Roy Weard - A Musical History part II

 

The Grope Story

In many ways this was a proto punk band and we went out of our way to try to shock. The poster was a 'dirty picture' that someone had passed around at a factory that Roy Wood was working in at the time. It featured a large breast being squeezed and pulled upwards. We augmented this with just the word 'Grope', scrawled across it. Al Haines, the band's singer used to wear Marks and Spencer polythene bags for T-Shirts (he says they were Tesco's bags and Marks and Spencer were too upmarket for him - it was a long time ago.) and came direct from the building site he worked at to gigs - usually covered in cement dust. This band did paid gigs for the first time! The initial band went through several line up changes but settled down to a nucleus of Al Haines : vocals / Roy Wood : guitar, vocals / Johnny Lyons : bass guitar and a drummer called Paul whose second name I completely forget. For a while we also had a bass player called Bill Branch and a drummer called Mick Cole. This was also the band where I met John Brown who drove the van for this and many other of my bands for very little remuneration. I have been having an internet discussion with Al Haines over recent months so what follows is the story from his point of view. Any interjections from Roy Weard are marked.

Grope (slideshow)

So now, in Al's own words, we present The Grope Story

I first encountered the Wood boy at a Pretty Things gig at Rush Green College. He was fronting a band called Stranger Than Yesterday. The closing song was called 'Cosmic Dance' and I can still picture him grappling with the vocals whilst blinking out through the Psychedelic Light Show provided, I believe, by The Gromit Light Show.

It may have been weeks or perhaps months later when our paths crossed again, this time at The Greyhound in Chadwell Heath (or Goodmayes). I think Serendipity were playing. I was behind him in the bar while he was being served. He insisted on having a slice of lemon with his drink. I remember thinking, "What the f--k?". In neither of those two encounters did I ever think that we would have sufficient in common to go on and form a band. For the life of me I cannot remember how we did get together. Were we introduced by a mutual friend? Did we meet under the clock at Waterloo Station? Roy Wood and Al Haines I don't know how or why I ever got mixed up in that whole drugs/ music scene. At school I was pretty bright but never achieved my full potential (how often has that come back to haunt me?). I was very sporty and had enjoyed reasonable success on the athletics track and sports field. For all of that though I did have what is now termed, "attitude" and was quite an angry young man. So perhaps Grope became an outlet for that pent up view that the world is a pretty unfair place.

Bowlby’s ‘attachment theory’ tends to oscillate in and out of popularity. The problem for theories though is that they are merely theories. But just tap the peak of your cap at Bowlby’s effort though. Way, way, back he reckoned that a child deprived of the affection of his/her mother and (as he later acknowledged) father will seek other forms of attachment. Okay, so there you are scratching your head. Why do I share this with you? My Mum died when I was eight. My father was sadly lacking in the skills of bringing up two sons on his own. Not only absolutely shell shocked at losing his wife but his army training deprived him of any graces attached with good parenting. (I later forgave him for this). Now then, enter Bowlby. He would argue, rather forcibly I fancy, that my need was to seek attachments elsewhere and therefore Grope became my surrogate family. So whilst one may sneer at the value of theories Bowlby offers a reasonable explanation as to why (arguably out of character) I became involved with Grope and how those guys became such an important (and affectionate) part of my life.

So, with the academic stuff out of the way, back to the story. I recall your place in Romford Road. You lived with a rather pleasant young lady named Peta Watson. What happened to her? (We lost touch years ago. Shame she was a good friend for many years- Roy) We tried to soundproof the cellar with lumps of polystyrene so we could rehearse down there.

Memory test for you (RW that is). What was GRAMEBO?

Way back in the dark distant ages the UK telephone system consisted of named exchanges Dominion (Dagenham), Dreadnaught (Earls Court), Speedwell (Golders Green) and a whole host of odd names. These were referred to by the first three letter so a phone number for a Dominion exchane would be DOM 1434. (I remember this because it was my aunt's phone number). Then we we removed this wonderfully archaic system and replaced it with the cold tryranny of numbers ( a foretaste of things to come) I rebelled agaist that and changed the phone number in my house in Romford Road to GRAMEBO (ie all letters). It still functioned as a phone number and was it was much more fun to pick up the phone and sau 'Hello, GRAMEBO' than '472 3626' - Roy

Well done on the GRAMEBO quiz. An excellent bit of subversion. Is it too late to mount a campaign to bring back those old telephone exchanges? FLAxman was a particular favourite for me with FRObisher up there amongst the also rans.

