Monocled Alchemist

John Reed talks to Gary ‘Roscoe’ Murphy, drummer with 60s hopefuls the Mike Stuart Span, and discovers an aborted psychedelic Elektra album by Leviathan

Article published in Record Collector, April 1994

The Rise and Fall of Mike Stuart Span: A 60s Rock Retrospective | Envisage the scenario. It’s the end of September 1969 — the end of the swinging decade — and a rock drummer is watching a BBC-2 documentary devoted entirely to his band. The programme’s fly-on-the-wall approach charts their progress over a whole year.

Records, TV interviews, concerts, managers, rehearsals, radio, promotion, even a name change — the 50-minute report exposes the helter-skelter world of a pop group poised for stardom, motivated by the promise of untold riches and adulation.

Alas, ‘A Year In The Life’ unfolds a different story: one of frustration, financial hang-ups, bitterness and disillusionment. As the film begins hopefully in mid-’68, the Mike Stuart Span are on the verge of signing to a new record label, with the prospect of a sure-fire hit.

Then, over the next 12 months, the Span split from both their label and their manager. Penniless, they change their name in desperation to Leviathan and early in 1969, a lucky break leads to a new deal with blossoming cult label, Elektra. But by the time ‘A Year In The Life’ was broadcast that autumn, Leviathan were history. Scarred by empty promises, lost opportunities and the death of a guitarist, and fed up with the make-it-or-break-it routine, they’d thrown in the towel. The drummer, Gary Murphy, could only smile wryly, as the credits rolled, at what might have been.

The Rise and Fall of Mike Stuart Span: A 60s Rock Retrospective

Instead of boasting ‘Top Of The Pops’ appearances or world tours, the Mike Stuart Span/Leviathan story crystallises the hit-or-miss nature of the 60s music business. The Span were the archetypal British 60s rock act, changing their musical emphasis to reflect popular taste, and concentrating on that all-important hit — and as such, ‘A Year In The Life’ acted as a visual microcosm of 60s pop culture.

Come the 1970s, the Mike Stuart Span and Leviathan were quickly forgotten, as the members went their separate ways. Then, in 1989, the BBC unearthed the report — plus the producer and the band themselves — for a follow-up, ‘A Year In The Life: 20 Years On’, subsequently broadcast on BBC-2.

By this time, there was already interest in the Span bubbling up from the collecting world. Back in the early 80s, their strongest single, a psychedelic rocker entitled “Children Of Tomorrow”, had graced a volume of the seminal “Chocolate Soup” series, which showcased obscure 45s from the 60s. The song also surfaced on one of psych reissue label Bam Caruso’s ‘Rubble’ LPs, and this was followed by a German bootleg LP of Mike Stuart Span radio sessions, mixed with Leviathan material.

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This renewed activity soon created a buzz around the Mike Stuart Span name. Prices for their original singles rose sharply, especially for the independently-released “Children Of Tomorrow”. The reunion also spurred Gary Murphy into action. Always disheartened by their singular lack of commercial success, he has tried to make amends, issuing a limited EP of four unreleased Span recordings in conjunction with psych/beat fanzine ‘117’ —whose readers had voted “Children Of Tomorrow” the fourth-best psych 45 of all time.

Gary also investigated the unreleased Leviathan material, canned by Elektra back in 1969, to see if the master tapes still existed; but as we shall see, it might be some time before that ‘lost album’ sees the light of day. Gary also visited the ‘Record Collector’ offices on a damp February afternoon, to tell the tale of a band of clean-cut lads from Brighton who wanted to be pop stars —and whose wish very, very nearly came true.

His disappointment at the Span’s failures was obvious (any puns on ‘Murphy’s law’ should be avoided); equally clear, however, was his determination to track down those lost Elektra recordings, and lay to rest the band’s frustration. The Span might finally earn themselves a modest place on the ladder of rock history — and maybe even coin a few coppers, too.

The Brighton Beat

Brighton has never really set the music world alight; rock’n’roll had reached the south coast by the early 60s, but the hotbed of activity was an hour up the A23 in London. The Hinckley-born Stuart Hobday had spent his teenage years on the Isle Of Wight playing bass in youth clubs in the 50s, first in a skiffle band, the Satellites and then in a rock’n’roll act, Johnny Vincent & the Alley Cats.

By the end of his teens, Stuart had moved to Brighton and was playing in an instrumental combo, the Mighty Atoms. Faced with the onslaught of Merseybeat, Stuart was shunted forward as reluctant vocalist and a new bassist was found in the Chesterfield-born Roger McCabe. An Atoms acetate exists, which was used for a local competition — Stuart describes “Wanderin’ Eye” as “corny early 60s pop”.

