(PS)
Much has already been written elsewhere about the bizarre and unpredictable career of Viv Stanshall, with good reason. His best-known work with the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band was, if never really ground-breaking, frequently interesting and highly amusing; especially with belters like Can Blue Men Sing the Whites? which brilliantly skewered the late 60s British blues boom, or the Noel Harrison-esque Canyons of Your Mind which took that poetic imagery one step further from the ridiculous to the sublime.
During a Bonzo’s hiatus, his short-lived bIG Grunt project was one of the oddest things ever broadcast on TV and went to prove that Stanshall wasn’t pretending to be a loon, or hamming it up for effect: he really was that odd to his very core. Released in February of 1970 Labio-dental Fricative came shortly before the bIG Grunt episode and I love it because, much like Stanshall himself, it doesn’t really fit anywhere. It sort of has one foot in either decade, straddling the 60s and 70s; perched on some sort of fence separating them like Mr Slater’s Parrot, bobbing its head between the two. Also Stanshall and Clapton weren’t exactly natural bedfellows, how the hell did that collaboration come about?
The song has the hallmark of Stanshall’s irreverent Bonzo lyrics, with the alliterative tongue twisters tripping along like an Edward Lear poem, but still rooted in the 60s with lines like “Big fat Fred sticks fur to his head, cos he thinks fur makes him freaky”. Silly, but great fun. The line “I got up at eight, it was half-past two” is also perhaps a window into Stanshall’s personal situation – I mean, we’ve all been there after a heavy night out, but you get the sense it was more a way of life for him. And when was the last time Max Bygraves got a namecheck in a pop song?
Over the other side of the fence and there’s a vague sense of the nascent 70s vibe coming through as well, with the Willie and the Hand Jive-type chucka-chucka sound that became all too familiar with Clapton’s early-mid 70s records; but there’s that middle eight right next to it that absolutely reeks of the late 60s with its dream-like lyrics, leading into a solo that wouldn’t have sounded out of place on the Blind Faith LP from the previous year (by the way, those who say that album was a failure couldn’t be more wrong, it’s a masterpiece).
Incidentally some may see this as sacrilegious but I regard this as one of Clapton’s last decent recordings, released some months before his first solo LP and Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. Evidently hitting the hard stuff during his time with Derek & the Dominos and his subsequent crippling coke & booze addictions took their toll in terms of quality output. People may argue he released material worth listening to after 1970, but again, they’re largely wrong.
Anyway, back to the single: of course, it didn’t trouble the charts; the record-buying public’s mind was elsewhere. Perhaps it was asking for trouble being released on Friday 13th, but it was nowhere near the zeitgeist of the period; for comparison, Black Sabbath’s debut album was released the same day and it's hard to find an LP that better sums up the mood of 1970 than that one.
I don’t care though, I love it – it’s joyous, silly, fun and makes me grin from ear to ear whenever it comes on (ok, whenever I put it on). There’s not enough genuine eccentricity in music for my money, everyone seems to be engaged in some sort of vain popularity contest. And when did that turn up anything interesting?
(MS)
And here's an excerpt from " Frank and The Captain's Big Night Out" with Terry-Thomas on vocals!!
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