The Walker Brothers – No Regrets – Our Story

Review of the book by FFR UK Writer:  Chris Mcdougall

walker brothers

I felt compelled to do a review of this book which came out a few years ago and in light of the recent passing of John Walker (April 2011). l also had a vested interest as both my parents were on friendly terms with the Walker boys and when my mother went into labour with me " Make It Easy on Yourself "was playing on the radio, so there you have it.
As if that was not reason enough, they were an amazing group of individuals who bore great songs and even greater insight on choosing cover versions and giving them a new fresher sound which became the famous Walker Brothers trademark.
This book gives reflection of what it was like being in London in the swinging 60's for Gary, John and Scott Walker who *** hailed from the California. The Walker Brothers were not brothers just like The Ramones, in fact The Walker Bros got their name from a phoney ID that John made up so he could play in bars. 1965 was the year The Walkers broke big in Britain scoring two number one hits in the charts and having more top thirty singles before ending there run in 1967-68, during this time we get the bulk of what it was like being in the bubble of stardom and the madness of fan worship, at times the Walkers were stars in their own zombie movie as they play the last human survivors barricaded in a toilet as the fans (undead) try to get at them, scary stuff, they also have to think of ingenious methods to avoid the carnage of the adoring admirers, sometimes those methods failed and they still got through it *** by losing bits of clothes  and maybe some strands of hair. In 1967 they went on tour with a right motley bunch  including Engelbert Humerdinck, Jimi Hendrix and Cat Stevens and managed to pull it off however this was to be the end of the Walker Bros as the music scene was changing and the psychedelic flower power was taking over.
Gary went on to form the psychedelic "Gary Walker and The Rain" who were successful in Japan but were not as well known in England. John also went solo and even recorded an album with Bill Wyman in 1971 when the Stones were in their Exile phase however this was never released. In 1975 they reformed and scored a top 3 hit with "No Regrets" and went on to put out 3 albums until Scott decided to knock it on the head.
This book is filled with anecdotes that are very funny, bizarre stuff like Werewolf sightings in California to more serious stuff like the fact both John and Gary were very willing to join the Airforce and could have gone to Vietnam, but luckily they both failed medicals, so music was their path thanks to Garys dad lending them money to come to london and then Gary having to persuade John and Scott that England was the place to be and he was on the money on that one. l would like to add would David Bowie please return the £20 that Gary lent you in 1965 and would Bill Wyman please release the John Walker music recorded in 1971. And finally l would like to say Thanks to Gary for the the sweet things he said about my late Father in this book.


By FFR UK Writer: Chris Mcdougall


This DVD captures the essence of the tale of Creation Records started By Alan McGee with help

from Co Founders Dick Green and producer Joe Foster.

Director Danny O'Connor leads us through the adventure of the maverick entrepreneur McGee and

his gang through escapades of good fortune and troubled times during the 80s and 90s underground

music scene.

The film starts with the glorious sound of Upside down by" The Jesus and the Mary Chain" a band that

would take the label to a new level, but before that we embark with the meeting of Alan and Bobby

Gillispie (Primal Scream,The Jesus and Mary Chain) setting the motion of how there lives would

intertwine. McGee moves to London due to a threat of losing his place in a band and after seeing

"The TV Personalities" gets the vision to start his own night "The Living Room" which is an instant

success. With guilt and the money they accumulate, the time is right to start a record label after a few

releases we get an interview with "The Loft" who talk about what it was like to be on the label at the

beginning. After the JAMC's Upside down triumph, more revenue flows in, now its all on the go with

an office and some help in the form of Edward Ball things start to get pacy. Alan then starts another

label with Rob Dickens (Warner Bros) called Elevation which fails after only a couple of records come

out most notable is "Primal Screams" debut classic album.

After the disappointment of Elevation, McGee comes back with a new vigor and signs what are now

the stuff of legends bands such as House Of Love, My Bloody Valentine, he gets into managing some

bands and takes on the majors and gets The House Of Love one of the last of the huge advances that

was soon to disappear from the Majors Purses. More achievements come the way of Creation and its

1st glory period with the likes of Ride, Swervedriver who impress  Seymour Stein of Sire records in

New York and for a while all is smooth though this soons runs its course and after a while things start

to crumble, with another move to Hackney for a bigger building and the hedonistic lifestyle this brings

Creation to another degree this time its gets a bit darker with all the partying and drugs that now infest

Alans mindset but he seems to move through this and still gets the results as the Primals hit the chart

with the acid house influenced Screamadelica.

