Melody Maker  -  March  22, 1975

"Going Home No More" - by Chris Welch

  Alvin Lee is getting into self-sufficiency. Along with many fellow Britons, alarmed at the daily news, he is determined to make full use of the land. “Yes,” says Alvin peering through the windows of his mansion at rain swept acres, “we’ve increased the size of the vegetable garden, ready for the revolution. We’ve got broccoli, parsnips, peas, potatoes …” It must be wonderful to bathe hands in the soil and be one with nature. “Oh the gardener does it. I just watch it happen.”   Disappointing, but to be fair, Alvin has most of his time cut out in bringing rock and roll to the world, which leaves little opportunity for raking soil, barrowing muck or dividing rootstocks.  

  ABRUPT: and Alvin has been a busy man since the abrupt change in his musical career just under a year ago.  Mention Alvin to fellow musicians, and you’ll get a stock response; “Good Lord is Alvin STILL playing ‘I’m Going Home?’ The answer is ‘no’ TYA is behind him, and  Alvin, Guitarist and Pioneer has replaced Alvin,  Man In A Rut. It was not without opposition that Alvin took the gamble that led to the end of Ten Years After. He says, quite honestly , that in the final days, only money held the old band together, and of course his Management were not to keen on him throwing away what they may have regarded as a sound investment. 

  There was doubtless a certain amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth in the corridors of power, when Alvin  flung in his lot with the likes of Mel Collins, Tim Hinkley and Ian Wallace, leaving out in the cold Chick Churchill, Ric Lee and Leo Lyons. As the dust settles still, it is possible to perceive that while TYA are no more, and Alvin has severed some of his ties with Chrysalis, the guitarist is determined to broaden his horizons, and stay at the forefront of musical events.

  Alvin’s acres are situated in rolling countryside, not far from George Harrison’s palatial home. The latter is surrounded by lodge houses and high walls and looks not unlike one of those mid-Victorian establishments designed to bring 19^th century enlightenment to the insane.  

  ABODE: But Alvin’s pad has a friendly air of a gentleman farmers abode. And indeed it was such a place, when over a thousand acres fell within its domain. So important was its role in the community, that it served as an air raid warning station and water rate collection centre, until most of its land and assets were stripped away and finally a rock and roller from Nottingham took over where once Squires held sway.  The slight air of decay is heightened by the area of devastation that was a milking shed and indoor tennis court, which recently collapsed during a storm. “That’s what comes of living in big houses,” says Alvin phlegmatically. But what will future tenants make of the vast recording studio Lee has built in the Tudor barn, I wondered. Master Lee may have little inclination towards agriculture, but he is certainly not idle. He has just returned from the Americas, and a successful tour with his new band (known as Alvin Lee & Co), when we met in his lounge and discussed pertinent matters.  

  “I got back a week ago and we finished off the tour in Honolulu. We spent seven weeks on the road and it was very   interesting. First of all we played Europe and Scandinavia. We played one gig in Paris and just before Christmas, we played some dates in Germany. “Worried? No not really. The reaction in Germany told me we were onto the right thing, although the Scandinavian audiences were a bit strange. But I think that’s peculiar to Scandinavia. They’re not so in touch with world musical developments. I got the feeling they didn’t know what to make of us.  That was one place we suffered from not being like Ten Years After. “In Germany if felt more like we were doing   a show. At first it tended to be just a list of songs, y’know? It really came together in Germany, where we played at some American bases, and that made us feel optimistic about playing in the States. “I was worried there would be shouts for ‘I’m Going Home’  but there wasn’t a lot of that. In the first fifteen minutes we established that this was going to be a different band and audiences seemed rather stunned. We played mainly 5,000 seaters and a couple of big ones. The people came to listen and realised it wasn’t just a rock and roll extravaganza. The atmosphere was more intimate and controlled, without people rushing to the front of the stage.”  

  Did all the guys in the band enjoy the experience?  “Yep. There were eight of us stuck together for seven weeks, and we’d not worked together before. There were a couple of gigs that weren’t up to standard, but one thing I’ve learnt after eight years on the road, is not to get upset about good and bad gigs, because as long as the general standard is high, audiences won’t worry.   

  BUSINESS:  “In fact the audiences were great, and only on the business side, were some of the promoters worried.    Some people thought it wasn’t Alvin Lee without TYA---they thought it might be somebody else using the same  name! “We did some places I’d not played  before, like Knoxville Tennessee, and it was a good experience,  for the band got better and better. And what had been an experiment for me before Christmas, has now become my definite direction. I wasn’t sure until  the tour, but I really got off on it.

