Monocled Alchemist

Article published in Sounds, 16th August, 1980

Tenpole Tudor | Beanpole Bop | AT THE risk of getting into a this week’s big thing situation, I’ve got this feeling in my bones that Tenpole Tudor are gonna be massive.

Y’see, the head bone’s connected to the lip bone and the lip bone’s connected to the funny bone and the funny bone’s connected to the leg bone (No wonder your body looks so odd — Ed) and what this whole bony explosion boils down to is that this band makes you dance, they make you smile, they make you sing, they make you laugh and what’s more to the point if your head’s anything like mine a few days after you’ve seen ’em you’ve still got a couple of their songs buzzing around like a trapped bluebottle inside ya.

Lotsa live fun plus memorable moosic means if they don’t make it into the charts by the not too distant I’ll eat Betty Page. ‘Ipso facto quad erat demonstrandum and other University Challenge throwbacks.

Conclusive proof of this impeccable logic was their Bridge House shindig last week which was a joy to behold. First off you’ve got Eddie Tenpole, vocalist extraordinaire.

Tenpole is built like a beanpole and he loons onstage in the choicest wardrobe since Wurzel Gummidge’s, usually including dinky Ozzie outback shorts though tonight they’re ditched in favour of a 2-tone black and white check affair augmented by a tastefully paint-splattered shirt.

Tenpole Tudor | Beanpole Bop

But the visual feast don’t end there because this bloke is like Elastic Man, arms and legs go everywhere while his face is like a rubber mask to be contorted into weird and wonderful expressions at will and which is matched in the metamorphosis stakes only by his vocal range which bridges the gap between the near normal and the pure strangled ferret.

Eyes and ears are wrenched from Eddie to his almost equally energetic escorts, geetar man Bob Kingston and bassist Dick Crippen, who look like they’re on loan from Duane Eddy and can cut and thrust with the best.

Kingston in particular is a great poser hurling himself to the front of the stage and letting his lip curl in surly Elvis style mock menace.

AND IF ALL that weren’t enough to contend with, the whole eyeball feast is all but over-shadowed by the sheer quality of the music — a neato recipe of Ramonesy pop (for want of a better reference point) tailor-made for hit singles and delivered with a tightness that’d make scraggy Maggie Snatcher look like a raving philanthropist.

Real fun

Some amongst the gems are their little-known Korova single ‘Real Fun‘ which sees that naughty Ramones comparison rearing its heavy head with all flags flying, the mid-tempo ‘Tell Me More‘ which sees Eddie hitching on a guitar to deliver the simple and addictive opening riff to a song with more than a fair share of sooped-up Sixties pop appeal and the unbelievable catchy ‘Pictures In My Head‘ which I’ve been singing all the way from Kidbrooke station to this battered Adler typewriter I call home.

Add to that ten more songs and a couple of encores and you have a set which according to the drunken scrawl in my notebook has enough hooks and enough bait to land some sizeable catches (yeukky, huh kids, and a terrifying indictment of those who drink and scribe).

Tenpole Tudor | Beanpole Bop

More moments worth recalling include a tender rendition of that gold soul classic ‘My Girl‘ with Ed’s voice quivering like he’s got a seven inch ‘non-doctor’ vibrator wedged between his vocal chords and the show-stopping odd couple ‘Rock Around The Clock‘ and ‘Who Killed Bambi‘ both of which piss all over the Swindle versions and both of which allow Eddie to go right over the top in the old vox and facial chameleon stakes.

But it’s the very popularity and superlative qualities of these last two numbers that pose the first potential stumbling block for the band.

I’m sure all of you will remember Tenpole’s breakthrough into la consciousness publique via his hilarious role in the ex-Pistols’ Great Rock ‘N’ Roll Swindle movie and obviously this pathetique performance has swelled the ranks of the band’s current audience.

But though this has obviously been a useful leg-up for the group it’s also helped perpetuate a couple of popular fallacies which see the band as either just a Swindle spin-off (a nonsense when you check out the strengths of their live performance) or worse the dreaded ‘Comedy Band’.

We’re not a joke band

WE’RE IN IT for a laugh but we’re not a joke band,” says Bob Kingston, adamantly quashing NME reports that the band are anything to do with that paper’s latest boorish hype La Punk Pathetique (I know you’re behind it, Kevin Fitzgerald), “We wanna entertain but we don’t wanna be ‘funny’.

Eddie: agrees, rounding on the Swindle spin-off write-off.

“My ambition is for that film to be seen as a great entrance, and that’s all.”

Bob: “We were ignored by a lot of people at first. A lot of people wrote us off because of the Swindle, that’s why I reckon it’d be good to play places where the Swindle’s been shown so we can prove ourselves, show people we’re not trying to be the Sex Pistols.”

Tenpole Tudor | Beanpole Bop

This conversation is taking place outside a pub near Great Portland Street called (aptly enough) The Queens Head And Artichoke where we sit out in the hot afternoon sun drinking too much against the pleasing ethnic roar of passing diesel lorries.

Eddie looks a different man sitting soberly sipping halves of bitter and claiming to be a ’16 year old Londoner’.

Next to him is the sinisterly named Dick Crippen (“His dad’s a doctor,” says Eddie knowingly) who at 21 (cough) flashes tattoos, light and bitters and a strong Crawley accent.

To his left sensibly quaffing gallons of lager is the man-you-never-saw, restrained drummer Gary Long who really is 22 and hails from Swindon.

Which just leaves (apart from my very lovely apprentice Janice) bare-chested rockabilly rebel Bob Kingston who claims to be 31 (I believe him), hails from Upton Park (don’t worry I’ve deleted all the stuff about West Ham) and is a sister of one of the Modettes (first person to send in the name of the Modette in question on the back of a £20 note wins a fiver kids, so get writing).

