Anvil! The
Story of Anvil! Restored and Returning Again
Directed by Sacha Gervasi Utopia; Portobello
Electric; Abramorama
80 minutes, 2008 / 2022 www.anvilthestoryofanvil.com/ www.anvilmetal.com (to purchase recordings and merch)
I will be honest with
you: when the film was first released in 2008 or 2009, I didn’t see it. I was
in the process of moving to Canada by sheer coincidence, as the band is from Ontario,
so my time was otherwise occupied dealing with packing and governmental
hoo-haa. It is worth noting, even with me not seeing it then, the film is tied
for 6th place as one of the highest rated documentaries of all time on Rotten
Tomatoes.
Anyway, 13 years after its initial release to great
fanfare and attendance, the film is now being rereleased (as Anvil), and
I have the good fortune to get the chance to review it. To be further honest, I’m
not a dyed-in-the-wool metal fan. There are metal bands I like (The Dictators,
for example), and certainly a lot of Canadian Bands of the late ‘70s (Teenage
Head, The Diodes, Forgotten Rebels, etc.), but it is interesting how this is
kind of a mix-up of both those styles.
For a while in the late ‘70s to early ‘80s, Anvil was
at the top of their game, being highly influential on a number of bands at the
time due to their 1982 album Metal on Metal (which I have never heard to-date),
such as Lemmy (d. 2015) of Motörhead, Slash of Guns N’ Roses, Slayer, Anthrax,
and even Metallica, all of whom are represented in the documentary. And how did
a band that went up to almost famous be so influential? Think of the Beach Boys’
original Smile album, and how it had an effect on the likes of the
Beatles Sgt. Pepper’s or, to some extent, Simon & Garfunkel’s Bookends.
While there are other
members of the band who are represented here, the main focus is on vocalist/guitarist
Steve "Lips" Kudlow and drummer/painter Robb Reiner, who have been
friends since childhood. They struck it to the “almost” dial of fame, ending up
being a cult band (you know the expression: “A musician’s musician”).
The film is broken up
in to a number of unofficial chapters. For example, there are many short
interviews with some of the (2008 and still, now) top in their field metal
musicians, many of whom I have mentioned above.
Despite all the mishigas,
here is a certain level of joy that permeates the film, thanks to the director,
Sacha Gervasi, who is not only friends with the principals, but was also the
band’s roadie during their heyday. We see Lips and Robb in their relatively lower
middle class day jobs that they seem to be happy with, and their spouses who
put up with them. For me, one of my favorite things is that while Gervasi
present Top-Level musicians that are fans of Anvil, they also show the joy of
Lips and Robb as they meet other musicians, such as Carmine Appise, Tommy Aldridge,
and a very somber Michael Schenker (who comes across as confused as to who Lips
is), sometimes chasing after them to say hello at stadium-level gigs. It’s quite
touching.
The documentary really
picks up with Lips and Reiner (along with another version of a cobbled together
band…let’s face it, no matter who backs them up, Anvil is Lips and Reiner) when
the film starts in the second act, as Anvil begins a month-long tour of Europe,
set up by their tour manager, Tiziana Arrigoni, that does not quiiiiite
go as expected. Right from the start, they are unable to board the train to
take them to their second gig, and they have to find other means. This is just
the start of an almost This is Spinal Tap-esque (1984) level of a state
of confusion and roadblocks. The big festivals go somewhat smoothly, but when
they play smaller clubs and travel from one to another, that where the issues
arise, as they do with any touring band at the club level (I recommend Henry
Rollins’ 1994 book, Get in the Van for a view of touring life).
In the next larger
section of the film, while in their 50s, Lips and Robb decided to record their
13th album, appropriately titled This isThirteen (2007; currently,
they have 19). Hoping for lightening to strike twice, they hire the same well-known
producer of the Metal on Metal album from decades before, British Chris
Tsangarides (d. 2018), a Grammy winner who has worked with the likes of Thin
Lizzy, Judas Priest, and Yngwie Malmsteen). The issue is raising the thousands
of dollars it would cost, and the flights.
As much as this is a
story of a band on the roller coaster ride of fame, it is also about different
types of family: for example, it focuses in on relations and spouses and how
they deal with being married to someone who has a laser vision dream outside
the family; the other is the brotherhood of Robb and Lips, two nice Jewish boys
who have known each other since they were mid-teens, and yet get along better
than those other two nice Jewish boys from Queens, Simon & Garfunkel.
