MOVE IT ON THE BACKBEAT (Part Five)
MOVE IT ON THE BACKBEAT!
JOSIE + THE PUSSY CATS IN LONDON
1961-62
PART FIVE:
OUT OF MY CONTINENTAL MIND!
Just like “Underneath The Overpass”, the Made In Paris theme was different to anything The Pussy Cats had ever recorded before. At the RGM date, it began as a waltz but Greg suggested: “Why not play it up tempo? I’ve got a cracking good rhythm in mind.” Bree wasn’t pleased with the change, but it had the opposite effect on Joe. After taping the fast version, he declared it the master: “A damn good Rock ‘n’ Roll disc,” he roared, slamming his fist down on the console. Indeed! “Made In Paris” was a frenetic rocker that anticipated what’s now being called Merseybeat.
A soundtrack version was recorded right on the movie set with Shirley Bassey’s music director Geoff Love supervising. Despite his physical discomfort, Greg really sank his teeth into this number! A second Bacharach tune was heard later in the film: “Out Of My Continental Mind!” which was another showcase for Josie in the mold of “Underneath The Overpass.” The Joe Meek-produced studio tracks were released on a promotional single, and how I loved that record! It’s still my favorite.
Triumph X 805
MADE IN PARIS
featuring GREG/
OUT OF MY CONTINENTAL MIND
featuring JOSIE
from the Paramount film MADE IN PARIS
JOSIE + THE PUSSY CATS
AN RGM SOUND PRODUCTION
Arranged by BREE SPELLMAN
- November 1961, non-hit
“Made In Paris” was waxed in January of 1961 during sessions for The Pussy Cats’ début album. It was held back for several months because Bree Spellman all but demanded that a newer song called “A Better Man” be pressed up instead. That recording did boast a flawless lead vocal by Greg, so Xandi agreed to it; but Greg complained about an excess of echo. The mix upset him so much, the lad was almost in tears: “For fuck’s sake, it sounds like I’m drowning!”
Joe strongly disagreed, and the single was ultimately issued without a remix; but for whatever reason, this surging ballad under-performed on the charts. Naturally, Greg blamed Joe for its failure! Alexandra blamed Sabrina. She also held a grudge against the composer for supplanting her at Pussy Cats record dates (though it was her own choice to not attend them). Lex was also unhappy; as always, he felt that Valerie should be singing more leads. Worried that they were being edged out of the picture, the Cabot siblings began laying plans for a major shake-up.
JOAN COLLINS WITH JOSIE +
THE PUSSY CATS
Triumph X 783
A BETTER MAN
featuring GREG/
ANY OLD TIME OF THE DAY
featuring VAL*
JOSIE + THE PUSSY CATS
AN RGM SOUND PRODUCTION
Arranged by BREE SPELLMAN
*A CABOT TWINS PRODUCTION
Arranged by “PEPPER”
- March 1961, Top Forty hit
We’re drawing close to the end of my narrative, and the point where everything I’ve told you thus far will be cast in a totally different light! Before I make certain revelations, let me share another significant event with you - one that occurred during The Pussy Cats’ most recent trip to America.
In July of 1961, they were the toast of the 1961 Newport Jazz Festival! Chuck Berry had opened the door for Rock ‘n’ Rollers in 1958, and Josie’s group was the first primarily female Rock act to appear. However, they almost didn’t make the show; The Pussy Cats nearly landed in dock again, and for a much more serious reason this time! It happened during a stopover en route to Newport, Rhode Island.
The WC on the aeroplane had been out of order, and Valerie had to “go” in the worst way! When we stopped over in Newport News, Virginia, we debarked and hurried into Patrick Henry Airport. What a shock: There were segregated washrooms in the air terminal! We’d encountered them when we traveled to Nashville in ‘59, but we didn’t expect to see any so far north. The sight of them always enraged Josie; as you might imagine, she was racially progressive - fiercely so! She quickly glanced over at Melody, and a silent agreement passed between them. An observant Greg pulled my coat.
