of years ago. The sea was crashing on
the shore, the waves
breaking against the rocks, the spray rising, causing rainbows to form
in the sunlight. The noise was deafening, but wonderful. Nature in the
raw. Looking ahead we
could see Swanage in the distance, two or three miles away, shimmering
in the heat haze. We decided to return to the town along the beach. It
wasn`t easy as some of
the boulders were as big as cars. But we carefully picked our way over
them and through them. Gradually it became easier to walk as the
boulders gave way to smaller rocks.
It was now midday and the sun was burning down. To our right the ocean
roared on.
The four of us became separated and I found myself at the back of the
group.
For some unknown reason a line came to me: A million white flowers in a
field in the sky... Ed and I always wrote using the same formula. I
wrote the words, he wrote the music.
Writing a song is often no more than simply grabbing inspiration out of
the air and turning it into a lyric. And inspiration, by definition,
can`t be produced on demand.
That ain`t how it works. Inspiration`s favourite trick is to insinuate
itself into your thoughts just as you are about to fall asleep in bed. A
word or a line or two will
form in your mind, drifting in and out of your consciousness as you are
about to take that wonderful step into sleep. But, aware of these lines,
you know that if ignored
they will simply disappear; in the morning they will be gone. So you
struggle back from Nodland, scrabble around for a pen and paper, scratch
the words out -- and crash back to bed.
Sun up, bleary eyes, full bladder, sandpaper mouth, roaring tinnitus,
you squint at the words; usually crap, sometimes inspired.
In this case I was walking along a beach without pen and paper. Another
line came to me -- and another. Now I was in real trouble! I had two
options: refuse to allow
my mind to conjure up new lines, knowing how difficult it would be to
remember them -- or grab the horn by the bull and accept the lines as
they emerged from my spongy
grey matter and attempt to remember them. After all, most songs comprise
of only a verse or three and a chorus. How difficult would that be, for
goodness sake?
Little did I know at that point that I was in the process of writing one
of the longest songs we would ever record.
I stumbled on over the rocks, glancing to my right at the shifting
watery rainbows as they hung in the shimmering phosphorous spray of the
crashing waves.
There were beautiful shells on the beach and dark slippery seaweed,
glinting in the sun. More lines. I strung them together. Rhymes formed. A
story began to emerge.
More damn lines. I had to keep going back to the start -- assembling the
verse in my head, trying desperately to remember the lines in the
correct order each time.
Dan was just ahead of me. He stopped and called back, "You OK, Pete...?"
I told him I was writing a song. He nodded, wisely deciding to leave me
to it.
Now so many lines and I was losing the battle, the verses melting into
each-other, the lines changing each time I put them together in my head.
Damn. It was hot.
I was sweating. I shook my head, trying to jumble the lines back into
some cohesive order.
When we eventually arrived back in the town I raced ahead to the
campsite, grabbed a pen and began frantically scribbling down what I
could recall of the lines.
Once back home in London the lyric was polished and honed into its final
draft. Ed came up with a simple repetitive melody that perfectly
captured the mood of the song:
the fairytale story of a group of children on a magical quest.
It is easy for today`s listeners to scoff at such lyrics. Yes, with our
modern, sophisticated -- some would say jaded -- ears it all sounds,
well, rather silly.
But they are listening out of context. Take yourself back to 1967. I was
influenced by Donovan on songs such as this. His beautiful album,
`Fairytale` was high on my list of
favourites with its stories and tales that would not have looked out of
place in a child`s book. People say I was heavily influenced by Tolkien.
In fact, in my literary ignorance,
I had never heard of Tolkien. But I absorbed everything I heard around
me, the clothes we wore, the mood of gentleness that permeated our lives
back then -- so long ago.
I don`t recall the recording session for `The Sky Children.` But I
suspect it was recorded late at night in Philips` Marble Arch studio,
probably with the lights out, just a
candle or two burning on a speaker case. Truly magical times.
2/ " Faintly Blowing " seemed to be more diversified, putting some folk
rock touches here and there but also plunged us into violent themes and
... calm ones.
What have been your approach during the production of this gem of acid
rock?
**Ed and I never stopped writing songs. We always had more songs
available than we could record. Some bands are contracted to make an
album and they go in to the studio
and start writing there. We always had a stock of songs ready before we
ever went into the studio. We knew exactly which songs we would record,
having already played them
to our producer, Dick Leahy, and received his enthusiastic approval.
The songs that appeared on `Tangerine Dream` were mostly written in '65
and `66. Although we had, at that time, already been writing for two or
three years, we were still novices.
We were learning our craft. By '67 and '68 we were more confident as
writers and knew that we had an outlet for our work as we had a
recording contract and a record company that
were convinced we were the next Beatles. (This is not an exaggeration;
we were told this by Philips executives.)
