The Larks may not be such a familiar name these days, having broken up way back in 1988 and leaving only three singles behind them, but back at the time they were a very popular live band, able to headline venues like the Town & Country Club (aka, The Forum) and Astoria, despite being unsigned and not even having released an album. I first came across them soon after they had formed in Canterbury, around 1982, when they were one of the best local bands of the time, quickly progressing from a mostly punky covers band to playing their own lively material. Mixing the energy of punk with soul, Sixties R’n’B and a touch of ska, they created an exciting, danceable sound with entertaining lyrics that could also put across a point. After they had all finished their student courses, they made the decision to relocate to London and see how far they could take the band. They soon established themselves on the thriving live circuit and, despite remaining unsigned, played many successful tours and released three singles. Unfortunately, they eventually paid the toll for all the hard work, breaking up in 1988 despite having become a big live draw.
In the intervening years, guitarist Mark Bannister has remained one of my oldest friends, and our shared love of music as varied as The Ramones, Sparks, Snuff, Syd Barrett and Bad Brains has ensured that we always meet up for a gig several times a year. But it’s only been recently that the subject of The Larks has really come up again. In a bizarre twist of fate, it turned out that The Larks have a small but devoted following in Japan, with bands covering their songs and their original singles being highly sought-after (resulting in a bootleg album that compiles all the original tracks !) Consequently, Mark decided that the band themselves should set-up their own internet page, for anyone who wanted to check them out, and has also begun to make the original singles available through Spotify, plus previously-unreleased live recordings. All-in-all, it’s a great way to let original fans enjoy the band again, and also put them out there for curious music-aficionados to discover what they’ve been missing. In support of this, I decided it was a good opportunity to do a retrospective interview with Mark and so, before the recent Walter Lure gig, we found a reasonably quiet pub and started the story right at its’ humble origins….
In the intervening years, guitarist Mark Bannister has remained one of my oldest friends, and our shared love of music as varied as The Ramones, Sparks, Snuff, Syd Barrett and Bad Brains has ensured that we always meet up for a gig several times a year. But it’s only been recently that the subject of The Larks has really come up again. In a bizarre twist of fate, it turned out that The Larks have a small but devoted following in Japan, with bands covering their songs and their original singles being highly sought-after (resulting in a bootleg album that compiles all the original tracks !) Consequently, Mark decided that the band themselves should set-up their own internet page, for anyone who wanted to check them out, and has also begun to make the original singles available through Spotify, plus previously-unreleased live recordings. All-in-all, it’s a great way to let original fans enjoy the band again, and also put them out there for curious music-aficionados to discover what they’ve been missing. In support of this, I decided it was a good opportunity to do a retrospective interview with Mark and so, before the recent Walter Lure gig, we found a reasonably quiet pub and started the story right at its’ humble origins….
‘In the very beginning… I went to Christchurch College in Canterbury and I was allocated a room to share with a guy called Tommy Barlow, just because our names were next to each other alphabetically. I showed up with my guitar and he showed up with a saxophone, so we looked at each other and started talking about music. It turned out we were interested in completely different things. He was totally into jazz, while I liked rock’n’roll and punk music. But the thing was, even though he wasn't into it, he got the punk thing and understood what it was all about. He liked The Ruts, The Clash and Stiff Little Fingers and the way they mixed Reggae into what they were doing, so we had a bit of common ground even though I knew nothing about jazz at that point in time. I could only play things like ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’ and some of the songs off The Heartbreakers album, so it was all very rudimentary, but he had only just started learning to play sax as well, which pretty much put us at the same level and we just took it from there. The first things we did together were Clash covers, things like ‘Jimmy Jazz’, just the two of us having fun. We weren’t great, but it was better than not doing anything.’
As you got to know more people around the college, the other members of the band gradually joined in… Did you find it a good place to start a band ?
‘Christchurch College turned out to be a great place to form a band because we could easily get somewhere to rehearse and the Student Union had a PA we could use. It was hardly a top grade University, but it was a great place to be in a band for three years. Canterbury never really struck me as a rock’n’roll kind of place, but once in a while we’d get to see bands like The Ramones playing at the Odeon. Funnily enough, that was the last date of their ‘Non-Stop World Tour’, and I’d seen one of the first dates on that tour about a year before, in Brussels. And we also saw bands like Slade and Stiff Little Fingers, quite a lot of different things, so there would be some stuff going on to keep you into it.’
The Larks had more of a punk rock sound to begin with, and I remember seeing the band early on playing loads of cover versions, but as you continued to play, you quickly seemed to develop your own style and move away from that…
‘We started out being very amateurish and we just played what we were capable of performing. But I think the thing is, when you’re in a band, you start improving quickly, nobody wants to be left behind by the others and before we knew it, we all became pretty good. This was in the early-Eighties, so the original punk thing seemed to be dead, and that kind of Ruts / Clash / SLF punky-reggae thing had already been done. We knew we couldn’t do that any better than them, and I wasn’t interested in that whole Discharge / Exploited thing, so we were trying to do something a bit different. We started playing with a brass section, who were just friends of ours, and from that we started sounding a bit more soulful. It wasn’t as if we sat down and decided to do that, it just turned out that way because we wanted to bring other things in to it, rather than it just being one-dimensional. I suppose, once we’d learned to play a bit better, it just became a bit boring to only do one thing. It’s great fun when you start playing and you’re able to play cover versions of songs you like, but sooner or later you get to a point where you want to play your own stuff. I think there was one summer break when we all went home for a few months, and when we came back, I told Tommy that I’d written a bunch of songs and he said, that’s funny, so have I! It wasn’t as if we’d planned to do that, it was just part of the natural process. We started rehearsing the new songs and suddenly, we had a whole new set. Then Dave, our drummer, came in with some of his songs, and Pete Walmsley, our original bass player, said he had a song too. So from doing cover versions, we suddenly had all our own material, almost from one gig to the next, and that’s when all the different influences started coming in.’