By 1965, Hobday had developed his talents considerably. “Stuart started writing songs and actually got a contract with a publishing company before we recorded any material,” Gary points out, “and the Span formed around Stuart.”

In fact, the Mike Stuart Span gradually gelled that year, evolving quickly into a six-piece soul/show band, with occasional expansions (if you pardon the pun) into a seven or even an eight-piece. Although early line-ups were fairly loose, they soon settled with Nigel Langham (guitar), Ashley Potter (organ), and on drums, the young Hitchin-born but Brighton-bred Gary Murphy.

The Rise and Fall of Mike Stuart Span: A 60s Rock Retrospective

“They wanted to cut a demo,” he recalls. “I was working at a garage with another drummer, John, who’d left a local group called Tony Grant & the Giants. They’d asked him to play on this session, but he didn’t have any drums. So I loaned him my new drum-kit and afterwards, he introduced me to the Span.”

The group quickly came to the attention of local pop svengali, Mike Clayton, a promoter-cum-manager who “fancied himself as a second Brian Epstein”. The name ‘Mike Stuart Span’ was created by reversing Hobday’s Christian names.

The band then needed a live set, as Gary recalls: “We seemed to rehearse for months, in a pub called the Clarence in Portslade, and in the ruins of Goring Castle.”

On Clayton’s advice, the line-up was then swelled by the addition of trumpeter Gary Parsley and saxophonist Dave Plumb, and a new keyboardist, Jon Poulter, to concentrate on a diet of upbeat soul.

“It was real ‘Knock On Wood’-type American stuff,” remembers Murphy, “Sam & Dave and more obscure material like Little Milton and Willie Mitchell.”

The Span’s first proper residency at Brighton’s Chatsfield Hotel ensued, before tragedy struck. Tripping on LSD, Langham jumped out of an upstairs window and fell to his death. Not for the last time, the band felt bewildered by their ill-fortune.

Feeling that Langham was irreplaceable, the group soldiered on without a guitarist, and soon spread their wings beyond the south coast. Since Clayton worked for a London booking agency, gigs weren’t hard to come by. Nevertheless, Gary recalls the local rivalry with amusement: “We were trying to play American soul, and then we came up against the likes of Simon Dupree & the Big Sound and Amen Corner. We always left rude messages for them on dressing-room walls!”

The Rise and Fall of Mike Stuart Span: A 60s Rock Retrospective

The band knew their hectic live schedule wasn’t enough, and sent demos to various record companies. Early in 1966, they recorded an acetate for EMI, consisting of a cover of the Drifters’ “Follow Me” and a Hobday original, “Work Out”, which was sufficient to secure a contract. Neither cut saw the light of day (although Gary possesses the original disc).

Instead, EMI sent the band into Abbey Road studios with Dave Paramour (nephew of Columbia boss Norrie), to record another Drifters number, “Come On Over To Our Place”, as their first single. Issued in November on the Columbia label, this swinging self-promotional exercise, which mentioned the band members’ names Manfred Mann-style, was backed by Stuart’s moody “Still Nights”.

Although the single was a commercial dodo, the prestige of a recording contract stood them apart from other Brighton bands like Tony Grant & the Giants and Gene Cobin & the Chimes. As Gary recalls, “We had the scene to ourselves for a couple of years.”

The Span even set up their own ‘Blues Club’, upstairs at Brighton’s Hare & Hounds, which hosted the likes of the Artwoods and, backed by Murphy and McCabe, Champion Jack Dupree.

In June 1967, they issued a second 45, but EMI’s choice of a dainty Cat Stevens number, “Dear”, was disastrous. On the flip, featuring Dave Paramour on guitar, the band tackled Mike D’Abo’s soulful “Invitation”. The Manfred Mann vocalist’s version, recorded with his Band Of Angels for Piccadilly early in 1966, had made equally little impact, although it later became a Northern Soul favourite.

Souled Out To Psych

Faced with two flops, EMI decided to drop the Span, who were forced to take stock. Their gigs were occasionally split into two halves, a four-piece set followed by the full six-piece. Now, the band dispensed with the horns, and shortly afterwards, the keyboards went the same way. Instead, an advert in ‘Melody Maker’ in July 1967 for a guitarist led them to Tunbridge Wells’ Brian (Douglas) Bennett and his Fender Telecaster.

Despite his tender years, Bennett — not to be confused with the Shadows’ drummer — was a veteran of the Kent music scene, hanging out with up-and-coming acts like Kippington Lodge (featuring Brinsley Schwartz and Nick Lowe) and Jason Crest. He’d also recorded two singles for Columbia, with Tony’s Defenders (See For Miles’ “British R&B Scene” includes their impressive “Yes I Do”), while he also had a spell in Italy with an Anglo-American ‘hit group’.

