Saluting one of the last great albums before the world went day-glo… Check out Ginger’s past Secret History Of Rock’n'Roll entries.
THE BABYS
Head First
Chrysalis 1978/79

For lovers of sugary pop with a side order of rock n roll guitars, music doesn’t really come any sweeter than The Babys.

As the brainchild of founder member Mike Corby, this outrageously charismatic guitarist/keyboard player would then set about recruiting the classic line up of John Waite (Lead vocals and bass), Wally Stocker (lead guitar) and Tony Brock (drums, vocals) and recording two albums of finely crafted pop rock before being unceremoniously fired from his own band during the making of this, their third album.

Ironic, then, that this album would show little of the bitterness within the ranks at the time and instead appear as a confident and masterful set of perfectly crafted pop nuggets.

Signing to Chrysalis and releasing the flawed but inspirational self titled debut, and near perfect follow up, Broken Heart, both in 1977, the rot would begin to show as early as the release on their second album, with Corby and Waite butting heads with far less finesse that would typify two of the most elegant Englishmen in the world of music at the time. In a very public dismissal Corby would be made out to be the glamorous and sensitive artist to Waite’s hard-headed control freak. As we know, all too well, the world of music seldom shows the bruises that match the injury, and so the matter will go down in the history of pop as yet another great misfortune that robbed the world of another great musical team. And this album, in my opinion, is where the true genius of this strange band should be relived.

Initially formed with the express intention of dominating the rock world, this finely dressed, photogenic bunch of Brits would use a distinctly American flavoured brand of rock as their vehicle, mixing the pomp and glam influence of Big Star and The Raspberries theirs was a delicate blend of melodic sweetness that would occasionally cross over into more traditional classic rock posturing. And clocking in at just over 35 minutes, this 9 song collection wastes no time in charming its way into your heart, with ‘California’, John Waite’s silken larynx being used to maximum effect in this shimmering slice of pure pop sunshine that takes melodic perfection to a new, highly polished level. Only the truly hardened and joyless should bother to put up any resistance. Head First, from its opening few bars, is targeted at your affections, and its aim is true.

Stocker’s lead guitar licks are minimal and well chosen yet every bit as cocksure as that of vintage Paul Kossoff, and in second song, ‘Please Don’t Leave Me Here’, it’s Stocker who takes center stage, covering from John Waite’s often breathtakingly convenient rhyming limitations. It’s safe to say that The Babys, while displaying the distinguished air of the true upper class English gent, are not a unit concerned in cutting an overtly literary figure. In fact, the most striking thing about the slightly lumpen second track is how outrageously amateur the lyrics are.

Not to worry, as help is most definitely at hand in the shape of the gorgeous ‘You (Got It)’, a song of such beauty and grace that it is worth the cost of admission alone. In the years since falling in love with this track it has never strayed far from a mix tape for a new love. Leaning towards a country influence, this dreamy acoustic number maintains an unshakeable rhythmic prowess that backs up the lilting melody long enough to truly floor the listener with one of the most spectacular outros ever breathlessly delivered. Wave upon wave of harmony provide the closing chorus with the power to charm with effortless grace, rendering the average love struck conquest entirely helpless. Believe me!

From this spectacular place in the album the material shows no signs of dropping in quality as pomp/new wave title track ‘Head First’, with its irresistible chorus and Springsteen piano, maintains. This is how true pop sounds like the hands of those who understand true pop. Simply perfect.

‘Run To Mexico’ keeps up the heavy hitting groove, lending proceedings a definite rock backbone that leads majestically into the album’s grand centre piece of ‘White Lightning’. With cascading strings and a smart set of lyrics that recollect the moment where a simple drug buzz from a dentist’s chair turns a child’s fascination into something far more sinister and all encompassing, further illustrating the inherent strangeness of this very odd band.

Maybe it was the battling talents of Corby and Waite that truly provide this group with an almost bi-polar quality control that, for the most part, works like The Beatles Rubber Soul or Revolver. It’s safe to say that this confused genius only showed up very fleetingly on later Babys releases (such as the song ‘Union Jacks from the 1979 album of the same name), and while the band would occasionally grace the charts, in years to come, Corby’s songwriting friction would be very much missed.

As ‘White Lightning’ twists and boasts through classic, often surprising chord progressions, the choral backing track raising the bar to such an outrageously high setting, the wonderfully melodic ‘I Was One’ is a self assured move on an album already brimming over with arrogance. (The only way to attempt great pop music, let’s face facts.)

Tony Brock’s ultra-bold snare fills create a deft palette on which its gloriously sunny chorus is gallantly perched. Just the hubris of this performance alone is all one should need to make a purchase of this album.

The gentle intro to ‘Everytime I Think Of You’ is the perfect arrangement in which to build into its glorious chorus, Waite’s effortlessly glossy vocals being the ideal gateway for the awesome gospel trade off. Huge and expensive sounding, ‘Everytime I Think Of You’ it would enter the US charts at no 13. A stunning track that leaves only ‘Love Don’t Prove I’m Right’ to finish the job in almost typical form, a basic pop rock by numbers tune that still possesses it’s own bouncy charm that’s impossible not to warm to.

How many times have we seen the raw songwriting force behind great bands be the very force that so effectively destroys in such devastating fashion?

The Babys are another truly awesome group born with the same fatal gene, and Head First is its closing statement before developing into a far more traditional exponent of keyboard-driven US rock that would bore the world sexless for the next unbearable few years. Mulletts, baggy yellow trousers and pink jackets would replace the Bond St chic of this classic 70s band as the world would clamour for the generic parp that would be sadly referred to as pop-rock. Slip on shoes and guitars with no headstocks. It was a dreadful time, ladies and gentlemen.

Please remember a more beautiful, classic time before singers decided to don sweatbands and dance like Molly Ringwald.

A time before the world went embarrassingly Day-Glo?
This is what Head First represents, and thank God for it. Enjoy.

Head First – and other alb ums by The Babys have just been reissued on Rock Candy records: www.rockcandyrecords.com

Check out Ginger’s past Secret History Of Rock’n'Roll entries.