Issue 90

Two of the world’s leading chip manufacturers have recently announced moving on to 5 nm manufacturing. Nanotechnology and micromachining are becoming hot keywords in technical and scientific publications. Micro Electro Mechanical Systems are being built with tiny features of just a few dozen µm, finding application in highly specialized equipment “for the government”….With all this excitement, one would think we have only recently made such micro manufacturing possible!

When the National Association of Broadcasters first published their “NAB Audio Recording and Reproducing Standards for Disc Recording and Reproducing”, in 1942, they essentially called for exactly this level of manufacturing, which was routinely achieved since the end of the 19th century and had escalated into a large industry by the early part of the 20th century! Since the advent of electrical sound recording in the very early 1930’s, special machine tools, called disk recording lathes, were able to cut grooves 12.7 µm (0.0005″) deep, at a pitch of up to 300 LPI (lines per inch), modulated by sound. The faintest sounds, which could subsequently be audibly reproduced, were represented by amplitudes of mechanical displacement of a couple of nm! To put this into perspective, 1 nm = 0.000000039″ and the wavelength of visible light ranges from just over 700 nm at the red end to just under 400 nm at the violet end.

Not only was it possible to machine grooves on such a micro-nano scale, by traditional mechanical means, but it was already possible, in the 1930’s, to manufacture disk recording lathes and cutter head transducers, using good old fashioned traditional machining operations, attaining the required degree of accuracy, using the measurement instruments available at the time. None of that CNC, LASER, simulation software, micromachining, nanotechnology, ceramics, superconductors, additive picoalloys, blockchain…. Sorry, my random keyword generator just experienced a gap in the time-space continuum.

In fact, the Neumann VMS70, one of the most widely used disk mastering lathes of all time, introduced in 1970, was essentially the mechanical assembly of the Neumann AM31, introduced in 1931 as Neumann’s first lathe offering, along with a basic automation system to control the lathe’s cutting parameters. Likewise with Scully, who was already in business in 1920, making acoustic recording lathes prior to the invention of electronic amplification.The mechanical design of their lathe remained practically unchanged from 1930 to 1976, when the LS-76 was introduced.

Neumann and Scully, being the only two manufacturers remaining in business past the 60’s, are the better known names nowadays. But several other lathes had been and some even still remain in professional use, such as my modified Fairchild lathe from the early 1930’s, featured in the Vintage Whine column in Copper #89.

It is safe to say that the vast majority of the outstanding examples of vinyl records in existence, were cut on 1930’s technology.

Even motional feedback transducers had already been invented by 1937. The early design concepts proved so perfectly adequate, that no effort was ever expended in improving upon them. Even in the 70’s, the changes were mainly in the form of modern restyling, keeping the original mechanical features intact, while developing more advanced automation systems, allowing less skilled operators to cut functional records, lowering the labor costs, in line with the times.

By that time, there were several other sound recording technologies available, which were deemed more convenient (not to say cheaper) for many applications. With only two surviving manufacturers of lathes, the extreme accuracy required and the development of elaborate automation systems, a disk mastering system was by no means a small investment. These systems were unbelievably expensive, large, heavy and fragile. There were very few facilities in the world who could have one, very few skilled cutting engineers and almost nobody who could work on these machines, should repairs be required.

The situation was very different prior to the 1950’s. Jack Mullin had returned from the war with this most secret German technology, the Magnetophon, and it would still take a few years before tape machines would become widely available. Up until then, disk recording was generally seen as the most practical and viable form of sound recording for most applications. Not all applications involved music or any serious expectation of sound quality, enabling the use of simpler equipment. A major application for disk recording lathes was the requirement for radio stations in several countries to “log” their entire program. This was a huge boost for the lathe industry and a huge loss when this field eventually was taken over by tape recording equipment.

There was a time when nearly every industrialized nation of the world had at least one manufacturer of disk recording lathes. These were usually smaller and simpler systems, which were widely used in recording studios, radio stations, educational establishments and even in the homes of the more affluent, as “hobby” recording machines. There were several thousand people cutting records on a regular basis, although most of these were not intended for mass production. More commonly, one-off records were cut, rather than masters for subsequent processing. There were several facilities in every major city, offering to record radio jingles on to disk, copy the original disk to a few more disks, cut one by one and distributed to radio stations.