“Mum is up to something,” he whispered.
Val was in too much distress to worry about any insult to her dignity; but before she knew what was happening, Josie and Melly were on both sides of her. Simultaneously, they took firm grasp of her arms. She was headed for the “coloured” ladies room, but they whirled her about and marched her right into the Whites Only facility! I heard audible gasps and expletives all around me; I was so astonished at what they were doing, I probably dropped an epithet or two myself!
Seconds later, several White women exited the washroom, loudly complaining about troublemaking negresses (not the word they used)! I prayed for the girls to come out quickly, but they didn’t; it took a while for Val to empty a full bladder! Fortunately, she did so before security guards came running.
These burly men barged right into the ladies' loo and roughly dragged Valerie out - it was a dreadful thing to see! Right on their heels were Josie and Melody, loudly denouncing them for such outrageous treatment. Melly was screaming cockney invective at them, and pummeling one of the guards with her purse! Greg looked over at me helplessly. “For fuck’s sake,” he pleaded, “Do something, Foxie.” I had to think fast!
I stepped forward, introduced myself as a talent manager and identified the girls as a singing group I represented. Faux-naïvely, I inquired what the problem was. “Maybe you Britishers don’t know our laws,” one of the guards snarled. “but we don’t allow race-mixing down here. This nigrah gal needs to be taught a lesson!”
Fear pounded in my heart as I replied: “But sir, you’ve made a grave mistake! Miss Santiago is not a negress! She’s Latin.” As if on cue, Valerie cut loose with a torrent of Spanish that, thankfully, none of them could decipher; my understanding of the language only includes certain curse words, but I heard her utter at least five in one sentence!
Long story short: Would you believe they accepted that explanation? With a father born in México, Valerie was both Negro and Latin, but what difference did it make? I can’t fathom segregationists: That lot is as daft as daft can be! But believe me, I got the group back on the plane post haste.
There was a warm response from the crowd when The Pussy Cats performed their Newport set the next day, and it was just what they needed after their ordeal in Newport News. Their virtuosity on guitars and percussion earned them repeated standing ovations! Naturally, their showstopper was “Underneath The Overpass” but “Move It On The Backbeat” also had attendees dancing in the aisles.
Greg and Val’s balladeering went over big; reviewers drew comparisons with Nat “King” Cole and Ella Fitzgerald, which made everyone proud. Backstage, the band met and mingled with Jazz greats Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Dave Brubeck and a young bandleader named Quincy Jones. Greg and the girls stayed in star-struck mode all the way back to London! There was nary a mention of that airport fiasco.
The next Pussy Cats recording session also took place in July. Joe Meek captured them belting out four freshly-written Burt Bacharach numbers and to my ears, all of them were very strong. Everyone agreed that potential hits had been recorded, but Lex, Sabrina and I clashed over which would be biggest: “This Empty Place” featuring Valerie or “A Lifetime Of Loneliness”, the latest big ballad performance by Greg? In the end, they were released as a double A-side but neither one broke for a hit. This was the last straw for Alexandra! An increasingly volatile situation wasn’t helped by poor box office numbers for the recently-released Made In Paris.
Triumph X 790
A LIFETIME OF LONELINESS
featuring GREG/
THIS EMPTY PLACE
featuring VAL
JOSIE + THE PUSSY CATS
AN RGM SOUND PRODUCTION
Arranged by BREE SPELLMAN
- August 1961, never charted
JOSIE AND THE PUSSY CATS WITH
QUINCY JONES AT THE NEWPORT
JAZZ FESTIVAL.
The Pussy Cats spent much of the Fall and Winter of 1961 in France and the Benelux countries, promoting that ill-fated film. When they returned, Lex and I called a meeting with the girls; Gregory wasn’t there. They were expecting the worst: The end of their recording contract! It was nearing its limit, and while we had an option for automatic renewal, the records weren’t selling well anymore. However, they needn’t have worried; nothing was really ending. Something new had begun, and Alexandra was the catalyst for change: She was quitting the Triumph Records partnership!
