More social history for you. If you’re in the UK, and old enough, you’ll remember the Toxteth riots.
From my memoir:
“I’d never heard of Liverpool 8 until I saw the music paper adverts for “Four from Eight”, the 1977 LP by Liverpool soul band the Real Thing. I didn’t understand what it meant, but it turned out it was a just a postcode.
It was never just a postcode, though. Until the riots, no-one outside of Liverpool had heard of Toxteth and no-one in Liverpool called it that. It was always Liverpool 8, with a character all of its own, favoured by Liverpool’s bohemian types – poets, theatre people, musicians – and feared by everyone else. In both cases because of its multiculturalism.
1981 put Toxteth on the map. After the media circus, Tory cabinet minister Michael Heseltine came to visit, and promised us trees. Actually there were already plenty of trees in Princes Road, even if the huge Victorian houses on each side were falling down and the shabby streets behind it were places that you didn’t go.”
A year later, Cook The Books released the single discussed in this interview. I never liked it but a lot of people did, so this is for them.
Can you tell I was really pissed off with their manager?
Writing the Toxteth Book
Penny Kiley is told the truths of Toxteth by COOK THE BOOKS. Pic: Jon Blackmore
MELODY MAKER, March 20, 1982
A YEAR ago no-one in Liverpool used the word "Toxteth", unless they were referring to parliamentary constituencies. "Liverpool 8" was the recognized name for that particular part of the city.
Now, in the peculiarly awkward pronunciation contributed to the nation's vocabulary by the BBC “Toxteth" has become nationally famous - a symbol for some, a potent memory for those who were nearby, for others still an address. The impact of the events that began in the area last summer was enormous and far-reaching ... and impossible to evaluate.
A lot of people wrote newspaper articles about it (and a lot of people got it wrong). Some people wrote songs.
"Piggy In The Middle 8", the debut single from Liverpool band Cook The Books, says something about it - perhaps all there is to say. It describes but it doesn't take sides.
The song, the first release on Liverpool's Probe Plus record label (a new venture from the record shop/distributor of the same name), has been given, appropriately and somewhat inevitably, a reggae treatment, by no less a record producer than Dennis Bovell.
It was actually written and recorded in the middle of the summer of 1981 - "while the riots were still going on, people were getting their heads kicked in at the time" — as a direct response to what was happening. Initially recorded at Liverpool’s SOS Studios, it was played down the telephone to Dennis Bovell who immediately agreed to produce. It's now available at last (just in time for the Easter riots?), in seven and 12 inch forms and with a B side that combines a dub version of the song with a medley of all the cop theme tunes you could think of.
The band are a young four-piece; Owen Moran (vocals and bass), Peter Dreary (vocals and guitar), Tony "Rose" Prescott (keyboards), and John Leggett (drums and percussion). There used to be another lead guitarist, who is now "doing all right" with China Crisis. And there is a "fifth member" in the person of John Smith, who co-wrote the single (shades of Stiff Little Fingers here?) and tends to act as spokesman for the group when given a chance.
His contribution to the band is a professional dedication that borders on the fanatical. "As far as jobs go the band is the only job, it's the most important thing," he stresses (conveniently avoiding the fact that as far as jobs go, in a place like Liverpool, there really isn't any choice).
Commitment is all very well but some strange attitudes can result. The group are too young to be musos but... "What sort of music do you like John?" (Leggett) - "Anything with good drumming in it".
"As far as playing gigs goes," says John Smith, not once but several times, "the band have paid their dues." He could have a point though: 260 gigs in 12 months isn't a bad record.
But for now live dates are in abeyance in order to concentrate on writing so the important thing at the moment is the single. The record has all the advantages of a name producer, a newsworthy theme, and good packaging, and the band have the confidence and commitment to back them up. The song, though, could possibly have been more effective.
Dennis Bovell has, strangely, given the record an almost gentle sound, despite the sound effects (sirens and so forth), with none of the passion that you might expect from its subject. There's no sign of the combined anger and fear suggested by the lyrics. John Smith at least finds the production sympathetic to the demands of the song: "There's no other way you could do it. It's a reggae sound but not a white reggae sound. It's an ethnic reggae sound but we're not black so we went as far as we could - not just a black producer but a black producer who wanted to do it."
OF course there's a lot more to the group than the single; the song is by no means typical. But as an introduction, "Piggy In The Middle 8" is a choice that's both promising and dangerous. Its very subject matter guarantees attention, yet it also leaves the band open to charges of exploitation.
"We've had a lot of stick from bands in Toxteth," Owen tells me, "saying things like we weren't there, we shouldn't do it, but just because we don't actually live in Toxteth doesn't mean to say we can't do it."
Perhaps the Cook The Books single is too subtle. "Caught between the black and white”, it begins, encapsulating both the fact of racial tension and at the same time the fact that there is no black and white - no-one will ever find an objective truth for Toxteth, and no side has right completely on their side.
As John Smith says: "You can't put down a political view of Toxteth: there's so many views there, it's such a melting pot. I just write about it the way it is." It's dangerous making assumptions on behalf of other people. If there is any strong theme in the single it's the idea of outsiders, those who exploit the situation, and those commentators who think themselves qualified to explain the inexplicable.
So is the record a profound and significant statement?
Some last comments: "No-one here's a sociologist."
"We've got loads of songs better than 'Piggy'."
They were due to play your old stomping ground, Carnatic Halls, in my first term, so that would have been Autumn 1982. They were Cook Da Books by then and John Smith had started a rumour that the single was a huge hit in Hong Kong. Whether there was any truth to this I don't know, but he phoned up Anita Thompson, who booked the bands for the site, demanding more money because they now had a hit. He'd been hassling Anita constantly and this was a step too far. She told him that if the gig was in Hong Kong he'd have a point but it was in Mossley Hill and there was no more money in the pot. I honestly can't remember if the gig happened or not in the end. By that time I'd discovered the joys of The Warehouse and the likes.
It sounds like a Thompson Twins B-side. I'd never have guessed it was about a riot if you hadn't told me.