At the same time, there was the world of mass manufacturing by record companies, for sale to the general public. This again would start by cutting the “master” disks on a lathe. The bigger and more expensive lathes were generally reserved for “mastering” work. These masters would then be electroplated, to derive metallic “negatives”, which would still retain all the nano-scale groove undulations. A set of negatives, called “stampers”, would then be mounted in the molds of a steam-heated, water-cooled, hydraulic press, which would press multiple copies of the record.

In this sector, there were always far fewer lathes than presses and far fewer disk mastering engineers than press operators, since one set of masters could produce several sets of stampers and each set of stampers could produce at least a thousand records.

As magnetic tape recording replaced disk recording, the smaller and simpler lathes went out of vogue and their production ceased. The only sector where lathes were still needed was in the mass manufacturing of records, to cut masters. But there were many perfectly good mastering lathes already in use, built sturdily enough to run for centuries. The demand for lathes was, by now, rather small and the demand for new cutting engineers even smaller.

Aftermarket automation systems could be purchased from a few different sources and retrofitted to older lathes, keeping them up-to-date with the newest offerings.

All in all, there were probably around 150 cutting engineers remaining around the world. It went from cutting records being synonymous to sound recording, where everyone involved in sound recording was expected to know how to cut records, to it assuming the status of an obscure art, practiced only by very few behind closed doors in secret laboratories hidden deep under ground. As with anything of such rare nature, it became surrounded by hype and mythology.

The great paradox is that while vinyl records were seen as consumer goods, available in large quantities and at low cost, the tools and processes used in their manufacture were among the most accurate in existence, requiring considerable skill and expense. Even the final product itself was a precision instrument, similar in many ways to diffraction gratings for spectroscopy, though the latter were never intended as low cost consumer goods!

From this perspective, there were several “issues” with the vinyl record as a product for mass consumption. It was not actually that cheap to manufacture, due to the extreme precision required. It required skilled engineers to cut masters, who were in short supply, expecting a skilled engineer’s fee for the services.

The process did not lend itself to complete automation. The human factor could not be eliminated, as modern trends were dictating. The resulting product was large, heavy and sensitive, making it expensive to transport and store, taking up considerable display real estate in retail, making it impractical to manufacture at a convenient location (with a favorably inexpensive and preferably unskilled workforce) and ship all over the world from there.

While the engineers involved in their manufacture were really proud about the low product cost they had managed to achieve for such a complex process, the consumers and merchants were complaining about the “expensive” prices.

The times they did a-change and new technology was invented, making the consumer formats for the distribution of music progressively smaller, lighter, cheaper, less fragile, easier and faster to manufacture, more automated and less dependent on the human factor, up until the point when distribution formats entirely left the physical domain with its old-fashioned manufacturing processes behind… Easiest, fastest, cheapest, free…wait….what? Scully stopped manufacturing lathes by the late 70’s and Neumann stopped in 1985, shortly after introducing the Direct Metal Mastering system. Since then, nobody has designed or manufactured a new mastering lathe. The industry went the way of the dinosaur. Pressing plants either moved on to CD/DVD manufacturing or went out of business, or both. Lathes and record presses were sent to the crusher, or even in one famous case, dumped in the sea, where they still remain to date, appreciated by aquatic life forms keen on obsolete industrial machinery to breed inside.

Magnetic tape formats went the same way and even optical media are now fading out.

But then, magically, the vinyl record came back!

The author, inspecting a master cut on a heavily-modified 1940 Neumann-based system.

Some people were apparently immune to the general business short-sightedness at the time and had simply powered down entire pressing plants without disassembling them. These were promptly powered up again and were immediately overwhelmed with demand, running at full capacity. Presses and lathes were pulled out of barns, basements, yards, oceans, and deserts and repaired. A few years later, new presses were on offer. There are now at least four companies in different countries, manufacturing record presses and other record manufacturing equipment. Major audio equipment manufacturers are introducing new turntables and cartridges, while the “classic” brands are being bought up and the iconic models of yesteryear reissued.

