STATUS QUO – "Down Down"

quo i think quite early on also hit a really important button = NO ONE could gin up a way to consider them “pretentious” —> in the area of anti-pretention they just outflanked ALL, they were likeable, steady, solid, francis rossi’s dad was an icecream man, even the staunchest workingman’s bluesniks like rory gallagher, who hunted similar dues-paying ever-touring reliable territory, were up themselves by comparison (a bit too committed to rock-group blues as a form, hence outflankable)

I have quite a bit to say about Ver Quo (and a little more about beginning of year number ones) but so does the missus – so, being a kind and thoughtful husband, I’ll let her have a go first… 😉

If Quo records did have a formula* then they managed to ring plenty of changes out of it. Play their 70s hits back to back (12 Gold Bars is all you need really) and you’ll see what I mean. “Down Down” is probably the ultimate Quo single though. Great to air guitar to and, as Mark says, scratches my prog itch a little too. I’d give it a 9.

*and Philip Pope – aka The Heebeegeebees (along with Angus Deayton among others) aka composer of many of the Spitting Image pop parodies – made a memorable tho not very amusing attempt at nailing it with “Boring Song” c.1980

Ah, we’re back! Jolly good!

I liked Pictures of Matchstick Men back in ’68; it seemed fresh and different. Thereafter each manifestation of Quo seemed staler and staler as the formula was trotted out again and again, becoming ever more simplified. I can’t say that Down, Down is their strongest or weakest. It’s not as good as that first one but it’s a good representation of a hard-working band who worked a simple formula into the ground. Nice to see them getting a mention and I think that to have such an unmistakeable sound for so long as to become a joke is a genuinely positive achievement. To consider this as any more than a good dancealong track to get an evening going would flatter them too much though. I was always baffled by those who got excited about them.

Picture the scene on a damp and dark February evening in 1977; a bunch of schoolboys are reeling out of Glasgow Central Station and making the slow climb up Renfield Street towards the Apollo theatre, our heads already full of the Pistols and the Clash and the Damned and all those other punk names we’d read about but hadn’t yet necessarily heard much of.

But the Quo were on that night, and they (together with Thin Lizzy and precious few others) were one of the very few rock bands to get an access all areas free pass when punk happened, and heads down no nonsense (but mindful) boogie was the nearest we could get to “punk” at the time, despite the fact that all the smoky-smelly denim-clad hard man hippies at the front wouldn’t have had anything to do with punk. They were fantastic that night; awesome power, fearsome drive and whatever you might think of their later work, utterly uncompromising. A particularly noisome, pogoing schoolboy present – who turned out to answer to the name of R Gillespie – was acting as though post-punk was already happening. All of us returned to the same venue three months later to catch the Clash but, thirteen-year-old cowards that we were, stood well at the back, which was just as well given all the chair throwing and punch-ups which occurred during that gig.

In America, the Quo are remembered, if at all, for their solitary hit there – “Pictures Of Matchstick Men” (credited to THE Status Quo) back in ’68 – and presumably as another one of those psych-bubblegum one-offs (and besides they had their own no nonsense three-chord perennials in ZZ Top). But they were never comfortable with psychedelia and by 1970 and “Down The Dustpipe” had reverted to the far more comfortable denim and three chords by which ye shall know them.

There is quite a radical minimalist sheen about Quo’s peak period, something almost comparable in its way with Kraftwerk – the guitars as efficient but loving machines. Statistically they are the most successful of all British rock acts from the point of view of the singles chart; they are now approaching their fortieth anniversary as chart regulars and there is currently no reason to rule them out for a further forty (triple figures? No problem!). Maybe it’s because, like Cliff and the Queen (and, for that matter, Queen), they have transcended everyday pop concerns to become an indestructible British Institution, a beacon of stability in a country changing in ways unpredictable and scarifying.

However, in these forty years they have only had the one number one in their own name (though they contribute to the most famous number one of the eighties and were responsible for writing, producing, playing and backing vocalising on another number one in the nineties) which may point to the potential downside of a reliable long-term career, i.e. no real peaks. This clearly isn’t the case, but then again “Down, Down” does owe its chart topping status in no small part to the then recent phenomenon of records which do surprisingly well in the charts at the beginning of the year.

This really started to become noticeable in 1974, and can directly be attributed to the sudden multiplicity of Christmas records doing the rounds at the end of ’73; after the holidays, their sales obviously tail off rapidly (though Slade’s was still charting in February!), and since at the time it was the tradition that no major releases came out in the first week of the year – because record sales in that period tended to be extremely low – this allowed singles in the lower regions of the chart to make sudden leaps upwards, and for otherwise unlikely singles to appear in the chart and become hits; thus it became a good period for new acts to establish themselves since there was no competition from the big stars. Thus did “You Won’t Find Another Fool Like Me,” which had been dawdling around the top five for weeks on end, suddenly execute an about turn and make number one, practically by default.

