On tour with Slade In Scotland

 

THANKSGIVING DAY in Glasgow? But where else? I am in Scotland, on tour with Slade, and if you read this column regularly, you know I'm here because "Slade Alive!" is the first album I've heard in years that cures everything from the acute schizophrenic-paranoid blues to the creeping boredom and pretentiousness which has been strangling music.

The scene in Glasgow is unbelievable. It's supposed to be an incredibly tough town where audiences rip up entire rows of seats, pelt bad performers with sordid flying objects and wreak endless mayhem among themselves. Well, it's true, they are a little high spirited but somehow it's always good natured and never vicious. The concert hasn't even started and they're up on their feet, stomping, clapping and yelling that they want Slade. When the group finally enters the applause is deafening. Slade, as you know if you've heard the record, is the live band to end all live bands. The audience is it's life. Singer Noddy Holder and guitarist dave Hill conduct the entire room as if it were the Boston Symphony Orchestra and it responds as obediently as if they were Leonard Bernstein and Michael Tilson Thomas.

Noddy doesn't take any risks. "Everybody get in the mood," he barks. " Right from the start."Yeah, well listen to the record and to see what happens when he says that!

There is not one person sitting. Not one. There is not one person without his or her arms above his or her head clapping, and his or her feet stamping on ancient Glasgow cinema seats. I don't think Glasgow kids are violent, I think glasgow theatres need stronger seats. Slade had better not book into carnegie when they come here early in 1973. The Academy of Music is more their speed. (Don't worry Howard Stein, they always pay their repair bills promptly and in full.)

Remaining seated during a Slade performance is like Sleeping Beauty not waking to the prince's kiss. You don't stay quiet, either. As for dancing , it's just not the odd minute in the aisles in those happy closing moments of a Kinks or Beach Boys concert. this is middle aged plump tea ladies in neat blue uniforms, boogieng like there's no tomorrow. Gentlemanly Mel Bush, who promotes this and Bowie tours in England, watches and smiles benevolently.Soon the whole front of the stage is arms, outstretched and jabbing in time to Don Powell's powerful drums and Jimmy Lea's King Kong bass. there isn't a move you do all night that isn't dictated by those two instruments. Travelling with a band is always strange. All that power and energy on stage and off stage just four exhausted people. A drummer that is like a good looking Alice cooper on stage is surprisingly quiet and modest off it. Bass player Jimmy is little and frail and plays "the Lady Is A tramp" and "Ave Maria" delicately on the fiddle in the dressing room to warm up. Noddy Holder, lead singer choirmaster, a great lout of a boy in action, is melancholy and broody in the tradition of a thousand great British comics. Someone has to put him in movies. His stage costume is a brilliant piece of design - huge clog like skinhead boots, red and yellow striped socks, high, tight checked pants held up by red suspenders and a top hat covered in big mirrors. he looks like a drawing in a comic strip. When he sings " Get Down and Get With It," believe me, everyone does.

The other piece of brilliant costuming comes from guitarist Dave Hill. Dave has just broken his ankle because a fan pushed him down some stairs. he licks his lips happily as he tells you this story of unbridled female eagerness. He can't walk anyway, so he has to sit on a silver throne, which is right since he always wears silver on stage, ridiculous silver leather suits he designs himself meant to poke fun at the Bowies and the Bolans and the rest of the "glam rock" gang. he also wears glitter, great gobs of it, held on with sweat and spit across his broad forehead and thin brown hair. That too, is done in a gesture of fun, but the kids adore it and there isn't a teeny magazine in England or Scotland without a picture of this reformed skinhead in his jewelled drag.

One of the things that struck me during the tour, where I never tired of a performance nor ever saw any one of the four do anything that was phony, affected or selfish, was that though they are a delight for older fans, they are also a marvellous younger kids band. When I suggested to manager Chas Chandler (the former Animal who made Jimi Hendrix a star ) that he should have Slade do matinees in America for all the kids who can't go to concerts, he looked delighted.

The only reason younger kids buy so much pap is that it's sometimes all they know. As for us older kids with younger hearts, what can I tell you? I had a wonderful time and I love those four nice kids like brothers. As I keep saying, listen to the record. The music, as usual, says it best of all.

 

LILLIAN ROXON, NEW YORK DAILY NEWS 23/11/1973