But, what is up with lathes? No lathes yet. The entire industry is still running on 1930’s technology, which, in the hands of a suitably skilled engineer, can still sound unbelievably good. A new generation had to figure out, pretty much from scratch, how to make records. The knowledge and experience had nearly become extinct.

Compression molding (pressing) and electroplating (galvanics) are widely used in many other sectors for the economic mass production of consumer goods, so this was not as tricky to rediscover, hence the offerings of new equipment.

However, cutting micro-grooves to nano-scale accuracy, even in 2019, still remains quite a challenge. There are still very few disk mastering engineers around and the hype is hotter than ever.

Wizards and witches wearing pointy hats, complete with long cloak and pet dragon on shoulder, snow-white beard or long white hair, dragging on the floor of their cave (or was it a castle?) as they approach their medieval machines, smoking test tubes and little glass vessels containing fluorescent liquids all around, cauldron simmering over the fire, permanent fog even inside the alchemastering engineer’s laboratory, the occasional bat flying around at 78 rpm.

Poor Editor Leebs had to be parachuted off to the valley of eternal darkness, climb mountains, cross rivers and swim through the mote of my castle faster than the alligators, to then have to walk all the way back with this handwritten manuscript, if the vampire vultures don’t get him…

Ok, enough hype. You get the idea.

To dispel some of the hype, it is certainly not the case that there is no room for improvement. Engineers who would be capable of designing a new lathe, outperforming existing machines, definitely exist, even if usually found very gainfully employed in other sectors. It is not magic, just science, engineering, and craftsmanship. This is a perfect example of a process which has never actually reached a technologically-imposed limit. The limit to what can reasonably be achieved has always been and still remains economically imposed. The vast majority of commercial album releases on vinyl do not come anywhere near approaching the full potential of the medium, even to the limited extent in which this has already been explored, due to cost considerations.

But, this is not just about records. We urgently need a radical departure from the cheaper-cheapest-fastest-easiest mindset which has invaded the music industry, if we are to prevent technological, artistic, intellectual and even economic stagnation.

The London punk scene was wearing some musicians out. People like songwriting guitarist and keyboardist Gary Kemp, who wanted to seem like a rebellious musician, but not in the same old Sex Pistols mold (much as he loved them). He valued Frank Sinatra and the burgeoning dance club scene equally. And that, it turned out, was his rebellious streak. Kemp and sax player Steve Norman started Spandau Ballet in 1979, becoming pioneers in the New Romantic movement.

In retrospect, it sounds niche, but they managed an impressive ratio: 23 hit singles in the UK and European markets from only six studio albums over nine years. That gives you some idea of the impact of Spandau Ballet in the 1980s. They were exactly right for their time and place.

Kemp recruited his brother Martin Kemp to play bass. They were joined by the genre-defining voice of Tony Hadley (more on this later), the drums of John Keeble, along with Norman’s retro sax stylings. Spandau Ballet played the London underground dance clubs and soon became the house band at The Blitz, where pop-singer-turned-producer Steve Strange periodically hosted a dance night that attracted a vibrant subculture of young people who wanted to pull music and fashion beyond the punk aesthetic.

While Spandau Ballet never had the impact in the US that they did in the UK, their work inspired some of the biggest stars of the Second British Invasion, groups like Culture Club and Duran Duran, who tore up the American charts.

Chrysalis records was the victor among several major labels intrigued by Spandau Ballet’s early cult following. They released the band’s debut, Journeys to Glory, in 1981. The first single, “To Cut a Long Story Short,” pre-existed the main recording sessions, and was put out before the record. It hit No. 1 in the UK. Not a bad start.

One album-only track that was probably a surprise at the time is the instrumental “Age of Blows,” which opens with a bona fide hard-rock riff before twisting out into the world of synths.

But New Romantic normally needs a smooth vocal; here’s Hadley singing “Toys.” One interesting thing about New Romantic singers is that, unlike the classic crooners they aimed to emulate, these young British men barely use vibrato.

This is an interesting song compositionally. There’s an unexpected half-step in the downward scale that repeats throughout and gives the harmony an off-kilter feeling typical of New Wave.