All through the film interspered, we have frank and at times humorous anecdotes from the likes of

McGee, Gillispie, Noel Gallagher (Oasis) as well as the some of the staff e.g Tim and Chris Abbott as

well as other maybe not so well known musicians like Pat Fish (Jazz Butcher) and Dave Morgan (The

Loft) best of all is the eerie appearance of BP Fallon( publicist  for Marc Bolan,Zeppelin etc).

l would recommend this DVD even if your not a fan of the numerous acts that graced Creation it is

a must for all music fans and it is paramount to the British music scene of the late 80s till the end of

90s when, after the mega feat of Oasis and the takeover by the Sony Corps  its was time to call it a

day.With the current trend for things nostalgic l urge you to go and check out this documentry you

will not be disappointed.

Native American Prophesies: The Hopi Blue Star Prophesy

Mar 12, 2011 Diane Evans The Hopi nation is located in the Four Corners area of the Southwestern U.S. where New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado and Utah meet. [caption id="attachment_14761" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="The Hopi Prophecy Rock "]The Hopi Prophecy Rock [/caption] The Hopi Blue Star or the Blue Kachina Prophecy has been passed along through the generations by oral traditions and ancient rock pictographs. Most of the indigenous tribes of North America have similar stories and prophecies, which originated from their "Star Brothers" who visited them thousands of years ago. Some researchers propose that these visitors were extraterrestrials whom the Hopi called "Kachinas."

The Worlds

According to the Hopi folklore, the First World was Endless Space when the Earth was first created. Since then, life on Earth has been destroyed three times over the course of history. The first destruction was by fire, which might have been a comet or asteroid impact. The next one was the Ice Age and the third one was a major flood which took place 11,000-12,000 years ago. We are now living in the end of days time period of the Fourth World, and the future Fifth World has already begun to emerge as the Age of Aquarius or the World of Illumination. It will be a time of further unrest. We can see this emergence with the political instability of the Middle East and other parts of the earth.
The prophesy also suggests that there will be two more worlds to follow the next one. The Sixth World, which will be marked by prophecy and revelation, and the final world will be the Seventh, a world of completion. The oldest mythology indicates that the Hopi nation came to Earth from the Pleiades, and before leaving that star cluster, they once resided in Lyra, the Ring Nebula. They call it the "Eye of God." It is interesting that many native groups across the globe have stories which say that they came to Earth from other star systems.

The Signs

The Hopi elders are watching for the nine signs that the Fourth World will end soon and they anticipate a sort of judgment day which will be a Day of Purification for the Earth. Many of these signs or prophesies have already come to pass.
  1. The First Sign: The white-skinned European conquerors invaded North America and took the land by force with their thunder-weapons.
  2. The Second Sign: Spinning wheels came across the prairies carrying white men and their families in Conestoga wagons.
  3. The Third Sign: A strange beast similar to a buffalo, but with huge long horns, overran the land. The ranchers built fences to contain these cattle, but it destroyed the prairies for the buffalo grazing.
  4. The Fourth Sign: Snakes of iron crossed the land. That would be railroads.
  5. The Fifth Sign: A giant spider's web of electrical wires criss-crossed the land.
  6. The Sixth Sign: Rivers of stone crossed the land in the form of highways.
  7. The Seventh Sign: The sea turned black in some places and killed many living things because of the oil spills.
  8. The Eighth Sign appeared in the 1960s with the Hippie movement: Young people did come to the tribal nations to learn their wisdom and ways of life.
  9. The Ninth Sign: A blue star fell to the earth causing great destruction and unknown effects. This might have been the US Space Station Skylab which crashed to Earth as a blue fire ball in 1979. But it might still be in the future with the space station or a satellite crashing to Earth or possibly a major hit by a comet or asteroid.

