Flamin Groovies

To each their own Independence Day. Punk's own arrived on July 4th, 1976, exactly two hundred years after the Declaration of Independence of the United States of America went into effect. The venue wasn't the solemn Congress of Philadelphia, but a club in Camden where the Fourth Estate of London's rebels, bastards and stray dogs gathered to witness the epiphany of the Ramones on British soil. Among the crowd at the Roundhouse that night were certainly Gaye Advert and Glen Matlock, who'd shown up there - like so many other kids - to catch the incendiary performance of those delightful hooligans who were opening for the Flamin' Groovies. Whom, despite being the headliners of the night, nobody gave a damn about. If there's one trait that makes the Groovies even more legendary and lovable than their infectious music already does, it's their goddamn gift for being the wrong band at the right time and place.

In psychedelic San Francisco - where Paul Kantner, Jerry Garcia and John Cipollina were stretching rock's fundamentals to breaking point, souring them and contaminating them with exotic influences - Cyril Jordan and his cohorts stuck to a lean, direct rock'n'roll formula rooted in rockabilly and boogie-woogie. In 1969, while the Grateful Dead were climbing through the twenty-three minutes of "Dark Star", the Groovies debuted with an album - "Supersnazz" - that in its entirety lasted only twelve minutes longer. Not content with having played the part of the losers left in the dust while everyone around them was exploring the unknown dimensions of musical perception, in 1971 - despite the excellent, raw-boned "Teenage Head" - they once again found themselves outflanked. This time they might at least have won over a few fans in Detroit, had their rowdy blues-rock not already looked like a dated placebo compared to the wartime "remedies" of MC5 and Stooges.

Clearly, the Flamin' Groovies were the band of missed opportunities. But also of not giving a damn - after all, we do what we enjoy. Which, to be fair, is pure punk philosophy. So on the Roundhouse stage that July 4th, 1976, for once they arrived perfectly on time in their spectacular unfashionability. On the cover of "Shake Some Action" - released just a month earlier - they appeared in sharp black suits and Cuban heel boots, paying tribute to the mod aesthetic of the previous decade. Their models, in look and otherwise, were the early Stones, the Who, the merseybeat bands and the northern soul acts. Nothing could have been further from the Californian hippie imagination, to which they nonetheless remained stylistically tied through their sunshine-pop harmonies and jangling, Byrds-style guitars. Everything else, though, reeked of Britishness through and through. Not least because the band, following the departure of vocalist Roy Loney in 1972, had relocated to Wales under the wing of Dave Edmunds, under whose guidance they recorded fourteen epic, pulsating songs. The songwriting partnership of Cyril Jordan and Chris Wilson had never before - nor would it ever again - reached such a state of grace. Starting with the thunderous title track, which quotes a line of dialogue from "None But The Brave" (a 1965 war film directed by Frank Sinatra, released in Italy as "La tua pelle o la mia"), when the Marine sergeant asks one of his men: "Are you ready to shake some action?".

That's just how rock'n'roll works. It doesn't allow for hesitation. It demands decisive, immediate answers. And "Shake Some Action" is the perfect synthesis to the dilemma that has always plagued fans of every generation: Beatles or Stones? From Jagger and co. comes the fury of the guitars and the sweat of the rhythms, from the Fab Four the harmonic grace and melodic dynamics. On one side the vibrant cover of "Misery", on the other the unbridled version of "She Said Yeah" - a Larry Williams song that, not by chance, the Stones also recorded. The brazen repertoire of Black artists (the classic "St. Louis Blues", Chuck Berry's "Don't Lie To Me") is blended with the songbook of the most jovial white pop-rock.

The liberating plea of "Please Please Girl" and the little march of "Yes It's True", in fact, put joy on your skin. It's music that could have come off "Help" or out of any sunny day in 1965. The same day, perhaps, on which the Lovin' Spoonful were recording "Let The Boy Rock'n'Roll", masterfully covered here. Another point of reference are the Kinks, whose bittersweet shades christen the semi-acoustic gusts of "I Saw Her", "Teenage Confidential" and above all that enchanting suspension of space and time called "You Tore Me Down". Towering above such wonder is the opening track. One of the greatest power-pop songs ever written. A heartfelt call to action riding on guitar interplay that attacks just as much as it caresses.

In the mid-Eighties, after the rebellious hangover of punk and the artsy one of new wave, the rock landscape would rediscover the old musical soil of the Sixties. The sixties revival set the stage for the Groovies to finally break free from the cult, underground status in which they'd confined themselves and embrace, if not success, at least a wider following. Instead, true to their role as outsiders, they chose that very moment to take a step back, failing to capitalize on the little appeal that the favorable climate might have offered their unshakeable formula. No great loss - Cyril Jordan nowadays takes comfort in recalling improbable anecdotes, like the time he found himself sharing a joint with Ted Kennedy after a gig.

Those of us who love them, on the other hand, can turn to Kurt Vonnegut, who once said that the artist's job is to make people enjoy life more. Asked whether he'd ever seen anyone actually pull it off, he replied: "the Beatles". He was absolutely right, but he could just as well have said the "Flamin' Groovies", and the beauty of that answer wouldn't have lost an ounce of its meaning.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google

13/03/2016