<Was he looking for those little green men, perhaps?
A Curious Mind: Front cover image>
<i.>
Epic is surely the word for this three-disc, 82-track set from Cherry Red Records, which explores the various artistic tangents that legendary producer Joe Meek mined during his short lifetime (1929-67). How fitting, then, on this statutory day of superstitious distress that we offer our own overview of the contents, which have been spinning regularly at Ramen Noodle Nation HQ, in the wee wee hours!A Curious Mind represents only some of the cherry-pickings from the so-called "Tea Chest Tapes," whose name stems from Meek's unusual storage method for his archive -- spanning some 4,000 recorded hours, spread out over an estimated 1,850 to 1,900 reels of quarter-inch recording tape. Cherry Red acquired them in 2020, in preparation for a series of reissues, raising excitement among Meek fans who have speculated for decades about the famous (David Bowie? Marc Bolan?) and not so famous names that may appear on them.
But first, a potted biography, for those who haven't done the deep dive. Born Robert George Meek on April 5, 1929, in the market town of Newent, Gloucestershire, Joe showed a passion for electronics from an early age. He began filling his parents' garden shed with various circuits, radios, and other self-designed gadgets; his Wikipedia biography even credits him with developing the region's first television. Not having seen this particular factoid elsewhere, I'm naturally skeptical, but wouldn't bet against it, either.
Such a project, after all, hardly seems beyond the skill set of a man known for designing and building much of his own equipment. That skill set undoubtedly strengthened during the 1950s, when Joe spent time as a Royal Air Force radar technician, to satisfy his national service requirement. He also worked for the Midlands Electricity Board, where he acquired his first disc cutter, and got another chance to further his skills.
Joe's initial DIY experiences surely provided an ideal grounding for entering the production world, beginning with "Bad Penny Blues" (1956), a fast-paced instrumental single from jazz trumpeter Humphrey Lyttleton. It spent six weeks in the UK Top 20, becoming the first jazz record to do so. Equally noteworthy is the sound, one characterized by a heavier than normal use of compression, and overly distorted drums.
Lyttleton knew nothing of these developments, having gone on vacation as his label (Parlophone) began preparing "Bad Penny Blues" for release. Had he been around for the final mix, the traditionalist-minded Lyttleton would never have allowed Joe's final touches to grace it. "On the record, it sounds very, very peculiar, indeed," as Lyttleton recounts with a wry smile, for a 1991 UK TV documentary (see link below). "Because that's not the actual sound that comes out of the piano."
Presumably, the resulting chart performance did much to quell Lyttleton's concerns; the old saying, "Nothing succeeds like success," seems specially tailored for such occasions. A burgeoning interest in songwriting paid dividends in 1958, when Les Paul and Mary Ford took one of Joe's compositions ("Put A Ring On Your Finger") to #32 on the US charts in 1958.
By 1960, Joe had released his "Outer Space Fantasy," the mini-album, I Hear A New World, and weathered the collapse of his own independent label, Triumph Records. Yet it's hard to imagine that his greatest triumphs and tragedies lay right around the corner. The former came in July 1962, with the success of "Telstar," which topped the US and UK charts, en route to selling an estimated five million copies worldwide.
The latter came on February 3, 1967, when Meek -- having entered a leaner stretch of success, and seeing his "Telstar" royalties frozen by a French film composer's nonsensical plagiarism suit* -- shot his landlady, Violet Shenton, and then committed suicide, allegedly for fear of eviction from his flat, which also served as his home base for recording.
Though it officially went down as a murder-suicide, enough unanswered questions have persisted about Joe's final actions to merit a website of their own about them (see link below). But can you can read that on your own time, and glean whatever additional facts of his life seem worthy of attention, because we must move on to the contents on hand -- A Curious Mind.
<ii.>
The latter came on February 3, 1967, when Meek -- having entered a leaner stretch of success, and seeing his "Telstar" royalties frozen by a French film composer's nonsensical plagiarism suit* -- shot his landlady, Violet Shenton, and then committed suicide, allegedly for fear of eviction from his flat, which also served as his home base for recording.
Though it officially went down as a murder-suicide, enough unanswered questions have persisted about Joe's final actions to merit a website of their own about them (see link below). But can you can read that on your own time, and glean whatever additional facts of his life seem worthy of attention, because we must move on to the contents on hand -- A Curious Mind.
<The plaque that now marks Joe's birthplace:
Photograph by Robert Thursfield
(Joe Meek's Wikipedia page)>
(Joe Meek's Wikipedia page)>
<ii.>
Those who grew up in the '70s may remember a popular advert of the time, one that popped the immortal question, "Is it live, or is it Memorex?" The cassette maker coined the phrase to imply that the user couldn't distinguish the recording from the sound source it was capturing. The phrase persists along the margins of pop culture, generally in discussions of authenticity versus fakery.
One suspects that Joe would have seen little point in popping the question. Where most producers typically focused on getting their sounds down as quickly as possible, with minimal fuss or muss, Joe's sympathies lay clearly in other directions. For him, getting the "right" sound mattered as much, if not more, than right song, as even a casual skim through A Curious Mind will demonstrate.