Xandi intended to found another indie label, and her shares had been sold to Joe Meek. It wasn’t such a big shock; after all, she hadn’t been part of The Pussy Cats’ scene for a while. That wasn’t all, though: I took a deep breath and proceeded to drop a far bigger bombshell. Alexandra was going to take Greg James with her!
I explained that we felt Greg and The Pussy Cats were two acts in one, and the time had come for them to be developed separately. The Cabot Twins were going to sign Greg to Xandi’s new imprint and take full charge of his management. The Pussy Cats would continue as Triumph artists, still in my care and with Joe as their producer. However, there’d be another important change going forward: Lex had convinced me that it was unwise to be so dependent on one songwriter for material, so Joe and I decided to minimize the contributions of Bree Spellman.
I was very much a Bacharach fan by then, but I really couldn’t fault Lex’s reasoning; Pop songs were changing, getting more up tempo! The Pussy Cats were more than capable of moving in that direction, but I doubted that Bree’s ballads and swingers could take them there. Besides, hadn’t the last two singles failed? We simply needed fresh song sources.
Josie in particular was rocked back on her heels by this news. Greg had never expressed to her a desire to leave. “Alexandra thought it best to let Lex and Foxie break the news,” he told her later on. “She has my best interests in mind.” Greg then affirmed what Josie had feared: He confessed to being in love with Alexandra! “She loves me, too”, he insisted, which elicited a tart exclamation from his mother that I shan't repeat here!
Our management decision split her group right down the middle: On one side was Greg and Valerie, who saw his departure as being to their mutual benefit. On the other was Josie and Melody, who wanted Greg to stay and to keep recording Bacharach material; but it was already too late for that! Greg James became estranged from his mother, and he was absent from the final Pussy Cats album recording session in February of 1962. After that session, Josie begged Bree Spellman to intervene with Greg. “I know how strongly he bonded with you,” she pleaded. “You’re my last hope to stop him from making a dreadful mistake!”
She knew more than she let on. Greg didn’t just have a strong bond with Sabrina. Both Josie and I were aware that he’d been sleeping with her! And at the same time that he was bedding Alexandra; the lad had become a teenage rake!
Truth be told, Josie wasn’t pleased with either relationship but she judged Sabrina the lesser of two evils. “If he’s going to end up with one of them,” she told me, “I’d much rather it was Bree. I know whose fault it is that my son has become a marijuana-smoking, cocktail-guzzling gigolo!” She’d come to view the Cabots as a corrupting influence on her son; hence her appeal to Sabrina.
Yet Miss Spellman’s interest in Greg James was hardly selfless! She didn’t want to lose The Pussy Cats as vehicles for her songs. Unbeknownst to me, she’d hatched a plan to have Famous Music take over their management. Later I learned about the West End musical she and her partner Hal David were writing. Based on the recent hit movie The Apartment, it was to be called Promises, Promises. Negotiations were underway to début the show in London’s West End. Sabrina factored the band into that show launch: Prior to opening night, she wanted them to preview several songs from the score on a new EP. She’d written the title song with Greg James’ vocal talents in mind.
Sabrina’s strategy was to use both the musical and her sex appeal to pry him away from Alexandra, professionally and romantically. Of course, there was a small matter of my contract with The Pussy Cats, but she figured on addressing that problem at some later date! She promised Josie that she would meet with Greg straightaway, and she did so; however, this intervention did not work out as Josie hoped - far from it! Much later, Greg told me everything he could recall about what happened the morning Sabrina visited him.
He was shamelessly living the life of a rent boy, residing in a lavish Kensington flat that Alexandra had leased for him. Sabrina knocked at the door and announced herself; he invited her in, and she found the young scoundrel in his bedroom - lying on the bed, bare bullocks naked! Pulling Bree toward him, he started kissing her but she held him off long to enough to talk excitedly about Promises, Promises.