RECORD MIRROR -  March  29,  1975

Alvin Lee and Co. Concert Review

Hemel Hemstead Pavilion (Sunday Concert)

You probably wouldn’t believe that Hermel Hemstead could rock, but it can. Especially with the help of Alvin Lee’s new band and a mixture of new songs and old rockers. The band, a six piece blend of old Stone The Crows and King Crimson members, are individually proficient, but took a long time to bed in together. So it wasn’t until the later reaches of the set that things started to move. Having just returned from America and now filling in time on a few UK dates before recording their first album, the band as a whole are warming themselves up, getting to know each other. They’re well on the way, though not quite there yet. Though numbers like: “Keep On Moving”, “Got To Get Back”, “Somebody’s Calling Me”, even “Freedom For The Stallion”, the quality of the musicians over came any hint of

un-togerther-ness. The atmosphere on stage was loose, joking with each other and generally at ease. Mel Collins sax was featured heavily, and though he is an outstanding player, one felt a lot more tracks might have featured more of Lee’s guitar. When it did appear, so did the old magic. Sad thing was, it did not appear for any length of time. By the time of the encore:

“Every Blues You’ve Ever Heard”, and “Ride My Train”, the audience had gathered round the stage and were shaking and dancing where appropriate. Yes, they’re a solid band alright, just a bit new at the moment, which promises well for the future.

New Musical Express 4/  5/ 75

THERE’S A WHOLE WORLD OF LICKS OUT THERE:   

 AS ALVIN LEE becomes musically more itinerant in the grand tradition of the Disillusioned Rock Star nonchalantly wandering in and out of projects, it seems his saga is becoming correspondingly less impressive. Even now, several years after what the hulky AL describes as “my first move away from neurotic rock” (when he recorded the album “On The Road To Freedom” with Mylon Le Fevre between appointments with Ten Years After) he is considering ceasing operations with the present band, Alvin Lee & Company. “As far as this band goes we only plan to work till the end of March, then it’s back to the studio. Back to the drawing board,” he explains. You might say Alvin lays it on the line in a sometimes humorous, often honest, and generally engaging way. The Most Boring Man In The West must surely be a reference to his guitar playing, and not his conversation. And just in case you’ve as much of an aversion to Alvin Lee Interviews as instalments of Crossroads we’d better fill in a few biographical details to bring you up to date. 

Musically speaking, Lee was born in the late 60’s and remained as the head of the Ten Years After household until 1973 when, due to spiritual disenchantment, he buggered off with the aforementioned Le Fevre. “It was the first time in four years I was coming out of the studios overjoyed with something I’d done.” He comments. “And it gave me the energy of my younger self. I realised I wasn’t really getting old, I was just getting in that rut, and if I got out of it and did things—it’d keep me going.” Obviously delighted with the experience and excitement he encountered once out of the traditional confines of a stable unit, he started to poke the neck of his Gibson 335 into alien areas. With Boz Burrell, Tim Hinkley, Mel Collins and Ian Wallace he formed a band called ‘The Gits’ “a funky kinda thing, not unlike the Average Whites”. When Boz split for Bad Company they disbanded, making way for other musicians to enter Lee’s life, such as Alan Spenner, Neil Hubbard and the Kokomo singers. Their Rainbow gig was recorded (“In Flight”) and filmed and marked the conceptual debut of Lee & Company.  Changes ensued: Wallace and Collins stayed but the rest of the band now consisted of Ronnie Leahy, Steve Thompson, and percussionist Brother James. Earlier this year they toured comparatively small theatres in America and more recently played British Universities.  

 From the States dates Lee came to two distinct conclusions; because the smaller theatres were “a strange environment” the security forces were totally able to control the audience and so prevent a suitable ambiance in the music. In fact, only six of their dates really impressed him. So next time round he intends to “strike a medium” between the low and high venues.  Secondly; the band wasn’t all it should be. “I think where it felt short—well, in some places it didn’t, it was great but elsewhere it was just a bit cold, a bit sessiony.” he remarks. “I get it too. If I’m playing and I turn round on stage and see everybody getting into the thing, but not getting off visibly, I’m not suddenly gonna get off and start leaping around, because I’d feel silly. “If I turn around and see, like Leo” (Lyons of TYA) “for example who’d always be thumpin’ an’ thrashin an’ sweatin’…..that kinda gives me a kick.  “So I wanna go in the direction of keeping the musical taste I’m getting into, but produce a bit more kick and a bit more balls. That’s what it needs. In this band I’ve felt that the climax comes too late and too quick.”  Alvin does not, however, lay the blame totally on his band. He mentions one problem that he still suffers from;  the reputation of being “a rock ‘n’ roll, boogie-woogie, rave up-type guitarist”. Consequently audience response comes on what he calls “a trite three chorder”, rather than on, say the modern jazz which had preceded it. “There again,” he says, defending his boogie-woogie image, “when I get out on stage and I feel that vibe I actually want to do it. If the audience wants to get rockin’, I dig playing like that. “It’s just that this band is almost too tasty to rock ‘n’ roll with effect. “It’s so tight,” he elaborates , “that it gets boring quicker than if your playing with somebody who’s feeling something, and maybe they….uh…over feel and go off. But you get these new changes and new things happening. “I’d really like to look for some fresh musicians.”  

