Big Noise Review

An anecdote to begin: when my second poetry collection The Book of Love appeared a few years back, it did rather well and for a year or two, invitations came in thick and fast to give readings in various corners of the world (LA, Manila, Hull). One day, I received an odd letter on headed notepaper from the Sensational Alex Harvey Band Fan Club, requesting my presence at their annual shindig. The late Alex, they informed me, had been a fan of the arts and so, at their annual gathering, they liked to include writers as well as musicians. Seemed far-fetched, but I had just put out a book on poetry and pop music, so I called the number to negotiate the sort of fee I require to set foot in Glasgow. There was a numb tone. Just as I was redialling, I spotted a tell-tale flaw in the letter – the book they admired was apparently called The Boak of Love! You see, I had this friend Andrew who found practical jokes hilarious...

Anyway, Alex Harvey features prominently in Big Noise – The Sound of Scotland by Martin Kielty, unsurprisingly since Kielty's last book was all about SAHB, and he has even managed the reformed group who are still a live draw. Kielty says of his new book, “Big Noise is an attempt to find a personal angle in an international story, and I think that's been achieved. There's no doubt it's not quite what you'll expect it to be...” And it's not. In his introduction, he explains that it is an offshoot from his long-running fanzine of the same name. So don't expect a considered, comprehensive compendium of Scottish music, complete with psychological insight and ethnomusicological musings (there is more on the Krankies here than the great Jackie Leven!). Do expect 'a whistle-stop through fifty years of action and adventure', an incomplete cast list and quite a large number of dubious jokes.

But do also expect to enjoy the ride nonetheless. I read the book as is intended - quickly, quibblingly and with a great deal of pleasure. The tale begins with the skiffle craze of 1956, spearheaded by the mostly-Scottish Lonnie Donegan and hares it, via beat groups, shortbread prog, tartan heart-throbs and Postcard through to Franz Ferdinand and the Mull Historical Society. Along the way, there are contributions from fans and musicians alike, telling their side of Scottish pop history. Among Kielty's pool of contributing slebs are Mike Scott, Midge Ure, Thin Lizzy's Brian Robertson, Donnie Munro, Manda from Bis, Justin Currie and, erm, Shakin' Stevens. It would have been good to hear the thoughts of some more big hitters like Alan McGee, Jim Kerr, Edwyn Collins, Paul Buchanan.

Some of the best material however is provided by lesser known names such as Peter Kerr of pop-jazzers The Clyde Valley Stompers and Alan Mair, best known for his time in undersung post-punk band The Only Ones, but who had earlier been in The Beatstalkers. This Glasgow beat group caused a sensation in the summer of 1965 when they played an outdoor gig in George Square which unexpectedly attracted thousands and ended in a near riot, the band being whisked away on police horses. Despite this, The Beatstalkers failed to hit the charts. They join a number of Scottish groups under discussion in the book who were contenders but never quite made it: Tear Gas, Beggar's Opera, Shoot the Moon, Fastlayne, to which I might add APB, Whiteout, The Lost Soul Band, and the sadly short-lived Life Without Buildings.

Kielty and others in Big Noise point out the unfairness suffered at times by Scottish musicians, particularly with regard to the spread of 'chart returns' shops. Many Scottish bands would have hit bigger had the chart not been so skewed to what was selling further South. In addition to this, Scottish bands have been victim to periods of boom and bust. After a wave of acts hit big in the late 80s and early 90s (Wet Wet Wet, Texas, del Amitri etc), for a while Scottish bands were deemed unhip and couldn't get signed. It wasn't the first time these peaks and troughs had been dug by London media and A&R men.

As I mentioned, part of the fun of this book is quibbling with Kielty with regard to who's in and who's out (page after page on Hugh Reed, barely a mention of the Cocteau Twins!) and, on occasion, rolling your eyes at his taste (a strange fondness for Travis, a pathologically mad declaration that Simple Minds' gormless dirge 'Belfast Child' is “an anthem of galactic proportions... awe-inspiring”). The book is also somewhat Glasgowcentric – yes, the West coasters do have the edge when it comes to musical history, but Glasgow is no Memphis.

Big Noise replaces two previous books which are sadly out of print – Jim Wilkie's Blue Suede Brogans and Brian Hogg's All That Ever Mattered. Given the strength of Scottish rock and pop in the last decade (Beta Band, Fence Records, Mogwai, Belle & Sebastian, The Delgados, Primal Scream, Boards of Canada, MHS, Lucky Jim, Teenage Fanclub) much of which is skipped past in Kielty's book, it's time for an upgrade of these 1990s histories. In the mean time, get hold of Big Noise, have a laugh, have a grouch and enjoy the rollercoaster ride, complete with interesting barstool reminiscences and some top rate shaggy dog stories.