Sounds Magazine - 09/08/1980

Pete Makowski deciphers the scrawl in his exercise book

Mike Laye makes with the paints, crayons and Box Brownie.

"This is going to be a centre spread and possibly a front page," announced publishing mogul big Al Lewis in his usual doctorial manner, with the ominous conclusion of ". . . we want you to spill your heart out."

Spilling one's so-called creative heart out is a risky affair (specially with a dodgy ticker like mine), I mean, I know this is only rock and roll and I do like it, chief, but laying one's soul bare for all to see (in this case a dose of journalistic gibberish) is somewhat like the gladiators fighting it out in a coliseum, except in this movie there's no emperor it's the punters who put their collective thumbs up or down.

The — uh — phenomenal rise and rise of Girlschool is no big secret — let's face it, you can't open any of the music rag weeklies without seeing their gobs spattered all over the pages. Initially from what I could gather this crew were regarded as nothing more than a collection of daft boilers who churned out a selection of second rate Motörhead impersonations with the occasional Stones number thrown in for good measure, there were a chosen few that knew what was to come. Credit must be given where it's due and in this case a clenched fist must be raised in honour of Phil 'the man in the Moroccan merry-making strides' Sutcliffe for producing the introductory anthem (typewriter symphony, squire) with a front page story late last year about a bunch of bints heralding from the Southern regions of London who once hocked their butts round the club circuit under the guise of Painted Lady in a bid for credibility.

With bands like Clout and the motley collection of Kim Fowley 'playthings' as past experiences of all female outfits they obviously were in for a hard time, and now without a shadow of a doubt Girlschool must be recognised as the leading pioneers in the battle against sexism. This was finally proved when the sweaty horde of Bingley's HM Barn Dance greeted their set with a unanimous roar of approval, and may I add winning the adulation of the ultimate chauvinists (i.e. the average headbanger) is no mean feat.

The story begins in a pub located somewhere near the nether regions of Wetbourne Park. It's one of those places that has more atmosphere than the whole of Park Lane, but less presence than a hole in the ground. Me and Doug Smith are sitting there whiling away the after hours. Doug Smith — manager — myself — the original subterranean hack.

We both have one thing in common: our faces have the ghostly hue of unmoulded putty. I'd been up literally since the Motörhead bash a week ago, wired like the RKO tower. Doug, well, he carries all the burden in the world on his more than capable shoulders (anyone who manages Motörhead, Magic Michael, Hawkwind and Girlschool deserves to have concave cheekbones).

In this area of the musical playground Doug's a deep sea diver with just enough oxygen, fortunately he always manages to surface in time. Doug is the original manager, something McLaren wanted to be but couldn't sustain. He's the man with the proverbial ear to the ground, the man who has to totally believe in what he's dealing with. This isn't yer regular sycophantic bullshittery, just yer regular genuine praise.

I must add that he also has that flammable and neurotic persona down to a tee, like one of those guys playing a cameo role of a Mr Ten Percent in a 1930 movie ... yet this guy's for real — a genuine hippy/whatever, which could probably be one of his biggest downfalls.

So here we all are sitting on a Friday night end of the day rainbow. Doug's already swilling down his third large dose of JB's scotch while I delicately pull on a Pils and lime, fighting back a monstrous attack of the cold sweats. We're both well and truly (expletive deleted — Mrs Carter's been in this state, while Jimmy is at the moment).

Doug is about to embark on a holiday which induces the normal ship captain's paranoia, it's almost like asking a doctor to take a tea break halfway through a serious operation. I feel pretty roadworn, almost like I've been on the whole of the Girlschool tour, having seen four of their gigs in less than two weeks plus a few melodramas in between. Jeez, let's face up to the awful reality, I feel like the sweat under their roadie's armpit, the battered castors that support their cabinets, maybe even a shell-shocked flight case. The parasite who lives on our source of enthusiasm has almost sucked me dry.

Tonight we are going to check out the damsels at Friars Aylesbury. The 'A' in Aylesbury, so I had been led to believe up to this point, stood for atmosphere, which as it transpired when the evening took its course was true ...

Meanwhile, taking things back a few hours earlier in the aforementioned brew- saturated hovel, I was explaining my problem of having to write 'x'-amount of words on Girlschool, the trauma in question being the fact that I'd already pumped praise in their general direction (and under many guises) more times than I care to remember. It was almost like I felt burnt out/drained of any new angles of approach with this particular subject but at the same time responsible in as much as I feel more aware than anyone else of the situations surrounding and within the band at this particular moment.

