Passing time at the Roundhouse

16

7 Days 1 December 1971

The Flag-end of the UndergroundROCK ROCK

7 Days 1 December 1971

John Evanspolitics is a bore. If there was a general election, I’d go in and write my own name on the paper and vote for myself. Britain’s in a mess. It’s not going to be untangled, and I don’t know how to change it. Maybe the underground minority will grow, and outside will be a bit more like it is in here. But there’s nothing I can do about it, so I’ll just let it happen.”

Jeves seemed to be the only person in the Roundhouse who liked his job: “It pays well, and I don’t have to work hard. I don’t like working.”

Stuart, a thoughtful 22-year-old from Clapham, confessed that he had tried to find a satisfying job, but had failed.

“I spent three years at a public school — all this high-class shit. After that, my original career for this straight society was in the merchant navy. I was in it for two and a half years. Now I don’t know what to do. I move around, doing different jobs. I’d like a worthwhile career, but I don’t think there is a worthwhile career for me.

“The 1967 scene was real,” he added. “It meant something. But then money came into i t . . . Britain’s fucked. This alternative society is useful — it’s the only alternative around, but it’s not necessarily a good one. It’s very isolated, people are on their own. But it has changed things. If nothing else it’s stopped a lot of people being bored.

“I’m interested in the underground because I’m angry. I could never get a straight job again. Once you find you can’t believe in society and you can’t believe in the church, you’ve got to believe in yourself . . .

“I don’t know anything,” he concluded. “I’m just sitting here.” Mick and Sue shared Stuart’s confusion about things. Both 15, and studying at a Further Education College, they had come to Implosion because: “it’s a youth club for people like us. Conventional youth clubs are no use. They’re full of skinheads and straights.”

"It makes you randy. It's a buzz“

Implosion is a series of weekly concerts on Sunday afternoons at London’s Roundhouse. Once, the Roundhouse was a centre for the underground. Rock-shows,happenings, and meetings like the Dialectics o f Liberation Con­ference made it a Mecca for anyone interested in the expand­ing youth culture of the mid-sixties.

Since then, it has been done up. Straight commercial theatre has moved in, and the increase in comfort and facilities has coincided with a decline in the informality and participatory excitement of the early days. Meanwhile the Underground, according to Huw Price (one o f Implosion’s organisers), has “retired to its bed-sitters to get smashed.”

But Implosion survives, raising money for Underground organisations like Release and Bit, and providing a last outpost o f the feeling of community that characterised the Underground at its inception. On the night we went about 1,000 young people were crowded into the place. Most o f them were seated on the floor in the auditorium, watching the light-show, and gazing at the groups that blasted them with shatteringly loud rock-music. Children ran about the floor and cheerfully insulted anyone who attempted to talk to them.

Only Half the PointEven so the music was only half the

point of the occasion. A lot o f people didn’t bother to go on the auditorium at all. They moved around the periphery and the canteen to meet their friends; they inspected the stalls selling candles, incense and sweets, or they sat around in dark corners staring in front of them with distinctly zonked expressions on

An Afternoon at ImplosionAll photographs by Nevis Cameron

"The Music is only half of it"

“I smoke like fuck” and the occasional Mandrax: “It makes you randy. I enjoy feeling randy, it’s a buzz.”

Trouble with the ParentsHer way of life has led to trouble

with her parents, they don’t like her staying out the night with her boy-friend, although they’re relieved that she’s on the pill. Once, when she got home feeling tired, they took one look at her and said: “Ooh, you’ve been on those drugs.” Whereupon they rang the police.

“They can’t wait for me to leave home,” she said. “So I’m going to get a flat with my boy-friend.” She doesn’t get on well at college either. She doesn’t like the course she’s doing, and she doesn’t like the other students:

“They’re all skinhead girls. They’re so naive. When I start to roll up a joint, they all run away. Anyway, I hate all that nine-to-five bit. I hate having to turn up on time.”

Her boy-friend explained,“It’s just that she drops so many

barbs and things she never wakes up. She’s so fucking tranked in the morning.”

Sue’s politics were typical of many of the people we talked t o . “I realise there’s an awful lot of unemployment and something should be done about it . . . And also things like Vietnam and Bangla Desh. There’s a sort of revolution going on now, with the OZ generation. When this lot grows up and has kids, there’ll be a change.Meanwhile, I’m having my own private revolution with my parents.”

Jeves and Janice, two shop-assistants who were drinking coffee in the bar, shared Sue’s optimism about the OZ generation, though they were rather less militant about it.

