Recently I downloaded some outstanding tracks by seminal sixties pop group Gerry and the Pacemakers. The simple nature of the sound and the innocence of the scouse vocals somehow balance the sickly and quite frankly inane lyrical content, it’s great stuff you should try it.
A few years back I worked for a mates sixties cover band in which his dad was the guitar player. The gigs consisted of weddings and 50th birthdays in barns and vinyl seated social clubs, with all the gear being lugged about in the obligatory white Transit van.
We must have heard those Gerry and the Pacemakers tracks hundreds of times, but I can’t ever remember getting bored of hearing the exquisiteness of that authentic guitar sound. A Gibson Epiphone through a Fender twin if I recall correctly, and fantastic it sounded too. Melodic jangly shimmering harmonies at their absolute finest.
Then one day the rest of the band decided that they didn’t like that authentic sound any more, they wanted to move away from the beauty of, ‘Don’t let the sun see you crying’ towards the tedium of Robbie Williams covers. So with ideas well below their station they asked him to leave the band. If it wasn’t quite so tragic it’d be funny. What a bunch of tossers.