The psychedelic period was very short-lived: a multi-coloured rocket
that shot into the sky in '66 dazzling us all with its brilliance,
slowly falling to earth in `68, its dying
embers glowing only until the end of that year. We were swept along in
its starry wake. For the type of music that we were writing and
recording we were certainly in the right
place at the right time. London was vibrating with possibilities. We
were young, naively confident of our own abilities, unstoppable.
As we entered 1968 Ed and I were writing in a more mature way, hence
songs such as `Black Fjord`, `(Love Song)For Annie` and `If you so
wish`. But we still adopted a psychedelic
stance -- true to our roots -- on songs such as `Faintly Blowing` and
`The Feathered Tiger`. (We attempted to record `I remember Sunny-Side
Circus` at this time,
but were unhappy with the results; and the song wouldn`t appear until
`From Home to Home` -- slightly out of place on that later album.)
With a healthy budget our sound was augmented by a full orchestra which
certainly enhances the more mature approach employed in the sessions. I
no longer listen to our records --
indeed, I listen to very little music as my legacy from the band is
deafness and tinnitus -- but of our two early albums, it is `Faintly
Blowing` that appears to wear the musical
crown.
A brief mention of the session in which we recorded `Music`. My memory
is shot full of holes so very little in the way of detail remains. But I
do recall that we all made a
concerted effort to make the track as way-out as possible. We were urged
on by our producer who was keen to establish a name for himself. Once
the basic backing track was
recorded we added a lead vocal. We then set about embellishing the
ending with various `found` sounds, such as coins spinning on top of
speaker cabinets, radio broadcasts and
doors slamming. The following week we were called into the studio to
hear a first mix of the album. We were slightly alarmed to find that
Dick Leahy had smothered `Music`
in phasing rather than keeping the effect just for the ending. But we
were persuaded that it was the correct mix for the track and, still
young and over-awed by the attentions
of our multi-national record company, decided to zip up our objections.
Today I get regular e-mails from fans, young and old, singing the
praises of `Music`. I guess it is a matter of taste.
3/ Kaleidoscope made a single entitled " Isle of Wight Festival Theme "
in 1970, under the name of I Luv Wight, you played live in Friday,
august 28th, under Fairfield Parlour
and it seemed that you have been informed of an anonymous letter which
said that the first band who played will be shot. Do you remember some
details about this?
**In May and June of 1970 our manager had extensive talks with the Foulk
brothers, the festival organisers. He pulled off an amazing coup.
Not only did he secure the band a place on the bill at the upcoming Isle
of Wight Festival on the Friday, but talked the two wily brothers into
agreeing that we should
write and record a song that would be released as a single under the
banner: The Official Isle of Wight Festival Song 1970. They further
agreed that the song would be
played between every act. This massive publicity during the weekend
festival, together with the expected heavy radio airplay, would at last
secure the band its long overdue first hit.
Legal representatives drew up a contract which was duly signed by both
parties.
In June Ed and I wrote the song: `Let the world wash in.`
On the Thursday we were all sat in the salubrious TV lounge at the
Shanklin Clarendon Hotel: a side room with over-stuffed sofas that had
been fashionable between the wars,
a shredded bile-green carpet and a black and white television balanced
on a stylish Fablon-coated table. We were on the hard stuff: big chipped
mugs of creosote-coloured tea.
Dave suggested we watch the news to see if the festival got a mention.
Second item: "The IRA announced today that in protest at the continued
presence of British troops in
Belfast they will shoot the first group to appear at the Isle of Wight
Festival tomorrow."
"Who is the first group on stage tomorrow, Dave?"
"You are."
On the Friday we hung around waiting to go on. All nervous. This was a
major gig for us. Eventually we found ourselves on stage in front of a
quarter million people.
Dan thumped a drum. Steve pumped a bass string tentatively. Ed retuned. I
approached the microphone, my heart pounding. The familiar opening
chords of `Eyewitness` --
I opened my bone dry mouth:"We know you have seen a lot of things..."
Appropriate. The sound is surprisingly quiet. We had expected to be
deafened by the walls of speakers.
They`ve only turned the volume knob to 5. Bastards. And now `Aries` that
nostalgic hymn of youth -- but the sound is evaporating in the open
air, swept away gently on a balmy
breeze. The sound is going to the hill! You can almost see it misting
into the green-blue distance. And now an audible wave: applause. Warm,
welcoming applause and encouraging
calls. But wait... The IRA. If they shoot anyone it`s going to be the
singer, center-stage, arms outstretched in his white Jesus-suit. A
perfect target. For a frozen moment
I thought about looking for the rifle, but brought myself back to the
now instantly. Now was not the time to think about my death; I could do
that at leisure later in a pool of
blood behind the stage, my life melting into the trampled grass like
crimson snow, my breath forming a last word, "Bastards..."
