Isotope/

Back in 1974 at the tender age of 17, I was working Saturdays and school holidays in the Blackpool Branch of Boots (Music Dept), and spending most of my earnings on beer and vinyl. Articles in the music press, and a open minded local record dealer led me to Soft Machine Volume 4. I'd never heard anything like it. Having been brought up on pop in the sixties, and heavy rock at school in the early seventies, this completely opened my mind to whole areas of music previously unimagined. I realised there was something beyond Zeppelin, Purple and Bowie.

The logical progression to the rest of the Canterbury groups soon followed, by which time I had discovered a fellow enthusiast at school. For the next couple of years, until higher education called, we enjoyed the cult status of being fans of all these groups nobody else had heard of. In addition my partner in crime had a car, so we began to search the gig guides in the hope that our heroes would venture up to the north west of England.

Apart from seeing a couple of atrocious local groups I had not actually been to a "real" gig, until October 1974 when we got the chance to see Gong supported by Isotope at Preston Guildhall. Oddly enough it was Isotope whom we knew more about, having discovered their debut album once again courtesy of the local record store. Since the recording of that album Hugh Hopper had replaced Jeff Clyne on bass, and was contributing significantly to the compositional side of things on the imminent second album.

As for Gong, our knowledge was limited to Camembert Electrique, at the time available for 59p on the newly formed Virgin label, and the occasional live review in NME or Melody Maker. This for me was the beginning of a considerable learning curve, taking in many of the musicians found in the pages of Facelift and the whole gig culture in the mid seventies. In reading what follows you have to appreciate that at the time most of it was totally new to me. The first thing we noticed on entering the auditorium was an unusual yet pleasant smell. My friend, showing previously hidden depths of knowledge about the soft drugs scene, immediately and confidently identified it. What would my mother think!

There were also a considerable number of people wandering round with strange tall hats on, many of which were clearly the outer plastic coverings from road traffic cones. As the hall began to fill, sporadic cries of "Wally" could be heard. Once again my friend explained that this had some sort of drug connection. How did he know all this? To this day I've never really had Wally satisfactorily explained.

		The house lights went down and Isotope emerged onto a sparsely lit stage. Guitarist Gary Boyle muttered some sort of greeting as he plugged in his black Gibson, and went straight into Rangoon Creeper from their new album. The totally instrumental music was dominated by the guitar, although this was partially the fault of soundman who seemed determined that Laurence Scott's keyboards should remain buried in the mix. There was some pretty impressive technique on show, but zero stage presence, but then that wasn't what they were about.

The next of Gary Boyle's rare moments of communication was "and now we come to the Hugh Hopper section," which was a lengthy excerpt from side 2 of the latest recording, composed by HH of course and featuring a characteristic fuzz bass solo. This was closely followed by the drum solo (groan). In my view, no amount of expertise, subtlety and power, and Nigel Morris possessed all three, can sustain the interest in such percussive doodlings for more than a couple of minutes. This was no exception, although I've heard a lot worse since. Overall though it had been an enjoyable set, with the bonus of seeing the legendary Hugh Hopper.

Half an hour later the lights dimmed again, and as our eyes adjusted we became aware of a huddle of people centre stage, some of whom were wearing tall luminous hats, as of course were many of the audience. The lights became stronger so we could now see they were in a tight circle, arms around each other, and chanting a strange mantra. The ritual seemed to reach some sort of climax, now the music could begin. Planet Gong was in orbit.

I was astonished at how good they sounded, they'd progressed a lot since Camembert Electrique in terms of technique and sophistication. Visually their lighting effects were very impressive and incorporated a memorable strobe sequence. The main man and focal point was of course Daevid Allen, with his quirky vocals and glissando guitar, but Steve Hillage really blew my mind. This was the first time I'd heard him and I just wasn't expecting anybody this good, he was the missing piece that completed the Gong jigsaw. Saxman Didier Malherbe included amongst his horns a shiny black curved soprano, which I took to be the standard shape. It was not until a couple of years later, when I began to discover jazz in a big way that I realised his was customised, and that everybody else played the straight version! Tim Blake's role was to provide great washes of synthesised sound to underpin the solos of Hillage and Malherbe, and the vocals/space whisper of Allen and Smyth.