 But what is Lee attempting to do with the Company bands? His attitude to do this particular project seems ambivalent. It appears he’s attempting to form a unit of which he could be a mere part, in a similar way to what Clapton did with the Dominos. Yet he still wants to remain the front man. "It really wasn’t meant to be,” he says emphatically, “but that’s the way it turned out. When you do the singing and the guitar playing you tend to be the front man rather than a musician.” And he adds that, at a recent jam session in Dingwalls with Carol Grimes and others, he particularly enjoyed standing by the speakers just playing guitar. “I think with the right people I could do that.” He continues, “Jimmy Page is just a guitarist,  but it’s his band, his direction, but he has Robert Plant dealing with the sexual image and the fronting, which is great, because that’s something which has always made me feel awkward, ya-know? “I really would like to be….I already think of myself as a guitarist. I don’t think of myself as a singer. I just kinda do that adequately enough. I’m not a phenomenal singer, I don’t have a voice that’s recognisable like say Rod Stewart.”  Of course, another consideration on this point is that Alvin Lee controls the purse strings, and so pays the guys a wage, which immediately creates something of a gulf between them. (And it’s also feasible that his ego prevents him from theoretically lowering himself to an equal status basis within the outfit).  “Unless it is a band of people that I could feel on a par with musically.” He explains “it couldn’t really be an equal situation, because as I say, if I go and do a tour at the moment as Alvin Lee & Company, people come see me and  what the Company is. It’s not as if the Company itself is drawing people in. “It could do, if I continued to work it, but I’m not going to get a band together and stick with it because that would become the same kind of trap as Ten Years After got into—and probably a lot quicker, because I’ve been through that scene.  

 “I enjoyed it,” he hastily asserts, “but all the bands that stay together a long while seem to go in that direction. It turns into A Job. Tours turn into a “How much do we get?” That’s the wrong motivation for going out to play music, just to make a few bucks. “I’m not against making bread, but I’d rather get something I’m proud to be with and then work out how to get some bread out of it. That seems more like the right way of going about it.”  

 ALTHOUGH Lee will retain those musicians from the present band “who’re really keen” he now intends to find some fresh faces on the English scene, and move into various musical styles, which may be reggae, blues or even jazz. Whatever turns him on. “What I intend to do is try different things out,” he says. “I’m looking for different musicians with different influences, ‘cause what I’ve found is, different musicians around me with different influences make me look for new styles. “Besides, I think there are good musicians in England. But the scene has got so poppy again. It’s gone round in a circle. There’s a lot of good musicians who resort to playing something really corny just to get something going.” He should know. “A lot of bands that you see backing up singers and duets on TV have got good musicians. It’s just that they’re stuck in a rut. “Everything’s an experiment. I don’t really feel anything that strongly urging to come out…except to try new directions. That’s the only real urge. “The most commercial thing for me to do would be to get a four-piece rock band.” He points out. “I mean, the most commercial thing for me to HAVE DONE when the TYA thing was DROOPING  would’ve been to get three more musicians, keep the name, and go out and rock ‘n’ roll. “But, as I say, my own head heeded to go in these other directions. “I don’t want to go out on the road for the sake of doing it, I want to have something going to take out and show the people. Which is what I’ve done with Company. “It’s been successful.”

WITH ALVIN spieling so candidly it’d be remiss not to bring up the subject of TYA---remember. Of course what it’s not in vogue these days to announce the fact when a major band splits up. So, like the Moody Blues, TYA is “inactive”---only because nobody will say, Yes folks, we’ve split. Which of course, is something of an advantage to us, because---if ever the situation did occur---we won’t have to suffer an exhaustive campaign announcing a reformation. “It’s DEFINITELY FINISHED.” Says Lee, “because no one will say it’s finished. But as yet I don’t see any move to get it together. The only reason they or I would consider it boils down to the money again. “I’m sure everybody’d ring up and say, ‘Let’s do a tour and make a few thousand’, but nobody’s saying ‘I really want to play’.” Alvin considers the high point of TYA was when they played the Marquee. “We Kicked Shit. Sweat and grind.” he recalls, “I really used to get emotions in those days.” Even so he is reluctant to deride their music towards the end, and explains numbers such as “Goin Home” were musically good---“because we’d played them 8,000 times.” But their career followed the pattern of so many successful bands. Once they had financial stability their interest diversified, and touring became a monotonous process. Their motto, Lee remembers, was “Get on, get off, and go home.” And for the last two years it was a thoughtless process. “I could be up there playing what appeared to be an incredible solo to the majority of people.” says Alvin, “but in fact I was probably thinking about something else.” Like? “Looking round the audience and seeing who’s there and things. Checking out that scene,” he smirks, “was always one of the sidelines. Sometimes I’d just wander off totally. “It’s like when you’re driving a car, you’ll be thinking about something else, and then suddenly you’ll come back to driving, and you realise you’ve just driven through London, down the M4 and turned off, but you don’t remember a thing about it. “Well when you repeat yourself playing the same numbers you just play on automatic.” And the analogy he uses to explain exactly why he is now experimenting in music is as equally, er, illuminating. “It’s like an old tired marriage a lot of the time. Nothing gets you off more than a bit of fresh on the side. That’s really the basis of what I’m doing---just looking for that fresh excitement.  Trying to renew the energy I had before. “It’s working. “As long as it’s good it can go in any direction, from blues, jazz. Rock, reggae, classical, musique concrete, to whatever. My gig is to make it good, and enjoy doing it. “There’s a whole new World of licks and tricks to experiment in.”

