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Thursday, January 15, 2026
They're the Best Band in the Land (1973)
They're the Best Band in the Land
By Peter Erskine
Disc
August 4, 1973
Auditioning for the vital first job. Razor creases in suit trousers, hair greased and pressed, and a starched hanky inserted in the top pocket by a mum who keeps telling you she's very confident in you.
It was a bit like that. I mean, although you've got to be natural and pretend it's just like exchanging the normal pleasantries with your metropolitan rock and roller. "Go on," they said, "he's okay, just treat him like anyone else you'd interview."
But Paul McCartney? As essential and instrumental as Farex and Marmite, that first pull on the Cadet and those quaking teenage bra strap manipulations. I mean, an incredibly important and nostalgic chunk in everyone's background, warm and wonderful, indeed. How can you express it?
You shouldn't, but you can't help letting it colour your vision a little, so that when the man said "Yes, you can go in now,"(having stood fidgeting listlessly backstage in the scholarly green washed New Castle City Hall corridor), the first reaction is one of almost energy draining relief, followed by a combined scrabbling and fretting through one's metaphorical life buoy; a series of typed questions to wit. Gosh, it is going great.
The atmosphere is calm, relaxed, and positive. Paul and Linda seem to exude those qualities these days-- so that caught in the hazy, pleasant air, one hardly realizes Paul's adeptness at appearing loquacious and informative, yet retaining the seasoned ease of remaining entirely noncommittal, even evasive. Ten years of dealing with the Press has fostered that ability.
Even so, could you imagine Mick Jagger taking a little band out on the road, rumbling between the cities in a converted coach? It's certainly odd to see Paul McCartney so accessible.
But the old aura still pulls. Fans still shin up drain pipes and hang cat-like from window sills, poking little notes in through ventilation ducts, and they still congregate with autograph books an hour before the band is due to file in through the stage door. But now it's for Wings, and they deserve it, because they're good, possibly the best live band we have -- and that's no hype. How could it be after the verbal pelting they've endured?
"I mean", says Linda, pressing against her old man back in the dressing room, "I was pretty apprehensive at first. I wasn't good when we started. And there were times when I really did sing flat. I know it."
"That press thing hit her pretty hard, you know," interrupts Paul. "Sometimes I had to stop her from crying before we went on. And that's why we started abroad, the first tour that is. That's why we concentrated on colleges and universities."
"How did you write Live and Let Die?" Someone asks.
"Well, I sat down at the piano the next day and worked something out, then got in touch with George Martin, who produced it with us. We rehearsed it as a band, recorded it, and then left it up to him."
"Was it just like writing another song for Wings, though?"
"No, it was just a little bit different, because it was a James Bond film and it had to be big. I didn't have to keep to a schedule that was too tight, though. I think originally they asked for two minutes 50 and I think it turned out two minutes 52.
"I mean, I think I'd do it again. It was a good film, but I'm getting a bit choosy now, you know," he says, grinning, "Oh, well, success has gone to my head, hasn't it? Flush with success, I am. I'll only do big films now or very little ones."
There's a disparity between the album, though (Red Rose Speedway), and the live act. I mean, the album's okay. It has its moments, but nothing approaching the impact of the band in person. Of course, I hadn't the guts to say so, preferring instead the lighter, more glitched phrases of that hardly annual: "What is your policy with regard to live and recorded work? "
"Well, it should all be part of the same thing, as far as we're concerned," returned a slightly side-stepping McCartney. I tried. "Is it just that you've been concentrating on pulling the band together first, then?" "Well, no, it's just that we've got an LP out. It's selling, and we've just had two singles kind of hot on each other's tails. And as soon as we finish this tonight (being the last night of the tour), we'll be starting on a new album. I don't think one's going to suffer because of the other. In fact, it'll be the other way around.
"I think the last live playing helps for when we start writing again."
"Will Denny Laine's songs be on the next album then?"
"I think so. We haven't got the songs together yet, but if he comes up with something good, he'll get in."
"You see, Red Rose Speedway was originally going to be a double album," explains Linda, "and Denny wrote a song for that, and I wrote a song, but then we narrowed it down."
The interview veers off at a tangent again, as someone asks how Paul feels about the recently televised TV special, which leads into a long and involved discussion relating to the need for more musically aware media which we all know exists, but which helps keep things light and superficial and diverts attention from more probing issues, which, in any case, are blunted by a room full of people and three reporters going it at the same time.
