Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Jun 21, 2011 18:50:31 GMT
Howard Werth
"SEE, THE 'THE' is actually a joke, an abbreviation of the first word. It's not really 'King Brilliant' it's '...King Brilliant' that we ever got it out. You have to say it quick." No response from a bemused DJ.
Howard Werth, having left the Audience, the theatre and the business has now decided to start all over again from scratch. In his case this involves traipsing the length and breadth of Britain guesting on local radio chat and pop shows.
In between the Bert Kaempfert's and the James Last's, the cookery hints and the phone-a-groan programmes Werth will sit and politely explain the workings of his latest album to the Alan Freeds and Wolfman Jacks of the nether regions – Nottingham at the moment.
It may not be the most glamorous way to promote yourself but it keeps you in touch with a listening public who neither know nor care what goes on in the smoke.
Some people throw wild receptions in expensive hotels, wining and dining whole limo-loads of syncophants. But Howard Werth sits down with his BBC coffee, his cheese sarnie and a packet of fags while a Radio Nottingham DJ segues him into the shindig, asks him to choose a track and account for his lethargy. He doesn't however ask him what his hobbies are.
My encounter with Werth earlier proved somewhat less frentic. How did he view the album in completion bearing in mind that it was over-produced and that it took an unprecedented two years to make?
"Yeah, 12 per cent of my life. It could be over-done because we used up every idea we had. There was no band around to limit that. I think the material required heavy production but Gus Dudgeon and I tend to start fantasising."
"The reason it took so long to finish is that Gus had all those Rocket commitments, Elton and Kiki Dee, so I had to take a backseat. Once we get into the studio it's full heft but next time I'm going to ensure the sound is more spontaneous."
Werth describes himself as "basically bloody lazy, unless I get my teeth into a major project, then I've been known to get up as early as seven in the morning."
While Dudgeon flitted around the playgrounds of California, Werth mooched around Tufnell Park jobless. He toyed briefly with the idea of a 12-piece band incorporating an electric string section but settled for a string synthesiser and a band called The Moonbeams who were sneak previewed at London's Marquee. Apart from Howard on vocals and extremely rare Baldwin acoustic the group are as follows; Freddy Gandy and Ian Duck, bass and lead, both late of Hookfoot; Freddy Fish as in Kiki Dee on keyboards; and a very young and nervous drummer, Bryn Burrows.
Aside from their self-contained live sound, what differentiated the album group from the performance was shade of treatment. One was typically English, the other wasn't; "With Ian and Freddy coming from Hookfoot it is inevitably more American although a lot of my initial influences are American too. Ray Charles, Fats Domino, Screaming Jay Hawkins and some of the vocal groups like The Olympics."
"Apart from the music I'm finalising our stage settings. Eventually I want to bring out a whole visual element, a slight fantasy image which involves a lot of colour and light Something interesting to keep people amused without it turning into a big production number."
Werth's interest in visuals found an outlet with the impressive Chagalesque cubist portrait that adorns King Brilliant though Audience albums House On The Hill and Lunch were also precursors in the important field of eye catching covers.
"My particular taste is for 20th Century artists from the Futurist movement right through to the Dadaists and pop-art. With two years between bands I've had time to draw, get down any ideas on paper. Ultimately I'd like to have an exhibition but I can never commit myself to two major projects."
Ever since 1972 Howard has been practically on the dole, eking out his living from royalties and a weekly retainer from Charisma. It may be hard graft for little return now, but then it always was. Audience promised to make good but failed.
At their peak they toured America with the Faces and cut Lunch utilising horn kings Jim Price and Bobby Keys, men whose very presence seemed to guarantee the rustle of bankrolls and the scratch of gold nibs on munificent cheques. So how come they blew it?
"A mixture of reasons. Basically we were naive in business terms, there was no master plan and we didn't take advantage of the obvious ups. After a while it all seemed pointless. I mean the Faces should have done – did do – us a lot of good but it wound down to nothing."
"Then there were a lot of management problems which culminated in our sax player Keith Gemmil refusing to encore at Toronto. I still had hopes for us after he left, but our last blow, an Italian tour, was such an anti-climax..."
Werth stops recounting the tragedy briefly and laughs at the memory.
"We really petered out. The last gig was in Switzerland, we were at Ostend waiting for a boat to get home. It was Bank Holiday so there were huge queues and we were knackered, but suddenly this police car appears out of nowhere and takes us off to be searched. We missed all the boats and by the time we made it we'd just had enough."
