Slade changed my life 50 years ago

December 4, 1970. I’d turned 20 three and a half months ago and was on my way to a gig to see a band I’d heard about – ex-skinheads playing proper rock. It was Slade, and that gig was going to change my life as a music lover.

The crowd at Derby College of Art and Technology was, as always, packed and joyful. So many have left this earth and even the younger ones are older than me now – I avoided adulthood as a bore – but I have vivid memories of just how the Black Country foursome thrilled every one in the audience. Perhaps, Slade did as well. When it came time to record Slade Alive, still the best live album in my opinion, a party from the college was invited to Piccadilly – and I was among them.

My review of that concert was, in retrospect, immature. I don’t remember many of the tracks, with the exception of Born To Be Wild, which was, and remained, the best rendition of a rock classic. There was Comin’ Home and Tudor Baker, both mentioned in the next day’s Derby Evening Telegraph ‘Saturday Page’, along with Knights In White Satin with Jim Lea on violin.

Slade took rock music in their vibrant, hard-worked hands and offered it up as a tribute, and it was gratefully accepted. They were, and remained, totally professional and, despite the Glam Rock of glitter and Dave Hill outrageous costumes, music was always the ultimate priority. They were No 1 several times during the early 70s, not because Dave wrapped himself in tin foil, but because of the band’s exceptional musical ability.

I’d seen some great bands – Chicken Shack, Family, East of Eden, and the full line-up over two days at the Bath Festival – but meeting Slade was the life-changer. If I was in awe after the gig preparing for the usual interview, that was swept away in a salvo of warmth and welcome in the dressing room, followed quickly by banter and mickey taking. These were not just ordinary guys; they’d become firm friends within minutes. A short while later they dubbed me ‘Big Dick from Derby’ – and I have treasured signed albums with that moniker.

The change in my attitude to music crystallised from purely aural understanding to a deeply personal feeling. These guys, plus the amazing roadie and ‘doorman’ Swin, were going to be special – and within a few months they began their legendary time as the greatest UK rock band.

Almost by association I was drawn into Slade’s success. The late middle-aged news editors agreed with every request to accept an invitation to see them and review gigs. I was ‘sent’ to Bardney in Lincolnshire where I experienced pre-gig self-doubt that dissipated as the first chords were struck; I covered the recording of Slade Alive; the Lanchester University gig where Slade handed over to Billy Preston and where Chuck Berry recorded My Ding A Ling; and many more gigs.

But it all stems from that first gig at the college. So today, 50 years on, I can say thank you to Tim Price, who booked the band; Swin, who sadly is no longer with us; and Noddy Holder, Jim Lea, Dave Hill, and especially Don Powell, a powerful friend and one of the world’s most powerful drummers.

If I have any advice for young music lovers today it’s: Avoid adulthood – just keep living the dream of great rock music.

17 thoughts on “Slade changed my life 50 years ago”

    1. Thanks, my friend. These words, I hope, are much better than a review in the Derby Telegraph, published a day later that was clearly tainted with college bar booze and lack of sleep.

  1. Fantastic article Richard.
    As with all your reviews, your words captures the moment.
    Slade are a brilliant rock band and still have a great fan base, many who have become good friends.
    From now on you will always be known as
    “Big Dick from Derby”

    1. Thanks Mark. It is so horribly appropriate this week – and a tribute to Slade, Swin, Chas (great guy who invited me everywhere), and, of course, Dave Kemp.

    1. That was how I started nearly 12 years ago! I was with a mate who is a published author (electronic) and told him how much I admired his talent. He suggested I write a book about what I used to get up to in the 70s. I put a few thousand words together and realised that, if published, I’d be in the dock! LOL

  2. Hello Richard, I remember Slade at the College in December 1970. I was DJ’ing the gig. Zina (my girlfriend then, my wife now) was there and it was her 19th birthday. I spoke to Noddy as they preparing to come on stage, told him it was Zina’s birthday and the band played Happy Birthday for her in the middle of the act. Another great gig there was Roger Ruskin Spear from the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band. He had the audience in stitches, one of the funniest and most entertaining gig I’ve ever seen.
    Hope you are keeping well, looking forward to another plate of fish and chips at the Exeter when this damned plague is over,

  3. By the way Richard, It’s our golden wedding on 6th March this year. And some folk said we wouldn’t make it past a year!

    1. Congratulations, Oz.
      In these difficult times, and while we are in a long, cold, boring, snow and wet lockdown, I wish you and Zina well.
      And yes, roll on opening time at The Exeter.

  4. Where was this gig? I remember sitting in the kitchen of the Derbyshire Yeoman with Dave Hill moaning about the rubbish sound system the Yeoman had for the “disco” prior to Slade doing their gig. Malc Shardlow “had words” and the disco was plugged into Slade’s kit. I don’t think their sound system actually damaged the structure of the building but it was a tad worrying.

    1. Hello Bill,
      I don’t think I went to the Slade gig at the Derbyshire Yeoman. It was never a particularly good rock venue – OK for big jazz bands.

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