Purification Day

The Hopi Prophesy Rock has a petroglyph on it which signifies the coming Day of Purification. They believe that the Hopi will then fly away from the destruction on the Earth in "ships without wings." According to the prophesy, increased seismic and volcanic activity will be the harbinger of this event. They expect that the first people to see the light of each new day--China, India, Africa, and the Middle East—will start WWIII. With the outbreak of war, the U.S. will be destroyed by "gourds of ashes," which are likely nuclear bombs that will scorch the earth and ruin the rivers. The earth will be barren for many years and there will be few, if any, survivors.

Sickness in the Earth

Roberta Blackgoat, an elder of the Independent Dineh (Navajo) Nation, explained the accelerating rate of catastrophes on the Earth: "All the suffering going on in this country with the tornadoes, floods, and earthquakes is carried on the breath of Mother Earth because she is in pain." The Four Corners area is a sacred territory because it holds the Mother Earth's internal organs. The tribal elders say that coal is like the liver and uranium is the heart and lungs of the Earth. Presently, the Bureau of Indian Affairs has signed over the mineral rights of this area to the Peabody Coal Mine and they are extracting coal and uranium. The Hopi nation continues to fight the mining contract.

The United Nations

The Hopi nation foresees that the residents of Earth are moving into the end of days cycle, and they are very concerned about making the rest of the world aware of it. The spiritual leaders have sent their warnings and messages to the United Nations; however, the world has ignored their warnings. There has been no response. Source: Book of the Hopi by Frank Waters; Penguin, 1977 The Fourth World of the Hopis: The Epic story of the Hopi Indians as Preserved in Their Legends and Traditions by Harold Courlander, University of New Mexico Press, 1987

Egypts Revolt for Human Rights

No wonder the internet access goes down - when the people around the world have the power to unite !

Happy New Year To Ginger & Punk Globe

January issue now up !! go take a read xxx


New Issue Punk Globe Out Now !

October 2010 Features: John G. Rees, John Wozniak, Ginger Coyote & Sharla Cartner Birthday's, Thresher, Glen Matlock, Keith Morris, Brian Kroll, Bekki Bondage, Jayne County, Alex Mitchell, Jack Irons, Kristin Hersh, Nick Traina, Punk Of The Month, Hot Gossip, Eds Saputra, Lillie Von Schtupp , Antiseptic, Atom Age, Poetry By Shamama, My Son The Bum, Executioner, Punk Fest For Childrens Hospital, Jaws The Cabbie, Rhapsody In Black, Glitter Trash, Paul K, Carbon Silicon, Peter Blast, Spector 45, Devils Brigade, Panzer Bastard, Thee SGT Major III, Full Scale Panic, Palm Springs Sucks and so much more