Who knows whether it's due to lack of time, McCartney's desire to avoid a more intense one-to-one situation, or politeness on the part of the inquisitors? "I think it worked for what it was, though," continues McCartney regarding the TV special. "It was kind of a Chevrolet show, and you couldn't go too far, or they wouldn't show it. As far as we were concerned, it was a start. We all got on telly, and we all got some experience working with cameras and stuff, but I think we could do better to tell you the truth."
Paul says that he thinks there should be a separate BBC wavelength given over to music 24 hours, piloted by such people as he refers to as the "music buffs"-- Peel, Bob Harris, etc.
And everyone, including Denny Laine, stopped by on his way back from the gents and a fresh bottle of Brown, agrees that TV is on the decline, universally.
"But er, excuse me, Paul, would you say that your attitude to lyrics has changed somewhat?" A bit like breaking wind rather loudly in one of the quiet bits at the opera, that one a bit below the belt. What?
"No, my attitude hasn't changed! Some of my songs have turned out as if my attitudes changed, but it hasn't. I'm just trying to write songs. I never thought of anything other than that."
Even so, as an outliner, one detects a moving away lyrically from the kind of intensity of, say, "Eleanor Rigby" to lighter, more easygoing things like "Big Barn Bed". Of course, comparisons are unfair, and apart from being odious, unnecessary, but this seems to reflect the whole philosophy of Wings, play, power, fun, or, as the soap opera, Jap says, "Be happy in your work."
Having a good time, but doing it well. I mean the whole Wings thing of spontaneity and a kind of unpredictability, typified by their first real debut gig, a surprise appearance at London's Hard Rock Cafe for a release benefit. "There's no telling what we'll do," says McCartney, breezily. "We're very free now, you know, we don't have an awful lot of pressures. If we feel like it, we will do a fixed 56,000 seater gig, but then we may just decide to nip off and do a crummy little church hall if that's a good idea on the night.
"That's great, because the whole thing becomes too much to set. People get set ideas in their heads about who does what and where with us. It's much more crazy. We'll play any kind of gig. We're just a band.
"I just think that there's an awful lot of people getting taken over by huge machines. So I like not to be on the side of the machines. I like to keep more like the gypsies."
And as you know, gypsies must be continually on the move, as their PR man indicated, nudging and furtively pointing to his watch. A roadie burst through the door, and the sound of the Brinsley's second-to-last number welled in. "I think they'd like to get ready", he said, moving toward the door, politely ushering us out along the corridor. Merely colliding with a crusty old photographer cutting his way around from the front row like a Ronald S'earal caricature, fingers and ears making for the exit.
As Wings get themselves together backstage, the man-and-wife performing poodle team takes the stage. A familiar photographer sides up and asks whether I know that these (gesturing with the sweep of an arm,) are just about the finest, most restrained bouncers in the country. "They've got a great reputation," he says, proudly, going on to recount their admirable handling of the Bowie heavies at a recent concert. And a surprisingly mild-looking bunch they are, too.
By this time, large balloons are being tossed across the rows, and the man-and-wife poodle team is running through their final encore, a complicated combined handstand and canine hurdle.
The lights —a combination of gas and electricity —dim; a mighty roar rises from the rows. The ice cream ladies make their way to the back, and as the din escalates to a hollow thunder as a washed and brushed, Denny Seiwell makes his way to the kit, followed by Linda crossing overstage right to the Moog and electric piano. Danny Laine on guitar, Henry McCullough on lead. A pause, the insanity tears loose on McCartney.
As McCartney, fresh out of the "keep on truckin'" T-shirt and dancing shoes and into something silvery, walks over to Linda, plugs in and tunes up, then leads the band as sharp and clear as you like, into "Sunny."
Apart from the impact of the lights casting an imaginative purple-green glow, the clarity of the sound is amazing. The balance is perfect. The delivery dynamic, and there's not even a hint of distortion. Paul takes the vocals, and Denny Lane plays electric and acoustic. The number is greeted by the staccato level of applause usually reserved for a final encore. The first of many are on their feet or balancing on the back of their seats.
"Big Barn Bed," The opener on Red Rose Speedway, follows and is equally tight and clean. The vocal harmonies are even better than those on the album, and it's at this point that you realize how good Denny Seilwell really is as a drummer. He is surely underrated, really. His playing is so damn forceful and incisive.
