THE RECORDS: Not Made To Be Broken

THE RECORDS: Not Made To Be Broken

J. Kordosh

When I pulled into the Standard gas station, I hopped out and asked the attendant if I could pump my own. “I’ve got to see a band that’s playing around the corner,” I explained, “and I’m kind of late.”

The attendant shrugged, and pointed to the rows of empty parking spaces. “Not many people there tonight,” he said. “Usually we’ve got people parked all over the place.”

Going into the concert hall nee theatre— an east side Detroit venue with notoriously bad acoustics—I decided the attendant was right. The place looked about as full as it should be for your average sound check. An employee of the joint said that 200 or 300 people had paid toget in; being somewhat more objective, I mentally adjusted the attendance to about 150.

This handful of people had paid to see a band whose most recognized song, “Starry Eyes,” is a tribute to the incompetence of their former manager. A band that has been compared, variously, to Badfinger, the. Byrds, and the Beatles. What they didn’t know is that they were seeing a band that was pulling out of their American tour three weeks ahead of schedule, four weeks after the release of their second album. The Records seem to be plagued with an inordinate amount of bad luck. Even for musicians, I mean.

☆ ☆ ☆

We never; asked for miracles But they were our concern Did you really think we’d sit it out And wait for your return?

I don’t wanna argue I ain’t gonna budge

I don’t wanna argue

There’s nothing to say

Just get me out of your starry eyes

And be on your way.

“Starry Eyes”

on’t you take this number down Before you call up the judge?

We like obscure groups. A lot of groups do great stuff and never get recognized. -Will Birch

The Records are onstage, looking clean and playing clean, too. There is a school of thought that holds that bands like the Records—who perform, basically, melodic pop—should dress really sharp, even sharper than normal people who shop at K-Mart. For the sartorial-minded, then, I’ll note that rhythm guitarist John Wicks opted for a blue shirt with pink polka dots. Bass-playing Phil Brown looked smart in a short-sleeved white shirt, in contrast to drummer Will Birch’s choice of basic black for his torso wear. They were all outdone by their lead guitarist, though, Jude Cole—the only American Record—who chose a nondescript sport coat to cover his white t-shirt. “What a sharp jacket!” said the fashion-conscious fellow next to me, and I agree. If clothes make the band, give these gentlemen an R.G. Dunn. '

The set is going well enough, but is eliciting a tepid response. Has anybody hea'rd their material? I wonder to myself. Not if they’ve been listening to Detroit’s radio stations, I answer myself.

Later on, Will Birch tells me, “I’ve got a | live tape back at the hotel right now... and in 2 between two numbers, there’s these two £ little guys out down front, and this one little j guy says to his mate, ‘Wow, we’re gonna | have to wait a long timdfor “Starry Eyes.’” ” I (To which Jude Cole adds: “All these songs could be ‘Starry Eyes’ if they got airplay.”) Well, no matter, just like the little guys on the tape, the audience is gonna have to wait for the hit. The Records make it worthwhile.

After 10 or 11 tunes, it seems, the band starts to unwind. They roll off “Girl In The .Golden Disc” (“...and she keeps a diary there, people say that it’s a measure of success”) with Wicks and Cole harmonizing spiritedly. They follow in quick succession with two other cuts off their new LP, Crashes—“The Worriers” and “Man With A Girl-Proof Heart.” The Records seem to be enjoying themselves* even throwing in a little jamming at the end of the last tune.

Although the Encore-o-meter could’ve only been registering in the 60-70 range, the Records come back; now, in retrospect, it seems the set was only a warm-up for the encores. First up is (natch) “Starry Eyes,” and Birch is really pounding jism out of his floor tom by the end of the tune. They follow “the hit” with “Rebel Rebel,” which seems like a charming malapropism at this point. The Records are extremely adept at covering other people’s tunes—but more about that later.

Called back for a second encore (150 people can’t be wrong!), the Records clean up with a cover of the Bay City Rollers’ “Rock ’n’ Roll Love Letter.” That does it, I say to myself. This is a band of integrity. ☆ ☆ ☆

One rock ’n! roll love letter the Records won’t be posting is to Virgin Records, their label. There seems to be some feeling among the group that Virgin isn’t exactly doing all they could for them. Will Birch, the group’s co-founder and lyricist, says, “People you do interviews with...they say JWhy do you think you’re not getting very much promotion?’ You start thinking perhaps you aren’t...then, when someone says it, you'realize you really, really aren’t.