Sometime they fight like, well, other families, but they both know that their
entire dreams and lives are dependent on each other, and it runs deeper than an
argument (even when it comes to fisticuffs, as Robb explains about a necklace
his father gave him).
I can understand why
this film is so beloved. It is both moving and jaw dropping when it comes to the
level of angst they go through just in the day-to-day to try and see the fruition
of their dreams. This makes it very heartening to the spirit of the viewer.
The film has been rereleased to 200 theaters in North America, included limited
extended runs. If you manage to catch it, there will be an added 18-minue filmed
interview with Lips, Robb and the director, Gervasi. Also, it is available for digital pre-order on iTunes and Vudu.
This edition of the playlist are songs that tend to
be considered Other Music, as they don’t necessarily fit comfortably in a
category. Most of these artists have the delusion that what they are doing is
mainstream and palpable to the general public, but it’s more a cult following
that is interested. This is different from just odd stuff like Barnes and
Barnes “Fish Heads,’ the Residents’ “Satisfaction,” or Christopher Milk’s “Locomotion”
in that these three, for example, were purposefully made to be odd, whereas
Other Music is more organic to the artist’s style. What I find surprising is
how many of the tunes below are actually on major labels, perhaps as loss
leaders? Despite my brief comments, I am interested in listening to the obscure
music arena than prattling on about it
The songs are listed alphabetically by first letter
of the artist or group and not in a
“ratings” order. Art is subjective, so I hope you like these as much as I enjoy
them.
Note: There is no advertising on this page, so I
will not be making anything off the work of others.
Edith
Massey “Big Girls
Don’t Cry” / “Punks Get Off the Grass” Egg
Records The “Egg
Lady” from John Waters’ Pink Flamingos was as bad a singer as she was an
actor, but man, she had personality. She was celebrated and integrated into the
punk scene down at Max’s, so this single, both sides of which are on this
video, makes so much sense. The cover of the Four Seasons’ classic is straight
out of the Heartbreakers’ playbook, and the flip reminds me of Cherry Vanilla’s
“The Punk,” but from an older perspective. Both songs are ridiculous and fun.
Gloria Balsam “Fluffy” Richmond
Records Gloria
worked for Richmond Records back in the 1980s, and had the chance to record
this. She is a comedian, but did this straight. I loved it from the first time
I heard it, and it has a strong cult following, but it can also clear a room as
she reaches for those high notes. I never tire of this.
John Trubee “A Blind
Man’s Penis” The Only
Label in the World In the
back of a country magazine in the ‘80s, Trubee had an advert that stated he
would put anyone’s original poems or lyrics to music. Someone sent in a ditty
called “Stevie Wonder’s Penis.” Wisely, the name was the only thing Trubee
changed, and was born a psychedelic punk country song that was pure gold.
The Legendary Stardust Cowboy “Paralyzed” Mercury
Records I still
remember hearing this 45 for the first time at a friend’s house when we were in
high school in the early 1970s. I couldn’t quite grasp what I liked about it,
having been mostly a folkie before then, but its energy and off-beat
drumming/trumpet just kept it getting weirder and weirder. Now I find the song
kind of relaxing, in an odd way, as I came to appreciate its punk
sensibilities.
Mrs. Miller “Green Tambourine” Capitol Records Mrs.
Miller’s high, vibrato voice first came to notice in the film The Cool Ones
(1967), where she sang the standard, “It’s Magic.” This is the number she is
most known for, but her cover of the Lemon Pipers is mind-boggling. She seems
to be playing over the actual tracks for the original song, and she definitely
gives it her all.
Sam Chalpin “Leader of
the Pack” Atco
Records This elder
cantor is the father of Ed, who first recorded Jimi Hendrix. I worked for Ed
for a brief time at his studio. Sam
believed he was a better singer than anyone on the Top 10 at the time, so Ed
had him sing along to some background tracks and created pure magic. Sam’s
version of “Satisfaction” is better known, but I’ve always like this one
better.