“Bob was actually going to join the Modettes,” Eddie reveals, “but they wouldn’t have him ‘cos he looks too masculine.”

Ah, but enough of this silly chit-chat because right now you’re gonna get a rare treat, an insight into the real course of our interview. See, what normally happens is the hack goes away and chops and changes things usually to make himself look like some glamorous Lou Grant type asking all the questions in logical order etcetera.

But in view of Sounds commitment to honesty and truth allow me to present THE NAKED-BOOK, sub-titled the Tenpole Tudor Interview stripped of cosmetics!

Tenpole Tudor | Beanpole Bop

OKAY, CHAPS, hit us with some history shtick.

Bob: “We’ve been together about a year now, we’ve been gigging since September . . . a few of us have been in other bands but this is our first real band.”

Eddie: “I had a little band when I was nine but I don’t s’pose that really counts.”

And you’ve just had the one single out?

Eddie: “Yeah, just ‘Real Fun’ on Korova, it was a one-off flop. No, we thought we’d start off with a collectors’ item . . . ”

Anything else in the pipeline?

Eddie: “There’s the odd company sniffing around but we’re not in any desperate hurry. We’ve fulfilled about one per cent of our potential and we’re gonna get a lot better. We’ll be around for a long time.”

Bob: “We’ve got loads of singles in us — after we sing I think we’ll reach a big audience.”

Eddie: “Most of the people coming to our gigs now are punks.”

Bob: “And they’re a great audience, punks are a great audience, they really get into it.”

It’s not that surprising, I think you’ve got a really Ramonesy sound.

Bob: “A lot of people have said that, I think we’ve got more melody than the Ramones.”

Eddie: “Anyway they’re American, we’re English.”

I notice old Lee Drury (the world’s biggest Ramones fan and now singer with the even more Ramonesy and potentially excellent Erazorhead) really getting into you the other night.

Eddie: “Oh, yeah, Lee’s a great bloke, one of our oldest fans, that’s why it’s got ‘Alright Lee’ scratched in the matrix of Real Fur.

Tenpole Tudor | Beanpole Bop

WHO WRITES the stuff?

Bob: “When we first formed, Eddie wrote most of the songs but we all work together now, everyone contributes. Eddie usually comes up with the tune.”

(To Eddie) What’s all this Henry VIII connection?

Eddie: “He was one of my ancestors, I don’t like to make too much of it. It was Malcolm and Virgin who made a big thing of it when the film was being done.”

How did you get involved in that?

Eddie: “I went along to the audition.”

So simple! You wrote ‘Bambi’ didn’t you?

Eddie: “Yeah, with Malcolm. I couldn’t have done it without him. He got me to do it as an exercise in over-the-toperie.”

You don’t do ‘Swindle’ live though?

Bob: “We can’t, it’s about the Pistols, not about us. We did do it once, but that was ‘cos Steve and Paul were in the audience.”

What sort of music do you listen to now yourselves?

Bob: “Jackson.”

Eddie: “Tammy Wynette.”

Dick: “The Wombles.”

Eddie: “No, honestly, my favourite band is the Rolling Stones. They were the only band I listened to till 1976.”

(To Bob) I thought you’d be into rockabilly.

Bob: “Not Matchbox . . . Gene Vincent.”

Eddie: (in euphoria): “Gene Vincent, he was superb. I nicked his first LP off me stepdad.”

Classic songs

Bob: “I’ve always been a bit of a rock ‘n’ roller.”

Eddie: “I just like good tunes . . . there’s too much gloom about. We’re about life, joy.”

Dick: “Yeah, but we are serious about the music. We spend weeks getting the songs right.”

Eddie: “That’s the point. Our shows are dynamic and powerful, but there’s no point just making a record that’s only good when you’re pissed out of your head. We want to write classic songs and we wanna play ’em all round the country. That’s the big thing now to play outside of London. We’re just getting an agency now.”

You gotta manager?

Eddie: “No it’s just the four of us, we haven’t even got a roadie. That’s our ambition — to get a roadie.”

OKAY CHAPS, that seems fair enough. But ain’t you got any great parting messages to the nation?

Eddie: “Yeah, I have. Ever since I was born all I’ve seen around me is misery and people in grey little lives and I think you’ve only got 60 or so years to go so you might as well have a good time. I wanna entertain the entire globe.

“But my other message is we’re gonna write some lasting records.”

Boring old farts

Bob: “Yeah, when you make a record it’s gotta be something to last for eternity. That’s the way I think, I don’t wanna just slap anything down. We’re gonna be here entertaining people when we’re boring old farts.”

Gary (making debut entry into interview): “I only wanna have a laugh, that’s all I’m into.”

Eddie: “I’ll tell you what is important to get over and that is that we’re a strong unit of individuals. I don’t wanna be Eddie Tenpole plus band, I’m just a quarter of the band.”

Okay men, you can go off for your rehearsals now. Eddie goes home to get changed, leaving us quaffing merrily in the sun when, screw me with a ragman’s trumpet, but who should pass by but the very lovely Chrissie Hynde, one of my favourite pop performers and a great fan of the Tenpoles.

She gets her car to stop and nips over for a beer only to spot the great leaping figure of Eddie Tenpole careering round the corner in the distance, sporting a pair of the silliest shorts known to man.

Chrissie’s flabber is gasted.

“Christ,” she observes, “he looks a real nutter. You don’t notice when you’re up close to him, but when you see him at a distance . . . ”

I couldn’t agree more. (Garry Bushell)