The teenage Williams lived not far from Jimmy Page on Epsom's Miles Road and the pair struck up a friendship. Linked by their love of the blues, they shared records and once thumbed their way to Bognor Regis to catch Chuck Berry's performance in the film Jazz On A Summer's Day. Williams also befriended a young Brian Jones; Jones replied to a letter the author had written to the music press. With Brian, Mick and Keith, he shopped in Dobell's, hung out with Dave Godin, and drove from London to Manchester's Free Trade Hall to watch, mesmerised, the American Folk-Blues Festival in October 1962 with T-Bone Walker, Memphis Slim, Willie Dixon and John Lee Hooker on the bill. Williams' reminiscences are interesting; letters from Jones are reproduced, photos from the festival printed. The emphasis is placed not on his pals, soon to become very famous, but on the excitement and thrill of being a music fan.
Lois Wilson, Mojo (September 2009)
Now there's snow on the mountain, long-term Juke Blues reviewer Dave Williams has assumed his biblical inheritance. Turns out he grew up in the same Epsom street as one James Page and their youthful endeavours take up the first part of his tale. Frankly, that's not as interesting as his evocation of what it was like to learn about blues and to seek out those fantastic purchases long before they became just another rack in the multi-media store.
Back then, there was no such thing as a record store, just a tiny counter in an electrical shop or a department store. In Epsom, it was Rogers, in Croydon it was Allders. Williams had a Chuck Berry fixation, but I went from Holly to Bo Diddley. He and Page even hitch-hiked to Bognor to see 'Jazz On A Summer's Day' for Chuck's contribution: I just took the 197 from Caterham to South Croydon. and the tiny Classic kinema. As well as searching out this strange new music, our Jim got a guitar and played along to Link Wray's 'Rumble' before he joined Red F. Lewis & The Redcaps, playing a Strat copy called a Grazziola. There's a snap to prove it. Over time the Redcaps metamorphosed into Smokey Dean & The Dean Aces and then Neil Christian (with a grin like a gumshield) & The Crusaders.
The second part tells of how Williams and his mate Graham Ackers met up with Brian Jones, Mick Jagger and Keith Richard(s). There's also the odd visit to Dobell's second-hand cellar, although he's mislaid Johnny Kendal's name, years before Kendal pickled his liver. It's 1962 and the Stones are getting it together. The trip to Manchester, with Ackers driving a van containing the above and Jimmy Page, takes up Part Three. I went up on a coach and remember a lot less than Williams does; I'd forgotten there were two shows, for instance, of which I only saw the first, before hurrying off to the bus station.
Part Four runs through the creation of the Blues Appreciation Society and Blues Unlimited, and drunken get togethers with Mike Leadbitter at Ackers' Hollywood Road flat, with the Hollywood pub right opposite the front door. I attended a couple of times, sleeping on one of the many sofas in the front room, rudely awakened early one morning by Mike and Rose making very audible love on the other side of the room.
While it's winding down, the narrative mentions Guy Stevens, seeing Bo Diddley and the Stones at the New Victoria (Mike Vernon and I were there, too). Williams' subsequent employment in Uganda includes the arrival of Buddy Guy and his band on their state-sponsored tour. He finishes on some thoughts of the differences between then and now. I enjoyed this monograph quite a bit and would recommend it to anyone who was around at the time, not just for the music but for portraying our liberation from the bland miasma of Cliff and the Shadows to discover there was real music on the planet.
Neil Slaven, Blues & Rhythm (September 2009)
David Williams is of course one of Juke Blues' long-time contributors (and for Blues Unlimited before that), and most readers should by now be familiar with, in particular, his perceptive reviews coupled with a witty turn of phrase. (One of my favourites: '...this album is about as dirty and downhome as a bottle of Armani perfume in a Gucci handbag.')
This book is a personal memoir of a young lad dipping his toe into the soft trickle that was the blues scene of the early 1960s, before the floodgates opened and hordes of spotty oiks up and down the country were singing Muddy Waters and Jimmy Reed songs. Dave's story, similar to that of many of us who fell in love with the music, has an added attraction (well, two actually). Firstly, he was a boyhood friend of Jimmy Page, and they made many early voyages of discovery together (into music, as well as other teenage delights). Secondly, he became acquainted with Brian Jones, primarily through correspondence, and then with Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
The centerpiece of the book is the expedition to see the 1962 American Folk-Blues Festival in Manchester. Brian, Mick and Keith, along with Dave and his friends Graham Ackers and Will Jones piled into a van and headed north for their first taste of the real deal American blues. The show is described in some detail, as are some of the entertaining events that made up the trip. In the aftermath of one particularly boozy evening, Dave recalls waking up with a monster hangover 'and found a similarly incapacitated, foul-smelling Will Jones next to me'. I know exactly how he feels! Subsequent to the trip, Graham devised an itemised bill, asking everyone to contribute their share. To this day, Jagger and Richards have never paid up. Shame on you.
Clearly there are two distinct areas of interest for readers of this book. Fans of the Stones may be intrigued by their heroes' initial involvement in the blues, and Jimmy Page devotees will be fascinated by this early account of his life story, one which has never been told from such a personal angle. Page collectors may like to attempt to track down the song that Dave wrote and Page recorded on to tape, although don't badger Dave for it, as he lost it years ago (the tape, that is!). For us older blues fans, we can enjoy the memories of those years and associate with the same feelings of wonderment at what we were discovering, although maybe not in the company of such latent talent.
This is an enjoyable read, written in a chatty style (as if with a pen in one hand and a pint in the other), even if some of the finer details have been lost and forgotten in the mists of time. Now Dave, how about Volume 2 – 'Life On The Road With Bobby Rush'?
Alan Empson, Juke Blues (Autumn/Winter 2009)
