1965, that was a
lot
of money. Twenty-five grand each for Tony, Allan, and me. We weren’t making anything that approached that sum. You can’t imagine how tempting it was to take it. But having dinner with Morris Levy was one thing; getting into bed with him was another altogether. We’d heard stories … how he put his name as writer on all the records Roulette released, how at one point he owned the phrase “rock ’n’ roll” and held the mortgage onAlan Freed’s house, how … nah, better not go there. But we heard other things that scared the shit outof us. (He’d have cut off my dick and put it on a keychain had he discovered I was sleeping with his secretary, Karen.) So we weren’t willing to sign with him, even for seventy-five grand, even though he was very kind to the Hollies. Later, he was eventually convicted of extortion and went to jail, so our intuition saved us from making an early mistake.
But, even so, it was cool meeting Morris. He was a gentleman thug, a great white, one of the early record sharks who put out a slew of legendary artists: Duane Eddy, Buddy Knox (check out “Party Doll,” a brilliant rockabilly hit), Lou Christie, Frankie Lymon, Dave “Baby” Cortez, and Joey Dee and the Starlighters (who in 1966 changed their name to the Young Rascals). A few years afterward, he went on a tear with Tommy James and the Shondells, so say what you will about Morris Levy, he knew a hit when he heard one and got it on record.
Man, we soaked up American culture like sponges. I loved it instantly. On the plane back, I remember being thrilled that we’d held our own with all the acts on that show. The other bands really dug the Hollies. We’d put tremendous energy into those two songs and we had
done
it. Now it was time to go home and raise our game to the next level.
T HE LOCAL MUSIC scene was on fire when we got back to London. TheBeatles were still undisputed kings of the top ten, but theRolling Stones, whom we toured with in early 1964, had finally pushed their way onto the international charts. So had theKinks andGerry and the Pacemakers, theDave Clark Five, and a few of our fellow Manchester bands—Herman’s Hermits, whose lead singer,Peter Noone, had worked the clubs with us, andFreddie and the Dreamers, whose lead guitarist, Derek Quinn, had been one of theFourtones.
The tour we did with the Stones that year was a chilling experience. Hollies shows were pretty wild, but those Stones gigswere something else. Mayhem to the nth degree. The first time we played with them was in Scarborough, on the east coast of England, and that joint was jumping before anyone hit the stage. They were rough and loud—and fantastic. Different from the Hollies. There was a certain earthiness to the Stones. This was before Mick became
Mick
, before he started strutting and dancing. Didn’t matter. They had that sound, that attitude.
At the time,Brian Jones was already separating himself from the group. It had been his band at the start, but Mick and Keith had taken over, and you could tell that Brian was looking for a way out. He traveled with us, instead of with the other Stones, so it had come to that. The end for him was near.
Sometime afterward, when the Hollies were recording at Abbey Road, we learned the Stones were in a studio over on Denmark Street. In those days, sessions were pretty loose affairs, nothing like today, with all the paranoia and security. So Allan and I went over there to see what they were up to.
It was just a closet of a studio, about as big as my kitchen, and pretty crowded with all of us jammed in there—the Stones, Andrew Loog Oldham, and an intense little guy in wild red leather cowboy boots who turned out to bePhil Spector. They’d just finished making “Not Fade Away” and were working on the B-side, “Little by Little.” It was basically a throwaway, as most B-sides were, but they’d left a track open for percussion, so we all just started banging away on
lot
of money. Twenty-five grand each for Tony, Allan, and me. We weren’t making anything that approached that sum. You can’t imagine how tempting it was to take it. But having dinner with Morris Levy was one thing; getting into bed with him was another altogether. We’d heard stories … how he put his name as writer on all the records Roulette released, how at one point he owned the phrase “rock ’n’ roll” and held the mortgage onAlan Freed’s house, how … nah, better not go there. But we heard other things that scared the shit outof us. (He’d have cut off my dick and put it on a keychain had he discovered I was sleeping with his secretary, Karen.) So we weren’t willing to sign with him, even for seventy-five grand, even though he was very kind to the Hollies. Later, he was eventually convicted of extortion and went to jail, so our intuition saved us from making an early mistake.
But, even so, it was cool meeting Morris. He was a gentleman thug, a great white, one of the early record sharks who put out a slew of legendary artists: Duane Eddy, Buddy Knox (check out “Party Doll,” a brilliant rockabilly hit), Lou Christie, Frankie Lymon, Dave “Baby” Cortez, and Joey Dee and the Starlighters (who in 1966 changed their name to the Young Rascals). A few years afterward, he went on a tear with Tommy James and the Shondells, so say what you will about Morris Levy, he knew a hit when he heard one and got it on record.
Man, we soaked up American culture like sponges. I loved it instantly. On the plane back, I remember being thrilled that we’d held our own with all the acts on that show. The other bands really dug the Hollies. We’d put tremendous energy into those two songs and we had
done
it. Now it was time to go home and raise our game to the next level.
T HE LOCAL MUSIC scene was on fire when we got back to London. TheBeatles were still undisputed kings of the top ten, but theRolling Stones, whom we toured with in early 1964, had finally pushed their way onto the international charts. So had theKinks andGerry and the Pacemakers, theDave Clark Five, and a few of our fellow Manchester bands—Herman’s Hermits, whose lead singer,Peter Noone, had worked the clubs with us, andFreddie and the Dreamers, whose lead guitarist, Derek Quinn, had been one of theFourtones.
The tour we did with the Stones that year was a chilling experience. Hollies shows were pretty wild, but those Stones gigswere something else. Mayhem to the nth degree. The first time we played with them was in Scarborough, on the east coast of England, and that joint was jumping before anyone hit the stage. They were rough and loud—and fantastic. Different from the Hollies. There was a certain earthiness to the Stones. This was before Mick became
Mick
, before he started strutting and dancing. Didn’t matter. They had that sound, that attitude.
At the time,Brian Jones was already separating himself from the group. It had been his band at the start, but Mick and Keith had taken over, and you could tell that Brian was looking for a way out. He traveled with us, instead of with the other Stones, so it had come to that. The end for him was near.
Sometime afterward, when the Hollies were recording at Abbey Road, we learned the Stones were in a studio over on Denmark Street. In those days, sessions were pretty loose affairs, nothing like today, with all the paranoia and security. So Allan and I went over there to see what they were up to.
It was just a closet of a studio, about as big as my kitchen, and pretty crowded with all of us jammed in there—the Stones, Andrew Loog Oldham, and an intense little guy in wild red leather cowboy boots who turned out to bePhil Spector. They’d just finished making “Not Fade Away” and were working on the B-side, “Little by Little.” It was basically a throwaway, as most B-sides were, but they’d left a track open for percussion, so we all just started banging away on
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