    Article written by TONY STEWART   

From Rolling Stone Magazine 4/  10/  75

Alvin Lee  -   "In  Flight"  (Columbia  PG 33187 )

British blues has always been a workmanlike form, as much a job as a pleasure. Alvin Lee is smart enough to realize this, and having deserted his own limey blues band, Ten Years After, he has made In Flight in pursuit of a new image. Unfortunately, Lee’s problem isn’t easily wished away. He sinks into new restrictions quicker than he can soar away from the old ones. Ten Years After was never much of a group, although they made some interesting records, particularly Ssssh and Watt. The group was the sleeper surprise of Woodstock, and “Good Morning Little Schoolgirl” and “I’m Going Home” were significant pre-heavy metal tours de farce for guitar. All of their exciting moments, though, had as much to do with stagecraft as music. Lee’s flashing smile was as important as the white heat of his guitar runs. Alvin Lee was fast, the epitome of the British speed demon guitarist, but his speed and his smile were intertwined forever.  

The one made him saleable, the other made him identifiable; I was never sure which was which, but we all know what too much speed does for the teeth. Still, without those alabaster incisors, Ten Years After might have lent new meaning to the concept of facelessness which dominates so much of the rest of British blues.  

For all its limits, Lee’s twin talents gave them a head start over the various Foghats, Savoy Browns and Mayalls. Lee has personally, if not charisma, and the sense of humour--not just fun, which is intimately tied to work— that ought to go with it. It is difficult  to imagine even such an inspired British bluesman  as Eric Clapton having the ironic self-perspective to tote a watermelon over his shoulder as he trudged off the Woodstock stage, in full view of 500,000 fans and half as many cameras. 

Lee is in flight, in deed as well as concept, on his new album. Fleeing that confining image, however, he seems desperate, uncertain of just what he’ll choose to replace it with. Consequently, In Flight is a kitchen-sink job; a live album, two records, with horns and a female chorus. The music can’t decide between rock and blues and half-assed mellow jazz. There isn’t a chance for any of the facets to shine long enough to give the record, or Alvin focus.   Lee’s best moves are as a rock & roller, even if his most coherent ones are still tied to his version of the blues. The most interesting track on the album, “Mystery Train,” fails utterly. After Elvis Presley’s and Junior Parker’s versions, “Mystery Train” wasn’t a song anymore at all; it was a pair of records, each defining the limits of one of its dual themes (sex and death). Lee has nothing to add to that except a pleasant, smoky voice. But even that voice is obscured by the awful chorus. The English have been trying for a decade to figure out what to do with the Stax concept—the way voices and horns are used in Memphis—without much luck.  Lee’s ideas aren’t much more useful than Joe Cocker’s. The chorus shouldn’t drown out the singer in an arrangement like this; it should add tension. Here the chorus elasticises everything, drawing it out to the point of boredom. It happens time and again—on “Slow Down,” “Money Honey,” which had the chance to be special, even Lee’s own best song “I’m Writing You A Letter.”

Surprisingly, Mel Collins’s sax and flute are handled with some taste, probably because they are not, as with most blues groups which resort to horns, bowled over by a blaring brass section. (I know of no great white rock record in which brass plays a dominant role.) But for all their limitations, the rock songs are still more effective than Lee’s blues, which for the most part are just as excessive in length  and velocity as those he played with Ten Years After. Only sax dipping in and out reminds that this is not a TYA record.  

With his usual irony, though, Lee redeems himself a little, simply by calling one of the songs “Every Blues You’ve Ever Heard.” He ought to be required to open his show with it as a sort of caveat emptor –and not he alone, but the whole sorry batch of Anglo blues mummies. Still, this isn’t as inauspicious a debut as I may have made it seem. Lee has broken free of the TYA image, certifying himself as a rock singer of some talent. The rockabilly cuts here move, and if it weren’t for the chorus, you could say they never get cute, as too much British pseudo-rockabilly does.

With a little reorganization, Lee might have a fine post-heavy band in the making.

by Dave Marsh, music critic for ‘Newsday’  

By – Steve  Peacock

From  Sounds – April  5,  1975
 

You’re looking at a free man who hopes to create Nashville – on – Thames. He doesn’t know what the future will bring, but he’d like a hit single.

Article:  
Show me Alvin Lee and I’ll show you a man who has discovered indecision as a positive way of life. He’s slipped the leash on the band that made him rich and famous and he’s allowing Plan B—Alvin Lee & Co.—to dismember itself with the minimum of formality. “It was like the evolution of Ten Years After over eight years taking place in three months”, he says. Which is not to say that AL&C became hollow product—merely that it ran as far in its chosen direction as Alvin Lee wanted it to run with him on board. “This band really got into jazz as a natural kind of leaning,” he says. That was fine, he didn’t want to mould them any more than the main songwriter, singer, front man, soloist and provider inevitably shapes a band. But the way the band was developing wasn’t the way Alvin Lee wanted to make music further than the end of this month. “It’s great, but that attitude of jazz seems to be “well, there’s an audience there but don’t let it affect you too much.” If there’s an audience there, I’m always very much aware of the fact. I want to deliver something to them that’ll get ém off. That doesn’t seem to be the attitude of jazz—jazz is introvert, and if this band were to continue it’d develop more towards that and it isn’t really what I want to do.”

