It never fails. Whenever a new genre or scene begins to take flight, a horde of copycats and Johnny-come-lately’s follow suit, mucking up and degrading the original vision until it’s a mere shell of its former glory.
We’ve seen it consistently over the ages. Here’s a common scenario—a couple of bands from what we’ll call “Scene A” start out doing something pretty novel and fresh, building an audience slow and steady, until such time momentum strikes and success comes-a-calling. Those with either horrifically rotten timing or less ingenuity begin to take note and corral their own bandwagons, circling the top tier with their eyes on replicating this new and novel scene. We’ll refer to this brood as “Scene B.”
But, it doesn’t end there. As time goes on, “Scenes C and D” begin to take shape in an attempt to join the party, either based on scene envy, cluelessness or just a desire to cash in, further watering down the once vibrant and original scene.
You get the picture. For every Nirvana, there were dozens of Silverchairs and Candleboxes waiting in the wings to jump on the train. For every Guns N’ Roses, there were gaggles of pre-fashioned Salty Dogs and Dangerous Toys hitting the bins.
But, there’s another side to it. Every now and then, some bargain-basement noise merchants come along to shake things up in a colorful way. The punk scene has seen its fair share of this, with a history of patterns where younger bands emerge, adding a fresh shot of energy to a tiring scene. On the flip side, some bands are so gloriously inept that they end up creating something noteworthy in their own right.
This was often the situation with the UK glam rock scene of the early to mid-’70s. In the top tier, you had your Bowies, Bolans, and Roxy Music. Scene B would see the likes of Slade and The Sweet ply their stomping glam trade. After that, you had the likes of Mud, The Arrows, and…Alvin Stardust.
Most famous for a couple of singles including the brooding, boogie-drenched “My Coo Ca Choo,” Mr. Stardust (no relation whatsoever to Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust), was actually a record-label creation. Born in the early 1940s, Bernard William Jewry sang lead in the early ‘60s beat outfit Shane Fenton and The Fentones. In spite of a couple of moderate UK hits, the band’s tenure would ultimately be fairly short-lived and Jewry would go back to anonymity.
Fast forward about 10 years and glam rock is all the rage in the UK, with David Bowie, T.Rex, Mott the Hoople, and a slew of others making waves in a big way. Jewry/Fenton—now in his 30s—would soon find himself in line for a mysterious new gig after years of being off the radar.
Turns out, record label exec Pete Shelley (not the guy donning the same name in the Buzzcocks), had written and recorded the aforementioned “My Coo Ca Choo,” and released it as a single under the moniker “Alvin Stardust.” Moving up the charts, Shelley now found himself in a dilemma of sorts. He was not a pop star and had no interest in becoming one. There are varying reports on how Jewry got connected, but in the end, he eventually got the gig to be the face of the record. And after a serious makeover, which saw him bedecked in back leather, jet black hair, mutton-chop sideburns, and leather gloves embellished with oversized rings, he had been transformed.
The newly remade Alvin Stardust was a spectacle to behold, especially with twisted black pompadour (a global 1950s revival trend was underway with shows like Happy Days and Sha Na Na among other pop-culture tributes), and pouty, somewhat creepy persona. (Think a fey and fragile Glenn Danzig impersonating Liberace in his prime.) While older and less energetic than many of his glitter-rock contemporaries, Stardust would go on to release three albums on the Magnet label (ran by Shelley) and enjoyed a moderate run of success during the glam era.
Now, each of the albums has been painstakingly reissued as part of The Magnet Albums box set (Cherry Red). The top pick here is the first LP, The Untouchable, featuring the aforementioned “My Coo Ca Choo,” along with the other single, “Jealous Mind.” It’s worth noting, that while Shelley sang Stardust’s most famous song, the slithery “My Coo Ca Choo,” Jewry/Stardust sang everything else and the voices are similar enough to not be disruptive. While the ruse did result in a hit single, no one seemed to care, and there’s been no Milli Vanilli style of backlash.
The overall sound is quasi-’50s rock ‘n’ roll with a moody overtone and a melancholy aura, which for three-minute pop songs, is kind of different. The set also includes Stardust’s self-titled second album and his final offering for a few years, Rock With Alvin, originally released in 1975. Each disc includes a slew of bonus material including non-LP studio tracks, single versions, and more.
Alvin Stardust would go on to release more albums during the ‘80s as a middle-of-the-road singer-songwriter, as well as act and resurface for some glam revivalist events. He passed away in 2014. This new set does a fine job at memorializing the somewhat forgotten rocker and his somewhat idiosyncratic and aging approach to glam rock.
If Alvin Stardust was firmly set in Scene C, many of the glam rock urchins on the new Can The Glam! compilation would find themselves in Scenes E through F. Often referred to as “Junkshop Glam” the stuff on this killer comp includes a gaggle of obscure, mostly UK and European records from the ‘70s churned out by a bevy of glam malcontents, street urchins, musical orphans, and wistfully unsuccessful wannabees that you’ve most likely never heard of. Similar in how the ‘60s garage bands in the U.S. emulated the Rolling Stones and Yardbirds but couldn’t quite pull it off from a musical-chops standpoint, this little scene of sorts has nevertheless endeared itself to cult followers for years and has even been immortalized in comps such as Boobs: The Junkshop Glam Discotheque, Glitterbest, and Velvet Tinmine, as well as in the book Wired Up!.
The appeal of this scene lies in a couple of aspects: 1) The bands’ complete lack of self-awareness and, 2) The fact that they obviously didn’t give two shites about what anyone thought of them! It was all about outrageous get-ups, loud guitars, fist-pumping anthems, plenty of sneers, pouts, and bad attitudes — all executed with complete earnestness and ballsy swagger, with no irony to be found for miles. Some of this stuff would also eventually be influential in the formation of UK punk, especially in its DIY ethics and unsmooth execution.
Can The Glam! features a healthy swath of these bands, from the eerie guitar grooves of Shabby Tiger’s “The Devil Rides Tonight” to Bearded Lady’s aspirational “Rock Star,” the stomping, keyboard-laden “Take It Shake It Break My Heart” by Vanity Fair and finally, one of the oddest of the batch, the cleverly named Bilbo Baggins whose “Back Home” is one of the heavier tracks on the comp. What’s also interesting about this release is its inclusion of several artists such as T.Rex, Suzi Quatro and Slade among others that were certainly higher up the food chain. In all, this comp comes packed with 80 tracks, making it a treasure trove of obscure nuggets that you no longer have to scavenge online for and lose several months’ worth of rent in the process.
For questions, comments or something you’d like to see, drop me a line at Retrohead77@yahoo.com.