He manages to combine an intrinsically sensitive black style-- that arrogant, laid back ease, say, of someone like Bernard Purdy, with all the edge and attack of the best white drummers Aynsley Dunbar, for instance.
Linda played nice keyboards on "When the Night", also from the new album, and Henry and Denny Laine duetted beautifully toward the end. "Merci beaucoup, mucho gracias, common market," McCartney replied to the typhoon-like applause as the band went into Linda's "Seaside Woman" with fine vocal duetting from the McCartneys, along with an especially slicing bass figure from Paul.
"Wildlife" was magnificent for me. The high point. McCartney sang like a bitch, and the five-part harmonies on the chorus were incredibly powerful -- stunning in fact. "C Moon," a stirring version of "Maybe I'm Amazed" and "My Love" followed introduced by McCartney as "the most snoggable number of the evening." Encountered by McCulloch, who bellowed, "Rip them off!" then proceeded to play one of the finest solos of the night.
"Live and Let Die", greeted with redoubled enthusiasm, was followed by the old Moody Blues "Go Now" with Denny Laine on organ and vocals. A roadie presented Denny Seiwell with a birthday cake, and the band slashed through "The Mess" and "Hi, Hi, Hi," and Henry played bottleneck. eEcoring with a magnificent ball busting out "Long Tall Sally" with the Brinsleys, the only concession to anything touched on the past. For, as Paul has said earlier, when asked if he deliberately avoided doing old numbers. "Yes," he had said, "because we don't want to turn into a second-rate Beatles and be compared to all the groups, up and down Costa Brava. I mean, we've come all from all that." He said, adding, "Although the others are more keen on the Beatles thing than anyone. Old Denny Laine, there is a total Beatles freak. In fact, one night on stage he suddenly comes out with 'when I was young, and so much younger than today', and I thought, 'God, there's me trying to get away from it.'
Denny Laine it All Down the Line (1973)
Denny Laine It All Down the Line
By Peter Erskine
Disc
August 4, 1973
Denny Laine sat back in his 15th-story hotel suite, resplendent in blue and white pajamas, striped suit braces, and a pink Wings t-shirt. The room service waiter tried not to stare too hard at this unconventional guest, who was clearly enjoying himself, talking about his new single, his forthcoming album, Wings, bass players, jazz, festivals, and anything else under the sun.
A photographer was crouched on the floor, pointing his machine at Denny's face while he talked. I thought it might put him off. "No, it don't worry me. I'm a pro, you see", he joked, flexing his shoulders and pouring himself another Southern Comfort. Everything seems to be going well right now for Mr. Laine.
Rock scene veteran of many years standing and currently one of McCartney's Wings. As well as working with the group, Denny is pursuing a bit of a solo career on the side, mainly as a songwriter. "I love to write songs as a hobby," he said. "I can't put them all on Wings albums, though. Apart from Wings, I want to put out two albums a year myself as a songwriter, displaying my stuff for other people really. Colin Bluntstone is doing one of my songs. And Brinsley Schwartz, who played with Wings on the last tour, won a song too."
Denny's solo album probably titled Ahh... Laine! is due out in September, and in the meantime, a single from the LP is out on Wizard. The A side, "Find a Way Somehow" is a slow number, perhaps a surprising choice for a single. "It's a moody sort of song, and I think it's got potential," said Denny. "I think it's the same kind of feel as "Rocket Man" or "Whiter Shade of Pale," that kind of thing.
"'Find a Way Somehow' Is one of the two slow ones on the album, which is all about two years old. Apart from the B side of the single 'Move Me to Another Place'', which is just me and Dave Mason, who I met in LA. The rest was made with Colin Allen on drums and Steve Thompson on bass.
" And while I was doing it, I worked on the McCartney album and then joined the group. So my album got left. I've remixed and overdubbed a lot of it now." But this doesn't mean that Denny is parting from Wings. "The fact that I'm able to get stuff together on my own is a very good reason not to leave, actually," said Denny. "If I was just in Wings, I'd be bored stiff. You're just in one set of five people going from place to place, and you need a sideline. Everyone in the group is doing that, and that's no threat to the band. Paul's been too successful too long to be desperate. There's a lot of freedom in the band. Some people have called it lethargic. I can see what they mean. But the other side is that there's nobody uptight and nobody broke. That's the trouble with most groups. They're all broke. No one's particularly rich either, not even Paul. He has to wait and wait for his money. It's a good setup, and I don't care what anyone says. I'm in it. I know."