The Shaggs “My Pal
Foot Foot” Light in
the Attic This quad
of sisters are, without question, the queens of Other Music. No sense of
rhythm, melody or lyric form, they coalesce into something new and different,
that is both disturbing and enjoyable at the same time. Their album, Philosophy
of the World, is packed solid with attitude and being off-key.
Tiny Tim, Gary Lawrence and His
Sizzling Syncopators “Do Ya
Think I’m Sexy” Vo-Do-De-O-Do Sure, Tiny
Tim is widely known for his falsetto renderings of standards like “Tip Toe
Through the Tulip,” which made him famous, but his later, modernization as it
were, was equally bizarre in another direction, such as this Rod Stewart cover.
It was for an MTV promo and is an attempt at “straight” radio.
Wild Man Fischer “Merry Go Round” Bizarre
Records/Reprise Records Larry
Fischer was a street guy who found his way into Frank Zappa’s prevue, and Frank
took him under his wing to record him. Whether Zappa was serious or messing
around with the guy, Larry took it very sincerely, leading to a rift between
Fischer and the Zappa empire to this day. But the music is bubbly if crackling,
and the songs total nonsense. But that is what is the charm.
One afternoon
while sitting and chatting in her Times Square office with former National
Publicity Director for Sire Records Janis Schacht, about life and the Ramones,
she suggested I might be interested in interviewing a local-based, London-bred
acerbic talk radio host, Jonathan King. This is the same, Jonathan King, it
turns out, who had the hit in the 1960s with “Everyone’s Gone to the Moon,” a
treacly yet enjoyable pop number. Sure, why not?
It seems his
career had actually been much more expansive than I had imagined. When I told
her I was impressed, she looked at me hard and explained that King did not like
people who just liked him solely based on the criteria that they like his
music. I decided to take a more offensive tone rather than defensive or
placating one when we talked.
I grabbed
video editor Alan Abramowitz. As it turns out, having Alan along worked out
well, because it seemed Alan, being young and blond, was just Jonathan’s type.
Alan, being the straight blade innocent that he was, had no idea of Jonathan’s
flirtation, especially before and after the interview proper. It was quite
amusing to watch the dynamics of the situation. It also put Jonathan in a
playful enough mood to have fun during the interview.
Yes, I am
totally aware of what Jonathan King has been accused and do not condone it,
though he insists on his innocence. However, this interview took place decades
before his arrest, and concerns interesting aspects of the music industry, so I
believe it has merit in publication
This interview
was published in FFanzeen, No 7, dated 1981.
King of Skeptics: An Interview with Jonathan King
I wanna catch phrase
I wanna start a craze
I wanna gimmick
I wanna hit
I’m just a poor boy
With a song and a smile
And not just another
Shallow entertainer
– Neil Innes (d. 2019)
There is no doubt that
Jonathan King knows what he wants and, more importantly, knows how to get it.
His past is a perfect example of that. While at Cambridge, he had his first hit
record, “Everyone’s Gone to the Moon,” in 1965. Since then, under a variety of
names, he has had hit after hit on the charts in England – if not as an artist,
then as a producer, having introduced such groups as 10cc, Genesis, the Bay
City Rollers, and the original theater production of TheRocky Horror Show.
Despite all his success in
England, King has never “made it” here in America, but he is determined to
break this market. Since coming over last year, he was offered the temporary
job as DJ on WMCA-AM, a talk-oriented show featuring guests and call-ins. And
from this stepping stone, he hopes to take over the musical direction of a FM
station and create a monster success. And if anyone can do it, as past
experience has shown, Jonathan King can.
But the question is, is
King part of the solution or the problem? His idea of a New Wave station
utilizes a commercial format, playing the same records over and over, much as
Top-40 stations do now. Whether this is good or bad is a debatable point – but
most likely it is commercially viable.
The following interview
took place at the old UK Records headquarters in midtown Manhattan in December
1980. Though the interview spanned a mere half-hour, more was said than during
an average hour-long discussion. King knows his mind and speaks it very
quickly, often embroidering his points considerably.
Jonathan King [glancing at the cover of an issue of FFanzeen] “Rock and roll with
integrity?” But I have no integrity whatsoever. What am I doing in this place?
I would be in the “no integrity section”
FFanzeen: Okay, I’ll be in the back. King: I’d prefer the front cover, please. I’m
prettier than all these people
FFanzeen: Not
Ronnie Spector.