After an all-too-brief set we left the stage, relieved to still be
alive. It had turned out to be an empty threat, made simply to garner
publicity for their blinkered cause.
4/ So you still play music nowadays and you made a lot of albums, do you
have some new musical influences?
Do you have a nostalgic feeling while thinking about the 60's / 70's era? And more precisely about the Kaleidoscope/Fairfield Parlour years?
**When the band broke up I moved away from London, escaping to the green
hills of Wiltshire. After a hiatus of a couple of decades I found the
old creative urges re-emerging,
a need to write. I set out to write and record my own songs -- and to
date have released fourteen solo albums and a DVD. I sell my albums
through my websites:
www.chelsearecords.co.uk and www.myspace.com/peterdaltrey
I have had good feedback from fans regarding my solo work. They tell me
my voice has not changed and they like what
I`m doing as it bears the traces of Kaleidoscope and Fairfield Parlour.
This is inevitable. I can`t -- and would not want to -- escape my roots.
Nostalgia gives one a nice warm melancholy feeling -- but it is
essentially self-indulgent and vacuous. I prefer to live in the Now. I
am more concerned with the next song
I am going to write than songs I wrote over forty years ago. Which is
not to denigrate in any way our back catalogue. I am proud of our work
-- and deeply moved that
younger generations are discovering our records and enjoying them. That
makes me feel immortal. Something to which every creative person
aspires.
My years in the band were framed in frustration. Frustration that what
should have been success eluded us, through no fault of ours. Our record
company were useless,
unable to get the records into the shops when our fans wanted to buy
them. And our lack of a manager when we were Kaleidoscope seriously
handicapped us in our direct
dealings with the record company. We made three hit records: `Jenny
Artichoke`, `Bordeaux Rose` and `Let the world wash in`. But none
achieved success; the first two --
huge turntable hits -- failed to chart because of record company
ineptness; the third because the Foulks brothers reneged on our contract
to promote the single at the festival.
So I have fond memories of those years in the band, but I don`t look back. There lies madness.
5/ Do you have some stories about Kaleidoscope gigs? Some facts that you remember well?!
**We did so many gigs that my recollections of individual appearances in
pubs and clubs have all dissipated. Merged into one almost.
See the next question for a few rusty details hewn from the mine of my
flawed memory.
6/ What a spectator would have expected while going to a Kaleidoscope gig?
**We had several personas. If you had come to our first gigs you would
probably find yourself in a smelly youth club or a dusty church hall.
A few slightly embarrassed teenagers, allowed out by their over-bearing
parents to their first `dance`, would be milling about, over-excited,
nervously clutching glasses of lemonade. You would see a group of four
equally awkward teenagers on stage: The Sidekicks. We would be playing
early Stones and Beatles
covers and blusey stuff by Mose Allison and Muddy Waters. The sound
wouldn`t be very good because we only had a few cheap amps and speakers.
The singer would be rooted
to the spot, gripping the microphone stand, desperately trying to
remember the words. After about an hour the band would run out of songs
and would have to start
repeating material you`d already heard. But not many in the `crowd`
would notice as they would be more interested in the pubescent
attraction game.
If you had come to see The Key, you would be in the dark back room of a
pub -- the band set up on the floor in the corner -- or at a college. If
it was the pub you
would be surrounded by rockers, greasy guys more interested in finding a
target for their angry fists than watching the band. There would be an
over-whelming stench
of beer and sweat and an air of anticipation -- not for the band, but
for the bloody punch-up. If you were at the college gig you would be in a
larger hall and the
band would be on a proper stage. The crowd would be youthful, intense,
clutching pints of cider and ale. There would be actual spotlights on
the stage, perhaps some
coloured lights flashing off and on. The band would still be playing
easy-peasy blues stuff, but now they would have incorporated some
self-penned songs.
They would be wearing frilly shirts and Anello & Davide Beatle
boots. A girl in a mini-skirt would be sitting on stage. In-between
songs she would read a line or two of poetry.
At the climax of the final song of the set -- a frantic long-forgotten
live masterpiece called `Face` -- the singer would collapse on stage
with blood pouring from his mouth.
The rest of the band would finish the song and then carry the singer off
stage. If you were at the Brunel University where this happened you
would then see the crowd going
wild and the gig organisers chasing us out of the building for upsetting
public decency. They didn`t seem to appreciate our rather over-blown
stage-craft and the blood capsules
we`d bought from the local joke shop on the way to the gig.
At a Kaleidoscope gig you would be at a university or a club and you
would be in the company of some colourfully-dressed folk. The band
themselves would be nicely kitted out in
all the latest gear. Their sound equipment would be of better quality
and they would be loud. They would be playing all their own material
now, with stand-out performances of
`Dive into Yesterday` - `Snapdragon` - `(Love Song)For Annie` - `Music`
etc. This last number would now be their finale: a raucous cacophony of
sound that would usually have
the audience calling for more. No blood this time, but real sweat.
