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Unsung saxophonist to the stars

Mel Collins, who visited Christchurch last week, occupies a special rock niche

By

ALISTAIR ARMSTRONG

His mellow but insistent sound can be heard on records by the Rolling Stones, Eric Clapton, Tina Turner, Pete Townshend, Bryan Ferry, Dire Straits, the Stray Cats, Bad Company and Roger Waters, formerly of Pink Floyd, to name a few.

He has been rubbing shoulders with the elite of the rock world for more than 15 years, and his services have been sought, beyond his native Britain, in Europe and the United States. Yet those who don’t care to scan the liner notes of albums or who have not stumbled upon his name in a pop encyclopaedia probably know little about Mel Collins, saxophonist extraordinaire. Collins was in Christchurch last week with the Irish folk rock group, Clannad, on the last stop of a five-week tour of Australia and New Zealand. The London-based session musician established a link with Clannad after

being asked to contribute to recordings by the band four years ago for the LP “Macalla.” He has since gone on several tours with the quintet, and worked on the 1987 LP, “Sirius.” In between times he has continued as a session performer, and has assisted with the solo projects of the former Pink Floyd bassist and songwriter, Waters. Collins accompanied Waters on a big tour of the United States in support of the “Radio Raos” LP 18 months ago. Assignments like the ones for Waters, a central figure in the Pink Floyd legend, and those he has tackled for stars of similar stature, say much about the regard in which Collins is held by his peers.

Seemingly, it was destined to be so, for Collins, aged 42, was born “on the road” when his parents,

musicians in the same big band, were on tour in the Isle of Man. Collins’s late mother, Bebe, was a singer, and his father, Derek, one of England’s best known reed instrument players. Derek Collins belonged to a nucleus of about 200 musicians in London responsible through the 1950 s and 1960 s for work on film and television scores and who were regulars in important shows. Collins started playing through his father — “there was always a clarinet lying around” — but Derek Collins was fiercely against his son getting into the pop sphere.

“He wanted me to be in a big band and become a jazz player or whatever, but at the time it was the Beatles and the Stones, and I quite liked the idea of going out there and being a rock and roller.” The first big step for

Collins was becoming a member of Circus, a jazzfolk group who had a residency at the Marquee Club in London. Circus recorded a self-titled album in 1969, but Collins’s big break came when he was approached by the guitar virtuoso, Robert Fripp, to join the pioneer progressive band, King Crimson. Collins helped his new group complete “In The Wake Of Poseidon.”

After “Lizard” (1970) and “Islands” (1971) King Crimson made a less than successful American tour which led to a break-up. Fripp wanted the saxophonist to form the next

King Crimson, but Collins, who had not been allowed to write, felt that he would be musically stifled if he remained.

“I needed to get away, which, in fact, has been pretty much the history of my career ... move on to a new challenge," he said.

Collins found his next challenge with Alexis Korner, the veteran bluesman and founding father of British rock. During an American tour in 1972, Korner formed the group Snape with a Danish' vocalist, Peter Thorup, and three former members of King Crimson, lan Wallace (drums), Boz Burrell (bass), and Collins. “I went completely the opposite, from this high technical prowess, clever ideas-type of music to just playing in a simple bluesbased outfit,” said Collins. The group backed Korner on the 1973 release, “Accidentally Born In New Orleans,” remaining together for several months before disbanding. “After that there was quite a spate of about three, four years of mainly session work, which was another aspect that I had because of my father’s career,” said Collins. “I particularly wanted to develop a certain amount of discipline, which you have to have in a studio.

“Then, of course, there comes a time when you are musically stifled in a studio. You can only do so much there. I was never one for the nine o’clock in the morning jingles, that type of thing. It was too mundane for me, and also session musicians automatically develop a very cynical approach to every thing because of the nature of the work, really, and the lack of freedom and expression.”

Collins returned to the concert stage with Kokomo, originally a 1 flpiece, who were outstanding exponents of British soul. The group had former members of a pop band, Arrival, and of the Joe Cocker supporters, the Grease Band. Kokomo made two albums before folding in 1977. Collins described the group as “CBS’s version of the Average White Band.”

Collins also teamed up with Alvin Lee, the light-ning-style guitarist who made an impact with his group, Ten Years After, at Woodstock, for a live album, “In Flight,” in 1974.

The combination, which lasted about six months, went to the United States, but Lee, who tried to establish his own niche, could not elude the Ten Years After tag, said Collins.

“They had been so huge over there, and it is the same thing when anybody comes out of a band and does a solo project. 0.K., they think they have got the name — Alvin Lee is Ten Years After — but when you go out there and it is Alvin Lee and Company, which was the name of the band, it is a different matter — you’ve got to rebuild your audience.

"They basically wanted to see Ten Years After, so he wasn’t doing as much business as he had done before, and his bottle went, to be honest. That was the end of the band.” Collins resumed his studio career before embarking on a world tour with Bryan Ferry, the former Roxy Music singer, in 1978.

Since then his most notable extended projects have been with the Italian, Pino Danielli, Collins deputising for Wayne Shorter, the Stray Cats, Dire Straits (the 1983 “Love Over Gold” tour and the “Alchemy Live” album), Roger Waters and Clannad.

