Guilty feet have got no rhythm…
My introduction came via my mate, who’d exclaimed excitedly ‘Oh, you gotta hear this.” I’d gone to school with this kid, so I fully understood his subtext, “Oh, you’ve got to like this- it’s cool.” He was a prominent member of the ‘Lost Boys’, so this was a great moment for him. Not only did he get the joy of being more clued-up than me, he’d get to boast about it, to the rest of the group, once re-ensconced, in the darkened den of their guru. “He hadn’t even heard it. What a cunt.” His joy was short-lived, for the guru shot back “What are you doing, educating that cunt?” A retort endorsed by sage nods from the rest of the Lost Boys. Spiritually and creatively bankrupt, the guru viewed hearing a record before somebody else, as a clear sign of moral superiority and never, in the history of mankind, has the term ‘In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king’ been more applicable. The guru’s specialist subject, when it came to ‘sounds’ at least, was ‘Soul’. He knew everything about that music except, of course, how to dance to it…
What the original Lost Boy had omitted to say, (and who can blame him), was that not only had he introduced me to the music but he’d armed me with a mixed tape, full of it. This came in handy a few nights later, when my neighbour, who appeared to suffer from a desperate need to be considered ‘avant-garde’, popped in excitedly exclaiming that I had to hear this song and, as he did, that mixed-tape tape slid into the very track he was on about. The term ‘crestfallen’ would be an understatement… While you may doubt the existence of a Higher Power, I do not and that moment is one of the many reasons why. Only about, oh, I don’t know, say eighty per cent of them, are as trivial.
Unbeknownst to the Guru and his acolytes, the band had been ‘a thing’ within the Southern Soul community, long before this particular album had been released. The diehard adherents of Lonnie, Herb and, The Crusaders ET AL, travelled southern England, following their favourite DJs… As far even, to a place called Caister. Those weekenders are now much maligned but then- it was a scene and, a real groovy one.
What is a Lost Boy?
Lost Boys come in all shapes, sizes, colours and, creeds. They are lost souls who believe, without even knowing it, that salvation comes via external sources. The source in question varies from Lost Boy to Lost Boy and changes, dependent on wind direction. Most might fall somewhere under the banner of Lost Boys but those depicted here, carry the fucking thing.
Hmm, I digress…
So, what was it that caused all this chaos in London, back in the summer of 1981? That would be the release of ‘Live in New Orleans’ by Maze (‘Featuring Frankie Beverly’). The album’s cult status amongst those (black and white) who perceived themselves as a cut above their contemporaries, was, and I mean this, truly remarkable. While I didn’t understand how this came to pass, on hearing the music, I fully comprehended- why.
Generally, when something’s meant to be the bees-knees, I either buck against it. Or I genuinely consider it complete and utter shit. However, in this instance, as contrary as I am, I couldn’t. This music was other-worldly. The album was fantastic but what caused all the fuss- at least initially, was one song. A song that would become, much to the consternation of all the gurus and all the lost boys, the anthem of a generation…
Joy and Pain…
As the summer of 81 moved into autumn and the popularity of Maze steadily grew, the album cover of Live in New Orleans became as obligatory for the Soul Contingent, as Pink Floyd’s Darkside of the Moon had been for the hippie one, a decade earlier. From Caister to Kensington (Roof Garden), urbanites swayed to ‘Joy and Pain.’ For a few years there, it was their secret. In Maze, the Soul Contingent had something to be proud of.
First Hit; While I’m Alone
There were no gimmicks, nothing but musicianship, stunningly concise lyrics and, Frankie Beverly’s beautiful voice. This music lasted. Those young cats who chopped in their XR3I’s for 3 series BMWs, took the Maze cassettes along with them. There’s a massive misconception that Maze is a white suburban thing (used as an insult- of course) but the fact is, nothing could be further from the truth. The group did something quite unusual in that it crossed from the Soul contingent to the reggae one and, by the mid-eighties one sound at the carnival is reputed to have played Twighlight and Twighlight alone, continuously, for twelve hours. Moreover, the crowd around that system- was massive.
Before I Let Go
Happy Feelings
There’s not a bad track on the album but for reasons unknown, my favourite is one of the possibly less-heralded ‘The Look in Your Eyes’. It’s also my son’s favourite. Fact is, it’s unlikely any of the songs on Live in New Orleans are ‘less heralded’ but Joy and Pain, along with Happy Feelings are probably the most played by DJs and suchlike. Anyway, enjoy-
The Look in Your Eyes
Forty years on and I still have the same reverence for this album and this band, as I did then. Maze produced numerous great albums but none carried the cache, for me, of Live in New Orleans. Why? Because you only get inducted into a secret society- once.
Bonus Track; Golden Time of Day (it’s just so fucking good)
Alright, that’s it from me Soul brothers and Soul sisters. Thursday, we’re back with the exploits of our conflicted teenage anti-hero, Jimmy Balantyne.
RIP the late and seriously great, Mister Frankie Beverly
