By Jim Pace
Song: Sick On You
Artist: Hollywood Brats
Released: 1973
Genre: Proto Punk
There are days when we’re fed up with everyone and everything. That’s the perfect time to talk about the Hollywood Brats.
Some people will tell you that the Sex Pistols or The Ramones gave birth to punk. Those people are piss heads. (Please send your email address along with any complaints, so I can respond with a picture of my middle finger.)
Many bands had the punk act down but few were punks.
When Andrew Matheson headed to London in 1971, he came with a new attitude, so he found fellow hooligans, ES Brady (Guitar) Wayne Manor (Bass) Casino Steel (Piano) and Louis Sparks (drums) to play with.
They started out as Queen, but when the other Queen scored a hit, they changed their name to the Hollywood Brats.
They were a loud, trashy, arrogant, rude, makeup wearing band long before it was in vogue. According to Brady, they existed solely to “disturb and annoy." From start to finish, they were a punk band.
The band played three dates at The Speakeasy Club before they were banned for life for puking in the drinks and throwing an ashtray at Bryan Ferry’s head.
The Brats showed nothing but contempt for the audience. Men wanted to fight them. Crowds tried to beat them.
Keith Moon called them the “greatest band I’ve ever seen” and helped them get a management deal with gangsters (The Kray twins). They signed a lousy record deal with NEMS in 1973, when every other label turned them down.
They recorded one self-titled album, that included the bile spitting punk classic “Sick On You” and broke up before it ever saw the light of day. The song will leave you ready to pummel the first unlucky bastard who crosses your path.
They used Room A at Olympic Recording Studios. Rooms B and C were occupied by The Eagles and The Bee Gees. The Brats fought them in the toilets and bloodied Maurice Gibb's nose.
They fired two producers the first week, which caused exasperated engineer Irish O’Duffy - who worked on The Rolling Stones' Let It Bleed - to quit, saying, “I’m sorry, I just don’t understand this.”
That was Punk. Those were the Brats.
Politically correct? Let’s see.
During one interview, they discussed who was pussy-whipped, their favorite Nazis, and women they’d like to shag and punch in the face. Their favorite color? Caucasian. They liked girls with "bad aim for crockery throwing."
Offended yet? Good. That was Punk.
It doesn't go down easy. It's not a soccer mom giving her four year old a mohawk. It doesn’t come with your proof of purchase on that Gap t-shirt.
When the label refused to release the album, they didn't hire some prick attorney, they stole the tapes and split. Cherry Red Records finally released the album in 1980.
In 1982, Wayne Manor was stabbed to death by a prostitute in New Jersey.
That was Punk. Those were the Brats.
So this gem is dedicated to the Right, to the Left, to the Bible thumpers and the Atheist "clubs." To the pretentious intellectuals, to the smug and to the satisfied.
You're all so stinking sure, aren't you?
To the editor of this very blog, who has issued the following edict for this series, "In the future all Lost Gems are to be five hundred words."
That being said, the last word you count will be number six hundred. Exactly.
So fuck off, Wankers.
These are the Hollywood Brats.
And I'm sick of you all.
(Jim Pace is a musician and filmmaker living in NY.)
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