Mick Cole (Grope Drummer) and I shared a flat in Ilford High Road with a black guy (was his name Chas?) ( Yes! - RW) who tried to emulate Eddie Grant by firstly having bleached blond and then ginger hair. Do you remember the impromptu gig that we did in the street running the power cables out of the flat window? Old Bill asked us ‘move along’. Chas used to work at Fyffe's and used to say he was a banana bender. I think I was also in a car with him when another black guy cut him up and he sounded his horn, wound the window down and shouted 'Go back to your own country you black bastard'. The guy looked round and saw Chas grinning at him and could not work out who had shouted. The gig in Ilford High Road was fun I remember telling the guys in the shop / Indian Restaurant we were just setting up for some publicity shoots. I believe we stopped the traffic. Chas, he of the Eddie Grant complex was indeed an inverted racist. Way ahead of his time I would say. If he didn’t like anything he would say, ‘it’s well out o forder’. The f being omitted from the of and placed, with emphasis, in front of the order. Mick and I pounced on this grammatical faux pas and it became our catch phrase. For us everything was ‘well out o forder’.

I liked Mick a lot. I often wonder what happened to him. If ever the term ‘lovable rogue’ could be aptly applied it was to Mick. I can thank him for getting us chucked out of the flat. His penchant for cutting up linoleum into the size and shape of ‘shilling bits’ and depositing them into the electricity meter led to the landlord ‘asking’ us to leave.

Best gigs for Grope? I would say The Robin Hood in Longbridge Road and The Greyhound in Fulham Palace Road. Other memories: We used to practice at The General Havelock pub in Ilford High Street, The landlord always complained that we were too loud. The barman fancied the pants off me. We auditioned for a record deal in North London somewhere. The guy doing the auditions made a pass at me. (Was I really that camp or was it on account that my trousers that had one pink leg and one green?) He asked us back to do another audition and I wore tartan trousers, long before The Bay City Rollers were 'shang a langing' here there and everywhere. Maureen set my pulse racing. She lived in Paddington. How can a girl named Maureen living in Paddington have that effect? She always wore maroon. I don’t know why, perhaps it was de rigueur. I wrote The Ultra Cool Amazing Miss Maroon about her. Whatever happened to her? She probably has cellulite and buys her knickers from Damart now.

You wrote some pretty nifty songs Royston I can still recall the lyrics. "See them working at the Earthworks, Moving slowly as the chain jerks". Or how about McAllisters Phantoms? \"The Army's the place to make men of boys, You can play all day with your lethal toys". I do recall us making a recording of Esmerelda Oily somewhere. Perhaps it was at a hospital courtesy of some guy that had access to some decent recording equipment. We also rehearsed at Dorothy Barley school ust off Lodge Avenue . It was free as I recall as long as we paid a peppercorn youth club membership for 3/6 a year. We only had one membership between the lot of us so it was drop dead cheap. It was not open during school holidays thus the need for an alternative venue. I remember the photos on the contact sheet being taken. South of the river, down Lewisham Way. It was where the photographer lived, a friend of a friend. Didn't we look the part? Mean, moody and magnificent.

JB was ubiquitous, a damned decent chap. We could never have got by without him. Never interested in performing but his versatility in other stuff made him a key member. Where is he now? Running a merchandise company and his son runs 'Middle 8' Studio in Barking - where the current band rehearsed for a while.. Other musicians: John Lyons - bass player and general good egg. A quiet cove but rock solid. Mick Cole, the villain of the piece. Did they base Fletcher on him? Mick banged a mean set of skins when he wasn\'t fiddling the benefits system or doing a bit of breaking and entering. Bill Branch – good bass player, Keith Griesal played rhythm for a while. Who drummed before Mick? Reference, your drink at the Greyhound and a slice of lemon. Indeed, no alcohol was involved, I believe you were actually ordering a glass of lemonade with a slice of lemon. Proto punk is a decent enough handle. On reflection I believe that we were an honest enough bunch. Innovative and entertaining. I had no singing talent whatsoever and you, Roy, were by far and away the talented one of the crew. You had a musical background and were influenced by the likes of Zappa, Grateful Dead, Pretty Things, Hawkwind, etc. In contrast whilst I appreciated the music of Captain Beefheart, Canned Heat and Jethro Tull there was always something of a showman trying to get out. I admired bands like The Move, The Sweet and the Bonzo’s. All pretty much ‘middle of the road’ but providing visual entertainment. I think that I was seduced by the idea putting on a show. Roy was far more into the music and creativity. Is this what is called artistic differences? Whilst there was a gulf between us there was something which pulled us together. I’m not sure what that was. I think that we shared a similar sense of the absurd. Whilst at times you drove me round the bend, Mr Weard I always had the utmost respect for what you were doing. Isn’t that what families are like?

The above was culled from emails between Al and I and added to on an enjoyable summer afternoon in Folkestone, where he now lives. -RW