And so, once again the tribes gather for their annual stick of Blackpool Punk Rock at the essential Rebellion Festival. But this year, amongst the rockers, skankers, moshers and voyeurs, something altogether different: Department S. (Queue massed cries of ‘Is Vic There?’ from hordes of those barely familiar or as yet unacquainted with anything but this band’s singular cross-over hit.) A History Lesson. In the late 1970’s Punk came and conquered, but by the early ‘80’s the media became bored and said it was dead. Admittedly it had lost some momentum (and an awful lot of temporary friends, half-assed followers and ‘poseurs’) as much of the youth did what was expected: That is, they grew up and ‘got a proper job’, married, had kids and joined the ranks of the subdued. In the wake of this, a new term was coined: Post-Punk. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. An all-encompassing term for those who had grown up on punk and its’ forbears and had more to say than ‘Destroy’ and more to play than 1-2-3-4 thrash (nice as those things may be). Out of Rusty Egan and Steve Harrington’s ‘Billy’s’ club in Soho and the burgeoning New Mod scene came a new breed not satisfied with simply adhering to any punk leather studded uniform. These scenes produced new bands influenced, not only by the spirit and power of punk, but by The Who, Small Faces, Bowie, Reed, Kraftwerk and Eurodisco. For them it was time to smarten up and get sharp. After a brief dalliance as ‘Guns For Hire’ the ‘Psychedelic Glam, Pop-Art, Post-Punk, Funk’ band that is Department S was born in 1980. By 1982 it was over (just as the UK82 2nd wave hit). They had released three singles, supported the likes of The Jam, The Members and Toots & The Maytals but the usual ‘musical differences’ and the ubiquitous ‘label problems’ took their toll. Their one full album didn’t see proper release until 1993 by which time original singer Vaughn Toulouse had already sadly succumbed to AIDS. That would seem to be, as they say, that. But…. In 2007 they got back together and with the original keyboard player now taking vocal duties there began a whirlwind of activity and recording with the likes of Glen Matlock, Marco Pirroni, Terry Edwards and Mark Bedford and a series of excellent, well received live shows. If you want the full skinny visit their website at In The Ballroom. The current line-up arrived at Blackpool having never attended let alone played the festival. There where some understandable pre-show apprehensions. Would they fit in amongst the punk, Oi!, thrash, hardcore noises that make up 90% of the Rebellion bands and attendees. But no worries; this festival always has that other 10% of interesting, esoteric and frankly weird stuff on offer for the more eclectic and open-minded tastes. The band took to the stage at 9pm (following a frankly stupendous set by Hazel O’Connor) in the main Empress Ballroom of Blackpool’s historic Winter Gardens. Their time slot put them up against the likes of  Deadline, Chelsea, Sick On The Bus and The Grit playing the other stages. Would they have an audience? Damn right they would. Dressed in smart, black and grey suits, jackets and ties (and a Fred Perry for the sticksman) they exploded into the first song, ‘Clap Now’, with a tightness and energy that put bands half their age to shame. This is the song they claim should have been a  single but had been rejected by the label. Stupid label. And quite cheeky to open with a song apparently cajoling the audience into appreciation. During the 2nd song. ‘Monte Carlo Or Bust’, singer Eddie drolly inserts ‘’A cheap holiday in other people’s misery’. This band looks like Joy Division but obviously has a better developed sense of humour. He neatly places his jacket by the drum riser. After ‘Age Concern’ the band launch into a rendition of an old Pink Floyd number, ‘Lucifer Sam’. They learnt this song for a recent Syd Barrett charity event and are easily making it their own. They prove there was music before punk. I’m no great Floyd fan but that tracks something I can’t disdain. So far Michael Herbage is earning his reputation as one of the great, unsung guitar heroes. Mark Taylor on bass is solid, note perfect and, with hypnotic circular motifs to the fore, forms a formidable rhythm section with Stuart Mizon’s powerhouse, sometimes dub-like drums. They have to work harder than usual as 2nd guitarist Sam Burnett was sadly unable to make this gig. How the ‘Mizon Machine’ doesn’t go into meltdown or cardiac arrest is a mystery. Sam is missed but not fatally so. ‘Going Left Right’ is up next and by now the audience has swelled to an estimated 5 or 600 bodies. One of the bands largest crowds and definitely their largest ever venue. There’s even a mosh-pit. Mohawk punks, spikes, quiffs and shaven heads are all down there. Jesus! They’re dancing! And Mark takes off his tie. Outrageous. Throughout proceedings, as the spot lights pick out the hidden psychedelic colours in Herbage’s deceivingly black necktie, there is an element in the crowd who keep crying out for THAT song. They are thankfully ignored as the band plunder the Glam graveyard and resurrect the old Alvin Stardust tune and first ‘reunion’ single ‘My Coo Ca Choo’. The words are familiar and the crowd sing along. But the presentation is a so much wilder cousin of the original and the applause is deafening and rapturous. So many old punks grew up on that stuff. Hell, the Glitter Band and T-Rex played last night and New York Dolls are tomorrow. This suits the occasion nicely. Throughout the entire set singer Edward Roxie, it seems impolite to call him Eddie, prowls the stage languorously like some kind of lazy leopard casting apparently, but deceivingly, indifferent eyes over the faces of the crowd. His impeccably smart clothes and the matter of fact delivery of inter-song information and anecdotes decry the animal delivery of the new song ‘Slave’. A totally un-PC, apparently misogynistic (but awfully funny) lyric screams forth like some throwback to the garage rock of The Seeds or The 13th Floor Elevators. Lovely. Then it’s latest single ‘Wonderful Day’. Fantastic. Easily the equal, if not the better of, any of the original ‘80’s material. Bodes well for the new album, which I believe, may be called ‘Mr. Nutley’s Strange Delussionarium’. Or then again it may not. ‘Ode To Koln (The Stench Of Death)’ has a title that sounds like some death-metal slipped into the set. It didn’t. More fantastic guitar, bass and drum. But this song is hardly done before THAT song is announced. Many know the words. Some know only the one simple refrain…’Is Vic There?’. Herbage produces the right stuff yet again. Obviously slightly different from the original studio production and now lacking keyboards and telephone but with the addition of a ‘Ziggy Stardust’ intro. The crowd go wild. They think it’s all over…It’s not. We’ve reached the last song. Eddie introduces ‘I Want’, the last of the original ‘80’s releases. It’s enormous. We don’t want it to end. But after a few minutes, with lyrics delivered in style, the singer picks up his jacket and put it on. With a vague gesture of farewell to the crowd he saunters off stage right and leaves the musical element of the band to riff and soar for another 5 minutes before the final ringing notes bring the ceremony to an end. There are calls for ‘encore’ but this is Rebellion. There’s a schedule and The Rezillos are waiting in the wings. With final bows the band leaves the stage. The cheers are universal. And they were worried they wouldn’t have an audience. It’ll be even bigger when they come back I guarantee it.



