Jiminy jee! Last week the New York Dolls played our block. All the way from across the sea, with the CREEM seal of good quality and bad taste; American’s latest singing sensations. And pretty shitty they were. It was a publicity job, a quick rush by Mercury to give the boys a second nibble at the English cherry. Fill the empty spaces on gig sheets, bags of ads and maybe this’ll be the group to make Mercury a world-) wide sales force to reckon with.

Yeah and they wuz the only people who stayed enthusiastic, as they pushed their press pictures of the NY perves (tight dresses and lipstick, sporting highheeled shoes) and got their knickers in a twist, flinging transfers, shouting for the encore (they was spaced in the audience very cunningly, a nice white sweater every fifth row, clapping their neighbours on the back: “Aren’t they great, man! More!! Huzzah!!”) None of the hype helped* A large made-up mob showed, expecting a drag-act tnore revolting than anything in their wildest teen dreams. Instead they got, for three hours, nothing. “They boys have left their hotel.” Boo! “They’re on the M.I.” Boo! “They’ve reached the car park.” Boo! “They’re in the changing room.” Boo! “And here they are, all the way from New York City, the NEW YORK DOLLS!!” BOOOOOOOO!!!!

A bad start which didn’t get better. Cos they ain’t really very outrageous (Sweet are flashier) and their vulgarity didn’t endear them to a student audience who the week before sat through a gig 'by Brinsley Schwarz and Kilburn and the High Roads whose music is impossible not to dance to. A lot. of drunks, a lot of shouts (“Get ’em off yer bleedin’ fairies!”) a hostile crowd. People left and the Dolls played sullenly on, swearing at each other, going through their motions. It was like a; Slade concert for you — without a supportive, fanatical response the Dolls seemed silly. Pouting and gesturing to nobody. Limp. As their certainty and arrogance faltered the music became an increasingly second rate version of British rock, circa 1965, and no one was inpressed. A disappointing evening: the only bad taste was stale beer and -puke and I still think the Dolls’album is fabulous but they can’t be hyped, can’t be rammed dovvn our lug-holes cos we always did mean to get you Yanks back for your snotty rejection of Slade. So it’s one-all J guess, and we need a battle of the bands on neutral ground-

Britain is best: It’s patriotic month here, as we sink into the worst eco*j nomic crisis since the war. Worse, than yours. Not just shortages — gas and paper and vinyl and glass bottles — but everyone’s been put on a three day working week and there’s no telly after 10:30 pm, no evening football. We’re supposed to tighten our ties, pull together, think of the Empire: we’re on the edge of a slump that British capitalist will be lucky to survive. And what does that mean for the boogiewoogie?

The end of_a boom. The Industry already ran, over the top— not enough plastic and board, electricity even for gigs, petrol for the roadies, not enough to give a greedy people all that they wanted. There’s gonna be less pennies to go round, less demand and what will the poor hustlers do then? Play safe. No more mucking about with groups that don’t count up; no more random releases; no hiore masturbation in studio time. Watch for the return of the accountant, the demise of the advertising men. We’re in for ,a safe period.

Which is half what people are going to want anyway — slump music. The way the industry sees it is in big letters: | Escapism, Sentiment. Family Entertainment. Time to Close Ranks. Safer to sell 100,000 copies of one record than -1,1)00 copies of a hundred records. The British biz has always been best at that, making the world of rock safe^ forV democracy. And that’s what we’re in for at the official level — a definite shift into the middle of the road. It’s happening to Radio I, to commercial radio, to the top twenty. Slurrk and there’s gonna be pressure on Slade to broaden their appeal, spend their Sunday nights at the London Palladium, plug their .chirpy charm. They may or may not resist; the point is, that the money men are going to be increasingly wary of teen appeal — “what else can you do, boy?”

Good luck and all that, but I think we’re in for the most, exciting English rock since the early sixties. Cos the other side of the record is that as companies stop signing, aspiring superstars will go native and do Without studios and satins and the trappings and as h.p. gets tougher instruments will get rougher and as. unemployment rises, music will be a career again and as we dig in only rock will dig' us out. Which should mean that We’re in for music that’s 1) live 2) local 3) crude 4) real 5) a struggle. Remember the Beatles and all that — the rock boom of the last ten years hasn’t been all Go.„Smarty pants abound, a split between rock ’n’ pop, a gap between the earth and the stars. I’ve never understood who needed Jethro Tull or Genesis or Yes and maybe, with a bit of luck and a lot of slugging, no one will now because what they would 6e like WITHOUT ANY MONEY!!! I rub my hands and Wait for the creators to come from the cracks.