As you got to know more people around the college, the other members of the band gradually joined in… Did you find it a good place to start a band ?
‘Christchurch College turned out to be a great place to form a band because we could easily get somewhere to rehearse and the Student Union had a PA we could use. It was hardly a top grade University, but it was a great place to be in a band for three years. Canterbury never really struck me as a rock’n’roll kind of place, but once in a while we’d get to see bands like The Ramones playing at the Odeon. Funnily enough, that was the last date of their ‘Non-Stop World Tour’, and I’d seen one of the first dates on that tour about a year before, in Brussels. And we also saw bands like Slade and Stiff Little Fingers, quite a lot of different things, so there would be some stuff going on to keep you into it.’
The Larks had more of a punk rock sound to begin with, and I remember seeing the band early on playing loads of cover versions, but as you continued to play, you quickly seemed to develop your own style and move away from that…
‘We started out being very amateurish and we just played what we were capable of performing. But I think the thing is, when you’re in a band, you start improving quickly, nobody wants to be left behind by the others and before we knew it, we all became pretty good. This was in the early-Eighties, so the original punk thing seemed to be dead, and that kind of Ruts / Clash / SLF punky-reggae thing had already been done. We knew we couldn’t do that any better than them, and I wasn’t interested in that whole Discharge / Exploited thing, so we were trying to do something a bit different. We started playing with a brass section, who were just friends of ours, and from that we started sounding a bit more soulful. It wasn’t as if we sat down and decided to do that, it just turned out that way because we wanted to bring other things in to it, rather than it just being one-dimensional. I suppose, once we’d learned to play a bit better, it just became a bit boring to only do one thing. It’s great fun when you start playing and you’re able to play cover versions of songs you like, but sooner or later you get to a point where you want to play your own stuff. I think there was one summer break when we all went home for a few months, and when we came back, I told Tommy that I’d written a bunch of songs and he said, that’s funny, so have I! It wasn’t as if we’d planned to do that, it was just part of the natural process. We started rehearsing the new songs and suddenly, we had a whole new set. Then Dave, our drummer, came in with some of his songs, and Pete Walmsley, our original bass player, said he had a song too. So from doing cover versions, we suddenly had all our own material, almost from one gig to the next, and that’s when all the different influences started coming in.’
I remember when the brass section first started playing with you, and they were being introduced as the ‘Brass Bandits’… Were they ever unhappy with that name ?
‘Ha ha ha ! No, I think they were just happy to be involved. At first, they were just a brass section that played on a few things, but before long, we’d written more songs with them in mind and they became involved the whole way through the set and they became band members rather than just a brass section.’
Your first couple of releases were cassettes and sold pretty well… It seems quite odd, looking back, that cassettes were a quite popular format for bands to release their own music back then…
‘Yeah, unfortunately ! The thing with cassettes was that, you’d go into a cheap local studio, your playing would probably only be average, the recording would only be average, and then you’d release it on cassette and the sound quality would be less than average ! You could only afford to get those mass-produced, cheap cassettes made up, so the audio was terrible and after four or five plays, it started to wipe itself out. But, as you said, almost every band started out like that. It was a legitimate way to put something out there, if you couldn’t afford to press-up your own vinyl.’
You all finished college around the same time and moved up to London to continue the band. Had that been the intention for a long time ?
‘No. When we formed the band, we just did it for fun and something to do. But when we came to the point of leaving college, we started to think that maybe we were good enough to carry on and not just split up to go our separate ways. I’m not even sure if we’d played in London before then, but that’s what we decided to do. Actually, when I look back now, we probably still weren’t that great at the time, but we had improved so much from when we’d started and we started thinking, maybe we could have a go at turning pro. But the problem when we went to London was that, it was difficult to get any gigs unless you’d already played somewhere else. It took a little time for us to find a way in, but once we did, we were away, and we ended up playing all the venues, like the Clarendon, Fulham Greyhound, Dingwalls, the Rock Garden, it was never-ending.’
The other way for bands to get exposure back then was the John Peel radio show. Did you ever get anything played on there ?
‘No, strangely enough, although we were told that he used to play ‘Maggie Maggie Maggie Out Out Out’ at the end of his roadshows, and he played it once as part of a documentary about protest music or something. But I’m pretty sure he never played it on his evening show, and we never got offered a session or anything… We did get some radio play from other DJ’s, but that wasn’t until later on. You can’t imagine how exciting it is to be driving to a gig in the van and to suddenly hear one of your songs being played on the radio ! But I think most bands will tell you, the problem is that you never really appreciate these things fully at the time because you’re always thinking, we need to do more ! You’ve just been played on the radio, but you are thinking, why aren't we getting more airplay? Or, you've just sold out the Marquee, but all you can think about is, when are we going to get a residency at the Marquee ? It’s only when it’s all over that you can look back and realise, well, we actually achieved quite a lot. But at the time, you just keep thinking, it’s not enough…’
‘Ha ha ha ! No, I think they were just happy to be involved. At first, they were just a brass section that played on a few things, but before long, we’d written more songs with them in mind and they became involved the whole way through the set and they became band members rather than just a brass section.’
Your first couple of releases were cassettes and sold pretty well… It seems quite odd, looking back, that cassettes were a quite popular format for bands to release their own music back then…
‘Yeah, unfortunately ! The thing with cassettes was that, you’d go into a cheap local studio, your playing would probably only be average, the recording would only be average, and then you’d release it on cassette and the sound quality would be less than average ! You could only afford to get those mass-produced, cheap cassettes made up, so the audio was terrible and after four or five plays, it started to wipe itself out. But, as you said, almost every band started out like that. It was a legitimate way to put something out there, if you couldn’t afford to press-up your own vinyl.’
You all finished college around the same time and moved up to London to continue the band. Had that been the intention for a long time ?