"Doug," I said, trying to take a hit on my vile concoction (which is almost medicinal, but the only kind of hop I can digest), "writing about this band of yours is somewhat like trying to screw the same girl for the fourth time and attempting to derive the same pleasure/enthusiasm/innocence that you felt at first." I just didn't know if I could do it without the end product coming over a wee bit too contrived.

Douglas, even in his bleary/bug-eyed state, provided a simple answer for this problem. "Look Pete," he said, clutching on his goblet of firewater like it was a pair of water wings on the Titanic, "we've all had the same problem with women, but then you find one who always makes you feel good, and then you stick around."

It's then that I realised maybe after all this relationship would last, eh?

I witnessed the band for the first time on a French tour that had been whittled down to two dates, allowing them to get into the studios and complete their debut album with 'Uncle' Vic Maile (of Inmates, Lew Lewis and Eddie And The Hot Rods fame). Prior to that I had only read the words of Monsieur Sutcliffe whose reviews were devoid of any sexual innuendos or condescending/apologetic ('Well they're not bad for gurls') prattle, he just liked their music and playing, nuff said.

I must admit I found it difficult to retain any normal perspective on the band (and I totally blame it on my upbringing) but in the final analysis there's no doubt that Girlschool! are heads above yer average current, rabble of so called heavy metal units who would probably be back doing their factory jobs if wasn't for this current craze, which like any other fad allows the dregs to cash in, and will ultimately prove to be damaging and a case of 'survival of the fittest'.

Girlschool have been working non-stop almost since their inception, initially taking on choice support tours and then slowly building up for their own headlining jaunts. Their sweat and slog has finally paid off, what with a chart-album and a single (a tastefully revamped version of The Gun's 'Race With The Devil') heading up that way with bullet-like momentum. Rumour has it that Top Of The Slops will be back on the air this week, so don't be too surprised if you see the band on it .

Girlschool have approached their climb up the ladder in a traditional manner, i.e. taking their music to the people first, getting an audience that would buy the product (such an antiseptic term). There is not even a vague scent of hype that can be attributed to their success unlike say the Runaways who, in my mind (sorry Sandy), were a pre-packaged Brooke Shields quintet for the pre-pubes and raincoat brigade.

No way have Girlschool used their obvious feminine attributes to blind you into any false preconceptions, it's the music that strikes first and if you get a hard on. well there's a bonus.

And remember they're dealing with a breed of punter that's totally ignorant to fluttering eyelids and pouting lips, they almost follow a primeval instinct and if you can't cut the cake, then you've had it, buster. This almost reptilian ignorance makes it more pleasurable to know that Girlschool have been accepted as 'one of the lads'.

At Bingley, I saw rivvum guitarist/vocalist Kim McAuliffe almost crack up with fear prior to the band's performance. This was due to the fact that the group they were about to follow, Mythra, had been given a less than homely welcome, to put it mildly. As soon as the girls hit the stage all worries were immediately put to rest, now it's past history, then it was a landmark. Another notch on the belt.

Their muscle is in their music, which is in a class of its own. Each song is carefully honed down just leaving the bare essentials that make for rock and roll. Tight, economical, melodic, you name it they've got an uncanny grasp of it. This is presented with flair and a basic honesty that makes it almost impossible to dislike them. They all play their instruments with that kind of apathy and understanding which leaves no space for doubt as to whether they enjoy what they're doing. Dissect the structure and each individual shines out brightly in her own light.

Denise Dufort, a miniscule powerhouse who can bulldoze her way on the skins with the best of them; bassist Di 'Enid' Williams who pumps, pulsates and supports the main structure of the song with power and precision; front person Kim McAuliffe fulfilling her function as rivvum guitarist to the hilt; lead guitarist Kelly Johnson who plays with maximum guts and power and improves one each viewing.

There's nothing prissy about this lot and I can almost understand why Jeff Beck couldn't believe it was the fairer sex laying it down on vinyl when he reviewed their single on Roundtable, a few weeks back (but we'll get to that later).

We arrive at Friars and immediately head off backstage. The entourage find it quite amusing that Doug's name isn't on the guest list and he quips, "It's alright. I'm only the manager." This was met with the archetypal, "That's what they all say, mate."

Finally we get to the dressing room which, due to a non functioning air conditioning unit, is like a Turkish sauna.