Just Let it Happen“There’s not enough people like us,”

said Janice. Jeves added: “Straight

Sue had left school early because she hated it — “ it was too academic”. She was now doing her O-levels, but she had don’t know what to do about it.”

“Society should be changed,” she said, “but I haven’t really got any ideas about that.” She also thought that revolution was a good idea “but I haven’t really got any ideas about that.”

Greg, whose father is a shop-steward in the Communist Party thought “It’s different for each person. It’s a question of a cosmic trip which you suddenly become aware of — being completely truthful to yourself and everything around you. Intellectualism doesn’t answer the questions.”A Source of Light

He had strong opinions on music. “Music is a source of light,” he told me. “It’s projecting your energy, and everyone can tune into it. Everyone’s distorted by all this crap that’s drummed into them. At a music festival it’s bare people.”

I suggested that at music festivals people simply put on another mask, but he disagreed. “No,” he said. “The whole point about this underground thing is that it’s teaching people to depend on themselves. Like some friends of mine are going up to an island in Scotland, and they’re going to live there off themselves, doing everything for themselves.”

Oliver and JaneThe last couple I talked to were

Oliver and Jane. Dressed in quaint peasant costumes, they spent the entire evening at the Roundhouse dancing. They claimed that dancing made them high, and they didn’t need any drugs. Smiling with the gentle doggedness of people who Know It All, they told me, “Music turns you on. Music is love, so it must turn you on.”And Jane added “Everything is love, so it all turns you on.”

Jane and Oliver both left school at

everything around me is a reflection of myself, so there’s nothing I can do about it. You can’t lay a trip on people.”

As I went out, I passed the lead guitarist of Crocodile, one of the groups that had been playing. He told me: “Implosion is a good audience. You can do anything and they’ll dig it.”

I couldn’t be sure if this was because of the hippies’ tolerance and affection for the musicians, or because they had lost whatever Critical faculties they’d ever had. The stalls sell incense, candles and sweets

their faces. The atmosphere, in spite of the loudness of the music, was peaceful, in a dazed sort of way.

Sue, who is 17, was one of the peripheral wanderers. Pale-faced, and black-robed, she studies at a secretarial college in Stevenage, where she lives in a state of uneasy truce with her parents. She started listening to music when she was eleven, and she reckons it changed her life. At first it was the top ten, but

after a while she saw through those kinds of groups: “They’re out for what they can get — money and chicks.” She conceded that all the other groups were out for money and chicks too, but, “Some groups play especially for the audience they get, and they really get something back. Like Hawkwing and the Pink Fairies, and the Stones. Oh, the Stones. Once I was tripping on acid, and I was listening to the Stones, and if I closed my eyes I could see Jagger standing there in his pink satin su it. . . ”

She turned on to pot when she was eleven. By 14 she was fixing amphetamines, but she decided that was silly. Now she restricts herself to hash,

fifteen, and drifted from job to job, until they ended up on the Social Security. “We’re trying to get it together now so that we can have some money,” Jane said. “I left home when I left school. I didn’t know it then, but I was searching for something. Then I found myself, and I realised I loved myself, and it’s beautiful. I believe in Om and Hare Krishna, but I’m not religious. My religion is my life.”

When I asked them about politics, the smile grew even more rigid. “I used to be into politics,” said Oliver, “but they used to hang me up. I know lots of bad things go on in the world, but

17

"Children run about the floor"

7 Days 1 December 1971 ROCK

Last week Pete Fowler attacked Youth Culture and what it stood for Here John Hoyland answers himLast week 7 DAYS carried an article by Peter Fowler discussing the current stasis in rock music. Fowler concluded that Rock music "very nearly choked itself by becoming too closely identified with a phony youth culture, which is now killing itself off with stoned garbage."John Hoyland presents a different view of the rock scene and argues that the importance of the "youth culture" and of rock has been vastly underestimated. Rocking Revolution

Pete Fowler’s attempt to sort out what has been going on in rock for the past ten years is a useful contribution to the discus­sion, but it contains one flaw so glaringly obvious that it must cast doubts on his whole argument: he completely fails to explain why the music of the sixties — which he dismisses as the product of a “fantasy revolution” — was so good.

In fact, he is so caught up in what I believe is a fundementally mistaken perspective on the problem, that he is forced to imply that Jerry Lee Lewis’s “Whole Lotta Shaking Going On'’ was a superior piece of music to what was produced later on by the Beatles, the Cream, Hendrix, the Stones and the whole range of West Coast groups. He then goes on to assert that the sterile classicism and populism of the Band and Dylan actually represent an advance on the music of this earlier period. John Lennon, the outstandingly progressive musician of our time, is lumped together with the Band and Dylan in this scheme o f things.

