Bring Back Real Song Writing

I love technology – it’s made many aspects of a musician’s life easier. It’s now possible (and affordable) to have a recording studio at home with little more than a laptop, some software, an audio interface, a microphone and some cables. Modelling technology gives us a reasonable attempt at getting a small, relatively inexpensive amp combo to sound like a vintage Fender, Marshall or Vox.

Audio software is so good these days that it takes very little musical knowledge or talent to make music. Can’t play? No problem – there are plenty of samples of people playing instruments very well that you can use. Can’t sing in tune? Also no problem – pitch correction software can fix your dodgy notes. You can even use it to give your voice that fashionable “robotic” sound!

My problem with this is that too many artists are using the technology in a lazy, unimaginative way, and as an excuse so that they don’t have to learn how to play instruments or write songs.

To me, one of the most enjoyable aspects of music is harmony – chord progressions that have the power to skilfully manipulate your emotions. A well-structured song should have several different sections, each with a different chord progression. A classic pop song structure might go something like this: intro, verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, solo, chorus, chorus, end. Plenty of repetition, but also enough scope for interesting melodic and harmonic development.

Many modern pop songs start by a “producer” sampling a few bars from an existing recording. This may be as few as four bars long. This then becomes a loop, which is played throughout the entire song. Other instruments and vocal parts are added, but obviously they all have to follow the chord progression laid down by the loop. Structural variations no longer have to rely on chord changes, but can be created artificially by adding and deleting elements from the mix. Instead of creating a chorus by writing a new melody and chords to go with it, just add some different instruments, and perhaps extra backing vocals.

This is boring! A whole generation of pop fans are being palmed off with songs created by laptop operators rather than musicians. No wonder no-one buys recorded music any more.

Thankfully, there are new artists out there who still write fully harmonic songs. They are often labelled as “new folk” or “acoustic”. They take every advantage of modern recording technology, but don’t skip the essential craft of song writing. 

The Might-Have-Beens

It started in May 1980. I had recently turned 20, and I was playing with two Irish musicians in a country/folk trio. That was strictly for money, I had no interest (at that time) in the music, and I felt little empathy with my band colleagues, who were significantly older than me. I was also taking jazz guitar lessons, with a tutor called Martin Jackson. He had been recommended to me by my old friend from school Andy Drudy.

It was Andy that invited me along to the famous Marquee Club in Soho, to see a performance by The League of Gentlemen, a new band led by legendary guitarist Robert Fripp. We both admired Fripp for his seminal art-rock band King Crimson. Andy and I were regular visitors to the Marquee, a small club but with rock music history practically oozing from the walls.

On that fateful night, several things happened to me. I saw what I hoped would be the future of music: a blend of tonal and atonal guitar riffs and solos over a danceable rhythm section. I also met Marc Sebastian-Jones. That wasn't his real name of course, but he greatly admired Marc Bolan and Steve Harley. Marc was a charismatic, fascinating young man who drew girls to him like moths to a flame. That first night at the Marquee he was with three beautiful Italians. They talked about art-house cinema, poetry, and avant-garde music. Marc told Andy and I that he was a poet and musician, and was looking for other musicians to work with, to break new artistic ground and hopefully conquer the known world. He also lived, like us, in South London. We exchanged numbers, and agreed to stay in touch.

Andy was busy with his progressive rock band Triad, so it was I that started visiting Marc at his flat in Tooting. He had guitars and a tape recorder, so we started writing together. Another young musician that had gravitated towards Marc was David Knight. He was also a South Londoner, and had already begun to make a name for himself as The Fast Set. He had released the first single on Axis Records, later to become seminal indie label 4AD. That single was Junction One, but the B-side was Children of the Revolution, a T.Rex cover, as David was yet another Marc Bolan fan. David joined us for our writing and recording sessions, adding drum machine and synthesizer, and pretty soon we were a band. We named ourselves Transition, after one of Marc's poems.

Roland System 100

So now it was time for our first gig. Andy kindly let us support Triad at our local music pub, The Two Brewers in Clapham. I remember we turned up a little late, as we'd been a little longer than we expected putting on our make-up! I was rubbish at putting on eyeliner, I hate the thought of anything possibly touching my eyes. Two of our girl friends had to hold me down and apply it.