One of my favorite examples is the pre-overdub version of "Sky Men," the extraterrestrial ode written and sung by Meek's songwriting partner, Geoff Goddard, and actually released as a single in 1963. Shorn of its unusual chorus, "Children of Earth/Be not afraid/For we come in peace," the initial impression is of a solid, yet unremarkable, piece of Beat group pop -- that is, until Joe gets his hands on it.
He speeds up the track itself, along with Goddard's voice, to give it the unearthly, alien-like timbre that characterizes the finished version, topped off with liberal splotches of his trademark echo and compression effects. Some commentators actually claim that Meek's treatment ruins the track, yielding the odd "speed corrected" version appearing on YouTube. Yet it's arguable that Joe's tinkering raises the original's game by a considerable notch or two; hearing it at the original tempo, without the effects, certainly makes for a different experience than the version we all know and love.
Similarly, Glenda Collins's alternate take of "it's Hard To Believe It" -- an earnest questioning of our Earthly priorities ("How can they spend a million on a rocket head, when there's millions on Earth, in need of bread?"), set to a sprightly melody that wouldn't feel amiss on any girl group recording -- benefits from Meek's "Telstar"-style UFO sounds and tape manipulations, topped off by some exquisite pizzicato string plucking.
Just as with "Sky Men," and any number of other tracks, "It's Hard To Believe It" underwent several shifts in mood and arrangement, as Meek and his featured artist searched for the secret sauce that might yield a chart-topping smash. The alternate versions featured on The Single Sessions, Pt 2., and Baby It Hurts: Extended Sessions, Pt. 2, are slower and more restrained, with the effects pushed further into the background.
Like it or not, it's part and parcel of whatever vibe that Joe was trying to create at the time, which reflects his "all in" approach as a producer. You buy into the vibe, or you don't. You just go with it, or not, but nobody sounds terribly interested in watering down the outcome.
It's the reason that we still listen to these tracks today -- for this attitude, coupled with Joe's boldly-go-where-no-man's-gone-before approach, one that sets him apart from so many others, then and now. (More to come today, as I continue refining this post, like some crazed action painting from the '60s, where neither time -- nor tide, nor taste, nor trends -- stood still.) --The Reckoner
One of my favorite examples is the pre-overdub version of "Sky Men," the extraterrestrial ode written and sung by Meek's songwriting partner, Geoff Goddard, and actually released as a single in 1963. Shorn of its unusual chorus, "Children of Earth/Be not afraid/For we come in peace," the initial impression is of a solid, yet unremarkable, piece of Beat group pop -- that is, until Joe gets his hands on it.
He speeds up the track itself, along with Goddard's voice, to give it the unearthly, alien-like timbre that characterizes the finished version, topped off with liberal splotches of his trademark echo and compression effects. Some commentators actually claim that Meek's treatment ruins the track, yielding the odd "speed corrected" version appearing on YouTube. Yet it's arguable that Joe's tinkering raises the original's game by a considerable notch or two; hearing it at the original tempo, without the effects, certainly makes for a different experience than the version we all know and love.
Similarly, Glenda Collins's alternate take of "it's Hard To Believe It" -- an earnest questioning of our Earthly priorities ("How can they spend a million on a rocket head, when there's millions on Earth, in need of bread?"), set to a sprightly melody that wouldn't feel amiss on any girl group recording -- benefits from Meek's "Telstar"-style UFO sounds and tape manipulations, topped off by some exquisite pizzicato string plucking.
Just as with "Sky Men," and any number of other tracks, "It's Hard To Believe It" underwent several shifts in mood and arrangement, as Meek and his featured artist searched for the secret sauce that might yield a chart-topping smash. The alternate versions featured on The Single Sessions, Pt 2., and Baby It Hurts: Extended Sessions, Pt. 2, are slower and more restrained, with the effects pushed further into the background.
Like it or not, it's part and parcel of whatever vibe that Joe was trying to create at the time, which reflects his "all in" approach as a producer. You buy into the vibe, or you don't. You just go with it, or not, but nobody sounds terribly interested in watering down the outcome.
It's the reason that we still listen to these tracks today -- for this attitude, coupled with Joe's boldly-go-where-no-man's-gone-before approach, one that sets him apart from so many others, then and now. (More to come today, as I continue refining this post, like some crazed action painting from the '60s, where neither time -- nor tide, nor taste, nor trends -- stood still.) --The Reckoner
Links To Go (I Hear A New World, Indeed...)
A Curious Mind: YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIgd93x1Qt4&list=OLAK5uy_kB8dNHFYwjdUT3fXylJNn0ct0nHkWbcM0
The Death Of Joe Meek: The Myth & The Fact:
https://joemeek.fortunecity.ws/death/index.html
UK TV Documentary Part I (8/2/91):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qW-d7fSk6mU
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIgd93x1Qt4&list=OLAK5uy_kB8dNHFYwjdUT3fXylJNn0ct0nHkWbcM0
The Death Of Joe Meek: The Myth & The Fact:
https://joemeek.fortunecity.ws/death/index.html
UK TV Documentary Part I (8/2/91):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qW-d7fSk6mU
UK TV Documentary, Part II (8/2/91):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1xr7AODvb4
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1xr7AODvb4
