|
It was either late 1975 or early 1976 — the memory seems to fade regarding what were then unimportant facts — that Virgin Records managing director Simon Draper first came across a certain Mr P. J. Costello.
"He had done an acoustic demo tape that was played by Charlie Gillett on his radio programme. I heard it, and was interested, and phoned Charlie to get hold of the singer. I met Elvis, or P.J. as he was then, Costello, and listened to more of his stuff. As a result I decided not to do anything about it."
He had unwittingly turned down the singer and writer whom many converts are prepared to crown as the closest you will get to the future of British rock 'n' roll and, significantly, the only musician to come out of Britain's musical turmoil of the last 18 months who looks likely to convincingly crack open the American market.
Draper doesn't spend his nights crying over his lost opportunity and he is quite prepared to admit that Virgin might not have been the best company for the fledgling Costello. After all, he has had the sweet pill of the Sex Pistols and the prospect of post-legal Devo to ease the memory of his error.
To start a postmortem on punk is to run into a bewildering set of conflicting and contradictory assertions. To those committed to the cause, such an inquest is untimely as they see the corpse still warm and the heart still beating.
An involved insider like Clash manager Bernard Rhodes sees it as a matter of suspended animation, with the life-force of punk having been confused into a weakness that the music industry has taken for a willingness, even desire, to conform.
But don't be misled, warns Rhodes — punk has just been frozen for the next few years, ready to be woken when the need is there.
The industry that he and the Clash used, and still use, to achieve their declared aims has adopted a kindly, almost benign attitude to the punk puppy that screeched around its feet and savaged its ankles until it took some notice and opened up its cheque book.
Whatever you say about the music, insists the biz, punk was A Good Thing, stirring up a flaccid industry and injecting a dose of strife and steel into music that by general agreement (in hindsight) had a soft pot-bellied spread.
Now that the business men have house-trained the pup (no more stains on the carpet), or smothered the youthful energy with its bland over-financing — as another view would have it — where goes music now? Where are the money men placing their bets by investment over the next few years? Gather close, and you will hear.
Former top racing cyclist John Fruin worked in just about every area of the British music business "before returning to the scene" in 1976 as managing director of WEA Records in Britain. After taking a hard look at the music business he agreed with the American side of WEA not to invest any money in British music for the following 12 months because he believed WEA had a wealth of American talent that had not been developed sufficiently in Britain.
"As punk started to explode, I stayed out of it from WEA's point of view because of our interest in the American side, and instead decided to reorganise our British base in terms of distribution, pressing etc. I did not get involved in the emotional rush after punk — and possibly saved the company half a million pounds doing so, because that is the sort of money other companies were throwing around and losing.
"Certainly at that time, the media did the business a considerable favour by the amount of attention it focused on punk, developing it as a new British form of music — or at least, new for this market. Some of what was written was factual, some was journalistic hype, but it all made a big impression on a very, soft market.
"There was a considerable interest in sophisticated American music at the time, but the stimulus that the punk side gave to British music was great. A lot of money was thrown away, but a lot of talent emerged through it, although with cases like Elvis Costello it might not have been directly linked with punk," said Fruin.
For the future, Fruin sees a closer concentration on British music. "We as a business have started to invest heavily into British music. After the stimulation of punk rock by the press, there has emerged a great deal more interest in the British scene, a scene that was fairly dull 18 months ago — and certainly one that WEA had very little investment in.
"Now that is all changing, and having spent last year and this year building a foundation for the next ten years with a revamped distribution system, building and equipping a pressing plant, installing computers and so on at a cost of a few million pounds, we now see two main areas of investment, both about equal.
"One is the exploitation of the American repertoire that has been broken by the American company, with people like Fleetwood Mac, George Benson and so on, and the other area is investment in British talent with an eye on worldwide sales. Countries like Australia and Japan look to Britain for talent to hear and see, and there are vast markets in such places."
Fruin is looking at two ways of putting his company's money into the back pocket of British talent — first by direct signing to WEA. and secondly by setting up more 50/50 investment deals with production companies like Radar, currently boasting Costello, Nick Lowe and Pere Ubu on its books.
"I am planning more deals like the current one with Radar, where you have an extremely creative person like Andrew Lauder who I can use as a pair of eyes to spot the talent for the future. I couldn't employ someone like Andrew — there is nothing I could offer him. The only way that someone like that can be successful and stay in Britain is to work on something they can build that can be sold to make a capital gain."
While admitting that his strengths lie in the marketing rather than talent-spotting areas of music, Fruin sees two distinct trends over the next few years.
"First, I think the whiter, cleaner edition of punk with bands like the Pleasers and Tonight will find a very wide acceptance around the world — there is already a lot of American interest in Tonight, for example, with Jerry Wexler, the old man of American music, having signed them to WEA in America.