‘No. When we formed the band, we just did it for fun and something to do. But when we came to the point of leaving college, we started to think that maybe we were good enough to carry on and not just split up to go our separate ways. I’m not even sure if we’d played in London before then, but that’s what we decided to do. Actually, when I look back now, we probably still weren’t that great at the time, but we had improved so much from when we’d started and we started thinking, maybe we could have a go at turning pro. But the problem when we went to London was that, it was difficult to get any gigs unless you’d already played somewhere else. It took a little time for us to find a way in, but once we did, we were away, and we ended up playing all the venues, like the Clarendon, Fulham Greyhound, Dingwalls, the Rock Garden, it was never-ending.’
The other way for bands to get exposure back then was the John Peel radio show. Did you ever get anything played on there ?
‘No, strangely enough, although we were told that he used to play ‘Maggie Maggie Maggie Out Out Out’ at the end of his roadshows, and he played it once as part of a documentary about protest music or something. But I’m pretty sure he never played it on his evening show, and we never got offered a session or anything… We did get some radio play from other DJ’s, but that wasn’t until later on. You can’t imagine how exciting it is to be driving to a gig in the van and to suddenly hear one of your songs being played on the radio ! But I think most bands will tell you, the problem is that you never really appreciate these things fully at the time because you’re always thinking, we need to do more ! You’ve just been played on the radio, but you are thinking, why aren't we getting more airplay? Or, you've just sold out the Marquee, but all you can think about is, when are we going to get a residency at the Marquee ? It’s only when it’s all over that you can look back and realise, well, we actually achieved quite a lot. But at the time, you just keep thinking, it’s not enough…’
It’s the same thing with the reasons bands have for splitting up. At the time, they seem like a really big deal to the band members, but in hindsight many realise that they were actually pretty petty…
‘Exactly, and in fact, that’s probably what happened when we split up. I think it’s pretty well-documented that a lot of bands split-up when the members reach around 27 years old, because everyone suddenly starts feeling less 'gang' orientated and becomes more concerned with what they really want to do, rather than just going with the flow. We’d never taken time to sit down and actually think about what we were trying to do or achieve. We’d also been working really hard and were all pretty tired by that point, so little things started becoming a big deal and stuff like that. We were lucky because most of us stayed very good friends, but it was difficult. Being in a band can be a big emotional commitment, especially when you’re young. You throw your heart and soul in to it and then, only later on, you realise what you’ve locked yourself into.’
The other problem you were up against at that time was that, on a more independent basis, there were actually a lot of interesting bands and music coming out, so it made it all the more difficult for an individual band to make their mark…
‘Well, mainstream music during the Eighties was pretty poor, things like Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet, but they weren’t really our competition. There were all kinds of good bands out and about, on a smaller level. You’d go out to play at some place and you’d find out that the Newtown Neurotics or whoever had played there the night before, so you knew that you’d have to be really good to get that audience to remember you as well.’
Unfortunately, the band that you often seemed to get compared to were The Housemartins, although I tend to think of that as pretty lazy because, musically, you didn’t really sound all that similar. Maybe it was just because you were both named after birds…
‘Yeah, that used to really annoy us, because we pre-dated them, anyway, and then they kind of came up and overtook us. We thought they were pretty crap, basically. We used to play with bands like The Higsons and The Farmers Boys because we had the same booking agent, but no-one ever tried to lump us in with what they were doing. Actually, The Higsons were very nice to us. They were coming towards the end of their career, I suppose, but they took us out on tour with them a couple of times and, we didn’t exactly steal their audience, but we kind of inherited it once they broke up. Or their audience maybe adopted us… I think, because we played with The Higsons so much, it probably encouraged us to be more funky. We found a way to play a bit more funk but still keep our punk edge quite successfully, and I think we became known for that. It was a lovely racket and it was good fun, as well.’
‘Exactly, and in fact, that’s probably what happened when we split up. I think it’s pretty well-documented that a lot of bands split-up when the members reach around 27 years old, because everyone suddenly starts feeling less 'gang' orientated and becomes more concerned with what they really want to do, rather than just going with the flow. We’d never taken time to sit down and actually think about what we were trying to do or achieve. We’d also been working really hard and were all pretty tired by that point, so little things started becoming a big deal and stuff like that. We were lucky because most of us stayed very good friends, but it was difficult. Being in a band can be a big emotional commitment, especially when you’re young. You throw your heart and soul in to it and then, only later on, you realise what you’ve locked yourself into.’
The other problem you were up against at that time was that, on a more independent basis, there were actually a lot of interesting bands and music coming out, so it made it all the more difficult for an individual band to make their mark…
‘Well, mainstream music during the Eighties was pretty poor, things like Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet, but they weren’t really our competition. There were all kinds of good bands out and about, on a smaller level. You’d go out to play at some place and you’d find out that the Newtown Neurotics or whoever had played there the night before, so you knew that you’d have to be really good to get that audience to remember you as well.’
Unfortunately, the band that you often seemed to get compared to were The Housemartins, although I tend to think of that as pretty lazy because, musically, you didn’t really sound all that similar. Maybe it was just because you were both named after birds…
‘Yeah, that used to really annoy us, because we pre-dated them, anyway, and then they kind of came up and overtook us. We thought they were pretty crap, basically. We used to play with bands like The Higsons and The Farmers Boys because we had the same booking agent, but no-one ever tried to lump us in with what they were doing. Actually, The Higsons were very nice to us. They were coming towards the end of their career, I suppose, but they took us out on tour with them a couple of times and, we didn’t exactly steal their audience, but we kind of inherited it once they broke up. Or their audience maybe adopted us… I think, because we played with The Higsons so much, it probably encouraged us to be more funky. We found a way to play a bit more funk but still keep our punk edge quite successfully, and I think we became known for that. It was a lovely racket and it was good fun, as well.’