Quite what he does want to do is not so clear—not in terms of style or specific musicians anyway. “There are options: there’s country, there’s rock…I’ve got a strong leaning towards getting back into R&B, getting back towards the old stuff, perhaps leaning towards the blues a bit. Chunky…chunky funky. I’m going to experiment. I’ve a strong feeling that I could go any way from now. I’m getting off on all the styles there are. Maybe the next album will be a couple of tracks with this band, a couple of something else, a couple…but I don’t know if it’s the right approach. That’s the thing. It’d be fun, but…” The right approach can only be what he fancies doing at the time –yes? “But it is nice to be able to go out on the road with the same band that made the album, so you don’t have to get people copying things that other did on the album. “That’s what nearly happened with this band but luckily they were strong enough to put their own personally onto it, and anyway we only did half the album on stage. But whatever happens next, it’ll grow out of the next album I do—I now accept that changes take place, and I’m now inviting them.
“I’ve got a strong leaning to get more into recording and producing, but I know that after a few months I’d start getting itchy feet again. I’ve been touring since I was 16 and you get something that builds up inside you that you’ve got to release, and that you can’t release any other way. And I’m addicted to America—I have to get out there at least once a year just to get the buzz from that.”
Ah—the roar of the greasepaint and the smell of the Holiday Inn. Alvin Lee may have the comforts of home and a remarkably well equipped studio in his backyard, but you’ll still find his butt shakin´ and his guitar wailing in Knoxville, Tennessee—even Hemel Hempstead, Hertfordshire.
When he struck out on his own with the And Company project, Alvin Lee was more or less starting again: it was hardly a balls-on-the-rail venture, to the extent that he had money, he could afford a good band and his TYA-made name guaranteed him a certain amount of built in audience appeal. Yet it was still quite a bold venture when you consider that he could have spent the time in his studio or sun soaking in the Bahamas or Hawaii, grinding out a swift TYA tour and album each year to keep the accountant smiling.

With the original team of Boz, Tim Hinkley, Ian Wallace and Mel Collins he had the makings of a rock band with enough drive to satisfy his baser instincts, and enough funk to make it a dramatic change from TYA: Boz split to Bad Company before that could ever face the crowds, and the band that played the Rainbow concert (from which the live album was recorded) was rather hastily assembled. Neil Hubbard and Alan Spencer and the Kokomo singers were recruited 10 days before the gig, but returned to base before AL&C went on tour. 
With the touring band as it turned out—the basic Lee/Collins/Wallace nucleus plus Steve Thomson and Ronnie Leahy from Stone The Crows and percussionist Brother James—the idea moved yet another stage away from its origins. It worked and Lee enjoyed himself—the music and the situation. “America was so different it was almost like going for the first time. What was really good was coming off stage and talking about music and listening to the tapes…having a bit of a jam. It was a different relationship with the band, a lot more like lads on the road—less professional but more fun. There were a lot more downs as well as the ups—we’d have incredible long dissections of things that went wrong, have a sound check the next day and sort it out. With Ten Years After we used to sleep in the afternoon, get a call at six or seven, get to the gig at 8:30, tune up and play.” In a way, the whole process had been a kind of exorcism for the man who felt himself lumbered with the flying fingers image. He was able to lie back as a musician and see the possibilities, but perhaps he over reacted against his history. “During the tour I managed to conquer the feeling of wanting to do something loud and raucous but not doing it on principle. I finally did it, got into some of those tasteless things I was wanting to do, and the fact of not doing from the beginning made it all the more effective. It was really nice and gradual the way it should be.”
Having shown bell book and candle of laid back funk to the heavy metallurgist that lurks within him, he feels confident enough to let him out for a trot every now and then.
It was something he had to go through. But with the European and American tours, he feels this band has run its course and he is ready for something new. “If this band really wanted to stay together and had a clear idea of what they wanted to do, then I’d do it, but first I need to look around a bit, get some new inspiration and write some new songs.” In any case it seems unlikely this band will survive as it is (Mel Collins is pretty certain to rejoin Kokomo), though it seems equally likely that Ian Wallace will stay close to Alvin Lee: “He’s got to be the best drummer in Britain”.
While in America he managed time off to do some sessions: one in Los Angeles for Bo Diddley, and several nights in Nashville on sessions for the 25th anniversary album for Earl Scruggs, alongside people like Charlie Daniels, Willie Hall, Don Nix—the crew. Among his plans is to: ship Charlie Daniels band over to his studio this year for a Nashville-On-Thames sessions.
He’s also going to be working on a film—a kind of “up to date Fantasia based on the idea of Atlantis”—for which he will provide the music and be involved with mapping our sequences. That’s in its infancy at the moment.
And there’s another thing: “I must admit I’ve been toying with the idea of taking the easy short cut with the old hit single. I know I’ve been against it all my life, but the Average White Band have proved it can be done with something that’s just good music. I’ve thought about playing around with different styles of things, seeing if any of them pick up.” That should lay the TYA great coat ghosts for good.
Meanwhile, it’s a case of finishing the current tour, getting out and listening to some music, writing some songs, and getting some musicians together to play. “I’m going to get on playing music and see where that takes me.”

24 May 1975,   Melody  Maker 

Ten Years After - “Goin’ Home!” (Chrysalis)

A compilation album of the first three years of Ten Years After’s existence. And a pretty neat selection of some of their best-known numbers, including, as the title suggests, the TYA classic “I’m Going Home” a live version from the Woodstock film.  