So what do you say: ‘Yeah, we’re getting lots of promotion? What’s the point in saying that? We aren’t.” TURN TO PAGE 60

“It’s really embarrassing,” adds John Wicks, co/co-founder and fellow songwriter. “Everywhere we go, people say—even young kids about 16 or 17, fans who come into the dressing room to get autographs— and they say, ‘Why are you on Virgin? They’re not doing anything for you guys.’ And these are fans who go to all the gigs and they see the promotion every other group gets. And they tell us this. It’s really embarrassing.”

Jude Cole is pleasantly outspoken about the band’s problems with Virgin. “Quote me,” he says. “They can’t kick me out.” (Cole is the only Record unsigned to the label.) “We played a gig in New York,” he says. “And we just came up with an album and we’ve got Atlantic people and Virgin people coming backstage talking about a producer for the next album! This is the kind of shit that this band has had to put up with. And everyone’s keeping their mouth shut (in the band), saying, ‘Yeah, yeah, we’ll talk about it.’ It’s just about time someone said these people are all stupid and no one knows what they’re talking about.”

The problems with Virgin have led to the tour’s cancellation, which does seem to be a spot of bad timing. “We’re in that position where we don’t make money touring,” says Birch. “We don’t even break even. We don’t make a huge loss—we kind of do OK, but we do need a certain amount of... financial support from somewhere.

“The time comes when you’ve got nothing to lose by keeping your mouth shut,” Birch adds, more or less putting the lid on the business chat. “So we’re just gonna say, basically, Virgin has let us down really badly, and I can only imagine it’s because they haven’t got any money.”

Catching the Records when their business affairs seem crumbling is unfortunate. At their best, they are talented songwriters and musicians. Their first LP, The Records, not only included “Starry Eyes,” but had a free EP included. The songs on the EP—“1984” (Spirit), “See My Friends” (The Kinks), “Have You Seen Your Mother Baby (Standing In The Shadow)” (The Stones), and “Abracadabra” (Blue Ash)—are some of their personal favorites. Mine too, but who the hell ever heard of Blue Ash?

“We like obscure groups,” says Birch. “A lot of groups do great stuff and never get recognized.” But despite their obvious insight into some of the better pop material around—their version of “Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby” should comfort the Stones now that they’re in their declining years—the Records pretty much stick to the Records onstage. “We are basically a songwriting group and we’ve got to stand by our own stuff and do it,” says Birch.

As for the inevitable comparisons—and anyone who thinks “I Don’t Remember Your Name” (on Crashes) doesn’t sound like the Beatles should look up the number—the Records are appropriately logical about the whole thing.

“I think there were a lot of people who thought ‘Oh, we’re gonna be the next Beatles,’ ” says Wicks. “Which is really shitty. It’s like being the next Elvis Presley. Someone else is going to come along; it’s going to be a different person. And you can’t measure it against what someone else did before. Paul McCartney did a great Little Richard, but the fact of the matter was, he wasn’t Little Richard. And he never will be; he’s still Paul McCartney. I mean, McCartney could’ve gone around like that guy that does Jimi Hendrix and earn a living, but what’s the point in that?”

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 19

“The Beatles are the definition of pop music,” adds Cole. “And if you write songs that concentrate on harmonies...you’re gonna get compared. And if you concern trate on, power chords, you’re gonna get compared to the Who. Someone’s always trying to compare you to someone.”

Well, I won’t make that mistake. The Records are the Records. And they make good Records. I’m just worried that Crashes might be a little too appropriate a title for their second album. The problems with Virgin seem bigger than a bread box.

“To tell you the truth, it took a lot put of us to go onstage tonight and put on a good show, in the face of what is happening to us,” says Birch. Is there light at the end of their tunnel, I wonder aloud. “Is there wot?” says one of the British Records. Light, you know, at the end of the tunnel.

“There is, but we’ve got to go through a pile of shit to get to it,.” the Records say in semi-unison.

While you were in the pool We were meeting with the boys upstairs Talking to the money-men And carrying out affairs

We had no time for cocktails Or working up a tan The boys have all been spoken to The shit has hit the fan.

—“Starry Eyes”