In 1982, Diamond came out, and the experimentation continued. “Innocence and Science” demonstrates two trends in New Wave: the celebration of the nerds (note the sounds of bubbling lab beakers) and a fascination with world musics. Mainly instrumental, this song relies on an Azerbaijani instrument called a chang (it sounds sort of like a koto), and a few vocal whispers.

“Pharaoh” uses more vocals, but not in the usual sense of melody. Traditional songwriting structure does not apply either. The syncopated, almost monotone chorus first comes in at 2:05, then recurs once. Hadley finally comes in with more at 3:42. A third vocal idea shows up at 4:20.

It says a lot about the New Wave consumer that an album like this sold well. It’s not so much a matter of patience on the listener’s part (contrasted, say, to the 16-minute speculative fiction ballads by Rush, which were listened to intently by fans), as it is a willingness to bathe in the atmosphere of the music.

Spandau Ballet finally hit the US jackpot with 1983’s True. That’s probably a result of the jazz and R&B influence on this one. The biggest hit was the song “Gold.” This album is not their most original sound, but it’s important to mark on their timeline the changes that widened their appeal and put them in the mainstream.

The upbeat song “Foundation” sounds more George Michael than Brian Eno. As for the R&B vibe, it’s easy to imagine that phrase “Build it up” at the end of each chorus belted out by a soul singer. Frankly, it would probably have more power.

By the time of their 1984 album Parade, there’s no other genre label for Spandau Ballet but synthpop. Hadley has that smooth, back-of-throat sound down. The only thing that sets him apart from lesser singers going for the same effect (Simon Le Bon, for example) is his considered use of dynamics, which is rare in all types of pop music.

Long remixes of songs were an essential development in the ’80s, fueling and fueled by the dance club industry. Here’s the extended version of “With the Pride,” which seems to be an anthem for the working class. That’s their British punk roots showing.

With the next album, Through the Barricades (1986), the band has turned unabashedly serious and adult, fully aware of the world. Its sound is now more on the rock side (although critics at the time complained that the guitar and drum playing were too refined for the material). The title song, which was a UK hit, was about the troubles in Northern Ireland, inspired by the death of a crew member there.

“Man in Chains” uses a different kind of retro touch, almost a Billy Joel feel, using up-tempo rhythms – led by a bright, snare-filled drum beat – as a vehicle for rousing (but vague) social commentary.

Heart Like a Sky (1989) was only released in Europe and barely made a dent there. The band had run its course, although it achieved some interesting sonorities on “Windy Town.”

They called it quits in 1990. The non-Kemps sued Gary Kemp in 1999 for shared songwriting credits; they lost. In 2009, they all got back together and started touring again, in support of the aptly titled Once More. Eleven of the 13 cuts were re-recordings of older songs. The two new ones are too sickly sweet to play here. So let’s end with the spirited and appealingly funky new version of “I’ll Fly for You,” a bit reminiscent of Steely Dan this time around:

In 2017, Hadley quit, and they hired Ross William Wild as their lead singer. That lasted all the way to 2018, when Wild announced that he, too, was quitting. They have apparently not found a replacement, which suggest that they’re not really looking. Has the Ballet done its final act? In these days of rampant ’80s nostalgia, there’s plenty of financial incentive to lace up those toe shoes again, lads.

Header image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Andrew Hurley.

49 years ago, in the first international worldwide television broadcast, John Lennon sang to us, “There’s nothing you can do but you can learn how to play the game – it’s easy. All you need is love.” It was an invitation that opened doors through which millions flowed. Many years later Nelson Mandela suggested that what frightens us most is not the possible darkness inside us, but how unbearably bright we might shine.

We perform all our actions along a scale that exists between our purest state, love, and our most perfect state of resisting that love: fear. You can see that in so many of our endeavors, and very much so in the world of music and its interaction with business. Music is one of the purest expressions of human souls, the language of love, the voice of longing for God. It’s seemingly part of the nature of many people in business to be fearful, to be conservative (in the sense of conserving). We can all easily understand and empathize with the impulse to hold on to what we already have. But no innovation, no strides, have ever been made through that sort of conservative behavior. It’s always fallen to those in pursuit of a vision to take the risks and reap the rewards. (For example, the mere survival, let alone the triumph, in the present moment of Apple Computer in an environment, which a Darwinian perspective on business suggests would have eradicated it, proves the strength of individual vision, of the determination to deliver something better. Apple existed for some time not out of acting on fear, but out of acting on the vision of a few men’s vision).

