Have you've ever wondered why the music you listen to at home sounds so different to the versions bands play live? If you are in a band you'll know, but just in case you are not, one of the main reasons is because the versions you hear on Spotify, CD's, vinyl records, etc, has been put together in a very different way to the music you hear being played live when you go to a gig (or at least it has if it was recorded after about 1955). Up until that sort of period, records were by and large live performances. In the mid 1950's, recording technology improved and adding tracks to records. In the early days, recording was done on reel to reel tape machines. Multi track recording made all manner of things possible for artists, such as singing harmonies with yourself, adding a triangle solo or the sound of cows mooing. All sorts of things.
This series of blogs isn't a historical document though, it is very much the story of one band existing in a period of constant change in the art of making rock and roll. Nowhere is this more true than in the way The False Dots record. Our first 'demo' if you can call it that, was recorded at a rehearsal on a portable mono cassette player. We knew no better. It sounded pretty rough. I can remember all being quiet at the start of each track. That was in 1979. Sadly the tape is long gone. At the time, we were quite proud of it. I played it to my mate at school, Boz Boorer of the Polecats. I saw him listening to something on his portable mono cassette playerinthe Orange Hill School common room. I asked if he fancied listening to The False Dots debut demo. He said OK. He put it on and this awful racket emerged from his player. He said "Did youy record that on a cassette player" I said "Yes". He said "If you want to do a proper demo you have to record it in a studio" and proceeded to play me the Polecats demo. I was gobsmacked. It sounded like a record. In fact it went on to be the Polecats first single, Rockabilly Guy, on Nervous records, an indie rock and roll label.
I sheepishly asked where there was a studio we could make a demo in. Boz replied "Alan Warner from the Foundations runs one in Hendon". Immediately, my priority was to make a proper demo in Alan's studio. Events and band break ups meant that it took us a year to get it together. Homework was done. When I felt we were ready, we got Alan Warner down to listen. I thought that if we bought him a pint, he could give us some feedback. He did "Get rid of your drummer, he can't play". Alan arranged for a mate of his, Dav Davies to step in. With Dav, suddenly the False Dots sounded like a proper band. We recorded our first demo on Alans eight track tape machine. He gave us some great advice. As we had eight tracks, it meant two tracks of drums, a track ofPetes bass, my guitar, Paul Hircombes guitar and Pete's vocals. We had two tracks left. We double tracked Pete's vocals and I added an acoustic guitar to two tracks. The idea was to make it sound a bit more like seminal New York band The Velvet Underground.
When it was done, we thought it was great and I took it into school to play to Boz and associated mates. They had expected it to be rubbish, like the first demo. They were shocked. It didn't really sound like anyone else. Pete left the band shortly afterwards, ace guitarist Craig Withecombe joined. We did a second demo at Alans studio. This time, I was more adventurous, adding a monophonic synthesiser to one track (Fog). If people were shocked when they heard the first demo, they were amazed by the second. Paul Hircombe had switched to bass and Craig had taken over lead guitar. Paul sang two songs and Craig two. The demo was really good and Chiswick Records boss Ted Carroll asked us to do another demo with more synth songs on. As I'd borrowed the synth and given it back, this never happened.
The next demo was made at a 16 track studio in Sydenham in late 1982. It felt like we were in heaven, I added keyboards to the two songs, and we added some additional guitars etc. The result was "A Memory for you", which was our first song to be released, on a compilation record called "Directions" on 101 records. The real problem for me was that it was only after we finished the demos that I got my head around what we should have done with the extra tracks. It was an expensive process.
In 1984, we went back into the studio, when Venessa Sagoe was in the band. We recorded three songs and our then 'manager' Dennis produced it. I thoroughly disliked him, but he was a great producer. He did things like getting Bill Pithers, who was then on lead, to play a guitar solo to Africa Morning with the tape reversed. His solo was backwards! It sounded great. The studio was a sixteen track in Reading. Dennnis got some great backing vocals. Sadly, the rest of us had to sit in a broom cupboard whilst he worked. That was the only place to chill. Dennis also edited the tape with a razor blade. His work was very good and I think the demo stands up.