"Actually I thought we got better musically after Keith left. There was a Swiss sax player and a pianist who allowed more room to spread around, but even so inertia set in. All the old impetus was gone there was no-one willing to represent us anymore."
The demise of Audience hit Werth slightly harder than the remaining members though he typified their character most accurately. Gemmil joined Stack-ridge. Nick Judd found momentary fame with Sharks. Tony Connor went to drum in the singles groove with Hot Chocolate while bassist Trevor Williams became part of Outside.
Everbody thought Howard had landed the starring role. "The Doors Open For Werth" said the headlines. They were wrong:
"A very vague situation blown out of proportion. Ray Manzarek had asked Gus if I'd be interested in auditioning for The Doors (Elektra handled Audience in the States which might explain some of the interest). I did it, then Manzarek left the next day – don't think it was anything to do with me – and Jess Roden joined up with the other two."
"It never came to saying 'yes' or 'no' and I remember that we tried only new material. All very loose but I don't think it was my direction."
One thing Werth learned from this period of maximum frustration was how not to run a band: "There has to be a really strong focal point, someone to make decisions. Democracy within a band sounds fine but it only waters down the power. At the same time all the members should have breathing space for their own ideas. This is going to be Howard Werth and The Moonbeams, running concurrently."
Which is about the only time Werth evinces any of the aggressive brass neck necessary if he's going to stuff an image down the public gullet. Otherwise he remains too self-effacing for his own good because he certainly wants to be a star with all the trimmings and maybe his own sights aren't set high enough yet:
"I think I'll make it but if I don't I'll go back to art professionally. We are pushing a few new barriers now and it needs to meet a strong circuit of support. With my writing there are two layers, the lighter side and the slightly intellectual level. Maybe with the same appeal as early Roxy Music had although I don't want to take myself too seriously."
But is your plan of attack formulated, do you know where you can make a quick killing?: "Not really. I find it impossible to write for a specific market, for example I've no idea what makes a hit single. I feel, that there'll be a whole new movement though which I want to be part of. I can't crystallise it exactly but I know we'll surprise a lot of people with our visuals. There'll be lights from the stage rather than ordinary projected light and... but I'd better not divulge anymore in case someone nicks the ideas."
Knowing your luck, mate, they probably already have.
Max Bell, NME, 27 September 1975
"SEE, THE 'THE' is actually a joke, an abbreviation of the first word. It's not really 'King Brilliant' it's '...King Brilliant' that we ever got it out. You have to say it quick." No response from a bemused DJ.
Howard Werth, having left the Audience, the theatre and the business has now decided to start all over again from scratch. In his case this involves traipsing the length and breadth of Britain guesting on local radio chat and pop shows.
In between the Bert Kaempfert's and the James Last's, the cookery hints and the phone-a-groan programmes Werth will sit and politely explain the workings of his latest album to the Alan Freeds and Wolfman Jacks of the nether regions – Nottingham at the moment.
It may not be the most glamorous way to promote yourself but it keeps you in touch with a listening public who neither know nor care what goes on in the smoke.
Some people throw wild receptions in expensive hotels, wining and dining whole limo-loads of syncophants. But Howard Werth sits down with his BBC coffee, his cheese sarnie and a packet of fags while a Radio Nottingham DJ segues him into the shindig, asks him to choose a track and account for his lethargy. He doesn't however ask him what his hobbies are.
My encounter with Werth earlier proved somewhat less frentic. How did he view the album in completion bearing in mind that it was over-produced and that it took an unprecedented two years to make?
"Yeah, 12 per cent of my life. It could be over-done because we used up every idea we had. There was no band around to limit that. I think the material required heavy production but Gus Dudgeon and I tend to start fantasising."
"The reason it took so long to finish is that Gus had all those Rocket commitments, Elton and Kiki Dee, so I had to take a backseat. Once we get into the studio it's full heft but next time I'm going to ensure the sound is more spontaneous."
Werth describes himself as "basically bloody lazy, unless I get my teeth into a major project, then I've been known to get up as early as seven in the morning."
While Dudgeon flitted around the playgrounds of California, Werth mooched around Tufnell Park jobless. He toyed briefly with the idea of a 12-piece band incorporating an electric string section but settled for a string synthesiser and a band called The Moonbeams who were sneak previewed at London's Marquee. Apart from Howard on vocals and extremely rare Baldwin acoustic the group are as follows; Freddy Gandy and Ian Duck, bass and lead, both late of Hookfoot; Freddy Fish as in Kiki Dee on keyboards; and a very young and nervous drummer, Bryn Burrows.
