Sir Bendigo Wonglepong In Search Of Lost Time Dept. - The Paramounts

Sir Bendigo (far right, with scarf) solicits lift home after gig - "I say, you chaps ..."

 

Sir Bendy tamps his dottle into the grate, pours himself a schooner of Amontillado, and settles back into his favorite chair to wax nostalgic about the birth of rock, pop n' roll!

Your budding cool person [Sir Bendy writes - Ed.] had a choice in the early 60s: Mod, or Rocker? My mother scuppered my brief rocker career by banning both winkle pickers and brothel creepers, although mysteriously Brylcreem was allowed. Rockers were by definition lower-class, whereas Mods had the virtue of being better groomed and not smelling of engine oil.

I was never a proper Mod. I didn’t have a Vespa or a Lambretta, for one thing, although I could occasionally be found getting a lift home from school on the back seat that was usually reserved for girls. I didn’t even have a parka, let alone a sharp suit. I did have a pair of desert boots, though, as worn by my father in the actual desert.

But I did like the music. I was a card-carrying member of the Sue Records Appreciation Society, and my choice collection of singles – Inez and Charlie Foxx, Jimmy McGriff, James Brown, Willie Mabon – gave me a certain amount of cred with actual Mods. The Stateside label was another favourite – The Isley Brothers’ original version of Twist and Shout, Lee Dorsey, John Lee Hooker, Jimmy Reed.

By 1963 The Shades [above - Ed.], a scruffy caff on Southend seafront, was Mod Central, easily identified by the number of scooters parked outside. It had a malodorous basement with eggboxes on the ceiling where on Sunday nights on payment of a shilling you found Sarfend’s hottest band, The Paramounts [left - Ed.] bashing out R&R and R&B favourites by the likes of The Coasters, Ray Charles and Jerry Lee Lewis. It was almost as if they were Sue appreciators too – as were what seemed like way too many people jammed into this shoebox. The band consisted of two people who were going to become world famous – Gary Brooker on battered upright piano and Robin Trower on guitar (the Shades was owned by his parents) – and a couple of blokes on bass and drums. The noise they made was sensational – loud, hard-rocking and funky, with Brooker’s gravelly vocals the icing on the cake. (How is it that some people are convincing soul/blues singers while still in their teens – e.g., Brooker, Rod Stewart, Chris Farlow – whereas my most likely option was to be a Val Doonican tribute act?) I was also massively impressed by Brooker’s piano-playing, which was something that differentiated them from the millions of two guitars, bass and drums outfits of the time. It’s not hard to play the What’d I Say intro in the left hand, but when you try to add a right hand it all falls apart – in my experience, anyway. Brooker could do stuff like that and sing at the same time.

I didn’t see them very often – you know, Sunday night, school the next day. In any case it wasn’t long before the band broke out of the Shades. They got a record deal, the Stones called them the best R&B band in the country, and they were gigging in all the cool London places. Inevitably the records were a bit of a disappointment – classy, but lacking the excitement. The first, Poison Ivy, bothered the lower reaches of the charts, but after that nothing. They were Sandy [Sandie, Shirley? - Ed.] Shaw’s backing group for a while, including on a tour with Adam Faith. They were bottom of the bill for the Beatles’ last UK tour in December 1965.

It seems that their last gasp was supporting Cream at one of their early gigs at Warwick University in November 1966. This is very odd – I was actually there, and I have no memory of The Paramounts being there at all. You’d think, wouldn’t you…too busy asking Clapton what his favourite guitar was, probably. And then they broke up of course…

…to reappear ultimately as Procol Harum. By 1969 all the original members of The Paramounts made up Procol Harum, including Chris Copping, who was the original Paramounts bass player. Personal brush-with-fame footnote: I had piano lessons from a woman called Miss Mills – not Mrs Mills, who would have been much more fun. So did Chris. Every so often she would have little musical afternoons in her house, which was a long bus ride away, and I was put into his care (this was pre-60s). He more or less ignored me – fair enough, we went to the same school (as did Robin Trower) and I was a whole two years younger. You could say he’s been ignoring me ever since.

There’s an album called The Paramounts at Abbey Road 1963-70 [in the comments - Ed.]. If you listen to the whole thing you can hear them getting poppier and further away from their roots. The last six tracks, though, were recorded in 1970, and feature Procol Harum, who at that point were all ex-Paramounts, digging out the old stuff in a stretch of spare studio time. It’s more polished than back in ’62-3, obviously, but if you close your eyes and visualise four lads hammering it out in a miasma of sweat and hamburger grease, you begin to get the idea. But really, they were one of those bands you had to see live [gee whiz - Ed.].

 

Sir Bendigo Wonglepong is inventor of the Dreadnought Night Soil Filtration Nethergarment, as worn by Earl Mountbatten. His collection of Hummel Figurines is second only to that of Chris Farlowe.