New Edition PunkGlobe Out Now !!

CLICk ON THE PiC n Go Get Ur MonThly Dose !!


Iggy and The Stooges – London – 2/5/10 LIVE REVIEW

According to cultural historians it was a single critical act of random violence at Altamont that delivered the killing blow to the sixties. This opinion has been repeated so often that most people would be forgiven for taking it as a fact, but is that the whole story? Did the sixties really take its last breath as the knife slid into Meredith Hunter? I don’t think so. Slip off the revisionist glasses and it’s obvious that plenty of people were still happily basking in an extended summer of love well into the early seventies. There is no doubt that the events captured on “Sympathy for the Devil” took the sixties crashing to its knees, but wasn’t the final nail in its coffin hammered home by Iggy and the Stooges in ’73 when Raw Power was issued? Was Raw Power the real watershed moment? I’m not going to argue that this is how it was at the time as it wasn’t, but in hindsight, and with the benefit of being able to see what direction music took since, I sincerely believe that it’s very obvious how pivotal Raw Power was as an album. With a nihilistic and primal howl they seemed to take all the musical threads from the fifties and sixties and weave a new pattern from them. A dark tapestry that while admittedly not changing everything overnight, most certainly served as a template for much of what would come in its wake. Looking at it from one angle it’s a simple album that has a familiar and well worn subject matter at it’s core. It’s all sex drugs and rock’n’roll. The unholy trinity that have been every parents nightmare since the first rocker let rip and shook his hips in a juke joint somewhere far back in the mists of time. Yet what makes it so different from all that preceded it is that while it does have that familiar core it’s also steeped in the muscular and visceral madness of loathing through confusion. At it’s dark heart it sounds to me like a coming of age album. A coming of age album that will forever connect with every disillusioned and pissed of teen in the world, and maybe therein lies it’s appeal. While Jagger and co sang “If I could stick a knife in my heart, Suicide right on stage, Would it be enough for your teenage lust, Would it help to ease the pain” you felt it was a hollow promise, but on “Raw Power” Iggy and the Stooges sound like they were ready and willing to spill everything out for you. Every dysfunctional truth torn out and laid bare before you regardless of the reaction it would engender. It’s an out of kilter work of genius whose appeal never diminishes. Poor production and shit re-mastered reissues can’t contain it because it is more than that. It’s quite simply a masterpiece. One that, like Peter Pan, refuses to grow up. Simultaneously it is of its time, and out of time. It’s a bridge from there to here in whatever context you want to put it in. This is why when I heard that ATP had arranged for Iggy and The Stooges to play it in its entirety in the Hammersmith Apollo I dived at the chance of a ticket. While naysayer’s claimed that a band fronted by a 63 year old could never manage to do justice to an album they created over thirty years ago I wasn’t willing to miss this just in case they did. Let’s face it. Iggy and the Stooges doing Raw Power live is like a holy punk pilgrimage that seriously can’t be passed up on. So London was calling and I was answering. On the night we managed to get in early enough to grab a position against the barrier and waited for Suicide - who were going to play their debut in its entirety - to get things started. Now I was keen to see them and considered their addition to the bill as the icing on the cake, but I’ve got to say that now that I have experienced Suicide it’s blatant that all they are about is confrontation. I have never heard anything as loud. Motorhead sound like kids throwing toys about in comparison. The noise emanating from the stage physically pushes against your body and you can feel it internally pounding at your organs. This isn’t entertainment. From Ghostrider onwards it is a relentless war of attrition between band and audience. You don’t go to be entertained by them. You go to perversely push yourselves to the limits of endurance and in the aftermath proclaim you survived them. Thankfully the claim that they were doing the whole album proved to be false and we didn’t get the near ten and a half minute Frankie