“We weren’t trying to sound different, we just were different,” vocalist Roger Chapman says about his former group, Family. And while never a vehicle for double concept albums or displays of flashy virtuosity, Family were one of the first and among the most open-minded of the late-60s/early-70s progressive rock groups, mixing songcraft with a multitude of styles, from jazz to soul, to heavier rock forms, to folk, classical and Eastern influences. They were also a dynamic live act, with Chapman a particularly intense frontman. In a time when musically different was embraced by the record-buying public, all this contributed to a series of UK Top 40 albums and singles before Family’s dissolution in 1973.
John ‘Poli’ Palmer had a background in jazz drumming. He’d had spells with Blossom Toes and folk-rock band Eclection before joining Family in 1969, playing flute, keyboards and vibes. Looking back, what does he think of Family’s position in the 70s progressive-rock milieu?
“We used to get on with a lot of the other guys, but any [musical] kinship was probably more with bands like Traffic than Yes,” Palmer says. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but a lot of musicians who talk about Family say, ‘Oh, you were a proper band. You weren’t like a bunch of posers.’ There was no thought of what you called it. We all came from different areas of music and thought whatever sounded good to our earholes would probably sound good to other people. We were naïve as that, really.”
Family formed in 1966, having come up through the Leicester rock’n’roll scene as The Farinas and The Roaring Sixties, and in 1968 released their debut album, the postpsychedelic, proto-prog masterpiece Music In A Doll’s House, produced by Traffic’s Dave Mason, and Jimmy Miller.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1625747790/1706879462/articles/yTSgT7BWG1707140064540/6181003383.jpg]
When Palmer joined Family he was known by his school nickname ‘Poli’ to differentiate him from namesakes John ‘Charlie’ Whitney (guitar) and John ‘Willy’ Weider (bass and violin). When John Wetton replaced Weider in 1971, a nickname was required. Wetton refused to reveal his middle name, but his bandmates found it out by looking at his passport.
“So we called him ‘Kenneth’, and he hated it,” Palmer recalls, laughing at the memory.
“Besides his obviously serious capabilities as a bass player, John was a very warm, really nice chap,” says Chapman. “A great musician, a really good singer, and he played a bit of fiddle. He suited Family down to the ground.”
Bandstand, Family’s sixth album, was recorded in the summer of 1972 at Olympic Studios in London and co-produced by the band and George Chkiantz. “George had been involved with Family right from Doll’s House, as a tape op,” Chapman explains. “He became like a sixth member of the band.”
Burlesque, Bandstand’s first single, was released with the album in September 1972 and reached No.13. One of Family’s best-loved songs, it’s based on Wetton and drummer Rob Townsend’s strutting, funky groove, with Chapman’s voice snaking around the spaces and answering Whitney’s guitar lines – some of which Palmer doubles up on synth. It sounds like it might’ve been born from a jam, but, like the majority of the songs on the album, was composed by Whitney and Chapman. Chapman’s lyrics describe him ‘heading out west, down to The Burlesque’ in search of good times (a companion to Sat'd'y Night Barfly from 1971's Fearless album). The titular Burlesque was a club, situated in a converted shop in Leicester and run by a friend of the group.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1625747790/1706879462/articles/yTSgT7BWG1707140064540/PKcENkb8b1707140189936.jpg]
"In about '66, '67, we'd get a gig in Blackpool or Preston, or even Newcastle, and go back and do the all-nighter there," says Chapman.
"It was serious stuff. Even on nights off I'd go down there, get stoned, have a dance, spend the night socialising." One of the song's more mysterious lines is: 'Got all my cards in one shoe.' What does it mean? "I played chemin de fer as an amateur gambler," Chapman explains. "The dealers have what they call a shoe, and he'd collect all the cards and put them in it. So it means 'I've got everything.' I've often wondered if other people knew what the fuck I was talking about!" By complete contrast, My Friend The Sun, the second single from the album, is an acoustic baroque folk song sung with disarming tenderness by Chapman. Palmer adds an instrument that was generally absent from the 70s keyboard wizard's arsenal: the Woolworth's organ.
"When you plugged it in it had a motor that blew the reeds," Palmer explains. "It's a bit like a harmonium without pedalling it. But the bloody thing would only last a little while and would then go dreadfully out of tune. So when we did a tour we brought half a dozen of them in flight cases." Palmer explains that Family's approach to recording could range from playing the song live, to building it up to include "everything but the kitchen sink". And some instrument swapping might take place.
"We didn't go, 'Right, that's your job', we'd say, 'Why don't you have a go?"" Palmer explains. "On Glove I played organ and Charlie played piano. Charlie would never say he was a pianist, but he had that simplicity, and I would probably have over-thought it. I'd play anything that came around. I can remember playing solos on Stylophone." There was also an element of spontaneity and serendipity in their decision-making.
"Olympic was a converted cinema. Studio One was where the seats had been, and the control room was the former projection room," Palmer recalls. "Seeing the mics with 20-foot boom stands, and music stands left out from a session, somebody said, 'Wouldn't it be nice to have string parts?' And we got Del Newman in to do the strings, which was fantastic." Bolero Babe gets its title from the rhythm.
"We wanted a little theme that goes on and on, as in Ravel's Bolero," says Palmer. "I played those shimmery synth things, and when the strings come in, it just fitted perfectly. Del read the song and the band really well."