"America is still open for today's version of the Dave Clark Five, and so there is much potential in that area.
"The other trend for the future lies with today's editions of Bob Dylan — the people like Elvis Costello and Tom Robinson. This is the area where lyrics are listened to rather than the emphasis being purely on visual impact.
"I am sure there is a long lease of life in someone like Ian Dury, although whether America will take to him I don't know because they find it difficult to understand him over there, and most of his songs have to be listened to, to understand his cynicism. I am sure he could be very big in Australia, where I am sure they will understand him."
While his investment in British music is heavy over the next few years, Fruin is convinced of one fact — it would not have been there without punk. "Whether we sign direct to our label or through more companies like Radar, if the punk thing had not come up, I would not be investing like this. I would have stuck to our American material."
Maurice Oberstein is head of CBS in Britain, the company that has the Clash and the Vibrators side by side with Tina Charles and Cafe Jacques. He is. certain of one fact: "Every star of the Eighties is in a punk band today."
His belief in the staying power of his CBS signings is mirrored in his view of the future of music — it is all in the hands of the groups that are playing and learning now. While there are plenty of record buyers around who would say that bands like the Clash have had their day, Oberstein sees a continuing growth for Joe Strummer and the lads.
"You look for every artist you sign to be with you for 20 years at least. The commitment is wider, deeper and heavier than just the signing money — you also have to spend money to make the public aware of your art, on subsidising tours and such like. Very often the money spent on recording an album is one of the smallest costs overall. Marketing costs up to three or four times as much as recording an album, so our faith in an act is as a long-term investment.
"For example, we have spent in excess of £250,000 on Cafe Jacques, while their album has not sold anywhere near that amount, but we think the band has genuine talent and a future.
"The Clash album has sold 100,000 records, but that is not successful financially. We all lost money over that because of the money that went into it — they toured up and down the country, and lost money with every gig. The members of the band are still on £50 or £70 a week — and that is terrible. But we have no reason to doubt that their next album will not sell three times as much as the first.
"When I think of the Clash, I look at the early Pink Floyd. Could you tell me how far down the road that band would have gone in ten years time? No.
"I feel a similar thing with the Clash. Within the band there is a great musical creativity, and they have the musical strength to be making great music for years to come. If they want to do it I think they will be making great records in ten years time. History tells us that the originals will stay — and the Clash and the Pistols were in there at the start."
With a stable of about 40 British acts to concentrate on — and a promotion and marketing team of 87 people working on them and the American CBS artists with an annual budget that goes well into seven figures — Oberstein is well aware of the effect that money has on the success of music.
For the past four years the total number of records sold in Britain has not just remained stationary but has fallen slightly since a peak in 1974 — which means that all the record companies, either the huge international groups like EMI, CBS and WEA or the small independents, are fighting for a larger slice of a pie that is not growing. Oberstein has a direct businessman's answer to where music is going in the next few years.
"At a time when there has been no growth in the unit sales of records, the biggest growth area has been in those records promoted on television, whether it be the K-Tel type of compilation albums or the ELO types that have a massive promotional push behind them.
"If you look at the charts for the last two Christmasses you find that a good 50 percent of the records that made it were either specifically made for TV promotion or were heavily advertised for that medium.
"That inevitably means the market has moved towards the middle-of-the-road with retrospectives of the Supremes or Buddy Holly, the 20 Greatest Hit-type compilations being the big sellers. The market has moved directly towards where the money is being spent, and not particularly with the music.
"A situation like the Stranglers selling 150,000 albums and a Nat King Cole retrospective selling 500,000 plus indicates that the market has not moved with the new talent. In terms of the overall market I would say that we have not broken any new ground with the new wave."
Reflecting John Fruin's assessment of the importance of foreign markets to the British music business, with particular emphasis on America, Oberstein was adamant. "If we had to live off the UK artists and sales, we would go broke.
"What we have to look at is the people who are going to sell outside the UK. An act like Tina Charles will not sell spectacularly in Britain, but she has sold five million records outside the UK. We have to look at the potential of an act for the rest of the world."
While that appears to be a prophecy of a continuing curve towards middle-of-the-road accessibility a-la-ABBA, Oberstein is still strong in his commitment to the long-term potential of talent.
"The new wave gave musicians the opportunity to express themselves. I remember seeing Tom Robinson playing in pubs a long time before he became a new wave hero, and I suppose his potential was there then. At one point CBS had Robert Plant and David Bowie with them, and if we had been able to look into the future we would have seen their talent then.
"What the press did accomplish was to make a market for the new wave musicians, both by making people aware of them and by indicating to people that there was money to be made by opening up pubs and other venues for it.