King: Ronnie Spector. Oh, well. Anyway, yes, right. [FF stammers
over question, King turns to Alan] He can’t ask the questions cos he’s gazing at me with such love and
admiration, never having met anyone so intellectually and physically beautiful
in his life before; his eyes are gazing at me.
FFanzeen: I
still prefer Ronnie Spector. King: Don’t worry. Phil Spector felt the same
way.
FFanzeen: “Una
Paloma Blanca” is really a miserable song. King: Awful
FFanzeen: But
it was a big hit for you in England. Did you record it simply because you knew
you’d make a lot of money from it? King: No, it’s really hard to explain – or it
should be hard to explain. There are creative buzzes of various kinds, and I
get a great buzz creating something which is commercial and appeals to a lot of
people, and which people like. Therefore, I got a great creative buzz out of
making a record which had come up and flopped in England, improved it
commercially, and producing a final product which was a large hit. One of the biggest
hits of the year in Britain. I do get great enjoyment. You don’t have to only
get enjoyment in the music business by creating something marvelous. You can
get it from promoting something, from marketing something, from selling
something, in various different ways, and it gave me a great creative buzz to
make a hit record out of “Una Paloma Blanca,” although I never liked it myself
as a piece of product.
FFanzeen: What’s
the story on Blue Swede and your “Hooked on a Feeling.” King: Well, “Hooked on a Feeling” was a
record I did like. I had a hit with it in England and around Europe and, as you
know, Blue Swede did steal it, made an almost identical copy [you remember:
“Oogha-chaga, oogha-chaga in 1974 – RBF, 1981], and had a Number One here in America, simply because my record was
not promoted and marketed here. [My version] came out on London Records which,
then, was virtually the equivalent of a morgue, as far as records were
concerned, went on to remain the same, unfortunately, and therefore killed a
number of my acts and bands. But I think it got lost for that one reason. The
Blue Swede record came out on Capitol, which was run by Al Coury (d. 2013), who
now runs RSO Records and got that complete marketing and promotion treatment.
In a way, it was flashing to me, because it showed me that I did make the right
record in the first place; it just got lost.
FFanzeen: A
lot of your songs can be considered “novelty records.” Don’t you ever want to
be taken seriously? King: I never want to be taken seriously. I
never take anyone else seriously, either. There’s no point in taking anything
seriously, when we can all be wiped out by a meteor landing on the Earth three
seconds after somebody has read this article. So, I don’t believe in taking
things seriously at all. I believe in having a lot of fun. I’ve done certain
things that one could take seriously if one wanted to, ranging from discovering
Genesis, or The Rocky Horror Show, or 10cc, or any of the other more creative bands I’ve discovered, to
some of my more creative recordings, like “Hooked on a Feeling” or “Satisfaction”
by Bubblerock, which is one of my better records. No, I don’t expect
people to sit down and start essays in The New York
Times about the brilliance of my musical
metabolism; I don’t want that at all. I just want people to buy my records in
bulk, have fun, like the bands I find, like the artists I discover – and I
don’t take life seriously at any time. The moment you start doing that, you’re
open for unhappiness.
FFanzeen: Why
don’t you perform live? King: I performed live sporadically, until I
had my first hit [“Everyone’s Gone to
the Moon – RBF, 1981], and I never really liked
it. I felt uneasy on stage. I’m not a performer. My greatest talent in the
music industry is probably as a producer. I know how to find, discover, nurture
and create hit records, bands, and acts probably better than anyone else in the
world. And, he said modestly, I really like doing that. Now, I had my first
hit, and I had to make a decision: do I want to become a performer? Now, all
performers are cunts. I have a little sign hung above my bed saying, “All
Artists are Cunts.” In fact, I had dinner with Rod Steward and Britt Eklund,
and spent the entire meal saying how all artists were cunts. It took Rod the
whole meal to realize that all the analogies I was illustrating this argument
with were coming from the way he was treating Mercury/Phonogram. He finally
discovered that I was basically insulting him – during the sweet course. Rod,
being a Scotsman, is shrewd enough to realize he’s better off if he has his
meal first, before he leaves. He got up, stormed out of the restaurant and
didn’t speak to me for a year. Well, Britt and I had a good giggle about his
uptightness. I put in a few good insults at her as well. I said to her, “Oh,
Britt, isn’t it wonderful? You’re so lucky. What a coincidence that every man
in your life has had so much money.” That made Rod giggle. Anyway, all artists
being cunts, I decided I wasn’t going to be an artist. I was already a cunt. I
didn’t want to make myself more of one. To be a good performer, and to be an
artist, you really have to have an inflated opinion of yourself. You have to
project over-the-top mannerisms, style, gestures, and everything. I could have
done it. I could have learned to do it. If I’d wanted to be a rock star, in the
mid-‘60s, I could have slaved away at the boards. I have enough imagination to create
an incredible stage show. Genesis has a lot to thank me for their stage ideas.