Alvin Lee has taken a bashing from some critics over his “speed-trip playing,” but he and TYA were undoubtedly worthy of the success that came their way in the late sixties and early seventies. Lee became one of the legendary guitar heroes and I always thought his playing could be tasteful at times as well as brash and violent as it is usually regarded. In judging Lee the critics often missed the point. The band were exciting to watch and it was this excitement, through flash playing that Lee tried to convey on record, especially on the “Undead” album, which was recorded live, and “Ssssh.”  

On this album we have: “Hear Me Calling,” “Going To Try,” “Love Like A Man,” “No Title,” “I Woke Up This Morning,” “Woodchoppers Ball,” and “ I’m Going Home.” “Love Like A Man” is the studio version and it is debatable whether the live number should have been included, although the studio one is much more polished and precise.

“I Woke Up This Morning” is an object lesson in what can be achieved without straying far from the basic blues theme. Lee’s playing is beautiful, with the rest of the band filling out the bottom. “Going Home,”  the closer, sums up the essential TYA in a nutshell. You can almost see Lee onstage snarling out the vocals and ripping into his axe, no quarter asked or given with the excitement rising as the audience lets its hair down.

But one of my favourites is “Hear Me Calling,” with Leo Lyons’ bass thudding out the riff and Lee soloing in a restrained fashion. An excellent album showcasing all that Ten Years After had to offer---and that was a hell of a lot.

By E.M. 

This album represents the first three years in the life of Ten Years After from their beginning playing small British clubs, to the peak of  their world wide acclaim at the legendary Woodstock Festival, and with it's distinguished fragment of rock history.

June / July 1975 

GET IT - page 49 - Photo: Frans Verpoorten

1975

August 1, 1975 - Long Beach Arena, CA

August 1, 1975 - Long Beach, Los Angeles

Concert Review published August 23, Record World

Melody Maker - September  6,  1975

Alvin Lee – “Pump Iron”  (Chrysalis 1094)

Gotta keep on keeping on, friends. Keep that old geetar burning hot, with a variety of subordinate rhythms. That in a phrase, is the credo or ethos if you like, of young Alvin Lee, beat king extraordinary. The “Wild Man Of Pop”, has returned with a selection of performances that would please any keen student of roll, and indeed rock. If it is to your taste to tap the old foot, or incline the head at an appreciative angle, imperceptibly, nodding to the incessant beat, then this will find a place of honour on your radiogram turntable. The world of rock seethes with argument is the song “One More Chance,” the opening piece, a direct result of the influence of Stevie Wonder upon Led Zeppelin? Can one detect Afro-American folk culture roots inherent in such powerful stompers as “You Told Me,” and “Have Mercy?”

Would one say that Alvin Lee’s soulful dexterity as a guitarist is dependent not merely of years of training, but the incalculable effects of early indoctrination by the works of such masters as Django Reinhardt. Les Paul and Pig Foot Blenkinsop, the partially-sighted Texan Blues Legend? One scarcely need indulge in such high debate, for the music on this entertaining album is designed not to inspire controversy , but to unleash a body reaction, straight from the gut, if not the pancreas. Stomps, shouts and hollers there are plenty, drums pound, keyboards clank and throughout it all, wails the Alvin Lee Axe, on which he performs as if maddened by some intoxicating Eastern stimulant, or bemused by spirit beings. At least, that’s the first side of the album.

Elsewhere, we hear Alvin in a more relaxed mood, joined by Mel Collins at the soprano saxophone, as on the lightly swinging acoustic flavoured song, “Time And Space.” Those sour critics who complain about the lack of  “variety” should listen attentively to these exhilarating passages. And if it is thought that Alvin tends to “Hog” the proceedings, then observe the role of his fellow musicians who make a full-blooded contribution to items such as the immensely dramatic song called, “Burnt Fungus,” notable for the sensuous Hammond Organ playing. This is a piece that reminds me of many nights spent in the Speakeasy, Cromwellian, Bag O´Nails, Klooks Kleek and Eel Pie Island during the golden years of British rock, which gave one such inordinate pleasure. The audience on these “Live” performances think so as well, and it is my opinion that the record buying public at large will add their acclaim and make such a significant purchase, that this disc will find its way into the popular best selling lists. If not, then they need their heads examined.

From  October  11,  1975  –  Sounds
By John Ingham – At Hookend Mannor

To visit Alvin Lee at home is seemingly to see a man living the perfect fantasy life – 40 room mansion, large gardens, recording studio, colour darkroom, and all the gadgets and toys that makes living in the Twentieth Century so much fun.
Waking up in the late afternoon, he had lain in bed watching “Abbott and Costello Go To Mars”. Now he was ensconced in the TV / Video room, a wood panelled room whose only centre of focus was a large television. Beside it stood a very sophisticated VCR and video camera. Alvin likes to make videotapes; he’s preserved several concerts for posterity.
We watched a cassette of Ali’s Manila Killer and then retired to the sound / film room, passing an enormous r/c glider lying in a window bay. Everywhere you looked rooms extended the spaces occasionally intersected by comfortable furnishings; but unlike Kane’s Xanadu, very comfortable.
This second media room is dominated by a Tannoy Malorcan in each corner, though Alvin dismisses quad. A dobro and guitar lean against a speaker, records range along one wall. An alcove holds a slide and 16mm film projector standing on top a bench stacked with cassettes of slides. A fire burns in the grate. In the middle of the room a clump of beanbags cushions in American and Russian flag covers await the body’s pleasure. It is here that Alvin writes most of his songs.