The explosive flowering of music 50 years ago came not from business but from people, from hearts and minds opening across the culture — and the existing industry responded, often in the same understanding spirit (e.g. Warner Bros./Reprise’s reputation for being nurturing and artist-friendly). Music lovers ran the labels. But of course, things have changed, as our friend Bob Zimmerman says. The current state of business in our society is deeply mired in fear. There is a prevailing sense that things are getting worse and are going to get even worse, and that if you’re going to get what you can get, you better get it now.

My brother Peter Schwartz (then of Global Business Network), writing with collaborators, put forth an idea in Wired magazine in 1997 that they called “the Long Boom,” specifically to counter the fear that runs through those concerned with the state of economics in the West. His premise was that whatever the ups and down, we were in the midst of an overall rising tide, and that there is only reason for optimism when one takes the long view. (Steven Pinker makes a similar, although more convincing, argument about violence in the world). The bursting of the tech bubble appears to run counter to this idea and disprove it — perhaps it does. But if one looks at real estate (and note the word “real”) the irregular dips and peaks in home values are seen in a steadily rising line, even in places that are currently enduring the more conventional real estate bubble. When the world of speculation disappoints, people put their trust in the real, the tangible. We come back to our essential values, the things we know, and the intrinsically human. Like music — one of the essential human expressions.

The remains of the music business as it exists today aren’t in any condition to nurture this value; the functionaries who seek employment in it, and what’s worse, seek desperately to hold on to that employment out of fear, have demonstrated no ability to promote the well-being of the very life blood of the industry they’ve invaded. We got here the same way we got to this state in many other industries: by democracy. The responsibility of corporate officers to produce shareholder value may work in some industries to keep behavior within the company in line (though we should ask – in line with what? This is one of the essential questions asked in the American business world today, as we all recognize).

But we should also ask, does it necessarily mean that such industries need to work out of fear? In the music business, greed alone hasn’t been the over-riding concern: it’s been the increasing fearfulness for more than 40 years. And since international conglomerates took over the industry in the early 90s, it’s been fear of not meeting those quarterly expectations. This is by its very nature opposed to risk-taking; opposed to acting out of vision, opposed to acting out of love. Protecting market share has nothing to do with music. It led to a monolithic culture. It’s indeed hard to imagine how much more narrow the permissible range of music might become, but the permissible range of music-making has been reduced to one method – a computer manipulated hallucination of “perfection.”

And, regrettably, as the visionary musician and record-producer Brian Eno has stated, “musicians have shrunk to fit” this demand. Producers in their 30’s now complain (to me) that the bands they produce that are their age or younger can no longer play through a song in the studio but can only perform a brief part of a song once – they expect the technical staff to simply “loop” it in their computers to simulate performance.

In the meantime, those who came of age and entered music as their life at Lennon’s invitation have been shoved aside. Those who can write, who can sing, who can perform without the aid of computer crutches are deemed un-market-worthy. This makes perfect sense. They are older. Wider. Grayer. They have less hair. They might not look so good on YouTube or in a Calvin Klein underwear ad, which make them less useful for marketing synergy. But they are now deeper, more experienced human beings and they know how to make MUSIC. And the industry, so obsessed with its terror of failure, won’t let them in. The engineers who know the skill of recording a group of musicians playing together are aging and their skills aren’t being passed on. Today’s starting engineers know only how to plug in computer cables. They can’t set up microphones for a drum kit or a string quartet. These days, in the rare moments when an older musician gets hired to play on something new, they have to teach the engineer how to record their instrument. Long ago, I took control of getting my sound recorded.

The irony of this situation — which has become a tragedy — is that the remaining labels primary value is in back catalog, in the ownership of recordings by musicians who are no longer allowed in, recorded with methods that are considered outmoded. Older, imperfect and very human recordings are and remain these corporations’ strongest sellers year to year and yet the companies fear to find and release such music now. This is short-sightedness to a suicidal degree.