I’m sure I could have become a rock star. How boring. Can you imagine being a
rock star? Can you imagine anything more tedious and stupid? Far more nicer for
me, who has had the chance to be a rock star, many times over, and every time
to have rejected it. Isn’t that much cooler? Elvis Costello can’t claim that.
FFanzeen: Have
you produced or recorded anything lately? King: Not much. Towards the end of 1979, as a
favor to a very dear friend of mine, Sir Edward Lewis (d. 1980), who is the
chairman/founder of Decca-London Records, I have gone back to Decca as sort of
the boss, to revive this dead corpse of a record company, which I did. And we
got a lot of records back on the chart. I had “Nights in White Satin” by the
Moody Blues on the charts for the third time in the Top 10, and a variety of
other hits on Decca. And, in fact, again, by the end of the year. Decca was
again one of the most successful companies in Britain. The reason for this is
because Sir Edward was selling the record company to Polygram, who did in fact
buy it, and he wanted to sell them something that was a positive, active,
successful entity, as opposed to a flop. It worked very well. He sold the
company, and the new company immediately approached me and asked if I would be
interested in running Phonogram/Mercury and Decca. A lot of other record
companies in Britain asked if I would be interested in running their companies
in England, and even in America. Sums of money were mentioned, ranging to the
top offer of $750,000 a year. And I looked at myself in the mirror – especially
parts of my anatomy, the most interesting little bits I can observe – and I
said, “Jonathan, do you really want to be a record executive? Here you are,
just into your early thirties. I don’t want to do something that will keep me
going for another ten years, wearing suits and ties. I would prefer to relax.
Fortunately, I have earned enough money through the bands that I’ve been
associated with over the years to be able to do whatever I want. What would I
like to do?” And I decided I would like to come to America and live in my
apartment/office, which I’ve had for ten years now in New York, and do two
things: one, cover the presidential election, because presidential politics in
America fascinates me, as do politics in England – I find them very
interesting, and two, broaden my perspective out of just the music world, but
also break into the American market because, as you know, in England, I am a
fairly well-known personality from fifteen years of doing a variety of things.
In America, apart from “Everyone’s Gone to the Moon” fifteen years ago when I
was a little seventeen-year-old teenybopper, nobody knows me and remembers me,
right? So, it’s a whole new virgin market and a difficult market to break. And
I’ve decided I’d try and do that, so I came over here to do weekly reports on
the election, called “The King of New York,” which goes out Saturday afternoons
on the BBC in Britain, and has about six or seven million listeners. I still do
that column. Then, while I was here, I was offered a guest slot on WMCA-AM,
“New York’s finest news and conversation station,” and they got good reactions,
phones went, letters poured in, so they asked if I would do the 10 to 12 morning
show on a regular basis for a while, and I thought about it and decided, yes,
why not? Because my other ambition has been, for a while, to try and shake the
bland, boring, tedious American radio station back into shape again. And I
think I’m probably the only person who can do it, cos I’m young enough to know
what the (new) music’s about, yet old enough to have had the experience and
success in the industry to have built up a good reputation, so people don’t
look at me as a lunatic. So, bearing that in mind, I’m still trying to do that.
I’ve got three FM stations on the boil at the moment. I’m trying desperately to
get one of them to allow me to move in and program a New Wave radio station for
young people who like to hear that new sound younger bands are making; people
like the Police, B-52s, Elvis Costello (and) a variety of artists that are around.