Top Of The Hill is a gritty, intricate, rhythmically fluid song, with an inspired coda of strings and vibes. Family would often warm up with a studio improvisation before Chapman cued them in. But they liked the spontaneous prelude to the song so much that they kept for the album and it became part of the arrangement. Palmer had a Gibson Maestro sax and clarinet effects unit, which he also used for his vibes, and he fe...
John ‘Poli’ Palmer had a background in jazz drumming. He’d had spells with Blossom Toes and folk-rock band Eclection before joining Family in 1969, playing flute, keyboards and vibes. Looking back, what does he think of Family’s position in the 70s progressive-rock milieu?
“We used to get on with a lot of the other guys, but any [musical] kinship was probably more with bands like Traffic than Yes,” Palmer says. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but a lot of musicians who talk about Family say, ‘Oh, you were a proper band. You weren’t like a bunch of posers.’ There was no thought of what you called it. We all came from different areas of music and thought whatever sounded good to our earholes would probably sound good to other people. We were naïve as that, really.”
Family formed in 1966, having come up through the Leicester rock’n’roll scene as The Farinas and The Roaring Sixties, and in 1968 released their debut album, the postpsychedelic, proto-prog masterpiece Music In A Doll’s House, produced by Traffic’s Dave Mason, and Jimmy Miller.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1625747790/1706879462/articles/yTSgT7BWG1707140064540/6181003383.jpg]
When Palmer joined Family he was known by his school nickname ‘Poli’ to differentiate him from namesakes John ‘Charlie’ Whitney (guitar) and John ‘Willy’ Weider (bass and violin). When John Wetton replaced Weider in 1971, a nickname was required. Wetton refused to reveal his middle name, but his bandmates found it out by looking at his passport.
“So we called him ‘Kenneth’, and he hated it,” Palmer recalls, laughing at the memory.
“Besides his obviously serious capabilities as a bass player, John was a very warm, really nice chap,” says Chapman. “A great musician, a really good singer, and he played a bit of fiddle. He suited Family down to the ground.”
Bandstand, Family’s sixth album, was recorded in the summer of 1972 at Olympic Studios in London and co-produced by the band and George Chkiantz. “George had been involved with Family right from Doll’s House, as a tape op,” Chapman explains. “He became like a sixth member of the band.”
Burlesque, Bandstand’s first single, was released with the album in September 1972 and reached No.13. One of Family’s best-loved songs, it’s based on Wetton and drummer Rob Townsend’s strutting, funky groove, with Chapman’s voice snaking around the spaces and answering Whitney’s guitar lines – some of which Palmer doubles up on synth. It sounds like it might’ve been born from a jam, but, like the majority of the songs on the album, was composed by Whitney and Chapman. Chapman’s lyrics describe him ‘heading out west, down to The Burlesque’ in search of good times (a companion to Sat'd'y Night Barfly from 1971's Fearless album). The titular Burlesque was a club, situated in a converted shop in Leicester and run by a friend of the group.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1625747790/1706879462/articles/yTSgT7BWG1707140064540/PKcENkb8b1707140189936.jpg]
"In about '66, '67, we'd get a gig in Blackpool or Preston, or even Newcastle, and go back and do the all-nighter there," says Chapman.
"It was serious stuff. Even on nights off I'd go down there, get stoned, have a dance, spend the night socialising." One of the song's more mysterious lines is: 'Got all my cards in one shoe.' What does it mean? "I played chemin de fer as an amateur gambler," Chapman explains. "The dealers have what they call a shoe, and he'd collect all the cards and put them in it. So it means 'I've got everything.' I've often wondered if other people knew what the fuck I was talking about!" By complete contrast, My Friend The Sun, the second single from the album, is an acoustic baroque folk song sung with disarming tenderness by Chapman. Palmer adds an instrument that was generally absent from the 70s keyboard wizard's arsenal: the Woolworth's organ.
"When you plugged it in it had a motor that blew the reeds," Palmer explains. "It's a bit like a harmonium without pedalling it. But the bloody thing would only last a little while and would then go dreadfully out of tune. So when we did a tour we brought half a dozen of them in flight cases." Palmer explains that Family's approach to recording could range from playing the song live, to building it up to include "everything but the kitchen sink". And some instrument swapping might take place.
"We didn't go, 'Right, that's your job', we'd say, 'Why don't you have a go?"" Palmer explains. "On Glove I played organ and Charlie played piano. Charlie would never say he was a pianist, but he had that simplicity, and I would probably have over-thought it. I'd play anything that came around. I can remember playing solos on Stylophone." There was also an element of spontaneity and serendipity in their decision-making.
"Olympic was a converted cinema. Studio One was where the seats had been, and the control room was the former projection room," Palmer recalls. "Seeing the mics with 20-foot boom stands, and music stands left out from a session, somebody said, 'Wouldn't it be nice to have string parts?' And we got Del Newman in to do the strings, which was fantastic." Bolero Babe gets its title from the rhythm.
"We wanted a little theme that goes on and on, as in Ravel's Bolero," says Palmer. "I played those shimmery synth things, and when the strings come in, it just fitted perfectly. Del read the song and the band really well."
Top Of The Hill is a gritty, intricate, rhythmically fluid song, with an inspired coda of strings and vibes. Family would often warm up with a studio improvisation before Chapman cued them in. But they liked the spontaneous prelude to the song so much that they kept for the album and it became part of the arrangement. Palmer had a Gibson Maestro sax and clarinet effects unit, which he also used for his vibes, and he fe...
You're reading a preview of
Prog (Digital) - 1 Issue, Issue 147