Northern Soul newspaper articles

Guardian Newspaper-July 1999

Soul searchers
Northern Soul, one of Britain's most obsessive subcultures, is revealed in
all its glory in a ten-hour documentary. Bob Dickinson talks to the DJ and
producer behind it, Ian Levine

Friday July 23, 1999

In the introduction to Ian Levine's film, The Strange World of Northern
Soul, a DJ looks into the camera and recalls the times as a fan he spent all
his available cash on records, as a result having to live in a diet of cold
baked beans. Another DJ likens Wigan Casino, the club he loved, to a "secret
society". The motive for club-going? "Instant gratification - live for the
weekend".

These two are talking retrospectively, looking back across three decades at
the effect of music from industrial towns in North America upon industrial
towns in the north of England; a British working class obsession with black
American working class dance music. It's the same obsession that caused Ian
Levine to abandon being a pop producer, go back to his roots and make a ten
hour video history of the entire Northern Soul phenomenon.

Northern Soul began in the late 60s when mods in Manchester, Sheffield and
Stoke began to reject funk, rock and pop in favour of the driving backbeat
and searing vocals encountered on hard-to-get records by soul artists such
as Rose Bastiste, the Exciters, Darrell Banks, Maxine Brown, JJ Barnes,
Major Lance, and Fred Hughes. Trying to describe what he saw and heard one
night in 1970 at Manchester's Twisted Wheel club, soul journalist Dave Godin
coined the term "soul of the north".

It struck a chord. Speeding, sweating, spinning fans increasingly convulsed
the talc-strewn, sprung dancefloors at a succession of venues whose names
became landmarks in the growth of a subculture: the Golden Torch in
Tunstall, the Catacombs in Birmingham, Blackpool Mecca, and, probably best
known, Wigan Casino.

Large, garrulous and bespectacled, Ian Levine was born and bred in
Blackpool. As a DJ at the Mecca ballroom in the 70s he had a profound
influence on Northern Soul by attempting to "modernise" it and move it on
from the 60s golden era many fans favoured. Later, Levine switched from
playing records to producing them. He pioneered hi-energy disco, and went on
to bring the first wave of British boy bands - Take That, Boyzone, and
others - into the charts.

"I'm not stuck in the past," he insists during a break from the non-stop
edit taking place at his home in Ealing. "I'm a producer who's had 40 UK
hits. But I'm saying today's music doesn't live up to its reputation. I'm as
guilty as anyone for the years I spent making those boy band records, but at
least I tried to put a bit of edge into it. These Northern Soul artists are
the real thing. Northern soul hasn't got dated and tired like so many 60s
records. I compare it to a fine wine or a vintage port. It's aged pretty
well over the years."

Levine's intricate documentary pays great regard to the cult status enjoyed
by certain records, and contains no less than 124 performances from original
artists, most of them painstakingly tracked down in America. Appropriately,
the film kicks off with Dobie Gray singing his 1966 stomper, Out On The
Floor. "It epitomises Northern Soul," Levine enthuses. "The fashions, the
dancers, record collectors and dealers, every club. The film doesn't duck
anything, even the drugs and people being busted for selling amphetamines."

The reputation enjoyed by some Northern Soul songs was not earned as a
result of record company publicity. Fascinated by records which hadn't been
released in Britain first time around, and which were seldom hits in
America, British DJs and collectors, including Levine, journeyed to oldies
shops and warehouses in New Jersey, Chicago, and Philadelphia to find
elusive tracks. They're still looking: the rarest Northern Soul disc, one of
only two known copies of Frank Wilson's Do I Love You, changed hands in 1996
for £15,000.

Now, instead of looking for records, Ian Levine has utilised his
considerable skills as a detective to search at a deeper level: to trace the
lost singers. "The hard work in finding them pays off when you actually see
the artist you've always adored all these years, physically singing in front
of you, and looking good as well," he says.

Levine's only previous work as a documentary-maker was a four-hour history
of his family, tracing distant Russian relatives back to his great great
grandfather. Embarking on this latest huge project, Levine appealed, via
radio programmes like Richard Searling's weekly soul show on Jazz FM North
West, to find many of the 300-plus British interviewees - clubgoers, DJs,
promoters, collectors, and others - included in the final edit.

The American leg of the operation involved the appointment of fixers based
in the big soul cities of Philadelphia, Chicago, Los Angeles, New Orleans,
New York and Detroit; people in the business who could track down the less
successful performers whose names had been forgotten by all but a few in the
north of England. In Detroit, Levine commandeered the singer Pat Lewis, who
had recorded for many legendary local labels, notably Motown.

Sitting next to me in Ian Levine's house, Pat thinks back to the 60s. "I've
had to be a Supreme; I've sung with the Four Tops and the Temptations. I was
a teenager, and when I went home from school I'd go to the studio - after my
homework, of course. I got every Monday over at Motown and my first record
was Uptight, with Stevie Wonder." Later she sang and arranged for Aretha
Franklin and Isaac Hayes. But her Northern Soul reputation was, typically,
based on the records that weren't hits, on short-lived Detroit labels such
as Goldenworld and Solid Hitbound.