You also got to play with some pretty established names, like Gary Glitter…
‘Yeah, at Hammersmith Odeon. We met him before the show and he was actually quite scary, because he was quite a small man but very, sort of, barrel-chested. Me and Dave, our drummer, met him when we were walking back to our dressing room and had a short chat with him. It’s difficult to explain, he was quite small but had this enormous chest.He was wearing this kind of glitter costume that gave him even bigger shoulders and a great big wig on his head. He also had all this make up on, giving him those exaggerated eye brows, so seeing it up close, it was actually quite scary. But the second gig I ever went to, as a kid, was to see Gary Glitter, so to be his special guests was pretty weird in itself. Of course, it later turned out that he was a disgraceful old bastard, but he made some fantastic records back in the Seventies. Dave and I were the big Glam Rock fans in The Larks, so that was a great gig for us. We also got to play with people like The Sweet and Mud, all kinds of weird gigs. Dr. Feelgood, Misty In Roots. One time Eddie & The Hot Rods actually supported us!’
And you also supported Southside Johnny and the Asbury Dukes at Hammersmith Odeon…
‘Yeah… the thing was, when we supported Gary Glitter, we were only allowed to set-up at the very front of the stage, in front of the fire curtain, which was awkward for us because we always liked to move around a lot. At that gig, we barely had room to stand still ! But when we played with Southside Johnny, they let us use the whole stage, which was great because I remember looking down at the old wooden floorboards and thinking about all the people I’d seen playing there, and all the legendary gigs that I hadn’t seen, like the Ziggy Stardust farewell concert. I said earlier that you often don’t get to appreciate things while you’re in a band, but I think I did appreciate little details like that, playing on that same stage. I was probably still complaining about other things afterwards, but I do remember thinking at that time, this is worth remembering!’
Looking back at the venues you played in London during that time, from the Clarendon and Fulham Greyhound through to the Marquee and the Astoria, they all seem to have one thing in common – they’ve all gone ! Do you accept any responsibility for this ?
‘Ha ha ! No, it’s a shame. I suppose as individual venues, some of them are not such a great loss to the world, but there used to be such a great live circuit back then, and we could play all over the place, all of the time. Even places like The Mean Fiddler. In Harlesden! God knows why people would go all the way up there to see us, but still they came. We even used to play at the Sir George Robey. Too many times ! We never wanted to, because it was so horrible, but we always had a good gig there and even got paid well. Lots of people would come to see us and really enjoy it. But each time we’d say, never again. Until our manager asked us if we’d play there the next week or whatever, and we’d say, okay, just one last time… The strange thing was that we always seemed to have a great gig there, even though the place was awful. On one occasion, we turned up and there was a pile of dog shit right in the middle of the dancefloor ! We complained and they put an upturned beer crate over it, saying they’d get it cleaned up later on. I don’t know what happened in the end, but by the time people were coming into the place, the crate was still there… It really was a dump, but we always played well there, and I saw some great bands there as well. It was total squalor but somehow also a really good venue…’
‘Yeah, at Hammersmith Odeon. We met him before the show and he was actually quite scary, because he was quite a small man but very, sort of, barrel-chested. Me and Dave, our drummer, met him when we were walking back to our dressing room and had a short chat with him. It’s difficult to explain, he was quite small but had this enormous chest.He was wearing this kind of glitter costume that gave him even bigger shoulders and a great big wig on his head. He also had all this make up on, giving him those exaggerated eye brows, so seeing it up close, it was actually quite scary. But the second gig I ever went to, as a kid, was to see Gary Glitter, so to be his special guests was pretty weird in itself. Of course, it later turned out that he was a disgraceful old bastard, but he made some fantastic records back in the Seventies. Dave and I were the big Glam Rock fans in The Larks, so that was a great gig for us. We also got to play with people like The Sweet and Mud, all kinds of weird gigs. Dr. Feelgood, Misty In Roots. One time Eddie & The Hot Rods actually supported us!’
And you also supported Southside Johnny and the Asbury Dukes at Hammersmith Odeon…
‘Yeah… the thing was, when we supported Gary Glitter, we were only allowed to set-up at the very front of the stage, in front of the fire curtain, which was awkward for us because we always liked to move around a lot. At that gig, we barely had room to stand still ! But when we played with Southside Johnny, they let us use the whole stage, which was great because I remember looking down at the old wooden floorboards and thinking about all the people I’d seen playing there, and all the legendary gigs that I hadn’t seen, like the Ziggy Stardust farewell concert. I said earlier that you often don’t get to appreciate things while you’re in a band, but I think I did appreciate little details like that, playing on that same stage. I was probably still complaining about other things afterwards, but I do remember thinking at that time, this is worth remembering!’
Looking back at the venues you played in London during that time, from the Clarendon and Fulham Greyhound through to the Marquee and the Astoria, they all seem to have one thing in common – they’ve all gone ! Do you accept any responsibility for this ?
‘Ha ha ! No, it’s a shame. I suppose as individual venues, some of them are not such a great loss to the world, but there used to be such a great live circuit back then, and we could play all over the place, all of the time. Even places like The Mean Fiddler. In Harlesden! God knows why people would go all the way up there to see us, but still they came. We even used to play at the Sir George Robey. Too many times ! We never wanted to, because it was so horrible, but we always had a good gig there and even got paid well. Lots of people would come to see us and really enjoy it. But each time we’d say, never again. Until our manager asked us if we’d play there the next week or whatever, and we’d say, okay, just one last time… The strange thing was that we always seemed to have a great gig there, even though the place was awful. On one occasion, we turned up and there was a pile of dog shit right in the middle of the dancefloor ! We complained and they put an upturned beer crate over it, saying they’d get it cleaned up later on. I don’t know what happened in the end, but by the time people were coming into the place, the crate was still there… It really was a dump, but we always played well there, and I saw some great bands there as well. It was total squalor but somehow also a really good venue…’
Your first single ‘Billy Graham’s Going to Heaven’ came out after various delays in 1986…
‘We’d signed to a label called R4, who had offices on Golden Square. The Higsons were also on the label, so we thought it would be good for us, but we really had no idea of how these things operated. We’d become a popular live band and we could put on a really good show, but we had no idea beyond that. In those days, getting signed seemed like you’d finally made it, but it turned out that it was really just the beginning of a whole new set of problems. We signed with R4 and recorded ‘Billy Graham’ with Vic Maile, who had previously produced people like Motorhead, so that was exciting. We’d already recorded ‘Maggie Maggie Maggie’, so we put that on the b-side, and it seemed like things were going to happen. ‘Billy Graham’ had a really catchy tune and ‘Maggie Maggie Maggie’ was one that everyone knew, so we thought it was a really strong single. But it came out and nothing happened… We found out later that the record label hadn’t been paying their bills on time which meant the distributors wouldn’t handle it. So even if people wanted to buy it, they couldn’t find it in the shops. It turned out to be a complete waste of time and that’s when it began to sink in. Here we were, we’d moved to London and worked really hard, trying to be professional. But when we finally got signed, we released a record and nothing happened with it, due to a situation that was out of our control. We’d all thought things were going to happen, because we’d become a really popular live band and assumed that all the people who came to see us would want to buy the record. But it didn’t happen like that and it was a big blow, a real set-back. We were thinking about quitting the label, but in the end we didn’t have to because they went out of business.’