The saxophonist said his spell of touring and playing with the rockabilly revivalists, the Stray Cats, was especially interesting.

The band was full of energy and very exciting on stage.

“They swung. They had something about them which was that ’sos swing, almost bebop-type rock *n’ roll which I hadn’t actually ever played before ... and they lived the lifestyle of the ’sos. The videos on the bus were always Elvis and, you name it, Eddie Cochrane.”

The Stray Cats broke up (they have since reformed) after finding themselves trapped in a limited market, said Collins. This in spite of achieving sales in excess of two million copies with their first album.

Collins got together with Roger Waters through the latter’s wife, whom he had known since his King Crimson days. “We actually don’t live very far from each other

and it was just one of those natural things. We had a lot of respect for each other and it worked out. I’m pretty sure that if he does any more solo projects, and I’m sure he will, I’ll be working with him again. We’ve built up a good basis.”

Collins said it was difficult to nominate the highlights of his career “because there have been lots."

“I recorded with Eric Clapton, who is a good friend, a long, long time ago on the ‘Siowhand’ album (1977). That was the first time I’d ever met Eric — you know, the legend and all this — and he was a very sweet person.

“He gave me a hell of a lot of confidence in the studio, that was a high spot for me.” Similarly, it was tough to pinpoint his best recorded work, particularly because 75 per cent of his output never saw daylight — such as occurred when a new band failed to

secure a record deal or relase. “But I did ‘Private Dancer’ with Tina Turner, which was O.k. I thought,” he said, laughing. “I thought that was all right, you know. I’m not going to say it was great.” A regular charity show in England for cancer relief is satisfying for Collins. Such big names as Phil Collins, Mike Rutherford, Clapton and Steve Winwood gathered for three days of planning and rehearsal before putting on a concert each year, he said. “We all get together and play every body’s hits and everybody gets an opportunity to do what they want to do. It’s great.”.

In response to a question, Collins said that he would like to have been able to say that working with the Rolling Stones on their 1978 album, “Some Girls,” was a high point, “but it wasn’t.” Instead, the session he had attended in Paris had been “a very traumatic time.”

“The Stones had been entrenched in this EMI studio for three months, working around the clock. Mick and Keith weren’t talking to each other at the time, which isn’t unusual. “There was a lot of friction there. I arrived at 8 o’clock at night expecting to go into the studio maybe in the morning or the next day, whatever. I was told to be on call, that Mick (whom he had not previously met), was in the studio at the time, and that I might be called at any time.

“So I’m sat there in my room with the hand over the receiver, you know, waiting for the call, and I get a call about 2 o’clock jp the morning. ‘Well,

Mick’s still working, we’re not sure, maybe about five, six ..”

Collins said he grew increasingly anxious until he got a call about 7 o’clock in the morning. “Ah, Mick’s decided to go to bed.”

He was summoned about 3 o’clock in the afternoon the following day to start a long shift of work on the classic hit, “Miss You.” Collins found it. disconcerting that while he was trying to play the solo of his life, people he did not know were wandering, seemingly at random, in and out of the studio.

“Anyway, eventually we got ‘Miss You’ down. We tried it all sorts of different ways, this way, that way, with different instruments. It’s very draining in a studio situation like that, especially when you are on your own, desperately trying to please.

“Then Ron Wood comes in, with his entourage, and sets up his amp in one corner of the studio.

He was quite free, he came up and shook my hand and everything. Keith Richards arrived about midnight, after having gone out to dinner with Jagger and Jerry Hall,” said Collins. “I stop playing and go to shake his hand and he walks straight past and sits on a stool at the other corner of the studio. This is real tension time.” Collins said that at this point, he was asking himself what he had done, and if he was the right person for the job. “This went on till 7 o’clock in the morning. I was just -a bundle of nerves at the end of it. I did another track with them, which I think was used as a B side. I did hear it once; I can’t even remember what it was called.”

It was good to be able to learn the discipline, but “in the studio it is very lonely,” said Collins. “The. good side is that I’ve been able to, as a freelance musician if you like, go in whatever direction I fancy. I have not been restricted to one kind of music, and that is the reason I’m still here, really — that has kept me going.” Collins has not released a solo LP, but said he planned to do so within about a year in collaboration with Clannad’s singer, Ciaran O’Braonain. He declined to put a label on what sort of music it would be. “It is obviously going to be slightly jazzy, me being a saxophone player, but I hope melodic. My playing leans towards that way more than towards atonal music, if you like, so I would want them to be songs, not just instrumentals; an amalgamation of an instrumental with a vocal . back-up, if you like.”

Collins said he and O’Braonain had similar tastes, “and Ciaran is a very, very strong writer.” In the meantime, the members of Clannad were to return to Ireland and Collins was to add his touches to the musical score of a film starring Eric Idle. T ■»

‘I needed to get away ... move on to a new challenge’

Rolling Stones session ‘very traumatic’

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Press, 6 September 1989, Page 24

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Unsung saxophonist to the stars Press, 6 September 1989, Page 24

Unsung saxophonist to the stars Press, 6 September 1989, Page 24