DISTRACTIONS:
But is it the perfect life after all? “It’s great to have everything you want, but in a way you’ve got more problems. You’ve got everything you always wanted and you think. “I should be in the best environment in the world.” You wake up in the morning and you’re not feeling too good, in some ways it’s worse, because you play pinball and then snooker, ride the bike around the garden, and you’re still feeling wrong. What I need to do then is work and make myself sit down, but sometimes there are too many distractions. That pinball machine – Christ!”
We should all have such problems. I’d been wanting to corner Alvin for a couple of months. He had told me in an interview that he doubted Ten Years After would ever reform, regardless and / or because of individual pursuits. He hadn’t even talked to them on the phone since the break up. A month later a TYA tour of America was announced. Something sounded amiss, something I wanted to get to the bottom of. But first… “Pump Iron”, the new album. Given a deadline, Alvin had sifted through the tapes that continually accumulate in his studio, either as glorified demos with himself on all instruments (his drumming is hilarious) or in sessions built from combinations of the familiar names on the back cover. Usually, lyrics were one verse and a chorus or less.

DEADLINE:
With things in reasonable shape, drummer Ian Wallace was called in for one of his spectacular overdub sessions, slotting himself into tracks that were otherwise complete. Later, Boz arrived to perform the same function on other tracks. It was finished at 10 pm the night before the deadline.
An eclectic album, it ranges the gamut from an electronic Sargasso Sea, wherein Alvin mixed down about 50 tracks of noises, bleeps and whirrs, to Alvin Lee and Co. taped live at New York’s Academy of Music, which prompted him to construct various songs across that side of the record as though they were being recorded in similar situations. Although this isn’t the projected “Chuck Berry album” Alvin’s been threatening us with, the same sentiments exist. “A lot of music now I find leaden and boring, overdone. Whereas a lot of the old rock and roll was really subtle—you used to think it was going bash bash but in fact it wasn’t. That was what I basically got tired of in Ten Years After, the whole format and attitude of overplay. It worked for the audience—if you hit them in the teeth hard enough they’re bound to notice you. I’ve gotten out of it but I don’t underestimate its effectiveness. There are so many tasty musicians who don’t get anywhere. If Ten Years After had been like that we’d probably have been appreciated, but no one would have said, “Cor, have you seen this lunatic who plays eight billion notes a minute?”
There—it was out. Is any Alvin Lee interview possible without mentioning TYA, or for that matter, Woodstock”? Unbidden, the magic names hove into view.
“Ten Years After grew into something I didn’t want—the heavy rock image thing, and we really tried to keep out of that. But it happened anyway through “Woodstock”, which was a complete accident, and it really changed a lot of people’s attitudes to what we were doing. Before then it didn’t seem so important, just go out there and have a good blow and get people off. Suddenly, it was really big gigs. Gotta play note for note. The fun seemed to disappear when the audience got to 12,000…15,000.

ACQUISITION:
“It wasn’t too important to me or I wouldn’t have given up doing it. I just really needed a break from that whole trip. It was a good one after the days of starving and in a van up and down the M1. Then the success and the acquisition of worldly goods—gotta do that one, finding out that’s not all it’s cracked up to be. This is one of the things that strikes me; you sit down and think—especially if you’re moving and progressing in what you’re doing, the band is successful –you think, “This is a good opportunity, what do you want to do with it?” And you work out a basic plot---get a good house with a studio, plenty of rooms. And then reality.
“You don’t wake up every day and say this is incredible, because you get used to it and things still go wrong and pipes burst. It’s all relative. I used to live from hand to mouth on six pounds a week and spend eight. It’s the same now except it’s in thousands. I won’t get into business at all. I hate it. Accountants saying you must save and invest in bonds and me saying bullshit. “The funny thing was I didn’t even want to make any money, particularly. My original motivation wasn’t to be a rock and roll star and be rich and famous, it was to be a musician, and it just went into that.”
Listening to all this in a mansion stuffed with the tools and toys Alvin finds essential to his existence was a bit weird, but since arguments based on the notion that “It’s easy for you to dismiss material wealth” seemed trivial, the subject wasn’t pursued. Rather, I tracked down Alvin’s solo projects, which usually start off as hobbies until he begins to think he could perhaps tailor them towards more productive and realistic projects.
FBI he first saw on “Magpie” one afternoon, where they announced that they had neither record company or manager. He contacted them, offered the use of his studio, and has been intimately involved ever since. A recording contract is currently being “lawyered over”, and Alvin plans on taking them with him on his next tour in February, 1976. Whether this will be in Britain has yet to be decided.
Concomitant with his love of video, Alvin is also supplying the soundtrack for a projected film on Atlantis by “2001” computer animation wizard Jack Knight, using (your best basso announcer voice, please) computerised animation equipment never before used in the history of motion pictures.