A Fairfield Parlour gig would definitely be in a university -- and now
the crowd would be more soberly dressed, in dark colours, floppy hats.
The whole evening would have a
more mature feel with the band featuring a greater proportion of
acoustic numbers. Steve would play the flute on `Eyewitness.` I would
play my clavichord on `Soldier of the flesh.`
Or you might catch one of our shows at Mothers club in Birmingham,
situated above Burtons the tailors. The place would be heaving. We
played there several times and always got a
warm welcome. It was here that Dan suffered his massive medical trauma
when he trapped a nerve in his spinal column after one particularly
energetic performance. We thought he was
dying there in front of our eyes. He spent weeks in hospital, survived,
rejoined us on stage eventually, a real trooper -- but still bears the
scars of that night.
7/ Contrary to the USA, English psychedelia seemed to face difficulties to established in the musical environment.
What are for you, the main differences between the two countries?
**There are real differences between US and UK psychedelia. The US
version was very heavily influenced by the burgeoning drug scene,
particularly from San Francisco.
The music, whilst retaining the essential elements -- the jangly
guitars, the studied weirdness, the incomprehensible lyrics -- was
generally heavier.
The UK version had a lighter more sensitive touch -- and some would say
more intelligible lyrics. Our influences were fairy tales and the
gentler side of life,
which probably stretched way back to our childhoods. Drugs featured --
although not in our case -- but were referenced with a subtler touch.
I prefer the UK version of the genre -- I guess I would say that.
Psychedelia was very short-lived: a musical phenomenon that created its
own time, part of a brief era
that blossomed for no apparent reason, seeming to offer a colourful
gentle signpost to the future, but in the end consumed itself in excess
and died -- giving way to so-called
progressive music. We moved with it and shrugged off our coat of many
colours to become Fairfield Parlour.
8/ What do you think of downloading? " Tangerine Dream " has been
reissued many times, did someone ask you to participate to these
reissues? Did you have royalties?
**A very sore point. As four naive young men we were -- like so many
before us, including the Beatles -- easily manipulated by a multi
national record company.
I doubt that we even read the contract that we signed. I am still bitter
that Dick Leahy, our producer, did not advise us to get ourselves a
manager. He would then
have represented us and negotiated with the record company. A tough
manager would have insisted on a better royalty rate, better
distribution and promotion, better
all-round support. As it was, we were walked over by a totally
incompetent record company whose executives were still living with one
foot in the Fifties; they knew
nothing about psychedelia, their distribution department was seriously
negligent -- and they had bigger fish to fry in the shape of Dave Dee
Dozy Beaky Mick and Tich.
Although our Fairfield Parlour manager had his faults, he did at least
secure us a much better deal with the record company`s new label,
Vertigo, by negotiating a tape-lease
contract: we went away and recorded the material and then leased it to
Vertigo for five years. After this period all rights reverted to the
band. We now enjoy a healthy income
by leasing our Fairfield Parlour recordings -- and `White-Faced Lady` --
for reissuing by labels all around the world.
So -- to answer part of your question -- yes, we do get royalties from
sales of Kaleidoscope records, but they add up to pocket money because
of the criminally low royalty
rate that still pertains forty-two years after signing the contract. Am I
bitter? You bet.
I`m answering your three-part question backwards. Sorry. I worked with
Universal on the compilation, `Dive into Yesterday.` But they even cut
corners there.
The booklet was supposed to be full colour which they changed at the
last minute to monochrome on the inside pages to save a few pence.
Pathetic company.
Downloading...? Don`t like it. We get paid tiny fractions of a penny for
each download. Unless you are having hundreds of thousands of people
downloading your stuff
you`ll never make any money that way. I still prefer to sell my CDs from
my websites. Fans know that if they choose to buy a CD from Chelsea
Records the profit will go
straight back into making more music -- not into the clammy claws of
some tone-deaf record company executive or shareholder.
9/ What do you think of nowadays bands? Do you have some favourite ones?
**I don`t listen to music. I can`t afford to damage my hearing any more
than it has already been damaged. Guys-in-bands reading this: Hey,
protect yer ears.
Wear musician`s ear-protection and save your hearing. Or you`ll end up
like me. My most-used word in the English language is, "pardon...?"
10 / Have you already been mistaken for Roger Daltrey?
**Lots of people call me Roger by mistake. Funny story: My parents
booked a restaurant. They had a nice meal. The waiter asked them if the
restaurant staff could meet them.
They thought this extremely odd, but agreed. Out came the waiters and
the kitchen staff and stood around gawping at my puzzled folks. Then the
chef asked if Roger might be
paying their restaurant a visit. The penny dropped. But my parents
didn`t let on. I think they were hoping for a free meal. Ha, ha!