Did he assure that having Wings is good for Paul McCartney as well as the rest of the band? "He tends to go away and write material by himself, but we change it and improve it. I think he is someone who has to have a group, and he writes with the band in mind. He writes about immediate things that are going on. It's the same with all songwriters. They can easily get too involved in their own ego, and if Paul didn't have the group going, his ideas wouldn't be so good. Because what makes him a songwriter is his personality.
"It's good for him to be on stage again. It makes him where the band wants him to be. We're all fed up with slow songs. And we turn around to him and say, 'We want some rockers'. And he goes away and does it with that." In mind, Wings already have enough material on tape for another album, but they're only going to use some of it. They are recording more material in September in Lagos, where EMI has got an eight track studio. Ginger Baker also has a studio there, but Wings won't be using that one.
"I know a lot of African musicians with Ginger from sessions with Air Force. I was going to go out with him after Air Force. It's all fresh and energetic out there. It's like it was in New York years ago."
Before settling off to Africa. Wings are going to Scotland to rehearse and write material for the album, although they might make a surprise festival appearance over the summer. "There's no plans at all. But whatever comes up, that's right, we will be available, "says Denny, exclusively. W"e could be working all the time, if we want. We could be in Japan, the US, Italy, or Canada right now, but we're not; who knows?
Wednesday, January 14, 2026
Oswestry man reveals friendship with George Harrison
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| Photos by John Croft |
Oswestry Man Reveals Friendship with George Harrison
By Josh Price
Oswestry Bourder and Counties Advertizer
November 25, 2025
The Borderland Rotary Club recently welcomed John Croft, known in the area as Ukulele Man, to share an entertaining talk about his love for the instrument and a surprising connection he made along the way.
Mr Croft, a former president of the Borderland Club, recounted how he was contacted by George Harrison.
He said: "I've always loved to play the Uke, and to talk with likeminded people about the instrument, but one day the phone rang and a man with a soft Liverpool accent said, 'Hi John, it's George Harrison here.
"I'd like to talk to you about playing the ukulele.'
"Well, you can imagine my shock—suddenly talking to one of my heroes from the legendary band, the Beatles.
"And it just got better; he came to Oswestry to visit me in my house in Jasmine Gardens, Oswestry, and after a few months, a genuine friendship developed.
"Over the next eleven years, I visited (and stayed!) with George at his home, Friar Park, near Henley-on-Thames, on a number of occasions, and he even came to stay overnight with Mary and I in Llanyblodwel—where, at his suggestion, we went for a short drink at 'The Horseshoe.'"
Mr Croft said they were invited to the Portmeirion Hotel for part of the filming of The Beatles Anthology.
The Beatles guitarist gifted Mr Croft a vintage Gibson Banjolele, which he said he treasures.
He continued: "I kept quiet about our friendship for many years, as George and I shared a musical interest—not a commercial endeavour.
"I finally decided to write about what happened in my new book, 'The Uke, the Beatle, and Me', because I wanted my family and friends to know the story, and especially to tell readers that, putting aside his fame and fortune, what a genuinely kind, thoughtful, humorous, and lovely man I found George Harrison to be."
Mr Croft buys and sells instruments and has written a number of books about them.
His new book is available from his website at theukuleleman.com, by email at theukuleleman.com@gmail.com, and from the 'Local Interest' section in Booka Bookshop in Church Street, Oswestry.
Is that Tony?
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| photo by Brian Lawton |
According to the caption I found online, this photo is the Beatles in 1963 with Tony Sheridan. I have seen photos of Tony Sheridan in 1961, and he did not look like this man. I am not sure who it is. Maybe it is Tony after all.