That was the last recording the False Dots did on tape. By the time we got back together and were doing demos, tape was old hat and now we record on a Mac Computer, with logic. There are no real constraints on what we can do. We can edit notes in and out of a solo, put 23 tracks of backing vocals on, etc. We spend endless hours "getting things right". I was out for a beer with Alan and I thought back to that first demo. We really reheased hard to ensure it was right. Now, we can edit bits of different takes together. I like a live vibe on tracks, so I try to avoid that. The big difference between our first demo and now is that we used to really rehearse properly for recordings, so we got a good version in one or two takes. Now, it is relatively easy to wing it and edit errors out. As a band, we are reasonably tight, but back in 1980, when we first went into Alans studio we were really on the button.
In fact for all of our early demos, we were so well rehearsed that we always ended up with spare time to play with overdubs. As we'd booked and paid for the studio time, we thought we'd use it to the ultimate. Often this could be counter productive, as we'd put unneccessary frills on, then have to book another mix, and take them all off again. It was a much more communal thing back then. It was a day in the studio and all the band would be around. We'd all put some input into what was the best thing to put on the spare tracks. Occasionally, we'd have heated arguments about overdubs. When we recorded Fog and put the synth on, I removed Craig's guitar track. He was livid. I think he seriously considered quitting the band. Then he listened to it again and told me I'd been right. He was a good enough musician to see that it worked. Although I never really got on with Craig, I had a lot of respect for him as a musician. His response to what happened was to buy some extra effects for his guitar and write a new guitar part for the song. He felt that he had a point to prove. Sadly, shortly after, Dav left and his replacement didn't have the right feel for the song. When we were in Sweden in 1982, we had a long chat about the demo. Craig said that he felt that we should sketch out overdubs before we went in and not approach them in the spontaneous manner we had previously. I said that in principle that was a good idea, but often you only really hear the song properly in the studio and so you get ideas on the spur of the moment. We were both right. When we recorded A memory for you in Sydenham, the studio had a brand new Prophet V keyboard, that had amazing sounds. I said to Craig "Look I'll do one take and if you don't like it, I'll drop it" and we can try one of your ideas. Craig liked it and then did his guitar overdubs. Of all our recordings, it was probably, at that stage, the one we were happiest with, but listening back to it, I can still feel the frost in the room.
I recently went to see the play 'Stereophonic' which is allegedly about Fleetwood Mac recording Rumours. I was disappointed. I had read about arguments about overdubs. It didn't really capture what I felt was the true nature of such arguments. The odd thing is that we'd get incredibly annoyed with each other, then as soon as it was clear that an idea worked, we'd go into back slapping mode. The dynamic changed when we got a female singer, who always sided with Craig, as she thought he was clever and a good musician and felt I was neither. Even when Craig had decided he liked my idea, she'd still be in his ear. Our bassst Paul Hircombe generally wouldn't get involved, but he did once say to her "you should listen to Rog, because he understands the feel of the song and he's usually right". I was quite shocked. Years after, Paul told me that when Criag and the singer left to set up their own band, they tried very hard to persuade him. Paul told them that you can't be a rock and roll band if you don't understand what rock and roll should sound like, and they didn't, wheras I did.
Paul said that everything we'd ever recorded, good or bad, was rock and roll. He told me that his best memory of the band, was sitting up at 3am working our overdubs with me in Alan Warners studio on Fog. We were on a roll and it just seemed that everything we did worked. I am not sure, but in some ways, he may have been right. God Bless him up in heaven!
Anyway, we'll play out this episode with Pauls song. This song has more overdubs than anything I've ever recorded and doesn't eve have any singing! Paul wrote this in 1986 and we recorded it in 2007. Paul is on bass, Fil Ross plays lead, I play rythm, Keyboards and percussion, and Tony Cavaye played drums. Sadly, Paul never heard this. We played it at his funeral.