In 2001 a band that broke up 31 years before was the number one band in the country — with recordings all made between 1963 and 1970. Pop and rock music of 40 and 50 years ago is our new classical music. And I fear we are stuck in a semi-permanent loop of nostalgia.

The recording industry is and always has been about preserving magical moments in time. The worrisome part is that, in recording at least, there seem to be so few new magical moments.

When writing this column, I frequently close my eyes and go back to certain times in my life – in this case 1964 post Beatles arrival – and try to channel my memory as to how the arrival of the Beatles and the entire British Invasion affected my life. It is nearly impossible to explain the incredible emotional disparity between the year 1963 (the year Kennedy was assassinated) and 1964 (the year the Beatles arrived).

These events, separated by only 2 months, took me, along with millions of my peers, from the lowest low to the highest high.

But it wasn’t just the Beatles arrival, it was the entire change of the music scene. Seemingly overnight, our AM radios were overtaken by new heroes.

The first post-Beatles band to hit the airwaves and come crashing into my consciousness was the Dave Clark Five with the song “Glad All Over”.

I remember watching the evening news every night after the arrival of the Beatles and listening for any Beatles news updates. Only 2 weeks after the Beatles appeared on Ed Sullivan, with 3 songs in the top 10 (“I want to Hold Your Hand”, “She Loves You”, and “Please Please Me”), bands such as the Searchers with “Needles and Pins”, the Swinging Blue Jeans with “Hippy Hippy Shake”, and the Dave Clark Five with “Glad All Over” were now in the top 30 on WABC, my local radio station.

The national news shows disregarded the Searchers & the Swinging Blue Jeans (I don’t know why) and concentrated on the Dave Clark Five: “The English rock ‘n’ roll band that can knock the Beatles off of the top of the charts!”

Perhaps it just made for good television, but I remember that newsreel footage showed thousands of young girls screaming at a Dave Clark Five concert in the UK and the announcer saying that the DC5 were going to be the next Beatles.

It certainly looked like Dave Clark Mania was coming!

And, why not?

“Glad All Over” was power pop at its most intense.

The song just drove through the radio like a jet engine, and the machine-like pounding of the drums along with the vocals by Mike Smith was so self-assured and commanding that it almost made you feel like you were at a parade and had to stand at attention! The Sax added yet another element to the powerful sound.

The song was mesmerizing as it poured out of my little transistor radio with the 1-inch speaker, and, in my memory, the song went to number one.

It had to have.

It didn’t.

Here’s the thing:

I don’t have a scientific study of the following analysis, but here it goes…

Today, if you asked my peers (those who were born in the early 1950’s and were most affected by the music of the British Invasion) to tell you which British Invasion band was the next one to reach number one in the US after the Beatles, my guess is that most would say the Rolling Stones.

Why?

Because most people, out of habit, mention these 2 bands (the Beatles and the Stones) together as a quick historical reference.

But the Stones didn’t have their first number one, “Satisfaction”, until the summer of 1965. That is a year and a half after the Beatles hit number one with “I Want to Hold Your Hand”.

A year and a half….

So, I’m sitting at my desk writing this appreciation of the Dave Clark Five thinking that “Glad All Over” had to be the first post-Beatles British Invasion band to hit number one.

When I researched and found that it didn’t, I thought for sure the follow up “Bits and Pieces” went to number one…nope.

Neither did (among others):

“Do You Love Me”
“Can’t You See That She’s Mine”
“Any Way You want it”
“Catch Us If You Can”
“Because”
“You Got What It Takes”

I remember these songs like it was yesterday.

I would have bet the farm that many, if not all, went to number one on WABC in New York City.

To further illustrate the immense popularity of the DC5,the ani here is yet another example:

The Ed Sullivan show, the show that “broke the Beatles” in the US and remained the most influential outlet for almost all of the British Invasion bands, had the Dave Clark Five on 18 times (more than any other rock act)!

The Beatles only appeared on the Ed Sullivan show 9 times.

This only underscores how big the DC5 were from 1964-1966.