The girls try to muster as much enthusiasm as they can on our arrival, but even beaming smiles can't disguise the fact that they are pretty much shagged out. Their only day off that week had been blown out to make room for some promotional work in Holland, and the effect of having this gruelling trek extended due to the popular response towards the album isn't helping to ease the strain. But still they're well aware that it's better to be wanted than cast aside and out of favour, and they seem forever grateful — almost humble — that there's so many people out there that want to see them.

This and the fact that they're a very closely-knit family (right down to the last humper) makes for a very solid unit.

Doug greets them with the news that their single has gone straight in at numero 60 and every-growing sales indicate that it should be in the 30s by the time you read this piece. They respond with an almost naive disbelief, why would so many people want to buy something that's already on their album?

"Listen, you're dealing with a different market," explained Doug. "On singles you're not selling to your audience, you're selling to the airplay audience and if you cross the board then all that will happen is that the single will go up and drag the sales of the album back up again. I want that album to finish with 30,000 sales, 'cause with that kind of figure we've made some sort of point."

At the moment, a lot of the economics of da biz seem to be going over Girlschool's heads, chart success to them means an appearance on TOTP which will fulfil another (perverse) ambition. Although they are surrounded/cloaked with an ominous sense of responsibility, there's still no doubt that they're in it for the romance, they still know what F-U-N means, and somehow (and God I hope I'm right) I don't think they'll ever change. It seems almost unthinkable to viddy them as pompous, uptight superstars, unlike another band one could mention whose egos have inflated to almost Zeppelin-like proportions even though they don't mean a toss anywhere except for this country and have in no way had the success to justify their outright arrogance (it must be something they put in their tea).

Anyway, back to the more palatable side of R&R, i.e. Girlschool, and the first topic of conversation seems to revolve around a piece that appeared in last Thursday's Daily Mail gossip column where it was claimed that the ol' ex-PM Harold McMillan's daughter Rachael had fritted away 25 grand in the process of attempting to manage bands, one of them it's said being Girlschool (who were described as 'new wave', which shows you what a suss rag it is).

"She did want to manage us, almost pleaded for the job," said Kim, "but no way did she spend that amount of money on us." in fact the figure laid out on the group is somewhere between zilch and a ton. Oh well, funny how these stories come up when people start making a name for themselves innit?

Somehow I found it almost embarrassing to play the role of the straight man and also Girlschool were getting keyed up, going through the ritual preparations for their performance. So as the surrounding sandwiches curled up in the stifling humidity and the second band of the night Angle Witch took to the stage, I switched on my recorder and this is the conversation that ensued.

Kim: "You should do this after the gig when we're all bloody out of it."

The chit-chat starts with the story behind the title track of their album 'Demolition', which is based on a self-created fantasy set in the future when companies hire out groups to knock down buildings by playing in front of them.

Kim: "It's sort of dedicated to Motörhead, it's set in the future when instead of bringing demolition squads they get a band like Motörhead to tear the building apart."

PM: Do you think you're leading a crusade in the sexism stakes, do you want to be associated with all that?

Kelly: "When there's more girl bands about it won't be important any more."

Kim: "People ask us what it's like to be in a band with four girls working together, we just say it must be the same as being in a male band, with blokes working together."

Kelly: "Chrissie Hynde said she couldn't understand why some groups felt compelled to have all girls in the band, which is stupid."

Kim: "She said 'I'd rather have three honeys in the band'. People ask us why we haven't got a male member in the band, it's just the same, it all depends how it works out with the actual band. If you get on together, it doesn't matter really, does it?"

PM: How do you feel about Bingley, winning over such a large audience?

Kim: "I think the place was too big. it was a great gig, I just think it was unfair on the audience."

PM: You've been getting your fair share of good reviews recently.

Kim: "I'm just waiting for the bad ones to start coming in. It's great, especially with journalists - like Mick Middles and the other one in Record Mirror, we've heard of them but we've never met them, we didn't know they came to see us. It's nice to know that even people that you don't know like you."

PM: You seem to have a dedicated group of fans that follow you around the country, who are they?

Di: "The Barmy Army, you'll get to meet them soon."

Kim: "Mick and Flash are great, they've been following us for the last couple of weeks, they've got their tents with them."

Di: "There's this guy called Anthony who's a farmer, he's been driving around following us, he's weird. He just stands in front of the stage and watches us ... just stares."

PM: What sort of position do you find yourself at this moment?

Kim: "I just think we've got to get some songs together, much better than the old ones."