These judgements — which would be instantly rejected by almost everybody who has followed rock with any enthusiasm during the last two decades — derive from Pete Fowler’s inadequate assessment o f 'the sixties youth revolt that was cemented together by the music. The cultural disaffection o f a huge segment of western youth from the values of capitalist society is cas­ually dismissed by Fowler on the assumption that it was “middle-class”, and “dreamed up by big business”. The pretentions of this revolt (that it constituted a new revolutionary class) are accepted by Fowler as being inherent to its substance, while its real innovations and strengths are ignored.

Middle Class RealitiesWhat happened in the sixties, for

reasons which are very complex and which needn’t be gone into here, is that a large section of middle-class youth became acutely aware o f the gap between what capitalist society profes­sed to offer the individual on the cultural level — freedom, equality, personal fulfillment in a democratic society etc. — and its shoddy reality.To put the matter quite simply, the people who had “inherited the earth” of capitalist affluence found that affluence totally unsatisfactory on almost every count when it came to human, social relations. The fact that this reaction originated in the middleclass, and that it operated largely within the limits of middle-class individualism, is not the main point when we consider the effect it had on social consciousness and institutions.

The cultural upheaval that followed was incoherent, bizarre, and often downright reactionary. But running through all the rubbish were certain positive themes that are worth listing.

The Counter-AttackThe counter-culture criticised, rejec­

ted and in some cases openly attacked the following aspects o f bourgeois society: traditional puritannical sexu­ality and the isolated, authoritarian modern family; the boring character of

most people’s work; the undemocratic structure of most capitalist institutions, particularly those concerned with education and the law; bourgeois concepts of leadership; the Western world’s pillage of underdeveloped countries, and particularly imperialism’s most vicious manifestation in the Vietnam war; the elitism and irrelevance of most “high-brow” culture; traditional approaches to sanity and madness, and the way they are treated; the break­down of modern cities as adequate living-structures; pollution; bureaucratic control of information . . . and many more. Most particularly, the counter­culture attacked the lack of community, the lack of a collective sense of social purpose, offered by modem society. It could not accept the private acquisition of more and more material goods as being the main end of living. It deman­ded greater personal fulfillment, greater creativity, greater autonomy and more excitement and fun for human beings within a world which would permit loving inter-personal and social relations instead of setting out to destroy them.

Each one of these themes has cropped up before in the Bohemian life-style traditionally adopted by sections of the middle-class as a way of avoiding harsh social realities. Some of the superficial aspects of the hippy culture — the clothes and the dope­taking — encourage critics like Pete Fowler to suppose that this was all that was happening. But added up collec­tively, these various themes combine to produce a critique of capitalist ideology which was, and is, of crucial impor­tance, and which coincided with a reawakening of interest in revolutionary politics.

Just a Tycoon’s Dream?To suggest that all this was “dreamed

up by big business” is absurd. It is true that the whole thing was only made possible by the loosening of ideological regimentation that occurred as post-war affluence made its impact on people’s lives. It is also true that, given capital­ism’s unceasing tendency to look for new areas of exploitation, the life-style promoted by the hippies quickly became a commodity along with every­thing else. In this sense the hippies were mental colonists opening up new markets for the entrepreneurs: the wholescale commercialisation of sex that followed the movement for free love is a graphic illustration of this. Though big-business did not create the counter-culture, it certainly cashed in on it.

But the fact remains that the collapse of capitalism’s traditional disciplinarian work-ethic has produced a major ideo­logical crisis for the system. It has opened up cultural contradictions which are still far from being solved. The counter-culture was the immediate expression of these contradictions. Peter Fowler is also over-simplifying things when he dismisses all this as being merely an “image” of revolt. Although cultural oppression has a material basis and expresses itself in real limitations on people’s lives — in the family, in the schools, in the courts etc. — it neverthe­less operates to a considerable degree through the succesful manipulation of “ images” which are taken for reality by the mass of the people. And it is often

precisely through the promotion of alternative images that cultural struggle is waged. The images of various kinds of freedom that the counter-culture promoted were decisive in helping thousands of young people to challenge the institutions and values of society.