Thank goodness we were spared a drum solo, Laurie Allan's performance was tight and economical on a kit about a quarter the size of that used by Isotope. I have to admit that my attention did begin to wander during Didier Malherbe's meandering solo flute performance. I wasn't alone in this view, I overheard somebody behind me say "Give him another minute then we'll start the slow handclap." A little uncharitable perhaps? I can't give you a set list as I didn't know the titles, although when I later purchased You I did recognise Mike Howlett's distinctive bass line on The Isle of Everywhere.

Having discovered the world of live gigs and found that it was good, we were now prepared to travel farther afield . Our next trip was to Lancaster University in February 1975 to see the excellent Robin Trower Band, followed on the 25th March by Soft Machine at the Manchester Free Trade Hall. This featured the Bundles line up, and meant that in my first three gigs I had been privileged to see four major British guitar talents in Gary Boyle, Steve Hillage, Robin Trower and Allan Holdsworth.

With the Bundles album and subsequent tour the Softs were including a guitarist for the first time since the days of Daevid Allen eight years earlier. Allan Holdsworth was now the main soloist as Karl Jenkins and disappointingly Mike Ratledge adopted increasingly lower profiles.

As the roadies tested the mikes, keyboards and guitars it became clear that Softs were actually using a quadraphonic PA, with cabinets at the rear of the hall as well as on stage. It was most noticeable on the drum kit where each drum was miked up to a different output. I have only come across anything like it on one other occasion, that was for Tangerine Dream in Liverpool Cathedral later the same year, where speakers were placed throughout the building.

An ethereal collage of tape loops heralded the arrival of Soft Machine on stage. There were no introductions, just a signal from Karl Jenkins to his colleagues, rather like a conductor to his orchestra, and they were into Hazard Profile. The first part of this lengthy Jenkins composition was dominated by Allan Holdsworth, mixing melodic lines with blindingly fast improvised sections. It was clear he was no rhythm guitarist though, playing themes and solos but effectively sitting out when the spotlight was on somebody else. Gentle piano and synth from Karl Jenkins was the bridge to the other main section which featured Mike Ratledge's only straight ahead solo of the evening, the rest of the time he seemed content to be part of the rhythm section. With the benefit of hindsight one might speculate that his heart wasn't in it, and as we know he finally quit the group some months later. It was a gradual fade out, rather like the Robert Wyatt situation a few years earlier.

Throughout the set it was clear that Karl Jenkins was the man in charge, most of the compositions and arrangements were his, whilst his keyboards orchestrated all the ensemble pieces. His role within the group had changed quite significantly since he was recruited as replacement for Elton Dean after Fifth. I found his increasing reluctance to avoid the spotlight most frustrating, surely anyone with the ability to produce the kind of soprano playing found on Chloe and the Pirates from Sixth deserves to be heard. His only solo in the current set was an aggressive piece of blowing during Peff. This was evidently not to everyone's taste as a few people began to walk out. As might be expected the whole of Bundles was performed, interspersed with unaccompanied solo performances from Babbington, Marshall and Ratledge.

In a Melody Maker interview Roy Babbington had said he much preferred string bass, or "the big fat cuddly thing" as he called it, to the bass guitar, until the discovery of an unusual six string model [a Fender Bass VI] persuaded him to take electric bass more seriously. It gave him the dynamic range missing in most other bass guitars, an attribute impressively demonstrated in his rather lengthy solo spot, in which he also effectively utilised a fuzz box and other FX. Then it was the turn of Mike Ratledge to extract the weirdest sounds possible out of his electronic hardware. A series of bleeps, drones, and other discordant noises gradually built up into a full blooded electronic roar, which then began to circulate round the quad PA. The effect was rather like standing on a traffic island as it is circumnavigated by a Formula 1 driver at full throttle! Finally, John Marshall was left alone to do his stuff. All I can say is it lasted about 15 minutes and was no doubt technically brilliant, but left me completely cold. Enough said.

Over the applause and cries for an encore at the end I heard somebody shout "Let's have more organ Mike!" This seemed like fair comment, but in reality was a throwback an era that had now passed, and sure enough the inevitable encore was led by the dazzling Allan Holdsworth, as befitted the newly evolving Soft Machine. Overall it had been a good gig, with some reservations. It would take another album and a couple of personnel changes before the Karl Jenkins Soft Machine peaked on Softs in 1976.