After that, you set up your own label, Exaltation, for the rest of your releases…
‘After the fiasco with R4, we just thought, let’s do it ourselves, because at least then, we’ll know if the bills have been paid on time and also know who’s supposed to be distributing the records. We released ‘All Or Nothing Girl’ ourselves, but it was a big expense because we’d be paying for the recording, the production and the pressing of the records. Pinnacle did our distribution and certainly more of the records got in to the shops, but it always seemed very arbitrary. We were touring a lot at that time, so we would give the distributors our tour dates, thinking that they would then get in touch with the local record shops to tell them we would be playing in their town. They could then get the records in the shop for when we played. But instead, the shops would only have one or two copies of our single just as a new release. If anyone went in after we’d played and asked for it, only the first one or two would get lucky and everyone else would go away empty handed. And that was another big disappointment for us. It just seemed that, unless you already had some sort of clout in the business, you could never get anything done. Even the simple idea of getting the records in to the shops in places where the band was going to be playing seemed to have escaped the minds of the people who were getting paid to do just those things. We had enough on our plate just with touring, rehearsing and writing, to be continuously chasing up these things. I’d get this nagging feeling while we were on tour that things weren’t being done the way they ought to be, but at the same time realise that it was too late to do anything about it because we were already half way through the tour.’
‘We’d signed to a label called R4, who had offices on Golden Square. The Higsons were also on the label, so we thought it would be good for us, but we really had no idea of how these things operated. We’d become a popular live band and we could put on a really good show, but we had no idea beyond that. In those days, getting signed seemed like you’d finally made it, but it turned out that it was really just the beginning of a whole new set of problems. We signed with R4 and recorded ‘Billy Graham’ with Vic Maile, who had previously produced people like Motorhead, so that was exciting. We’d already recorded ‘Maggie Maggie Maggie’, so we put that on the b-side, and it seemed like things were going to happen. ‘Billy Graham’ had a really catchy tune and ‘Maggie Maggie Maggie’ was one that everyone knew, so we thought it was a really strong single. But it came out and nothing happened… We found out later that the record label hadn’t been paying their bills on time which meant the distributors wouldn’t handle it. So even if people wanted to buy it, they couldn’t find it in the shops. It turned out to be a complete waste of time and that’s when it began to sink in. Here we were, we’d moved to London and worked really hard, trying to be professional. But when we finally got signed, we released a record and nothing happened with it, due to a situation that was out of our control. We’d all thought things were going to happen, because we’d become a really popular live band and assumed that all the people who came to see us would want to buy the record. But it didn’t happen like that and it was a big blow, a real set-back. We were thinking about quitting the label, but in the end we didn’t have to because they went out of business.’
After that, you set up your own label, Exaltation, for the rest of your releases…
‘After the fiasco with R4, we just thought, let’s do it ourselves, because at least then, we’ll know if the bills have been paid on time and also know who’s supposed to be distributing the records. We released ‘All Or Nothing Girl’ ourselves, but it was a big expense because we’d be paying for the recording, the production and the pressing of the records. Pinnacle did our distribution and certainly more of the records got in to the shops, but it always seemed very arbitrary. We were touring a lot at that time, so we would give the distributors our tour dates, thinking that they would then get in touch with the local record shops to tell them we would be playing in their town. They could then get the records in the shop for when we played. But instead, the shops would only have one or two copies of our single just as a new release. If anyone went in after we’d played and asked for it, only the first one or two would get lucky and everyone else would go away empty handed. And that was another big disappointment for us. It just seemed that, unless you already had some sort of clout in the business, you could never get anything done. Even the simple idea of getting the records in to the shops in places where the band was going to be playing seemed to have escaped the minds of the people who were getting paid to do just those things. We had enough on our plate just with touring, rehearsing and writing, to be continuously chasing up these things. I’d get this nagging feeling while we were on tour that things weren’t being done the way they ought to be, but at the same time realise that it was too late to do anything about it because we were already half way through the tour.’
That’s the reason why so many bands now sell their own merchandise and records themselves when they tour…
‘Exactly… we started doing that by the time we released our third single, ‘Pain in the Neck’. We just took boxes of records on tour with us and didn’t worry about the distribution problem. Our first single hadn't even left the warehouse, the second one had some distribution but it wasn’t very effective, so by the time we released the third one, we just wanted to get it into the hands of the people who followed the band. We’d been popular enough to headline the Astoria and the Town & Country Club but we didn’t even have a record contract. That was unheard of at the time. Hundreds of people would come to see us, but we couldn’t get our records into the shops. We sold a lot at our gigs, but that meant it wouldn’t make any impression on the Indie charts, and as a result, we wouldn’t stimulate any music press interest. The music press just began to think of us as a good live band, but nothing more. In retrospect, that’s probably fair enough because we never had the time or the patience. We’d just go in to a studio and put things down quickly, trying to do as many songs as possible in the time we had available. But that was another thing, because if any of the singles had done a bit better for us, perhaps we would’ve had the chance to take more time to record the next one. In the end, it just became frustrating that we never get close to translating our popularity as a live band into record sales.’