Playing that all the time, instead of what I call “Dinosaur Rock,” which WPLJ
or WNEW play, or disco, which is fine if you’re into disco, but not at all fine
if you’re not, or any other music formats around you which are very limited or
specialist. My thinking is that the 1980s AM radio is going to become more and
more talk-oriented. And FM radio is going to widen out and appeal to a broader
spectrum of the community. How nobody has ever done this before I really cannot
understand. It’s such a yawning gap in the marketplace, you would think anybody
with any brains would cater to that area, right?
FFanzeen: WPIX
did that for a little while. King: No, they didn’t, you see. This is one
of the two reasons why there is no New Wave radio in New York,: one is because
New Wave radio is thought to appeal to the twelve to twenty-five-year-olds who,
according to demographics, no longer have much buying power apart from pimple
creams, right? I happen to think that’s wrong. I happen to think that, a) the
audience has more buying power than people think, and b) New Wave radio would
not only appeal to that segment of the community, but would also appeal to a
lot of people in their late twenties and early thirties. And I think a lot of parents
whose kids would be setting their dial to a New Wave station would like what
they heard and leave it turned to that. So, that’s one point. The second, WPIX
sort of tried a New Wave format, but when I say sort of, it was a disaster. I
listened to it quite regularly. They would play any new record that came out, especially
if it was on a little label. Now, I know the music business. If a record is on
a little label, it’s got a fair chance of being a real piece of shit, because if
it’s not good enough for the big labels and has to crawl out of a little label,
it usually is bad. And indeed, much of the records WPIX used to play were
ghastly. Now, they had the advantage that one record in twenty was great, and
you wouldn’t hear it anywhere else, but the other nineteen were such rubbish,
it was presented in a neo-mid’60s progressive laid-back amateur fashion. So,
what happens? Nobody listens. You see a tiny little minority listenership, but
the figures dropped way down, because it was presented so badly. They said it
was New Wave – it wasn’t New Wave radio. It was just amateur mess radio; you
cannot run a radio station like that. And so, everybody thought as you do [do I? – RBF, 1981] that WPIX was New Wave radio, it didn’t work, therefore New Wave radio
doesn’t work. They’re thinking wrong. New Wave can work marvelously, but only
if the very best is played. If it’s presented well, if certain things are
encouraged, and if people put their money where their mouth is and back the
people they really believe in. You see, it’s easy to play PIX format: play
everything, and then be able to say, “We were the first to play ‘Money’ by the
Flying Lizards. Admittedly, we only played it once every five days because we play so
many records, but we were the first.” Well, that’s bullshit. You don’t do
things like that. There’s only a handful of good records at any given time. You
play that handful and they’re damned good records, you break new bands, new
artists. I can program a New Wave station with about forty or fifty record
companies didn’t know ought to be singles, great New Wave singles, marvelous
oldies by people like the Sex Pistols and the Boomtown Rats [oldies? – RBF, 1981] that never saw the light of day, and it would be a hell of a good radio
station, and it wouldn’t be a mess. WPIX was a mess.
FFanzeen: By
doing that, wouldn’t you be guilty of doing the same thing that WPLJ is doing,
just programming the same things over and over? King: Well, PLJ programs that same thing over
and over, but they program Dinosaur Rock over and over again. They would put in
a Police track or B-52s or something – Talking Heads – to keep people happy.