Bennett’s aggressive guitar playing injected a new urgency and power into the Mike Stuart Span. Tired soul covers were cast aside in favour of more contemporary material —Cream and Hendrix covers paving the way for self-penned compositions, with Bennett creating the music for Stuart’s lyrics. After exhaustive rehearsals, the new four-piece Span played their first gig in September.

The Rise and Fall of Mike Stuart Span: A 60s Rock Retrospective

The impact was tremendous and the band soon found themselves up and down the motorway to London, the Midlands and the West Country. At one time, they were signed to the NEMS agency, while a youthful Harvey Goldsmith, social sec for the Brighton colleges, also secured a few gigs.

Despite a hectic gig diary, they still had a long way to go. Having being rebuffed by an indifferent EMI, the Span teamed up again with Dave Paramour, who was midway between EMI and Decca. In October, he produced a demo session at Decca which yielded an Oak acetate: the awesome “Second Production” and a drawn-out cover of Fontella Bass’s soul classic, “Rescue Me” (alias “As Close As We Can Get It” and in the vein of Vanilla Fudge’s “You Keep Me Hangin’ On”).

These two cuts formed the first half of last year’s “Exspansions” EP. But Decca thought the tracks too weird and declined the offer. Mean-while, the Span played at Brian Epstein’s Savile Theatre, on a bill showcasing up-and-coming bands, but there were still no takers.

Faced with this abject indifference, the band took matters into their own hands. Around the end of 1967, they funded the recording of a new single, firmly in a harder psychedelic direction. Like many of the Span’s demos, it was recorded at R.G. Jones’ Morden Studios, and duly cut as an acetate on the studio’s Oak imprint.

“Jones was a very, very nice guy”, recalls Gary fondly. “The problem was, he was deaf in one ear, so he did stereo in one ear and then swapped the headphones over — which is why the single has a very weird mix!”

The Rise and Fall of Mike Stuart Span: A 60s Rock Retrospective

The odd production only made the results more impressive: “Children Of Tomorrow” was punchy and powerful, with a weird atmosphere and some blistering guitar riffs; “Concerto Of Thoughts” on the flip may have been bassist McCabe’s solo stab at composing, but it boasted an otherworldly, Cream-inspired melody, chanting harmonies and a spirited guitar solo.

The Span continued this DIY spirit by kicking off a new label, Jewel (in association with Melodisc and pressed by CBS) and publishing company, Span Music. As an independent release, “Children Of Tomorrow” probably sold only a handful of copies.

And of the 500 or so pressed, Gary reckons some were useless: “Rumour has it there was a box-load of mispressings on a market stall quite recently, which were junked.” The single was also the first to carry a songwriting credit of Hobmur-Benmac, an amalgamation of the group’s names perhaps inspired by the Nice’s ‘Emerlist Davjack’.

Meanwhile, Stuart’s fancy ribbon-laced tambourine, used to great effect on stage, attracted the Italian producer of a film entitled ‘Better A Widow’, starring Virna Lisi and Peter McEnery. The Span’s role was restricted to playing live for a 30-second clip, filmed on a cold day in Hyde Park.

What with the Jewel 45 and a cameo movie role, the band were attracting considerable publicity. They also played abroad, at Ham-burg’s Star-Club and more notably in Belgium. The Span attracted a blaze of publicity there, from radio sessions to TV appearances, before returning to Brighton feeling like rock stars.

Promotional performances at trendy London clubs like the Speakeasy and Blaises helped boost their credibility, culminating in an evening at the 100 Club in Oxford Street. Behind a screen with a psychedelic light show, the band performed a 20-minute opus, “Cycle”, a sci-fi fantasy composed for the Brighton Arts Festival.

The extravaganza featured a spoken diatribe detailing the history of the world, from genesis to apocalypse, but sadly, it was never recorded, despite a second performance at the festival itself.

Hendrix

Another lost opportunity to capture a unique event for posterity was the night that Jimi Hendrix jammed with the Span. Gary recalls that memorable gig with affection: “Jimi came up to the stage and stood in front of Brian, who absolutely went to pieces. Plink plink plink — he dropped the plectrum. Then Hendrix said, ‘Hey man, can I jam with you cats?’ He took Brian’s guitar: he was left-handed so he just played all the chords, 12-bar, round the other way. Roger played bass and Mitch Mitchell sat behind my drum kit. Those guys were absolutely amazing.”