You were playing live around the UK pretty solidly for several years, but did you ever get a chance to play abroad.
‘Not in Europe, but funnily enough, we were offered a tour in Australia at one point. A label over there released an EP featuring tracks from the singles, and they were keen for us to play over there, but we didn’t go in the end. I can’t really remember why we decided not to go over, but it just didn’t come together.’
The funny thing is that, despite the fact that you never played there, you did generate some interest in Australia, and over the years you’ve also built up a following in Japan…
‘I’ve no idea how that happened, apart from that old adage that everyone’s big in Japan… I can only guess that someone over there heard something like ‘Billy Graham’ or ‘Maggie Maggie Maggie’ and liked it, then started telling other people about us until a small following developed. We did have some great songs, so I could imagine people might still get in to them. Vinyl Japan even released a bootleg of all our singles and b-sides on album and CD, so it’s pretty hysterical to us, now, that this interest exists over there when we couldn’t sell any records over here even when we were together.’
‘Exactly… we started doing that by the time we released our third single, ‘Pain in the Neck’. We just took boxes of records on tour with us and didn’t worry about the distribution problem. Our first single hadn't even left the warehouse, the second one had some distribution but it wasn’t very effective, so by the time we released the third one, we just wanted to get it into the hands of the people who followed the band. We’d been popular enough to headline the Astoria and the Town & Country Club but we didn’t even have a record contract. That was unheard of at the time. Hundreds of people would come to see us, but we couldn’t get our records into the shops. We sold a lot at our gigs, but that meant it wouldn’t make any impression on the Indie charts, and as a result, we wouldn’t stimulate any music press interest. The music press just began to think of us as a good live band, but nothing more. In retrospect, that’s probably fair enough because we never had the time or the patience. We’d just go in to a studio and put things down quickly, trying to do as many songs as possible in the time we had available. But that was another thing, because if any of the singles had done a bit better for us, perhaps we would’ve had the chance to take more time to record the next one. In the end, it just became frustrating that we never get close to translating our popularity as a live band into record sales.’
You were playing live around the UK pretty solidly for several years, but did you ever get a chance to play abroad.
‘Not in Europe, but funnily enough, we were offered a tour in Australia at one point. A label over there released an EP featuring tracks from the singles, and they were keen for us to play over there, but we didn’t go in the end. I can’t really remember why we decided not to go over, but it just didn’t come together.’
The funny thing is that, despite the fact that you never played there, you did generate some interest in Australia, and over the years you’ve also built up a following in Japan…
‘I’ve no idea how that happened, apart from that old adage that everyone’s big in Japan… I can only guess that someone over there heard something like ‘Billy Graham’ or ‘Maggie Maggie Maggie’ and liked it, then started telling other people about us until a small following developed. We did have some great songs, so I could imagine people might still get in to them. Vinyl Japan even released a bootleg of all our singles and b-sides on album and CD, so it’s pretty hysterical to us, now, that this interest exists over there when we couldn’t sell any records over here even when we were together.’
Your biggest headline gig was at the Town & Country Club (now The Forum) in 1988, but soon after this, the band split up. Why did you decide to split when, on the face of it, you were still really successful as a live band ?
‘That was the ironic thing. We were doing better than ever, playing live, but we were all just getting fed up. Looking back, it’s hard to see why we were fed up, because we were doing far better than we ever expected we'd do, but as I said earlier, at the time it just didn’t seem to be enough. Our record sales had been disappointing and it all felt like a big failure. We decided to split up in 1987, but our manager told us we couldn’t split up straight way because we owed a huge amount of money to the taxman ! We had to carry on playing for another year just to pay off our outstanding bills. But the funny thing was, those turned out to be some of the best gigs we ever played, maybe because we realised the pressure was off. Listening back to some of the recordings I have from those last few months, we were sounding really good ! Just at the precise moment that we’d decided to stop playing, it sounds as if we were really on to something ! But it would be weird headlining a big gig like the Town & Country Club, and the support band would arrive with loads of brand new, expensive equipment because they were signed to a record label and were bringing an album out. We’d be listening to them soundcheck and thinking, how the fuck did they ever get signed ?!’
You all continued to play music after The Larks split…
‘Towards the end of The Larks, everyone seemed to be doing something else as well. Tommy ended up playing with Aztec Camera for a while and even appeared on Top of the Pops with them. Pete Daws had a walk-on part in a T’Pau video and got paid £100 which made us all really jealous… the £100 not the being in a video ! Phil started playing with Jools Holland, which is what he still does to this day. He’s the only one of us who’s been able to maintain a career in music, which is a fantastic achievement. Dave, Pete Daws and I started another band, the Fearless Vampire Killers, which I think was pretty good. It was less versatile than The Larks, just guitar, bass and drums and it was pretty fast stuff, but still melodic. It was easy because it was just the three of us and we could deal with each other, but we naively thought that we’d take on The Larks van and equipment, and play all the gigs that The Larks had been offered. We also thought we’d take all of The Larks following with us, but of course, it didn’t work out that way. We had to sell the van and all we managed to get were a few pub gigs, which were horrible because we’d already done that stuff, having to carry all our equipment to the gigs, so after a few of those, I realised I didn’t want to go through all of that again. I think maybe we should have given it more of a chance, but at the time, I think we were all too tired.
‘That was the ironic thing. We were doing better than ever, playing live, but we were all just getting fed up. Looking back, it’s hard to see why we were fed up, because we were doing far better than we ever expected we'd do, but as I said earlier, at the time it just didn’t seem to be enough. Our record sales had been disappointing and it all felt like a big failure. We decided to split up in 1987, but our manager told us we couldn’t split up straight way because we owed a huge amount of money to the taxman ! We had to carry on playing for another year just to pay off our outstanding bills. But the funny thing was, those turned out to be some of the best gigs we ever played, maybe because we realised the pressure was off. Listening back to some of the recordings I have from those last few months, we were sounding really good ! Just at the precise moment that we’d decided to stop playing, it sounds as if we were really on to something ! But it would be weird headlining a big gig like the Town & Country Club, and the support band would arrive with loads of brand new, expensive equipment because they were signed to a record label and were bringing an album out. We’d be listening to them soundcheck and thinking, how the fuck did they ever get signed ?!’