"Going to a studio then was like going to school," Pat recalls. "A lot of
the hits were written right there in the studio. It was only four tracks -
we did the backing tracks first, all the rhythm and the horns they would
record live, and then they would bring us in to overdub." Pat's early solo
output, which included titles like Can't Shake It Loose, No One To Love, and
Look At What I Almost Missed, were what she calls "turntable hits - but it
was nothing like what the records did on the Northern Soul scene in
England".

Pat's introduction to that scene came in 1982, after she was contacted by
fellow Detroit soul luminary Edwin Starr, still a Northern Soul perennial.
"I couldn't believe it!" she laughs. "My mouth was open. I was just, like:
'What? This is going on?' That's one thing that's so great about this film;
tracking everybody down, telling them what's going on, and telling them to
be a part of this because they know you're still around."

For the Northern Soul collector, Pat Lewis's most desirable record would be
an original copy of No One To Love. How much is it worth? "Five hundred - "
she starts to say, then corrects herself: "No - five thousand pounds." I
ask: "Have you got one?" "No," she laughs. "Tragically there was a fire at
home and my collection was burned. Hopefully I can get one before I leave."
Murmurs Levine: "In your dreams - but you can buy it on a CD for ten quid."

CD re-releases have been behind the rebirth of Northern Soul in the 90s.
Fans in their 40s suddenly discovered a route back to the dance floor via
their home stereo, and it didn't break the bank. In the mid 90s the soul
specialist record label Goldmine, based in Todmorden, West Yorkshire, sold
20,000 copies of the compilation The Wigan Casino Story, and in 1997 the
bulk re-release company, Telstar, unleashed Soul Survivors, a double CD of
Northern Soul anthems, which shifted 120,000 lucrative units.

"Which shows," as Levine says, "that the scene's a long way from dead. It's
like a flea bite - something's bitten you and it's nagging at you. You hear
these wonderful records by people like the Tomangoes, Sandi Sheldon, Dobie
Gray and Bobby Hebb. And you suddenly realise that anything you hear on the
radio and watch on Top of the Pops is so sterile and stale and tedious."

The Strange World of Northern Soul continues that process of reaffirmation.
The film's highlights include up-to-date performances by solo divas like
Brenda Holloway, Betty Lavette and the ageless Sheila Ferguson. There are
male vocal groups who hark back to the doo-wop era, like Lee Andrews and the
Hearts, or the Olympics. There are hard-driving R&B men such as Eddie Parker
and Billy Butler. There are echoes of the girl group era: the Shirelles and
Dee Dee Sharp. There are women who play electric guitars, such as Barbara
Lynn and Evie Sands, the latter one of the rare white artists. Another is
Billy Harner, singing in the Philadelphia barbers shop he now runs.

Many of these performances were shot by Levine's assistant, Adrian Denney,
under difficult circumstances which included losing his luggage, being
involved in a car crash in Detroit, and occasional problems with artists.
Legendary gospel-soul pioneer Garnett Mimms wouldn't sing because he's now a
minister. Gene Chandler had flu. Some people simply couldn't be found. But
there were more than enough singers willing to co-operate for Adrian to
cope. "Ideally we wanted visuals to fit the music," he says, "But sometimes
there wasn't time. We had to film some people in their front rooms."

To avoid the copyright-clearance nightmare of 60s recordings, each singer
heard their original records through headphones and sang along, providing a
new, clean solo "take" to which backing music was added in London by
musician, programmer and ex-member of the British pop group Jigsaw, Clive
Scott. "We use a computer, obviously," he admits. "The secret is to match it
closely to the original music, and strike a balance between modern equipment
and the period. If you're too up to date, people will be upset."

The result, for Northern Soul fans who for years have seldom been able to
see the makers of their favourite music, will be revelatory; like witnessing
an icon, or an old 45 rpm disc, coming to life. The Strange World of
Northern Soul has been a labour of love, but Levine himself is a
controversial figure. Back in the 70s, his attempts to bring Northern Soul
up to date divided fans. A feud between Blackpool Mecca and Wigan Casino
caused some fans to don "Levine Must Go" T shirts.

"In retrospect we probably went too far, and I admit it now," Levine thinks.
"But at the time it seemed the right thing to do." Today's Northern Soul
scene is still troubled by internal wrangling. "The people who stuck with it
in the 80s are hugely resentful of the people who stopped going to soul
all-nighters to have a family. There's stuff on the internet saying 'Who are
these returning soulies? How dare they come back?' And now they've done it
to me: 'How dare Ian Levine come back?'" But he has, and the strange world
of Northern Soul is all the more rich and strange for it.

All-time top 10

1 Do I Love You Frank Wilson (Soul)
2 You Didn't Say A Word Yvonne Baker (Cameo)
3 Open The Door To Your Heart Darrell Banks (Revilot)
4 Seven Day Lover James Fountain (Peachtree)
5 Lend A Hand Bobby Hutton (ABC)
6 She'll Come Running Back Mel Britt (FIP)
7 It Really Hurts Me Girl The Carstairs (Red Coach)
8 Out On The Floor Dobie Gray (Charger)
9 The Snake Al Wilson (Soul City)
10 Moody Woman Jerry Butler (Mercury)

. The Strange World of Northern Soul is premiered at the King George's Hall,
Blackburn, on Saturday July 31, starting at 11am. Tickets are £12 (advance)
or £15 on the door. To book, ring 01254 582 582. Triple box video sets go on
sale from July 31 at £49.99. Copies can be ordered on 01543 304022.