My mates were astonished at the new, flamboyant Pete, and the carefully choreographed homo-erotic stage act. Some of them began to question my sexuality. What they didn't realise at the time was something that we three in the band had learned from both Bowie and Bolan. The combination of guitars and eye-shadow was irresistible to fashionable young women in those days! Having previously been of little interest to girls, I was suddenly surrounded by them. Pretty soon I had a girlfriend, soon to be my first wife (but that's another story). A few years later, some of the same men-friends that had scoffed at my new look began to wear eyeliner on stage themselves. By then, I had stopped - always ahead of my time!

Around that time, David was contacted by a fan of his Fast Set single, called Stephen Pearce who was making a name for himself as Stevo. Stevo was a young DJ, who put on a club night at a Soho venue called Billy's. The weekly music paper Sounds had started featuring a Futurist Chart compiled by Stevo, featuring singles and demos by some very different bands on the underground scene. Stevo wanted more Fast Set material to play, so Transition was renamed to The Fast Set, and we began playing gigs under that name, some of them arranged by Stevo.

We regularly played joint shows with two of Stevo's other favourite bands, Naked Lunch and Blancmange. Other bands on the scene (Spandau Ballet and Depeche Mode) were a little more stand-offish, and members of them were often to be seen eyeing us with suspicion from the bar. On the other hand, I remember meeting Boy George, and he was friendly (and very tall). In addition to Billy's Club, we played at a place in Rayleigh, Essex called Crocs. They had a live baby crocodile in residence - strange!

Riding the crest of the (new) wave, Stevo began putting together a compilation album, and invited us to record a track for it. Marc, David and I assumed that it would be a low budget indie release, available to a select few. Low budget it certainly was, there was no advance forthcoming to finance the recording. Between us, we scraped together £40 and hired a small 8-track studio. We recorded another T.Rex cover, King Of The Rumbling Spires. In retrospect, we should have given Stevo one of our original songs, but we had no idea what was going to happen.

Stevo pulled off the deal of the century, and licensed Some Bizzare Album (named after his record label) to the major label Phonogram. The album came out, and sold well, getting into the national album charts. This raised our profile significantly, and we began to be offered gigs outside of London and the South East.

We were not in the best position to take advantage of this. I can't exactly remember why, but at some point, David and I fell out with Marc, and Marc left the band. I've no idea why we thought this a good idea at the time, but I took over on vocals.

For live dates we added a drummer, our good friend Brad Day, formerly of The Strapps and The Royal Family. In this line-up, we played shows up and down the country, supporting bands like Classix Nouveaux, Theatre Of Hate and the Monochrome Set. We also recorded some new demos.

We were still as poor as church mice, and would travel to these gigs by the cheapest method possible. For the Monochrome Set show at the Warehouse Club in Leeds, we went by bus from Victoria Coach station. With no money for a hotel, we spent the night at Leeds Railway Station, occasionally getting moved on by the railway staff.

The provincial audiences were always much more vocally receptive than the London audiences, who were too cool for school, and too busy admiring themselves to applaud. Except for the 2000-strong audience at the biggest show we ever played, The Lyceum.

This was (almost) the big time! There were roadies asking us how we liked our sound mix, and a fridge full of beers in the dressing room. I remember someone writing in to the NME saying how much they'd enjoyed dancing to our set. On the other hand, I also remember Depeche Mode ungenerously slagging us off in Sounds. There was very little inter-band camaraderie in the new music scene.

The Lyceum was also the peak of our brief career. Stevo lost interest in us. I think the last straw may have been when we couldn't replace one of his other bands who'd pulled out of a gig at the last moment. I was working that evening, and couldn't get out of it. Stevo began to concentrate on the much more co-operative Soft Cell. Not long after that, they had their first hit with Tainted Love.

David joined several other bands, such as Naked Lunch, and Five Or Six, and for a while we half-heartedly tried to recruit a new singer. The Fast Set gradually fizzled out, and would never join our erstwhile label-mates Soft Cell, Depeche Mode, Blancmange and The The on Top Of The Pops. Nevertheless, I still get emails about The Fast Set, and it's been 33 years since we split up.

Some years later I would work with David again on Danielle Dax's singles and albums, but that's another story!