You all continued to play music after The Larks split…
‘Towards the end of The Larks, everyone seemed to be doing something else as well. Tommy ended up playing with Aztec Camera for a while and even appeared on Top of the Pops with them. Pete Daws had a walk-on part in a T’Pau video and got paid £100 which made us all really jealous… the £100 not the being in a video ! Phil started playing with Jools Holland, which is what he still does to this day. He’s the only one of us who’s been able to maintain a career in music, which is a fantastic achievement. Dave, Pete Daws and I started another band, the Fearless Vampire Killers, which I think was pretty good. It was less versatile than The Larks, just guitar, bass and drums and it was pretty fast stuff, but still melodic. It was easy because it was just the three of us and we could deal with each other, but we naively thought that we’d take on The Larks van and equipment, and play all the gigs that The Larks had been offered. We also thought we’d take all of The Larks following with us, but of course, it didn’t work out that way. We had to sell the van and all we managed to get were a few pub gigs, which were horrible because we’d already done that stuff, having to carry all our equipment to the gigs, so after a few of those, I realised I didn’t want to go through all of that again. I think maybe we should have given it more of a chance, but at the time, I think we were all too tired.
Do you think The Larks split up at the right time, or do you regret the decision in hindsight ?
‘At the time, we all decided that was what we wanted to do. Just to get a break from it, I think. We still enjoyed playing live but all the rest of it just wasn’t getting any easier for us, despite all the hard work. I was talking to Dave recently, and he still considers that it was all a big failure. I thought that way for a long time but I can look back now and see that we actually achieved more than we ever expected in our wildest dreams. But it was just that, at the time, it was too easy to be sitting there in the dressing room at the Town & Country Club, waiting to go onstage, thinking to yourself, is this all there is, instead of thinking, My God, we’re headlining the Town & Country Club ! I think that’s just part of the deal when you’re in a band. I remember Dee Dee Ramone saying in an interview, that they should have just relaxed and learned to appreciate what they had. I can imagine a lot of musicians saying that in hindsight. We’d started playing for fun, but before we knew it, we were in the thick of it without any game-plan and with no clue as to how things worked. We never set out with plans for world domination, so when we moved to London and found ourselves playing at the Marquee or Hammersmith Odeon, it seems bizarre that we ended up thinking that it wasn’t enough. We should have been feeling very content and happy with it all, and that’s more the way I try to feel about it now, if and when I look back on it all.’
Having been such a big chunk of your lives back then, has there ever been any talk of getting back together to play again, even if it was just a small reunion for yourselves ?
‘Well, three or four of us were together at Phil’s wedding about ten years ago, and we got up and played a ramshackle version of ‘Maggie Maggie Maggie’ just for a laugh! Most of us are still good friends and keep in touch with each other, but I think if you asked any of us, we’d say the same thing. We put so much effort and emotion in to it, that when it came to an end, there was a feeling that it was completely over and we just had to put it behind us. I think it was like that for a long time. All the old cassettes and records and t-shirts went in to a box in the attic and were forgotten about. We’d still meet up with one another for a beer pretty regularly, and maybe have a laugh about certain things we’d done, but it was all very much in the past. But then we started finding out through the internet that our records were still being played in clubs in Japan and people really liked them. At first we just thought that was funny, but then I think we started to realise that if people were playing our record in Japan twenty years after we split up, maybe we’d been in denial for long enough ? But that being said, we’ve never discussed a proper reunion, apart from one night when we all went out and, after an excess of alcohol, vowed that we’d get back together and go to play in Japan. Of course, the following morning there was a flurry of hungover emails and text messages from everybody begging off, saying, no, no, no… I’m sure it would be fun, with no pressure on us other than just playing a couple of gigs, but it’s always the dread of actually putting it all back together again. I don’t think anyone would rule it out altogether, but I don’t think anyone is currently prepared to instigate it either. ’
‘At the time, we all decided that was what we wanted to do. Just to get a break from it, I think. We still enjoyed playing live but all the rest of it just wasn’t getting any easier for us, despite all the hard work. I was talking to Dave recently, and he still considers that it was all a big failure. I thought that way for a long time but I can look back now and see that we actually achieved more than we ever expected in our wildest dreams. But it was just that, at the time, it was too easy to be sitting there in the dressing room at the Town & Country Club, waiting to go onstage, thinking to yourself, is this all there is, instead of thinking, My God, we’re headlining the Town & Country Club ! I think that’s just part of the deal when you’re in a band. I remember Dee Dee Ramone saying in an interview, that they should have just relaxed and learned to appreciate what they had. I can imagine a lot of musicians saying that in hindsight. We’d started playing for fun, but before we knew it, we were in the thick of it without any game-plan and with no clue as to how things worked. We never set out with plans for world domination, so when we moved to London and found ourselves playing at the Marquee or Hammersmith Odeon, it seems bizarre that we ended up thinking that it wasn’t enough. We should have been feeling very content and happy with it all, and that’s more the way I try to feel about it now, if and when I look back on it all.’
Having been such a big chunk of your lives back then, has there ever been any talk of getting back together to play again, even if it was just a small reunion for yourselves ?