The importance of rock music was very largely that it was the prime medium through which these images were conveyed. It is this that explains the enormous antipathy with which bourgeois society originally greeted the rock explosion — before it was able to successfully incorporate many of these images into its own value system, and reflect them back again through the distorting mirror of Warner Brothers, CBS, Playboy Magazine etc.

The precise relationship between rock music and this cultural/political move­ment need not be gone into in great detail, except to say that it did not consist of overt lyrical statements of the new ideas (though this happened, and the musicians were known to agree privately with their audiences on many of these matters). It was rather a question of the music expressing “in its own language, a common social and cultural base” (Andy Chester). In other words, the music articulated the sense of unease, excitement and restlessness, and described many of the typical experiences, o f the new generation. It also played the key role of bringing the people who accepted the ideas of the counter-culture physically together — at concerts, festivals and clubs.

In spite o f the fragmentation that has subsequently taken place, rock music still plays this role — though in a rather different way, and in the context of a radically different social situation. What, then, has happened?

Older and OlderThe first point is so glaringly obvious

that it can easily be missed, and both Greil Marcus and Pete Fowler have failed to notice it: people have grown older. To state this is not to repeat the hoary myth about the generation gap.

John Lennon and Mick Jagger are now around the age of 30, but they share a cultural identity with 15-year- olds which they will never share with most people over the age of 40. On the other hand, the cultural coherence — or “community” — with which a particular generation of young people confronted society in the mid-sixties is unlikely to occur again. As the “children of Aquarius” increase in numbers, diver­gencies appear within them, and these are reflected in the “fragmentation” of the music.

But there is more to it than this. The “movement” we are talking about was suffused with great democratic longings. It coalesced around the music because the music was the only mass media that reflected these longings, that provided the movement with a corporate cultural identity. But this very identity, which was partly expressed through identific­ation with the music and its performers, easily collapsed into a profoundly anti­democratic adulation of wealthy pop- stars as super-heroes. It was this — the commercialism and show-biz bally­hoo, and the absurdly inflated, almost mystical belief in the pop stars’ wisdom

and specialness — that destroyed so many of the musicians, that killed them or turned them into junkies, that forced them to cop out o f the whole mad scene, or led them to adopt an ulti­mately retrogressive and traditionalist belief in “pure music”.

But there was another, more struc­tural weakness in the counter-culture which is more central still to the apparent crisis in rock-music. I’ve refrained so far from dealing with the negative aspects o f the cultural move­ment: its self-indulgence, its fadishness, its pretentiousness, its sexism, its self- delusions, its sheer mindlessness. The great strength of the counter-culture was always its emphasis on the instrinsic worth, and right to fulfilment, o f every human being. As John Lennon sang: “Who in the world do you think you are? A superstar? Well how right you are! ” So the counter-culture emphasised the uniqueness of individual experience, of self-knowledge and self-help. But the other side o f this coin was escapism and sensationalism. Experience was the only thing that mattered. There was never any attempt to understand society, to find out how it worked, so that it could be changed. Apd if you disliked society as you experienced it, you simply tried to escape from it.

The Great EscapismThis aspect o f the counter-culture

was always there as an option if things got difficult. The cultural rebellion of the sixties operated within certain clearly defined limits: it was a strictly cultural rebellion, and as such was structurally incapable of transforming society in the way it wished. Once the excitement and elan o f the first years wore off, once the naive optimism of the San Francisco era came up against social realities, once the “community” began to see that it was held together more by an act o f faith than by anything else, once the full impact of commercialisation and recuperation began to be felt, once the politics began to get serious (after Chicago and the May Events), and above all once economic recession bit into the heady affluence that made the whole thing possible in the first place (with the parallel reappearance of working-class militancy as a force to be reckoned with) — the movement reached an impasse.

Either it would attempt to carry through its programme, which meant entering the arena of social theory and struggle — or it would collapse into a self-indulgent side-show,

The point, then, is not that the movement was a fantasy, and that the music improved when it broke free of this fantasy. It was rather that the movement as such collapsed, and the music no longer had anything coherent to relate to. This left a number of options; one was Progressive Music, — music that relates to the fag-end of a “community” that, whether consciously or not, has accepted defeat — and which, incidentally, is often extraordin­arily pessimistic and defeatist. (Black Sabbath etc.) Another option was to go for pure musical excellence, as in the case of the Band and Jack Bruce. But whereas the Band is firmly anchored to the past, and as such can only be

described as marking time, Bruce, and a number of musicians like him (I think I would include the Pink Floyd in this, though there are obvious differences) are attempting to push forward the boundaries of music with a seriousness which may well provide rock with a new point of growth — though the dangers of elitism in this position are obvious.