"Because of the atmosphere at the time and the great competition that suddenly started up, the deals for punk bands were unreasonably expensive, and I am glad we held back — I see nothing wrong in following the pack, after all, there was not just one definitive new wave band, but more where the first came from. I can only feel slightly sorry for my rivals who are signing up third and fourth-rate pogo bands."
Simon Draper will be celebrating with the rest of Virgin the fifth birthday of their company next month. Those five years have seen the growth of a business that started as a discount mail-order record chain that thumbed its nose at the rest of the music business and has developed into an influential record company that recently locked horns with WEA, one of America's biggest businesses, in battle over Devo.
Virgin's image has changed from a woolly-hat "peace, man" outfit to a company headed by powerful business motives and prepared to work with a dogged ruthlessness.
Gone are the days when obscure and less than successful bands were able to drop anchor in Virgin's peaceful backwater in order to concentrate on getting their music together — acts such as Henry Cow, Wigwam, Can and Ivor Cutler have been dropped "regrettably" by managing director Draper in order to keep the company running with the Seventies.
"In 1976 we realised that we had 25 people signed to us as long-term deals who were not selling many records — they were in effect totally non-productive. We did say when we started that we weren't going to become a hire'em and fire'em company, but we found we had to do it. The only one we really kept out of that batch was Kevin Coyne, and that was because everyone in the company loved him and believed in him."
Now, with a staff numbering about 35 including its salesmen, Virgin Records (the label, not the shops), concentrates on about 15 long-term signings on Virgin and ten on the recently-created Front Line reggae label. Those signings include the Sex Pistols as individuals, Devo (the Warner Bros case permitting), Magazine, XTC and the Motors, plus a wealth of Jamaican reggae talent. All of which looks like a considerable foothold in the music of the Eighties.
Draper agrees. "Although Devo can be seen as being well ahead of their time, I think that it is clear that the traditional pop values will continue to hold good, and I am sure that visual spectacle will have a very big effect — much more than at the moment.
"The way Devo have presented themselves is important, I think, from the way they dress to the way they package themselves and the promotional film they made themselves. The whole impact of the band is important.
"Even the Pistols found that. They were very forceful in their condemnation of the big established acts and the staging they used, but as soon as the Pistols played larger venues they found exactly the same problems as the bands they were knocking. The Pistols were great as themselves in a small packed club, but to get the same impact in a big hall you need the better equipment, lighting and so on that they scorned in others)*
Alongside Virgin's sleeker, more aggressive policy as a record company has come a further main change — its attitude to singles.
"We have had to come to terms with the boom in the singles market. We now have a 21 per cent share of the singles market, and that is as a company that started off completely with albums. I am sure that the importance of singles in breaking an artist will continue.
"People are looking more and more towards singles, largely as a result of the small independent companies selling records by artists who never got any airplay, which was something of a revolution in itself.
"Also, the state of the overall records market has had a lot to do with the rise of the single — as the market has contracted slightly people were more prepared to risk their money on a single rather than an album, both from the recording point of view as well as the buyer."
Along with Draper's adamant views on the importance of the single, he also insists on a far greater degree of involvement by the company in an artist's work.
"In the old Robert Wyatt days the involvement of Virgin itself was minimal — the acts made the recordings and we manufactured and sold them. Now we have a lot more involvement, from my demands for singles to my insisting that they work with an appropriate producer, especially the new bands who need advice from someone who can tell them about music.
Draper's view of the importance of the single is mirrored by WEA's John Fruin, who says that like Virgin, his company was album-dominated three years ago. Over the last 18 months we have made very conscious efforts to get into the singles market, and that at a time when the singles business was re-emerging.
"One of the real reasons for the growth of singles is radio play — if you produce an album, a costly item, you can expect maybe a week of airplay unless it is the new Eagles or something. After that, it goes to the radio station library. But you get a single into the playlists, and you are getting exposure for a month or so."
Back at Virgin, Simon Draper has his eyes on far more than the 'British singles market. He is sure the importance of reggae will continue to develop, and will bring with it an interest in other countries' music.
"We decided at the end of 1976 to have another go at reggae, which led to the Front Line label, and we have found considerable success in new markets like Nigeria, where there is a huge potential for British record companies. We are currently looking at Africa and South America."
Whatever music Virgin does put out in the next few years, Draper has one concern — that the company does not expand faster than it can adjust to its success.
"It does concern me personally that we should not become too big — but with a guy like Richard Branson, he is a natural impetus and things do tend to get bigger. At the moment we are still a small company, and when people come to us they deal directly with me or Richard, and I don't want to lose that."
Dave Robinson looks like the father of the Boomtown Rats' Johnny Fingers, used to manage Thin Lizzy, now manages Graham Parker, and spends his working day running the improvised, enthusiastic efficiency that is Stiff Records.