We Loved You Yeh, Yeh, Yeh (1991)
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| Photo taken by Peter Holmes |
We Loved You Yeh, Yeh, Yeh
The Eastern Evening News
January 11, 1991
Who said Beatlemania was dead and gone? We asked for your memories of the Friday night in May 1963 when John, Paul, George, and Ringo took the Grosvenor Ballroom by storm, and boy, did you take us up on it. Thanks to all of those who wrote or phoned in. Sadly, there's not room for all your tales. There were so many different stories, but each and every one had the same verdict on the lads from Liverpool. They were fab, fantastic, and unforgettable, and now it's over to you
Linda's Drumstick Dare Linda Wilsea screamed with the best of them while John, Paul, George, and Ringo woved their magic. But she stressed, "There wasn't too much of that. Most of us were more concerned with listening to them." She had gone to the concert with her husband to be with Mick, her friend Janet Bunting, and her future husband, and she said we were only kids at the time. "We stood on the steps that were a continuation of the stage, only a few feet away from the Beatles, daring each other to creep up and pinch one of Ringo's drumsticks. Unfortunately, no one had the courage, much to my regret now." Like many other fans that night, however, Linda of Lodge Lane, Old Cotton managed to get the autographs of all four Beatles on one of her tickets. "It's one of our most treasured possessions," added Linda.
Glenys Wickham had to perform a balancing act to watch the Beatles. She said, "It was always pretty crowded, but I had never seen so many people as on that night. I remember standing on a chair and holding on to my boyfriend for dear life to get a better view."
Knee-Deep in Coats George Hampton recalled the packed Grosvenors. "There were so many people that the cloak rooms were stacked out. They were knee deep in coats after running out of pegs." Mind you, George was one up on most of the other people struggling to see the nation's number one band, where he'd seen one of the Beatles before. "I had seen Ringo two years previously at Bultins in Skegnes!"
Beatle Crazy Wherever the Beatles went, you could be sure the girls would follow. Grosvenor's co-promoter Peter Holmes, 56, recalled leading Paul and John to their van after the concert. "There were two girls sitting in the back, and I said, 'See you brought the girlfriends'. But they just said they didn't know where they came from, so we had to turf them out," said Peter, now a carpet salesman.
Hands Off Jan Bounden carried her love beneath her sleeve for two weeks after the Beatles concert for Paul McCartney gave her his autograph on her wrist. Jan of Proctor Road, Old Cotton, recalled. "I duly covered it with sellotape and didn't wash for over two weeks, much to the amusement of my parents. I certainly was the envy of all my school friends."
Fish and Chips With The Beatles Teacher Andrew Jarvis will never forget May 17, 1963, it was the day he ate fish and chips with The Beatles. He nipped out of the Grosvenors to the fish shop at the bottom of Rose Lane, only to find Paul McCartney at the head of the queue. "I'm not sure if it was during the interval or after the concert, but when I went. Paul and another Beatle, Ringo, I think, were standing there," he recalled. "I remember that their scouse accents caused great hilarity. This was about the time of Z-cars, and I remember thinking they were deliberately overplaying the strong nasal accent. During the concert, they kept calling themselves wack, and it all went down very well. They certainly had the girls after them. There is nothing put on about their music. When I went to see them, I was already becoming interested in them, but the excitement of their concert was incredible. They were so completely natural. They seemed light-years ahead of everyone else." Oh, and there was one other memory of that unforgettable night, said Andrew, "They threw sweets at the audience. They'd shout, 'Anybody want a jelly baby? ' and they were laughing and joking along." He reckoned the highlight of the night was the Beatles' version of "Roll Over Beethoven." "They played it as an encore and played part of it again, because that's what everyone wanted, and they were enjoying themselves." Today. Andrew, a teacher at the Howlett School, keeps alive those 60s memories as a member of The Beatles Appreciation Society.
Lennon, the Scruff and the Safety Pin Ricky Lee could scarcely believe his eyes. The Beatles had hit the top of the charts with their very own style of rock music and clean-cut fashion -- but there was nothing clean about the Fab Four, who shared the dressing room with Ricky and his band, the Hucklebucks. His rock and roll days over, Ricky 42 said, "I was amazed how scruffy they were. They just had old jeans on. I'll never forget John Lennon. He didn't have any trouser zip or fly buttons, just a safety pin! When it came to the music, though they surpassed all the pre-concert publicity. They were brilliant. Said Ricky, "We had played with most of the big names, but they were the best. They were so natural and very friendly. There was no big-headedness about them. They were just some of the lads. And I remember us talking to them in the dressing room about a certain chord in a song, and George showed us how it was played. During our set, they were standing watching us near the stage door. I remember seeing John strumming along with us." However, one of Ricky's greatest memories of the concert was when his own band almost started a stampede by playing a Beatles number. "We always played a few of their songs in our set, and that night, when we started up, there was a rush from the bar because they all thought the Beatles had suddenly come on," laughed Ricky.
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