TradA third option, already partly chosen

by the Band, and plumped for most particularly by Dylan, is traditionalism. If you accept Pete Fowler’s argument that the counter-culture was all a fantasy anyway, then a return to “classical” rock or Country and Western, and all the good old traditions of rural America, is a welcome breath of sanity. If, on the other hand, you believe that the counter-culture repre­sented a challenge to capitalist ideology which continues, in a diluted and dispersed form, to this present day, then this “return to the roots” is hardly anything more than throwing in the sponge. For the fact is that Dylan’s nostalgia and disengagement is not “restoring” music to the people, as Fowler claims. What he is doing is more like submerging music in the people, and hence robbing it of any dynamic role in changing people’s consciousness. This is where John Lennon differs so crucially from nearly all the others. As Greil Marcus correctly perceived, Lennon is “willing to divide his audience”. He quite explicitly takes up positions in his music, and demands a committed response from his listeners. Almost alone in the world of rock, he is concerned to take an ideological step forward at the point where the counter­culture left off;hehas not done so by submerging himself in some spurious “people’s” music, but by asserting the primacy of his — and by extension other people’s — real, lived, and often painful experience. It is in this way that he — and he alone of the people Fowler mentions — points a possible new way forward for rock. Lennon understood that the hippy dream, and the ‘ rock musician’s position within it, had become just another mystification. His new music attacks mystifications, takes a committed view of such a concrete and specific nature (like his attacks on his old friend Paul McCartney, or his attacks on religion) that he forces his listeners to think. If you find you agree with his ideas, you can appreciate the beauty and incisiveness of his singing. If not, too bad — he really doesn’t care. As such, he is worlds apart from the old-fashioned entertainment now being offered by most o f the Great Stars of rock.

A democratic forceNot that things are so bad elsewhere.

The cultural rebellion continues, and will continue, and rock still plays an important part in it. It is still, to a certain extent, the “parallel secret history” that Greil Marcus talks about — direct, popular, anti-elitist, and in many ways — despite the enormous com­mercial interests vested in it — a democratic force. It is also, as one always has to remind oneself at the end of these articles, good fun. And that, in itself, is no small achievement.

18

THERE WAS A

ROCK 7 Days 1 December 1971

***W e 'v e all read about Superstars andHere is

So you want to be a rock and roll star?Then listen now to what I say.Just get an electric guitarand take some time and learn how to play.And with your hair so bright and your pants so tight it's going to be alright.Then it’s tim e to go down town Where the agent man won’t let you down And sell your soul to the company who are waiting there to sell plastic ware.And in a week or two if you make the charts the girls will tear you apart.What you gained from your riches and fame Was it all just a game, you’re a little insane.The money that came and the public acclaim, don’t forget what you are, you’re a rock and roll star.

T

The Flip side of the Record

by Mitch Howard

Supergroups

Nobody knows how many rock groups there are in Britain but the number certainly runs into many thousands. Of those maybe a few hundred make enough to scrape some kind of living and only a few score of those really make the big time.

If a group is a huge success then the amount of money it fails to get is probably going to be correspondingly huge.

There’s very little that groups can do about this situation while the rock scene remains so highly competitive. It’s a pretty desperate struggle to survive on musical talent alone and each musician is trying to make it himself because music is central to his life and because he doesn’t want to go back to humping meat or sitting behind an office desk.

To make a success of it he will most probably join or form a group. That unit of four or five people has got to make it as a unit from month to month, gig to gig, record to record. At this stage there is little chance of protesting against working conditions or econom ic exploitation because the group is at the mercy of its management and record company. Collective action is made impossible by intense competition. A group must try to negotiate the best deal it can in a laisser faire situation.

The Musicians UnionThere is of course the Musician’s

Union but this organisation is un­sympathetic to rock groups because they have taken away work formerly given to dance bands. Although this unrealistic attitude is changing now, the union can still only negotiate with large employers such as the BBC and Bank ballrooms and advise groups not to sign outrageous contracts. But a group seeking a recording contract is rarely in a position to be choosy about what it signs. It can only try to avoid the most unscrupulous organisations, get a con­tract that conforms with the Performing Rights Society’s standard contract, and generally look out for itself.

The present situation is chaotic and it’s hard to see how it can be changed unless musicians stick up for each other. But it’s not simply a matter of straight­forward confrontation. A good manage­ment will defend its group's interests against promoters of gigs and try and get the best deal it can from a record company, but even while doing this it is probably doing the group as well. If he isn’t careful the musician ends up feeling isolated and victimised, especi­ally if he doesn’t understand the ways of finance and business.