‘Well, three or four of us were together at Phil’s wedding about ten years ago, and we got up and played a ramshackle version of ‘Maggie Maggie Maggie’ just for a laugh! Most of us are still good friends and keep in touch with each other, but I think if you asked any of us, we’d say the same thing. We put so much effort and emotion in to it, that when it came to an end, there was a feeling that it was completely over and we just had to put it behind us. I think it was like that for a long time. All the old cassettes and records and t-shirts went in to a box in the attic and were forgotten about. We’d still meet up with one another for a beer pretty regularly, and maybe have a laugh about certain things we’d done, but it was all very much in the past. But then we started finding out through the internet that our records were still being played in clubs in Japan and people really liked them. At first we just thought that was funny, but then I think we started to realise that if people were playing our record in Japan twenty years after we split up, maybe we’d been in denial for long enough ? But that being said, we’ve never discussed a proper reunion, apart from one night when we all went out and, after an excess of alcohol, vowed that we’d get back together and go to play in Japan. Of course, the following morning there was a flurry of hungover emails and text messages from everybody begging off, saying, no, no, no… I’m sure it would be fun, with no pressure on us other than just playing a couple of gigs, but it’s always the dread of actually putting it all back together again. I don’t think anyone would rule it out altogether, but I don’t think anyone is currently prepared to instigate it either. ’
Despite that, The Larks have started to create a bit of an internet presence over the last year or so, including their own Facebook page and, most recently, making their old releases and previously unavailable recordings available through Spotify and iTunes…
‘Well, the funny thing with Spotify is that it sort of came about through my son, Johnny. He had started a band and one evening he asked me if I wanted to hear their recordings. I assumed he was going to give me a tape, like we used to have, or maybe a CDR, but instead he went on the computer and brought up the tracks on Spotify. I had no idea you could put things on there like that, but then again, I hadn’t really had to think about that sort of thing for many years. But once I knew about it, I started thinking that it might be fun to make The Larks stuff available again. Obviously, we had the old singles and EPs, plus I used to get our soundman to tape most of our gigs, which I still had in a box somewhere. To be honest, I hardly ever got around to listening to them, so it was fun to finally listen to them and some of them are definitely worth making available. I mean, obviously they’re not as good as ‘It’s Alive’, but they are better than ‘Loco Live’, if you see what I mean ! But it was kind of funny to think that, after I did the rock’n’roll thing thirty years ago, Johnny is now doing his own rock’n’roll thing and, indirectly, it was that which got me involved with The Larks again, with the digital releases.’
You also sent me a youtube link for a video of your son's first gig, with his band, HeadAche. After the time you spent playing in a band, in must be a strange situation to have your son doing his own thing…
‘Yeah, but it was great ! It was a bit weird, but I was a proud Dad ! It was like history repeating itself. They’re clueless, like we were, but full of energy, enthusiasm and love of music… like we were. I never tried to push him in to playing guitar, but when he first decided that he wanted to learn, I was happy to show him the three basic chords and told him that he’d be able to make up his own songs with them. I offered to show him a fourth chord, but he never came back for that one, ha ha ! So he’s doing his own thing and I’m really pleased about it. I’m glad he’s in a band rather than him not being in a band, in the same way that I’m glad I was in a band. For some people, it’s an important thing to do. It might not end up being your career or your fortune, but it’s something you have to get out of your system and you can’t help it. I think that’s the same for both him and me!’
Hopefully, this interview will have piqued you interest and, if so, you can check out The Larks here ;
https://www.facebook.com/maggiemaggiemaggieoutoutout
…and their Spotify account can be found here ;
https://open.spotify.com/artist/1fs08DgxSlLRwwEp4dDKHD
Also, just for fun, here's a Japanese punk version of 'Maggie Maggie Maggie' -
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HN2CWakZcOI
…and, as a slight detour, here’s a link for Johnny’s band,
HeadAche. Second Generation Bannister Rock’n’roll !
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=35p7A62N5Xo
‘Well, the funny thing with Spotify is that it sort of came about through my son, Johnny. He had started a band and one evening he asked me if I wanted to hear their recordings. I assumed he was going to give me a tape, like we used to have, or maybe a CDR, but instead he went on the computer and brought up the tracks on Spotify. I had no idea you could put things on there like that, but then again, I hadn’t really had to think about that sort of thing for many years. But once I knew about it, I started thinking that it might be fun to make The Larks stuff available again. Obviously, we had the old singles and EPs, plus I used to get our soundman to tape most of our gigs, which I still had in a box somewhere. To be honest, I hardly ever got around to listening to them, so it was fun to finally listen to them and some of them are definitely worth making available. I mean, obviously they’re not as good as ‘It’s Alive’, but they are better than ‘Loco Live’, if you see what I mean ! But it was kind of funny to think that, after I did the rock’n’roll thing thirty years ago, Johnny is now doing his own rock’n’roll thing and, indirectly, it was that which got me involved with The Larks again, with the digital releases.’
You also sent me a youtube link for a video of your son's first gig, with his band, HeadAche. After the time you spent playing in a band, in must be a strange situation to have your son doing his own thing…
‘Yeah, but it was great ! It was a bit weird, but I was a proud Dad ! It was like history repeating itself. They’re clueless, like we were, but full of energy, enthusiasm and love of music… like we were. I never tried to push him in to playing guitar, but when he first decided that he wanted to learn, I was happy to show him the three basic chords and told him that he’d be able to make up his own songs with them. I offered to show him a fourth chord, but he never came back for that one, ha ha ! So he’s doing his own thing and I’m really pleased about it. I’m glad he’s in a band rather than him not being in a band, in the same way that I’m glad I was in a band. For some people, it’s an important thing to do. It might not end up being your career or your fortune, but it’s something you have to get out of your system and you can’t help it. I think that’s the same for both him and me!’
Hopefully, this interview will have piqued you interest and, if so, you can check out The Larks here ;
https://www.facebook.com/maggiemaggiemaggieoutoutout
…and their Spotify account can be found here ;
https://open.spotify.com/artist/1fs08DgxSlLRwwEp4dDKHD
Also, just for fun, here's a Japanese punk version of 'Maggie Maggie Maggie' -
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HN2CWakZcOI
…and, as a slight detour, here’s a link for Johnny’s band,
HeadAche. Second Generation Bannister Rock’n’roll !
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=35p7A62N5Xo