But ninety percent of their format is Zeppelin, Sabbath, and all the various
Pink Floyds, all people who are considerably older than I am, and the same old
music churns out – and when you hear “Stairway to Heaven” every three minutes,
you think, “God, here it goes again, I can’t believe it.” PLJ, ABC and the NBCs
are Top 40 formatted. Okay, what I would be doing, in a way, is Top 40 New Wave
format. But that’s different because Top 40 doesn’t exist anymore. Top 40 used
to be marvelous in the mid-‘60s. Now we’re split into specialist groups so, as
a result, there are records that will be major big hit records that we may not
want to hear. I think a tight-formatted New Wave station playing new records,
bands that are not heard anywhere else in the city, and repeating them a lot so
you can hear them enough to really get into them, would do enormously well. But
you need that control. There’s no point in saying that people who want the sort
of PIX format back are basically the failed rock musicians who, with their second-rate
band, knew they had a vague chance of having their record played somewhere at
some time cos PIX had such an open format with nobody listening as a result. But
they would play anyone, so Fred Nerle and the Scroggs from down in Greenwich
Village would be sure that their second-rate piece of rubbish will b played on
WPIX, so they could champion PIX. The listeners didn’t champion it. The listeners
thought it was a pain in the ass. The protest that was made when it came off
was like somebody making a slight fart in Staten Island. I mean, it really had
no impact when it left the scene because, although it was doing some good
things, it was a mess But to run a good New Wave station you’ve got to find
somebody who actually knows what he’s talking about from a New Wave level, cos
you can’t go by any of the sales. Any little individual group can hike the
sales in one shop by getting their mother, father, and friends to go in and buy
it. There is no way they can find out. The phone would be ringing by friends of
a band calling in. The only way you can virtually guarantee success if the guy
picking the music has hellishly good ears. Now, according to the latest
ratings, my ears are worth $750,000 a year. That’s what the record companies
are prepared to pay me for the use of my ears in running their companies. With
these kinds of ears, you know you’ve got something that is pretty invaluable,
and with a little bit of luck, somebody in the radio world is going to pick up
on that idea and say, “Hey!” Plus, when the ratings come up on my WMCA show and
they see that I’ve slaughtered all the opposition on AM, they will be very keen
to get me on FM.
FFanzeen: Your
born name is Kenneth, but you record as Jonathan and use many other pseudonyms.
Why? King: Well, there was a very good reason for
that. I decided that if I put out three records by Jonathan King, people would
listen to all three, decide with was the best, play it, and I would have one
hit, even if all three were potential hits. If I put out three records under
different names and nobody knew they were me, and people thought the records
were better than any other around, they’d play all three and I’d have three
simultaneous hits, make much more money, and be all over the charts. So, that
was the reason I did it, and it works. Three times in 1971, I had three
simultaneous Top 30 records under various different names, so it was a great
way of doing things. I reached the point where, in 1972, any new artist at all
who came out, people thought it was Jonathan King. You couldn’t be an artist
without people saying, “Are you really Jonathan King? When I launched 10cc, one
of the great problems we had to overcome was getting people to realize that
10cc were actually a real bunch of four individual musicians, and not me under
another name. Especially since I thought up the name, and it was a very
“Jonathan King” sort of name.
FFanzeen: Do
you have any new artists, like New Wave artists, that you are getting ready to
produce, or that you want to produce? King: No, I don’t really want to get into the
production end of the music thing just yet at all. I mean, the basic situation
is I want to make myself known in America, and I’m going about it on a certain
route. And the route I’m using at the moment is talk radio, with TV
appearances, which are being booked up because of the talk radio success, and
so on. Now, it may well be that the next stage, hopefully, is that I will
succeed in getting an FM radio station, and if I do, then I will turn it into a
success. I’ve told everyone that I guarantee that within six months, it’ll be
the Number One station in the country. And I have no doubt that I would be. People
were saying the same thing about the disco format when WKTU started up, and it did,
indeed, go on to do exactly that, because the time was right, or “The Tide is
High,” as Blondie would say.
FFanzeen:
Would you like to go into a bit of detail about the format of your AM radio
show? King: The talk show is very simple,
basically. It runs the gamut between serious things like heroin addiction,
abortion, capital punishment, and so on, and the lighter subjects like heroin
addiction, abortion, and capital punishment. I interviewed Dusty Springfield (d.
1999), and I was hoping Bowie (d. 2016) was going to come on, but he never did.
John Lennon was due on the week after his death (1980). Unfortunately, he had
to cancel. It ranges from one end of the scale to another. The only common
denominator is if it bores me, I stop the discussion. And if it bores me, it
will probably bore the listeners. I’m finding we’ve been getting the most enormous
amount of young listeners now, a really large amount of college kids and
teenagers. How, I don’t know, since most of them are at school or at college
when the show is on. We have phone calls; we have interviews on every topic
under the sun. I mention things that have happened in the world and my thoughts
on them, and usually send them off a bit with a light ribbing. It’s all good
fun. Like yesterday, the whole show was devoted to a discussion on the lack of
New Wave radio on FM. And I must say that I’ve had letters since, cos I thought
we really shouldn’t get into the topic because it was a talk show, and
essentially listened to by people who don’t want to listen to music. That was
yesterday, and this morning I had three letters which said, “Please don’t say
that, we all love music and we love good talk, and the reason we’re listening
to you on WMCA is because it’s impossible to hear good music on the radio at
the moment. And rather than listen to crap, we’re listening to good talk, and
we would love a good New Wave station,” which is a marvelous thing. I really do
believe that that is true. I think the ‘80s will see a lot of people listening
to a variety of things. Given my own choice, I would listen to some
personalities on talk radio and then switch to a good music radio station to
hear music. And I wouldn’t stay on one or the other all the time. I’d bounce.