It is difficult to understand the situation from the outside and im­possible to make meaningful generali­sations about how much a group earns and under what conditions. So let us take an imaginary group — which we will call Industrial Waste — and follow their career which is typical of many groups currently trying to make it in the rock scene.

Industrial WasteIndustrial Waste started off with

begged, borrowed, or stolen instruments and equipment playing weddings, funerals and youth clubs in a provincial town. They got five or ten pounds for a

gig. They did quite well at this so they decided to make a real go of the group. The first thing this meant was getting themselves up to their ears in HP debt, working in ther respective shops, offices or factories during the day and driving round in their battered van to gigs in the evening. This quickly reduced them to half-starved overtired wrecks but they felt it was worth it. Sometimes they got as much as £25 for an evening though it was more often ten or as much beer as they could drink.

Surplus Value enters the SceneAfter a couple of years like this they

decided to try and do it full time. They made a demonstration disc of a couple of their songs and drove down to London to try and get a manager. After a number of broken promises and deals that came to nothing they signed a contract with Surplus Value Pro­motions. To have got this far they were already pretty lucky.

Surplus Value Promotions forked out for new equipment for Industrial Waste: a van (£500), new amplification equip­ment (anything from £500 to £5000 depending on how much money Surplus Value were prepared to invest), and a road manager to handle contracts, see to repairs, hump the gear etc. The running costs o f the band were now over £150 a . week in wages paid by the management to the group, petrol, and repairs.

And so Industrial Waste start the hard slog at the next level. If they are lucky they will be working six nights a week, literally anywhere from Lands End to John O’Groats, for anything from £15 to £150. This depends on Surplus Value Promotions convincing the music press and promoters Industrial Waste are big. The management takes 15% of the group’s earnings and another 10 per cent goes to an agency (owned by Surplus Value) which finds the group its work.

The management fix up a recording contract. The group get 2 per cent of the wholesale price of their records, a fairly standard percentage. They get an advance from the record company against expected sales. Industrial Waste now owe thousands of pounds to the record company and to their manage­ment who have been losing money on them for a number of months. Not only do they owe their record advance, but they also eventually have to foot the bill for the recording costs. They spent fifty hours in the studio at a cost of thirty pounds an hour.Ditched

This is the crunch point for the professional band. The management will only subsidise them for so long; if they don’t start making money they are likely to be ditched. They won’t get sued for their debts because none of them have a penny to their name, but they will lose all their equipment and any money they get from the record will go to the management, against these debts.

After a year of this Industrial waste aren’t a big name but they are just about paying their running costs each week, although not paying off their debt. Progress from here depends on a large number of interdependent factors. First whether audiences think theyre any good. Second whether the group get

on with each other or whether the strain leaves them all at each others’ throats. Third how hard the agency is trying to get work for them. Fourth what sort of price the agent holds out for. Fifth how much more of their money the manage­ment will fork out on promotion and publicity in the hope of great returns to come. All this expenditure will be paid for by the group out of these future returns. Sixth whether the record com­pany retains its interest and actually works to promote the group.

If these factors come together, In­dustrial Waste could be earning £500 a night tomorrow and £900 in a year’s time. If not, Industrial Waste will split up with only battered bodies and battered brains to show for their efforts. Surplus Value Promotions will say good­bye and give what was Industrial Waste’s equipment to their next venture and another group will go through the same process.

(“So you want to be a rock and roll star” by Roger McGuin and Chris Hillman; recorded by The Byrds; published by Essex Music.) The business end of the business. Bouncers at the Cavern, Liverpool.

THE ROILING STONES GIMME SHELTER.Directed by David Maysles, Albert Maysles, Charlotte Zwerin

A Maysles Films, Inc. Production, Colour by De Luxe* Released by 20th Century-Fox

“ ITS HANDLING OF THE MUSIC IS AS GOOD AS ANYTHING IN

“ WOODSTOCK” . . . GO AND SEE IT”

—The Guardian

FROM SUNDAY (Dec. 3rd) AT TH ESE S PEC IALLY S ELEC T ED CINEMASCAMBERWELL Odeon • ENFIELD Florida

HAVERSTOCK HILL Odeon ■ ISLINGTON GR N. Screen KILBURN State • RAVNERS LAN E Odeon

RICHMOND Odeon • ROMFORD Odeon WATFORD Carlton WIMBLEDON Odeon

19

Epic