I went back to watch the videos for this article and what I saw was a band of incredible musicians with an almost militaristic and regimented single-minded approach to style and presentation that belied a professionalism probably unequalled by all (except the Beatles) of the other British Invasion bands.

Dave Clark, on the drums, seemed to preside over a machine, and he knew the results of that kind of performance discipline.

The bands stage choreography and dress code further underscored the detail that band leader Dave Clark imposed to create a monolithic impression.

I also now understand his effect on the E Street band’s drummer Max Weinberg.

Max sits on his drum throne, the same way Dave Clark did, and plays with that same kind of command and determination!

So, getting back to my memory of the importance of the DC5 in the chronological hierarchy of British Invasion bands, this is what I learned:

The next British Invasion artist to hit number one after the Beatles was Peter and Gordon with “World Without Love”, followed by “Do Wah Diddy Diddy” from Manfred Mann, and then “House of the Rising Sun” by The Animals.

Also hitting number one before the DC5 were Freddy and the Dreamers and Gerry and the Pacemakers.

Amazingly, the Dave Clark Five finally hit the number one spot (and they only did that once in the US) with the song “Over and Over” in November 1965, almost 2 years after the Beatles hit the US.

Unlike the Beatles, the DC5 never morphed into an album band, and because of that they have a limited historical impact on the music scene and the evolution of the British Invasion bands.

That is unfortunate, as they are certainly one of the greatest of all British Invasion bands that helped redefine the music of the ’60s.

I love them!

The Jewish cemetery in Shettleston, Glasgow is a miserable place. Not because of what it is but because of its location. For some reason it is always raining in this cemetery. Glasgow is known for its bad weather but Shettleston has its own microclimate. This results in flooding and erosion of the graves. There have been reports of body parts, exposed by the elements, being eaten by rodents and foxes. This sogginess causes tombstones to fall over and as the local Jewish population declines, less money is available to maintain these graves. My whole family, with the exclusion of my sister, is buried there, so my family visits—if one-sided—are easy. I recently visited Glasgow and true to form, it poured cats and dogs.

One summer we took a trip to Europe. An unveiling for my uncle’s tombstone in Shettleston was coming up and we decided to do a European tour before ending up in Glasgow. Our first stop was Paris. The weather in Europe that summer was spectacular. Hot days, clear skies, and no rain. Paris actually was too hot and, in those days, hotels didn’t have air conditioning. One sultry night, unable to sleep, I stared out the open window of our hotel in Rue Verneuil. We had fans running but all they did was move the hot air around. Suddenly, a light appeared in the window of an apartment facing my room. A woman, totally naked, rose from her bed and moved to another room. She was so graceful and self-assured that I couldn’t help but stare at her. A vision of loveliness, she returned a few moments later, eased herself under the sheets and turned off the light. Ahh…Paris!

London was next and the heat wave continued. Hyde Park was so dry that the grass turned brown. This was so unusual as London usually has too much rain.

We took the train to Glasgow, which is 400 miles away. It is a picturesque ride that cuts through the center of the country. It takes about 5 hours and if you are ever out that way, it is well worth doing. I was convinced that the weather would change as we approached Scotland, but it didn’t. It was hot and dry and on arrival in Central Station, Glasgow; the sun was shining and the temperature was about 75 degrees. The unveiling (or as we call it, Stone Setting) was arranged for the next day. My children who had oft heard me tell of the rainy cemetery started to rib me about the weather.

“Just wait.” I told them. They snorted and called me a liar.

The next day sparkled with a clear blue sky and a yellow sun. The light in Scotland, because the country is quite far north, is particularly clean—unlike the yellow summer sky in New York where I live. We arrived at the cemetery and the temperature was rising. My kids were snickering and pointing at the sky. Friends assembled, the service started and almost imperceptibly, a breeze sprung up, the wind suddenly quickened, and a cloud that seemed to come from nowhere emptied on top of us. We were immediately soaked and as rain is always ice cold in Scotland, we soon started to shiver. The service was quickly moved indoors and when it was over I looked at my kids who were full of a new appreciation of their father. As we returned to our car, the skies cleared and the sun reappeared.