Di: "The main thing is to record another album. 'Cause with the first one we expected to get a few good reviews and a few bad ones. But the reviews have been so much better than we thought, that there's almost an obligation to do something much better next time."

Kim: "Our producer, Vic, didn't expect this one to get near the charts, and he said the next one's got to be brilliant."

PM: How do you ally yourself to the NWOBHM, do you feel a part of it?

Kim: "I think we are a part of it, in as much as we're a new band playing heavy music."

Di: "There's a lot of bands coming out now that sound the same."

PM: Have you started to write any new material?

Kim: "We've all got a few ideas but at the moment we're all so knackered, not trying to make any excuses, but we rarely have time to work them out, and any time we have had, we've just been resting up."

PM: How do you feel about the comment Jeff Beck made when he said he couldn't believe it was girls playing on 'Race With The Devil'?

Di: "John Peel said it was something like the most sexist remark of the year."

Kim: "I thought it was really silly when he said we sounded like guys, I mean how can you tell the difference when a bloke or a girl plays? I suppose it's nice, sort of a back handed compliment in a way."

PM: Do you get any unusual reactions being an all-girl band on the road?

Kim; "I don't think people are making such a big thing of it any more. About two years ago when we started up playing the pubs and clubs, then people made a fuss of it. The thing about girl musicians is that we all know each other, apart from the new ones cropping up like Body snatchers. 'Cause when we started up all the other girl players used to come up and check us out, that's how we got to know each other."

PM: Do you get any female fans?

Kim; "Very rarely, there was one girl in Bristol who came to see us, she wanted to start a band up, but mainly we get blokes."

PM: Why do you think that is, is heavy metal male orientated music?

Di: "Guys come along in groups, the only time a girl will come is with her boyfriend."

Kim: "I used to go to heavy gigs by myself!"

Di: "Yeah, but that rarely happens, you get more blokes at a disco than you would get girls at a heavy metal gig."

PM: There were more girls associated with punk rock than heavy metal.

Kim: "That is because the standard of musicianship didn't have to be so high and it was a fashion as well."

Di: "Yeah; but lyrically a lot of girls must be put off by heavy metal 'cause of the sexist thing."

Kim: "But I think this sexism thing has gone to far, like all the fuss made about the words to 'All Night Long'. Some girls, even if they don't put it into words, act the same way as blokes. I mean, I bet Roger Glover wasn't serious when he sat down and wrote those words, he was probably having a laugh, and it's a good song anyway, really tongue in cheek."

PM: Do you think you get any voyeurs at your gigs, who come and see you for a quick leer?

Kim: "Yeah. you can tell them straight away, they're the ones who stand at the back."

Di: "They only come once out of curiosity."

Kelly: "Once they realise that we don't flash our tits or wear suspenders they don't come again."

The show on that particular night wasn't the best of the bunch. The audience in, what I'm led to believe, typical Aylesbury fashion, put all they had into it, which made up for the flaws, that were hardly noticeable anyway.

The occasional thunder flash going off at erratic interludes and few very minor cock ups gave the whole thing an endearing quality: the band haven't quite got to grips with their star billing in this particular movie (it's that kind of Marilyn Monroe vulnerability).

No way have Girlschool lost their roots, they still communicate with their audience, treat them like old friends. There is the occasional horrendous Day Of The Locust scene when a horde of clutching paws grab on to Kelly like another piece of meat, but that's all a part of .the biz I s'pose. The band were pissed off with their performance, their hang-dog expressions said it all. Doug Smith looked on with a mixture of almost paternal concern and bemusement, he's probably been through this scene so many times before. He knew in some ways he was helpless in this situation, it's almost like trying to explain away the facts of going through adolescence, they have to work it out for themselves.

After a few minutes of cursing the monitors, PA and other mechanics, they were back to their normal cheery selves, another night was over. In time they'll learn that you can't give out 100 per cent every night although this lot would if they could. Me, I thought back a couple of weeks down the Electric Ballroom, where everything was in synch with the audience and band erupting in unison like some uncontrollable volcano. Everything gelled and a few heads were turned (including Mr B's).

In full flight Girlschool can rock you rigid. They possess the pure ingredients of what heavy rock is really about, that bombastic, uncontrollable energy which when contained can create tremors in the spine and have you shaking all over.

Women in rock, sexism, the future is female — sod that! To coin a phrase in a campaign that was doing the rounds a while back — Girlschool are a group.

And a bloody good one at that!

(Pete Makowski)