Having worked right through the weekend (including two hours last night after a bibulous Mexican dinner with Teh Matriarch and the Fam) I've got a sudden Hole in the Schedule that MUST be filled with Music. (What, not enough initial caps?)
I'm headed for the Loft, and not coming down until I've got four minutes of something presentable. I'm thinking something orchestral, but the mood may change before I get home.
These polesmokers can do without me for an afternoon.
Meanwhile, here's a vid-clip that The Admirable Morrish sent me from the Pathé News archives, in response to the Gaylords post. I don't have the British Beat book with me right now, but these guys really-o, truly-o existed. By all acounts, they actually rocked pretty hard. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you -- The Snobs! (Click image to play)
Lookit them toffee-nosed white people clapping on one and three! Drives me bananas, that.
Later edit. Here's the Snobs' listing in British Beat:
Despite the toffee-nosed implications of their name (and outfits), the bewigged Snobs of Croydon could rock with the best of 'em, filling dancehalls and ballrooms around the country with a vivacious, boot-stomping brand of decidedly British rock. No better evidence is needed than their one release, the raucous "Buckle Shoe Stomp," [I believe that's the first song they play in that newsreel, a pretty naked cop of "A Shot of Rhythm and Blues"] issued on Decca in 1964. Colin Sandland (lead), Eddie Gilbert (drums), John Boulden (rhythm) and Pete Yerrell (bass) were originally known as The Apostles, and got their break by hooking up with future royal toastmaster Ivor Spencer, whe became their manager. Spencer renamed them and arranged cabaret gigs in London for the group. The Snobs were huge in Sweden and Denmark and even had a huge single release, "Giddy Up a Ding Dong," exclusive to Scandinavia, but perhaps the most interesting part of the Snobs story is the fact that they visited the United States in April 1964, hot on the heels of the Beatles. The wide-eyed combo appeared on the Red Skelton Show, played some Hollywood parties, and even got to record with maverick producer Gary "Alley Oop" Paxton (sadly, the Snobs' chunky version of "Love Potion Number Nine" never saw the light of day.) The group called it quits the following year, having packed a lot of activity into a brief career.I'd gladly sacrifice a gonad to hear "Giddy Up a Ding Dong," that's all I'm sayin'.