Dr Feelgood - Down By The Jetty (EMI)
3/5
By: Michael Lewin
So, Rockfeedback got punched. Again. By a 30-something hairy guy in leather. Again.
Obviously, Rockfeedback should really stop drinking in rock bars and arguing with hairy, leather-clad rockers about selling out because:
a) it gets Rockfeedback punched; and
b) it is such a stupid, pointless and banal argument that it makes Rockfeedback think less of himself for indulging in it.
The intricacies of the debates are irrelevant - partly because I'm just being an antagonistic little cock when I get into them, but mainly because I want to make a different point and we'll all get sidetracked in the stupid damn argument about selling out.
Regardless, if you should wish to partake in this dangerous and utterly preposterous pastime, you need only to know which particular type of hairy, leather-clad rocker to engage with: that breed who, on your sudden appearance at their table, will judge your worthiness by asking for your top five guitarists in a brusque, threatening manner.
You must respond as follows, regardless of your feelings about them: Jimi Hendrix; Robert Johnson; Django Reinhardt; Eric Clapton... Then pause, struggling for a fifth. This allows for the necessary smug superiority grease boy desperately wants. Then snap your fingers (not in his face, as this leads to violence a little too soon), and say: Wilko Johnson. You will be accepted, and may taunt the beast for as long as you like.
Wilko Johnson, later a Blockhead, played with a skanky jerk that shuddered out a delectably crunching rhythm'n'blues rock'n'roll. He was also the song writer and lead guitarist for Dr Feelgood, and it's because of his guitar that anybody should give a damn about them.
Brief history: early seventies...lean, mean antidote to plodding super-groups...beer-and-fag amoeba proto-punks...astonishing, visceral live act...line-up changes...continued as cult live act for a stupid amount of years until they started hating each other and dying off...etc, etc... Go read Allmusic.com if you need to know more.
'Down by the Jetty' was their debut album, released in January '75. Hairy, leather-clad rockers, found in every provincial pub dripping globulous grease which is invisible because only one light bulb in the place works, they love the damn thing. Because Dr Feelgood were anything but sell outs - '...the Jetty' is legendary, adored and remembered because the original release's cover displayed ugly, used-car salesmen figures in thin-lapelled jackets and the word 'MONO' was plastered all over it. This means Dr Feelgood are the real damn thing, baby - authentic and, of course, almost unlistenably dated. And that means hairy-rocker-f**k-off-sell-out LOVE.
The lavish re-release of 'Down by the Jetty' joins the original mono recording with a new stereo mix, plus five (gorgeously bluesy) live recordings from Dingwalls in '74 - which, to be honest, are almost indistinguishable from the studio tracks except for the occasional squeal of accidental feedback. It is a delicious, tempting package - a fold out held together in a voluptuous plastic sleeve. Hold it, caress it. Pour over the liner notes and gaze aspirationally at how genuine Dr Feelgood look. Buy it, however? Hmm...
For all the 'radical's, 'instant classic's and, of course, 'seminal's that the press release throws at you (not to mention excess terms from the obsequious-vomit liner notes), that honest smell of brown ale, cheap cigs and greasy, pungent sweat is violently stale. You know what I mean - you've heard 'Never Mind the Bollocks'.
At the time of release, '...the Jetty' was certainly a Glaswegian kiss to the face of Thin Lizzy et al from the kings of the sex-and-booze London circuit; a taste of what early sixties Stones and Animals must have done to your jaded ears: lithe, louche, the crunch of breaking dinosaur bones in a toilet with Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley.
'Roxette', Johnson's bile-filled chastisement of his hussy lover, oozes groin-thrusting cool with every chop of rhythm. Lee Brilleaux's blasé vocals have a shimmer of deadly rasp beneath, and the harmonica-led blow out at the end must have had audiences dancing viciously, in the manner of victorious apes. Likewise the deeply soulful cover of 'Boom Boom': "Howl howl howl howl..." indeed.
Feelgood can be accused of helping the cause of both New York and London punk; Geldof and Weller are both on record bawling out their love for the Doctor's inspiring live show. I'm glad for them, oh so glad - both band and album have a deserved place in history, and I'm betting my next year's earnings that Wolfmother and a ton of the other recent rock throw-backs all own a copy.
It is, admittedly, a record of supremely authentic rock'n'roll: R'n'B from greasy head to stubby toe, with rhythm as sleazy as its ethos is honest. '...Jetty' is a document of a mini-revolution that tested the water for the more media-savvy punks to come.
I'm glad I know 'Down by the Jetty' because I can taunt those greaseballs in rock bars that little bit more. I'm glad I know it because I can chart the development of rock'n'roll that little bit better. I'm glad to know how the Coasters and the blues boys like BB King influenced punk through Feelgood and their ilk, and how even now genius retro rock like the White Stripes and the Oblivians understand the qualities underneath, how they improve them.
Most of all, I'm glad I know 'Down by the Jetty' because I can finish this review and never listen to antique, out-dated and completely superceded shit like this again - but I still appreciate it.
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