What does exist is the band’s May ’68 session for John Peel’s ‘Top Gear’ programme. Versions of “Time”, an excellent unreleased song entitled “Through The Looking Glass”, “Children Of Tomorrow” and a cover of Tomorrow’s psych hit, “My White Bicycle”, can just about be heard, muffled, on the “Forgotten Jewels” bootleg album.

Gary reckons the band may also have taped a version of “Flames”, but his attempts to locate the original ‘Top Gear’ tapes at the Beeb have so far come to nothing. The Span recorded several other radio sessions in 1968, for Dave Symonds (February), Stuart Henry (August), Brian Matthew’s ‘Saturday Club’ (September) and Dave Cash (November).

Big Deal Group

The next step in what was already a rather bizarre career could have made the Span superstars. Instead, it took them to the brink of despair, turning them from optimistic pop hopefuls into penniless cynics. Seemingly out of the blue, they were approached by ex-Whicker’s World’ director Paul Watson, to take part in a BBC documentary. Originally titled ‘Time Waits For No Man’, ‘A Year In The Life (Big Deal Group)’ was planned as a brass-tacks focus on the cut-and-thrust machinations of the pop world in the life of a fresh-faced, up-and-coming band.

First port of call for the film crew was an all-star bill in the Span’s stomping ground, capturing their highly-praised support slot for the Herd and Scott Walker (the concert programme described the Span as “already big in Belgium” — praise indeed!) at the Brighton Dome.

The Span are seen performing “Step Out Of Your Mind”, a Chip ‘Wild Thing’ Taylor song recorded by the American Breed and the Kool, but the set also included covers of Deep Purple’s “Hush”, the Lemon Pipers’ “Green Tambourine” and Cream’s “I’m So Glad”.

Mike Clayton’s ebullient, over-the-top manner has to be seen to be believed, as the band negotiate a new agent and record deal. Both soon prove disastrous, which says little for his managerial skills. Neither the Spencer Davis Agency nor Philips’ Fontana stable appear to have our bright young lads’ best interests at heart, as we follow the band recording their new single in July.

Fresh from the pen of the Howard-Blaikley team (with Herd and DDDBM&T hits to their name) and produced by Albert Hammond, “You Can Understand Me” was the kind of saccharine pop that worked for the Tremeloes. But for the creators of “Children Of Tomorrow”?! The band hated it — All too apparent as they’re seen miming on BBC’s ‘How It Is’ — and rarely played the song live. The lure of a smash hit is bolstered by a link-up with Radio Luxembourg; but all to no avail.

In desperation, Mike Clayton is seen ‘expanding’ (sorry!) his non-existent business empire by opening the Mike Stuart Span’s very own record shop, Exspansions, in Brighton. As money is sucked into the project, the film depicts the band’s increasing frustration at their lack of progress.

Eventually, we see them rehearsing in autumn 1968. Both Fontana and Clayton have departed, so the band are back to square-one, disconsolate and embittered by their missed opportunities.

Elektra

Nevertheless, their playing is far more tense and electric than before — “Time” is accompanied by an appropriately moody sunset stroll across Devil’s Dyke, and then the band are seen energetically rehearsing “Through The Looking Glass” in R.G. Jones’ studio.

The products of these sessions were sent to Clive Selwood, head of the U.K. division of Elektra. Impressed, Selwood sent the demos to Elektra’s president, Jac Holtzman, who instantly signed the group — only the third British act on the label, after the Incredible String Band and Eclection. “He rang within a week and said he wanted an album from us,” said Stuart at the start of 1969 — but one condition was a name change.

The Mike Stuart Span are dead, long live Leviathan. Having beefed up the tracks demoed at Jones’, the band were officially launched at the end of March, with a special performance at Harrod’s Way In Juice Bar. Instead of a single — or, indeed, an LP —Leviathan issued two 45s concurrently, under the banner of ‘The Four Faces Of Leviathan’.

To promote this novel marketing ploy, an attractive A4 package was sent out to the press containing the two 45s, plus a biography and a suitably flamboyant photo. Copies were also sold at Harrod’s Way-In shop in a different wallet, to tie in with their appearance at London’s most prestigious department store.

Elektra were shrewd to emphasise the different facets of Leviathan’s music across the four sides. Although three of the cuts were conceived as Span material, this was light years away from the Fontana 45. “Remember The Times” was the catchiest, most commercial title, swept along by Bennett’s powerful guitar licks and Stuart’s dramatic vocals. More intense was the Murphy/Bennett flip, “Second Production”.