Similarly in ’75 there are a lot of singles (including, arguably, the next two number ones) which did markedly better than they might have done in, say, April or November, and “Down, Down” would normally have nestled comfortably in the top five or ten as most Quo singles were apt to do. But Mud and the Wombles were out of the way (and “Streets Of London” by Ralph McTell which after several years of availability suddenly vaulted to number two at year’s beginning) so the path was clear for the Quo’s triumph. Still at least it grants the opportunity to commemorate them in the Popular context, and it’s a fine chart topper with a greater sense of architecture than the Quo are generally credited as having; the slow, patient warm-up, the sudden explosions, the artful use of pauses and silence – superb. In their own affable way, the Quo played their part to help set the stage for the revolution to come.

An opportune moment to reprint in full the best review ever written by the late, lamented RD Cook, namely of one of many interchangeable Sky albums:

“Look, I’m a tolerant bloke but Sky’s the limit.”

Just to tie together posts #5 and #11 in a cosmic kind of way, I’m reminded of the interview on “Radio Active” (featuring Philip Pope and Angus Deayton) purporting to be with Sky:
Q: “Was it difficult finding a sound that absolutely nobody likes?”
A: “Well, we just wanted to blend classical music with rock music in a way that would piss off fans of both.”
Q: “And what about the look, the famous Sky look?”
A: “Well yeah, we were going for a cross between the Cambridge Buskers and Meatloaf.”

Were the future members of Teenage Fanclub also there at the Apollo? Methinks so…

As has been previously stated, it’s a bit of a surprise to see Quo only pop up in the list of chart toppers once, for one week.
They are a bit of an odd band, critically speaking. Their stuff from the 70s is basically the sort of stuff that surprises you with just how good it is, but their stuff from the 80s is a bit, well, not so good. And because they’ve had their formula, but because of their longevity, one always feels one has to tread carefully around their work, which is, I know, rather stupid. I still think if AC/DC hadn’t existed, Quo would currently occupy the place in the rock’n’roll pantheon, the slot marked “no-nonsense balls out heavy rock’n’roll’, that the Antipodean Boogie-Meisters (TM) hold.
In truth, the Quo number one could – should – have been any one of a number of the aforementioned hits. But it was this one.
Also – on a side note – their version of Rockin’ All Over The World is one of those songs you keep forgetting is a cover. Now that’s class.
So, for all the guilty (or not) pleasures, sod it, this has to be, at the very least, a 9.

About Teenage Fanclub – Norman & Co. were a few years younger than our lot (and as per their first album title went to the Cardinal Newman Catholic school on the other side of the M8) so I suspect they might have caught them at some point in the eighties but they certainly wrote the best song anyone’s ever written about the Quo (“Says she’s gonna get some records by THE Status Quo/Oh YEAH!”).

Yes, Johnnie W audibly groaned at most of the records which got to number one over 1975 – indeed he got into deep trouble with The Man over prematurely fading one of the year’s biggest number ones on the Tuesday lunchtime chart rundown because (a) it had been at number one too long and (b) it was “total rubbish.”

(For my part I think there were far worse number ones in ’75 than the relatively innocent one which he used as a strawman but these were the times)

As far as chart stats are concerned, Billy Fury (about whom I’ll be writing on my own blog next week) and the Who still hold the record for most hit singles without a number one, but this in part demonstrates that the official Guinness-approved chart was only one part of the story; on the NME charts the Who had two number ones – “My Generation” and “I’m A Boy” (both #2 on Guinness) and Fury made the top with “Halfway To Paradise” (curiously only a #3 on the Guinness list, which marks his biggest hit as being the #2 follow-up “Jezebel”).

Interestingly, however, the act which holds the record for most UK hit singles without ever making the top ten is – AC/DC.

I doubt Orson’s record is going to be broken in a hurry, as they were just on the cusp of the download sales era.

Even I had forgotten that Ja Rule record getting to number one.

By the time we get there, my friend, we’ll all be sat in bath chairs a-burblin’ and a-dribblin’and able only to eat “Cow and Gate Lamb and Broccoli Dinners” through a straw. Waldo is familiar with this but what price you buggers?

Here’s an odd thing: In music, the slow season is January-March, in film I think that it’s supposed to be September-November, in television its June-August and in theatre its supposed to be Easter to May and August (when everybody’s decamped to Edinburgh). What other ones are there? Does every media have one?