Teardrop. In retrospect I can say that its inclusion may have served to do little more than decimated the audience. Once they finished you could see pained looks on peoples faces. Some confusion to, but mainly pain. It’s not an experience I wish to repeat. Suicide can stay in my record collection where I can play them at a decibel level that doesn’t leave me feeling like I’ve woken up with a hangover and found myself with my head stuck in a samba drum and Mardi Gras going on in full flow all around me. Everyone who managed to watch them from start to finish really deserves a medal in my opinion, although the people who turned up late, but just in time for the Stooges, probably deserve a degree of recognition just for their keen self preservation skills.Then with the buzzing still reverberating around my ear canals, and without any introduction or prior warning the Stooges were there and storming into Raw Power. With the audience caught off guard it seem to take at least half a minute before they caught their breath and then erupted in fervent adulation. Every misconceived doubt that anyone harboured was banished from the moment that Iggy cast his leather waistcoat aside. This is why I had bought a ticket. This is why I love the Stooges. This is what music is all about. There isn’t a lull. Everything is wrung out on stage. Search and Destroy is a behemoth of a track and Gimme Danger left me with goosebumps rising on my arms and the hairs standing on the back of my neck. This is nothing like an Iggy Pop show. This is more. James Williamson is a demon on the guitar. He might not be moving about much but he is sonically the perfect foil to Iggy performance, While Steve Mackay is obviously enjoying himself on the sax. The whole sound is richer than I expected. If I could grab this and have it as my ears heard it on the night it would be my perfect take of the album. It was seriously that good. By “Your pretty face is going to hell” Iggy is in the audience. He literally flies into it like a heat seeking missile. This is a man in his sixties stage diving and there is nothing unnatural about it at all. During “Shake Appeal “ he is doing his usual and inviting people up and of course there are plenty of people more than willing to join them on stage. Spastically jerking across the stage there is no stopping Iggy. He’s a powerhouse. I’m wilting and he is still driving onwards and upwards. By this point I’m losing track of what order everything is coming in. I’m being swept away with it all. This is up there as one of the best gigs I have ever been to, and if I consider that I’ve been going to approximately three gigs a month, every month for the last twenty eight years that tells you something about how fuckin’ special this was. Penetration was pretty much perfection, as was Death Trip. Hell the whole of Raw Power was perfect. Once they were finished that we got songs from the debut, Funhouse and even Kill City. Everything was pounding by in a rush by this point. It’s frantic and wild in the crowd. A real melting pot of ages and sexes thrashing about in ecstasy. I got a right was a clarion call to arms that we all wanted to answer, I wanna be your dog will always be a fans favourite and tonight showed why. Can you imagine a gig that he didn’t actually perform it? The crowd would lynch him. Open up and Bleed had me gasping for air in slack jawed in wonderment. Then the Stooges left the stage leaving Iggy to bait and toy with the crowd before he finally disappeared to rapturous applause that he milked to the maximum. If it ended right at that point I would have been more than happy, but no, with hardly any time for the audience to take a breath the roadies are holding the guitars out for Scott Ashton and James Williamson who once again slip the straps over their shoulders and commence to blow everyone away on Funhouse, then Kill City before finally Johanna. Iggy doesn’t appear to be flagging at all throughout the whole performance. While he is very obviously sweating like a racehorse I would have bet money that we, as an audience, would have capitulated and threw in the towel before he would have. Again the band are gone and again Iggy is milking it. Of course much of this is a tried and tested performance, but how much is an act and how much is just wild abandon is hard to say. You can’t see the joins. I’ll say it again. It’s perfection. If I had to rate this out of ten then I would have to give it the old Spinal Tap eleven. El Diablo