Aside from their self-contained live sound, what differentiated the album group from the performance was shade of treatment. One was typically English, the other wasn't; "With Ian and Freddy coming from Hookfoot it is inevitably more American although a lot of my initial influences are American too. Ray Charles, Fats Domino, Screaming Jay Hawkins and some of the vocal groups like The Olympics."
"Apart from the music I'm finalising our stage settings. Eventually I want to bring out a whole visual element, a slight fantasy image which involves a lot of colour and light Something interesting to keep people amused without it turning into a big production number."
Werth's interest in visuals found an outlet with the impressive Chagalesque cubist portrait that adorns King Brilliant though Audience albums House On The Hill and Lunch were also precursors in the important field of eye catching covers.
"My particular taste is for 20th Century artists from the Futurist movement right through to the Dadaists and pop-art. With two years between bands I've had time to draw, get down any ideas on paper. Ultimately I'd like to have an exhibition but I can never commit myself to two major projects."
Ever since 1972 Howard has been practically on the dole, eking out his living from royalties and a weekly retainer from Charisma. It may be hard graft for little return now, but then it always was. Audience promised to make good but failed.
At their peak they toured America with the Faces and cut Lunch utilising horn kings Jim Price and Bobby Keys, men whose very presence seemed to guarantee the rustle of bankrolls and the scratch of gold nibs on munificent cheques. So how come they blew it?
"A mixture of reasons. Basically we were naive in business terms, there was no master plan and we didn't take advantage of the obvious ups. After a while it all seemed pointless. I mean the Faces should have done – did do – us a lot of good but it wound down to nothing."
"Then there were a lot of management problems which culminated in our sax player Keith Gemmil refusing to encore at Toronto. I still had hopes for us after he left, but our last blow, an Italian tour, was such an anti-climax..."
Werth stops recounting the tragedy briefly and laughs at the memory.
"We really petered out. The last gig was in Switzerland, we were at Ostend waiting for a boat to get home. It was Bank Holiday so there were huge queues and we were knackered, but suddenly this police car appears out of nowhere and takes us off to be searched. We missed all the boats and by the time we made it we'd just had enough."
"Actually I thought we got better musically after Keith left. There was a Swiss sax player and a pianist who allowed more room to spread around, but even so inertia set in. All the old impetus was gone there was no-one willing to represent us anymore."
The demise of Audience hit Werth slightly harder than the remaining members though he typified their character most accurately. Gemmil joined Stack-ridge. Nick Judd found momentary fame with Sharks. Tony Connor went to drum in the singles groove with Hot Chocolate while bassist Trevor Williams became part of Outside.
Everbody thought Howard had landed the starring role. "The Doors Open For Werth" said the headlines. They were wrong:
"A very vague situation blown out of proportion. Ray Manzarek had asked Gus if I'd be interested in auditioning for The Doors (Elektra handled Audience in the States which might explain some of the interest). I did it, then Manzarek left the next day – don't think it was anything to do with me – and Jess Roden joined up with the other two."
"It never came to saying 'yes' or 'no' and I remember that we tried only new material. All very loose but I don't think it was my direction."
One thing Werth learned from this period of maximum frustration was how not to run a band: "There has to be a really strong focal point, someone to make decisions. Democracy within a band sounds fine but it only waters down the power. At the same time all the members should have breathing space for their own ideas. This is going to be Howard Werth and The Moonbeams, running concurrently."
Which is about the only time Werth evinces any of the aggressive brass neck necessary if he's going to stuff an image down the public gullet. Otherwise he remains too self-effacing for his own good because he certainly wants to be a star with all the trimmings and maybe his own sights aren't set high enough yet:
"I think I'll make it but if I don't I'll go back to art professionally. We are pushing a few new barriers now and it needs to meet a strong circuit of support. With my writing there are two layers, the lighter side and the slightly intellectual level. Maybe with the same appeal as early Roxy Music had although I don't want to take myself too seriously."
But is your plan of attack formulated, do you know where you can make a quick killing?: "Not really. I find it impossible to write for a specific market, for example I've no idea what makes a hit single. I feel, that there'll be a whole new movement though which I want to be part of. I can't crystallise it exactly but I know we'll surprise a lot of people with our visuals. There'll be lights from the stage rather than ordinary projected light and... but I'd better not divulge anymore in case someone nicks the ideas."
Knowing your luck, mate, they probably already have.
Max Bell, NME, 27 September 1975