Never had any time for any post “Matchstick Men” Quo for years till John Peel included this in 1999 in the ’75 edition of his brilliant Peelenium feature(i still dream of someone bringing that out as a cd box set someday). Hearing it in that context, complete w/ Peel proudly stating afterwards that he wanted the words “I PLAYED “DOWN DOWN” AT TRIBAL GATHERING” engraved on his tombstone really opened up my ears and helped me realise what a smashing(for some reason the only appropriate adjective when discussing the Quo in this way has to be “smashing”)rock tune this is.
Everything they churned out after the late 70s was utter guff, mind you.I remember when i was about 13 a friends dad stating confidently that their godawful mid-80’s hit “Burning Bridges(On and Off and On Again etc)would defintely be the Christmas No.1 that year. Since it was only October and it was already mercifully sliding down the charts i ended up having a fiver wager with him on it failing. I never did see the cash though…

haven’t checked this: did the fact of a key founder member leaving coincide with decline?

(my one-time laser-memory for early 70s band-personnel is rubbed down to rub these days — that i can’t even remember who it was? not rossi, but parfitt maybe? who were the others)

Alan Lancaster (bass) and John Coghlan (drums) were the rest of the essential 70s lineup at least (not sure about the PoMM era), with occasional backup from Andy Bown, who was also the writer and performer of the theme to “Supersonic”!

yes i remember it being surprisingly bitter — for such an amiable-seeming outfit

i guess as so often, the people remaining were right that the splittist had been very wrong, about what quo “really were” etc — but weren’t so good at firing this up after the wrong-un had in fact split

If memory serves, i believe Alan Lancaster’s response on first hearing the demo of “Marguerita Time” was the immortal words “How am I supposed to play THAT in front of my family? I’m A Rocker!”

I remember a few years ago some sad little man ingratiated himself into the affections of a pub someplace by tragically pretending to be sixties warbler and Stevie Winwood doppelganger Dave Berry. He too was easily unmasked and kicked safely into touch. I guess that this is just an extension of young lads in pubs or clubs trying to convince girls that they are record producers or airline pilots whilst on the pull. I never used either of those but I do recall in about 1981 being in a wine bar in South Ken (wine bars were de rigour back then) and ludicrously telling an impossible target, a beautiful young Annabelle, that I was a tennis coach. She looked at me for a few seconds, grasping a bottle of “Blue Nun” (me not her), and burst into peels of laughter (“filled to the brim with girlish glee”). The incident was not without humiliation for me but it was entirely deserved.

By a strange coincidence, John Sullivan later incorporated a very similar scenario into an episode of “Only Fools”. Del and Rodney were in a wine bar chatting up two “sorts” and Del was trying to convice them that Rodders was a tennis player and he, Del, was his manager.

Del: “No, Rodney’s a top player. He’s just beaten that Jimmy Connolly!”

Girl (Laughing out loud): “Don’t you mean Jimmy Connors?!”

Del: “Oh, naw! He knocked that numpty out in the first round!”

Incredibly, there ARE guys like this.

I became aware of the fake Dave Berry about ten years ago. I think it was the diary section of the London Evening Standard. The story referred to an incident some years before that but not that long. The entralled regulars were a group of old lags, who were, despite Crag’s doubts, suitably impressed by the arrival of “Dave” in their provincial drinker. These barfies (who were only hoodwinked temporarily) were probably very tragic indeed, bearded, real ale, pub quiz, Lib Dem sorts, the kind of no-lifers who would spend their time on a computer discussing number ones from days long past, in fact.

I had a couple of blokes out of The Overlanders in my local the other day. And Julie Driscoll…

Maybe somewhere there was a Fake Stevie who was eventually revealed to be the real Dave Berry, desperately posing as Winwood in a sad attempt to reclaim the adulation and kudos from his fellow pubgoers he had been so accustomed to before Fake Dave’s earlier antics had soiled his name and reputation!
Anyway, all this Fake Davecentric chat seems to have scared everyone else off so to return to the (almost) real world and the matter at hand i’ll say i’ll give “Down Down” a 7.

my extensive weekend research (= playing “rocking all over the years: 22 tracks inc.all their top ten hits” more times then my neighbours will quickly forgive me for) leads me to declare that their rep for saminess is undeserved and their 80s decline is overstated

however my theory that they are “our” television really really won’t fly — *lightbulb* perhaps they are “our” mission of burma!!? *hurries back to turntable*

Marcello #44 – I have nothing to worry about, buddy. It was Fake Julie.

I always felt that Francis Rossi was a ringer for Alan Pascoe. And let me tell you that whereas Fake Francis could probably have got away with playing with The Quo (it’s not as if you have to be a musician or anything), Fake Alan would have been truly cattled when attempting to negotiate the 400 metres hurdles.

You’re quite right. Pascoe in fact fell over twice. The third hurdle he simply pushed over before commencing his honour lap.

Just a minute…perhaps that was Rossi!