LAWYER’S MILL:
That is, he will be working on it but “it’s still in the lawyer’s mill, know what I mean? Dee, my business manager will ring when it’s all fixed and say, “Okay, go.” I’m quite proud of my system now. If someone calls up and asks if I want to do something I say sure, because I don’t have to worry about the wheeling and dealing, my business manager sorts it out. If it were to be a good film and do well, then somebody somewhere will make a lot of money out of it and therefore each share has to be worked out.
“I’ve been reading up on Atlantis…I think it’s best to interpret it—keep the mystery, because when you see what it actually was, it wasn’t that groovy. Wars like everybody else.” Do you believe in all that? “I don’t not believe. I very rarely make my mind up about anything because I change it so many times. I was once told my failing as a rock star was that I had nothing to say to people; that I’m not a preacher. But you can’t really help the world by telling them what you think.” Enough of this dilly-dallying ---it was time to take the bull by the horns. Alvin, a few months ago you told me you hadn’t even talked to your compatriots and the next thing….

WHY NOT?
“Ah, yes. I went to Los Angeles on August 14 to cut my album, still not sure whether the tour was going to come off because of a lot of business hassles…lawyers again.” One gets the impression Alvin doesn’t like lawyers. “So I went prepared to do it whether I got paid or not. I knew Leo (Lyons) would be there because he had come down one afternoon and talked about it and I said, “Yeah”. Why not? But the others were unknown quantities. So I flew to Birmingham, Alabama, on the 17th, the band arrived from England that evening and went straight to bed, and we met the next day for the first time in 14 months.
“We decided what numbers we wanted to play on the way to the gig, which was a racetrack. By the second number of our rehearsal it started raining and we ended up blocking out numbers in a trailer, with one amp. Went on that evening and did a great set. It was like turning the old switch on again. By the fourth night we were playing as well as we’ve played, but we were more enthusiastic than we had been for years.” Just like that? It seemed a bit prosaic. Weren’t financial aspects a prime motivation? “Yes and no. It was a prime motivation to get the band out. But I made a decision that I wanted to do it for fun rather than---well, we haven’t been paid for the tour, and we didn’t expect to because of all the lawyers. Business people…”
It was the question, why America? (as if we didn’t know) that revealed all. Due to the American recession, only safe, established bands were a guaranteed gate. Ergo, while it was a bad time for an Alvin Lee and Co. tour, it was good for a TYA tour. Manager Chris Wright performed the actual persuasions. As for future tours, Alvin reckons they’ll be very widely spaced, if at all.
Even on the road Alvin had kept it all in perspective. In Nashville earlier this year he had wandered through Earl Scrugg’s tenth anniversary album, rubbing shoulders with Bonnie Bramlett, Charlie Daniels, Tony Joe White, Linda Ronstadt and an army of other liggers. In Los Angeles, he had jammed with the Scrugg’s Revue, noting that when they were really cooking they’d look at each other and perhaps tap a foot.
Back near Music City he had been invited to the second annual Charlie Daniels jam-boree and festival, which showcased just about every Southern musician from the Allmans down. That Alvin was the first outsider to be invited onstage you may interpret as you wish.
It being such a fashionable subject, there seemed only one question left. Are you one of the exalted 90 percent taxed? “Not really. I don’t make a lot of money myself, it all gets used up before I get any. I’m staying by choice—I could live in Vienna and not be paid for doing a tour; I might as well live here and not get paid.”

 

New  Musical  Express  10/ 18/ 75   

Alvin Lee: Pump Iron  (Chrysalis)

Side one opens with “One More Chance” a plodding cement-like attempt at black funk bisected by a totally undistinguished solo by Lee. “Try To Be Righteous” is a limp-wristed reggae with extraneous acoustic guitars and redundant chord changes. Occasionally flat. “You Told Me” is “One More Chance” played backwards, while “Have Mercy” is a mid paced blues bursting at the seams with clichés. “Julian Rice” closes the first side with all the verve of a sloth on mandrax. Side two is similarly forgettable; Lee is apparently unable to pull out one single decent riff. The sidemen all Sound totally bored; they seem similarly incapable of providing anything of intrest. I really cannot fathom how Chrysalis allowed themselves the extravagance of releasing this album. “Pump Iron” is one of the most redundant albums I’ve ever heard. Pure tapwater.     

Pete Erskine  

Rolling Stone Magazine 11 / 75

Pump Iron  -  Alvin Lee Columbia  PC 33796       

Since divesting himself of the other members of Ten Years After, Alvin Lee’s music, both here and on the previous In Flight, has taken on a stronger R & B feel and focused on his vocal abilities as much as his guitar. Pump Iron follows the same pattern as it’s predecessor –a solid upbeat –R & B meets Anglo-flash format with Lee backed by well-known friends (Boz Burrell, Ian Wallace, Mel Collins and others) who perform with restrained expertise. Lee still spins a few “Goin’ Home” riffs (“Burnt Fungus”) and even adds a love song (“The Darkest Night”) but most of this album is white, English and hard. Those who remember Lee only as the finale to the movie Woodstock may find the diversity of Pump Iron appealing.  

By Alan Niester