FFanzeen:
You’ve said that people are like sheep, and you don’t like people who immediately
like you without knowing anything about you. King: Right, That’s why I’ve never gone out
of my way to get fans.
FFanzeen: Yet
you produce this pabulum-type of music to suit that very group. Isn’t that
contradictory? King: No. As I’ve said, it gives me a
creative buzz to be able to sell things to large quantities of people. If the
people want to be stupid enough to like me as a person rather than the records,
then that’s their fault. There’s nothing against people liking the record.
Because they have different tastes than me does not make them inferior human
beings. I consider them inferior as human beings when they’re foolish enough to
like somebody they’ve never met, and never spoken to, and don’t know anything
about, just on the basis of the music that they like. I mean, if you were to
tell me that you think Paul McCartney is a fantastic guy, although you never
met him, because he makes such nice records, I’d say you were an idiot. And likewise,
anyone who would say the same about Jonathan King. And even when somebody meets
me, they would realize that, as anybody with sense does, that there is no black
and white. Nobody’s perfect, and that I’m part good and part bad.
FFanzeen: You’ve
said that you like everything that you’ve done so far. At the same time, you
refer to yourself as cynical. King: I’ve enjoyed it. I don’t think I’ve
done anything of great earth-shattering depth. I mean, even if I’d written
plays to the worth of William Shakespeare, or novels to the worth of Charles
Dickens, and I was satisfied with my artistic abilities, I still wouldn’t fool
myself. I’m cynical. They say, “The cynic is the true lover of humanity.”
Somebody else said, and I think it was Oscar Wilde, “A cynic knows the price of
everything and the value of nothing.” My answer is that everything has a price
and nothing has any value. Which, I think, is the true cynical answer to give.
We’re here, and we won’t be here tomorrow. There’s no point in overdramatizing
everything. My interpretation of a cynic is one who sees life as it is, not as
they would like it to be, or as others would like it to be, but as, in reality,
it is. That applies to people who believe in extremely weird things like God,
or the Devil, or any kind of various lifestyles other people follow. I would
use the word cynic without any of the derogatory implications it has. To me,
basically, I’m cynical. A total cynic. I’m probably the most cynical person you
would ever meet. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I don’t think there’s
anything wrong with being cynical. To me, being cynical is being sensible.
FFanzeen: What
you’ve said is almost word for word the opposite of what Cervantes said [in Man of La Mancha], that the maddest
thing you can do is see life as it is, and not as it should be. King: But then, there aren’t many windmills
around here.
Having met and
talked with Jonathan King, I liked him. Yes, he was cynical and used his
opinion like a straight-razor, but he was also straightforward and direct, and
firmly believed in his convictions. I also think that his convictions were (and
are) what was wrong with the music industry: namely the bottom line is more
important than the value of the music. His total lack of regard for independent
music was shocking to me, but then again, considering his “place” in the
history of the music industry, it is hardly surprising. Did there really need
to be a disco version of “Una Paloma Blanca”? Did there really need to be an
“oogha-chaga” version of “Hooked on a Feeling”?
Another
statement he made I find questionable is that only the best New Wave music
would be played. And just what is the totally subjective “best”? And who would
be the person or persons who would decide that? Gatekeeping theory states that
one or few choose what the majority will know, but a subtext is the question of
whether the chooser would be an independent thinker or a cog in the machine.
The fin de sicle has shown, I believe, that independent thought in the music
industry – especially radio broadcast such as it is in the age of the Internet
– is dead. Demographics numbers and polls speak louder than even program
directors. The disk jockey has been reduced to mere personality and no longer
has a say in the output. These days, you’d have a better chance of finding a
religious station than any kind of new music on-air.