With its wide-eyed, drifting melody, shuffling drum rhythm and wicked guitar passages, this was a psychedelic masterpiece in the vein of the Pretty Things’ “S.F. Sorrow” album. “The War Machine” was even more over-the-top — a lengthy, bombastic progressive/psych extravaganza with every trick in the book thrown into a monstrous melting pot. By contrast, “Time” was a sublime pop song with soaring vocals and soft, wistful accompaniment.

Leviathan performed “Remember The Times” live on ‘Late Night Line-Up’, a TV show presented by Joan Bakewell, but despite all this publicity —and John Peel’s enthusiastic on-air support — the project was a commercial failure.

Mystified by the indifference of the record-buying public, Leviathan’s resolve started to wither. By the time they returned to the studio to record a third single in the late summer of 1969, they’d ceased to function as a cohesive unit. Bennett, in particular, had lost his patience and returned to working on the building sites to earn a crust, and the others soon found more honest pursuits. Nevertheless, “Flames” was a worthy epitaph, backed by the power chord-driven rock barnstormer, “Just Forget Tomorrow” — the band’s last recording.

Leviathan’s spirits declined into despair when Jac Holzman was reluctant to issue the ten tracks so far taped for Elektra as an album. The band had recorded enough material LP at Trident Studios, the results of which exist on acetate. Elektra even went as far as allocating the album a catalogue number, EKS 74046. However, the label felt that Leviathan needed to grow a little.

Gary explains: “Holzman didn’t like all the tracks. He suggested we go into the country, lock ourselves in a little cottage, and write and play and eat and sleep music. Then in six months, we’d have developed some really creative music.”

Another story suggests that Holzman was keen to add brass to the proceedings, in keeping with Love’s “Forever Changes” and the Doors’ “Soft Parade”.

Whatever the reasons for Elektra’s uncertainty, the clean-cut Brighton lads had reached the end of their tether. When ‘A Year In The Life’ was finally broadcast in September, it proved a bitter pill to swallow.

Helmett and Elegy

The members of Leviathan soon went their separate ways. Gary was all for hanging up his drum-sticks, but a local progressive band, Hellmet, twisted his arm to join them. A stroke of luck followed, as Gary recalls: “We were on a train to London and who should be sitting opposite but ‘ZigZag’ writer John Tobler. He took us under his wing, got us a Marquee gig and wrote an article about us.”

Eventually, Hellmet visited both R.G. Jones’ and Orange Studios in ’71 and recorded enough material for an album. The project was aborted, but OAK and EMI acetates of the proceedings reveals a progressive blues rock affair which cries out for release.

Two members of Hellmet then left for Austria, to form Elegy. Gary joined them over there, but missed out on their one-off single. Instead, he ended up on two tracks on a 1972 album by a Band/Bronco-styled country-rock group, Turning Point (Atom 500.006).

Stuart embarked on a successful career at the BBC and is currently a senior music producer for Radio 2. Roger, by all accounts, has never touched his bass since, while Brian quickly joined Jason Crest, before they evolved into High Broom. After a “minor hit single”, “Dancing In The Moonlight” (Island WIP 6088) and an Albert Hall gig with Grand Funk Rail-road, High Broom split in two.

Bennett ended up in Montage, who recorded an unreleased LP for Island, paid for by Decca. The tracks were then re-recorded with brass and strings, but the project remained stillborn.

In 1982, Brian took time out from his successful building business to play in a pub band, Vendetta, with ex-members of Jason Crest and Fantasy, who’ve released several singles on Plaza, many of which were played heavily on the radio. And that might have been that, had it not been for Watson’s resurrection of the ‘A Year In The Life’ series.

Exspansions EP

Two broadcasts of the ‘Twenty Years On’ update rekindled the band’s interest in those long-forgotten Elektra tracks, and there is now concrete evidence of four tracks on master tape: “Evil Woman” is a lengthy blues rocker while “Through The Looking Glass” is high-calibre psychedelic rock. Together with the released IBC versions of both sides of the first single, these four tracks constitute the second side of the unreleased album, but nothing has been heard of cuts from the projected first side, like “Blue Day” or “World In My Head”.

Early demos of both tracks exist on Oak acetates — “World In My Head” can be heard on the “Exspansions” EP — but the Elektra takes have vanished.

The Mike Stuart Span saga has the air of an aprocryphal tale. Like thousands of young hopefuls over the years, the luck of the Gods was against them. But thanks to an underground network of enthusiastic collectors, many of whom were still in nappies at the time, the Mike Stuart Span/Leviathan’s music lives on. Let’s hope Elektra see sense, sift through their vaults and give both the band and their admirers what they’ve dreamed of — the lost Leviathan LP