She outlined the role she wanted him to play in promoting her musical, and stressed how it would boost his career. Then she appealed to Greg not to let Alexandra come between them: “We’re going to break free from the Cabots, from Albert Fox, too, and start fresh! With Famous Music fully backing The Pussy Cats, I promise you’ll have more success than you’ve ever known before.” When Greg hesitated to answer, she finally allowed him pull her down on the bed . . .
Afterwards, as the two of them lay spent, he agreed to reconsider leaving the group. “Please do,” she implored, taking his hand and placing it on her bare nipple. “I have so much more to offer you than Alexandra does!”
Those were the last words he ever heard her say. Unbeknownst to both of them, the woman we all knew as Alexandra was in the next room. Overhearing their pillow talk, she became outraged! Xandi carried a pair of pistols in her purse; she had a queer sense of humor and would occasionally show them to people for shock value. She’d assured me that they were just toys, but Bree Spellman learned otherwise. Xandi’s impersonator burst into the bedroom with those pistols blazing and aimed straight at her rival. Seconds later, Bree Spellman lay mortally wounded, gasping out her dying breaths!
Greg was in a state of shock. Gradually, he became aware of “Xandi” screaming in his direction at the top of her lungs: “You miserable guinea bastard! How dare you cheat on me, after all I did for you?” Then he realized that she was holding a hatchet in one hand. “I don’t know where it came from,” he told me. “It seemed to appear out of nowhere.” Greg saw the hatchet blade coming at him and blacked out! The lad couldn’t remember anything else.
Scotland Yard found nary a trace of Greg at the scene of Bree’s murder, so I only have his word to support this account of events; many questions were left unanswered. Alexandra herself - the real Alexandra - would fill in the blanks for me later under circumstances I still find incredible.
At some point that same morning, I myself blacked out. I woke up in unfamiliar surroundings - a place that seemed almost unearthly to me. It looked like a circular room inside of a cave. The floor was jet black and glassy like obsidian and encircled by strange glowing runes; Voodoo symbols, I was later to learn. The rocky concave walls were illuminated by flame, but I saw no fire burning anywhere!
Someone had stripped me stark naked, and my arms were strung up over my head. My wrists were painfully bound by chains that extended up to the ceiling. A mass of cuts and bruises covered my body - I writhed in pain! To my left and my right, I saw other naked bodies chained as I was - it was Josie, Melody, Valerie and Lex! Their eyes were open but staring blankly as if they were in some sort of deep trance. I glanced down, and my heart was filled with terror: I saw a mass of loathsome serpents - cobras with rainbow-colored scales - coiled and hissing at my feet!
OF LIVING DEATH!
Quickly, I lifted my head and I saw Xandi laying atop a stone dias a few feet away. It was as if scales fell from my eyes and I saw clearly after a long period of blindness; I immediately perceived that this was the real Alexandra Cabot, and that the woman we’d called by her name for the past few years was an impostor. Xandi’s hair was disheveled and graying, and her face looked haggard; clearly, she had undergone some sort of stressful ordeal. She was covered by a long white cloth specked with large red blotches . . . bloodstains! I couldn't tell if she was dead or alive.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker of movement. I looked up again, past the chains that held me, and I saw . . . shadows in motion. Starkly-defined silhouettes of two women, grasping what looked like sharp blades in their hands! Where those shadows emanated from, I couldn’t have told you; there was no one else in that space except the people I identified. The ghostly figures were engaged in a battle to the death: Stabbing, slicing and parrying! I heard the dull clash of metal on metal coming from somewhere far away.
This surreal conflict seemed to go on for hours. Then suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream pierced the air. I saw one of the shadows painfully clutch hands to her bosom; blood seemed to spurt from between her fingers! That silhouette shrank away to nothing, and the victorious wraith followed suit seconds later. I heard a woman’s laugh - soft and delicate, but chillingly cruel - and then I saw nothing more. I heard loud hissing of serpents and felt a sharp pain in my thigh. Oh, dear God! Had I been bitten? I heard what sounded like the frantic yowl of a cat in pain and began to feel sick to my stomach; mercifully, I blacked out again.
END OF PART FIVE!