Stiff has done more in the public eye to reflect the "if it's worth doing, it's worth doing quick" philosophy that has brought rock 'n' roll fun back into the music business over the last couple of years. The mischievous glee that allowed Stiff to project an image of controlled lunacy while maintaining a reasonably sound business footing made it the darling of the rock press and thus opened the company to the hearts of many, thousands of rock fans.
After Jake Riviera's departure from the company with Costello and Lowe, Robinson and his merry men have gone through a period of consolidation to act as a springboard for phase two of the Stiff operation.
An example of the company's policy of guerilla-like speed came with their Devo singles deal that meant that the public could actually hear what the boys from Akron were up to while the companies wielding the big money slogged it out for the long-term prize.
Not only that, but Robinson followed up by jetting to Akron and scouring the rubber city for enough bands to make up a sampler album, which is in the final stage of preparation for release next month. The complete rock 'n' roll mop-up operation.
On a general level Robinson reckons the new wave — not itself directly associated with Stiff, except for the Damned deal — changed the attitude of the music business to groups. "It seems now that the companies are putting a bit more respect behind what they are releasing.
"They have recognised that the public will only take so much pap. The punk thing meant that kids were prepared to go into a shop for a particular single, and if they didn't find it they wouldn't be palmed off with the latest Eagles or whatever, they would go around three or four shops to find the single they wanted.
"In the previous three or four years they were just taking stuff from the radio, whereas with punk the kids were demanding what they wanted. We started two years ago next September, and I am really surprised at the way it has taken off. We realised there was room in the market for a Stiff, but we are surprised at exactly how much room there was. It has showed that people were looking for something more than what was played on the radio."
Stiff's criteria for signing an act has not changed — if it is good, and they like it, then they sign it. Robinson can offer no other definable qualities. "Elvis Costello, for example, was obviously Stiff. He fitted our bill. He didn't come over as 'the greatest thing since...,' but neither was he 'I'm only in it for the music man'."
Robinson and Stiff get an average of 30 tapes a week, "although sometimes it gets really ridiculous." Every tape is listened to, because they are anxious to find out what the next guy who comes through the door has to offer. "You look for a bit of brain power. That is a quality we want."
So what is the particular quality of brain power that will make it in the next few years? "I am not a prophet, I can't tell the future. But if nothing else, you want a songwriter, a good songwriter, who can sing, or a writer who can find a good singer to project the songs.
"Songs have become very important, and that is something that will continue. There are many excellent musicians in this country, but they won't get any further unless they have a song, or a singer, or both, to group around."
Looking at the Eighties, Robinson sees a much greater development of science fiction-based music. "Synthesizers, that whole thing, will come in very strongly, over the next few years, I think. I don't see why music has to be always rooted in the past — rock 'n' roll can be a leader as well, and that is one side that will be developed much further.
"Bands will have to have an idea of their own to offer — like Devo. The songs must have an identity of their own, something that can be promoted — not Mr Sexbomb, but something you can get over. As a direct result of this, record companies will have to be more sympathetic to the artist, more responsive to his ideas."
Robinson sees bands like Sham 69 and XTC — "I think they are sensational" — creating a future fez. themselves while a group like the Clash will find its days numbered. "I think the Clash will face the point where they find there is not enough left to lead, and they will probably split up very suddenly.
With a style suspiciously like Old Moore's Almanac, Robinson sees a few specific developments next year. "Sometime next year, around February or March, there will be something really happening. A music of the Eighties taking shape and developing, accompanied by some great manipulations, a lot of big hypes coming up. A few people from outside the business are going to come in and make a killing."
Where does a band like the Clash see its future? Manager Bernard Rhodes indicates that the group is prepared to bide its time, but is now measuring up for America.
"The Clash will be huge in America, but we have not tried for it yet because we wanted to make it in Britain. Epic are interested in us in America, and we have got enough going for us in terms of ideas to create an impact, then we will do it.
"The Pistols tried to do it in a non-rock 'n' roll way, and the British could understand that, while the Americans didn't. They did it so anarchically that the Americans just couldn't understand it."
Generally, Rhodes sees punk as having had a specific function to fulfil, which is why it Was successful when that function was in demand. The groups coming through have become confused about their function, and this has weakened their approach, a blunting of the tool that Rhodes maintains is still potentially effective.
"That tool was roughly made at the start, but the groups that have followed have smoothed the edges and mixed it with other elements.
"In five years time punk will emerge again, redeveloped and with a stronger appeal, mixing the current audience with the new audience of young kids that will make it stronger. At the moment it is in cold storage, or suspended animation, just lying back in its coffin. Give it five years, and lever up the lid, and see what you see. If it still moves, don't be surprised."
| 
