Back From The Dead - Steve Keaton meets Noddy Holder and Jim Lea of Slade
Slade/U2/Discharge at The Lyceum - Garry Bushell
Slade Smashes review - Mike Gardner
Slade Smashes review - La Punk Nostalgique - Garry Bushell
Slade Go Rocking On
Look Who's Popping Back - The Fans Are Still Slayed By Slade - Rick Sky
Return Of The Wanderers - Slade Alive Again
Hammersmith Odeon review - Philip Hall
All Crazee Again - Hammersmith Odeon review - Steve Keaton
Hammersmith Odeon review - Barney Hoskyns
Demolition Men - We'll Bring The House Down Album review - Mike Nicholls
Noddy's A Big Noise Again - Mike Cable
Slade Bring The House Down Again - Tim Ewbank
The Boyz Iz Bak Again - Philip Hall
Delicious Demolition - We'll Bring The House Down album review - Steve Keaton
Monsters Of Rock Festival - Castle Donington - review

Euphoria, excitement, acclaim, celebration - you name it, Slade commanded it tonight, roaring out of the swirling mists of time like conquering heroes returning to their native land.
'Retrogression' you scream. 'Bollox' I say, Slade were by far the punkiest band on the bill, but then the opposition weren't that hot.
Discharge oozed on first with all the grace and appeal of a syphilitic sore. Crassland refugees from grim old Stoke and frontline heroes of the even grimmer underground-punk mentality. Discharge supported a setries of painful bursts of indistinguishable noise totally bereft of such essentials as choons and singalong choruses.
If it weren't for the fact that they threw in a few mumble between songs I'd have been convinced that they were playing one long-winded 40 minute concept number, doubtless dedicate to the destruction of four years of musical progress. Natch the smattering of Crass fans present loved every pustulent minute and the band encored on the strength of two farts and a cough down the front.
U2 came as a brief relief, sounding initially so much more positive than all that puerile pretend punk. But the magic soon wore thin as the cracks beneath the band's polished edifice became more and more apparent. Firstly the newer material confirmed impressions that U2 are letting their pretensions run away with them, moving from the joyous pop gems that made their initial appearances so refreshing to tedious drawn-out yawns that even The Edge's often breathtaking fretwork fluency couldn't compensate for. And secondly Bono's glum, self-satisfied pronouncements became increasingly offensive as the night progressed. It seemed like he's beginning to believe the messianic treatment he's getting from the self-styled radical press - a real cotton wool job that lest him get away with outrageous nonsence e.g. advocating Adam And Eve over Darwin without being pulled up about it. Underneathe the glittery surface U2 would appear to be nurturing some severely unhealthy elements...
Which is more than can be said for Slade, who presented one of the most pleasurable hours of yob-rock it's been my pleasure to oi-oi to this year. The atmosphere had enough electricity to supply the domestic power needs of the USA for five years - the crowd was like a huge slice of the Kop 80 minutes into a 5-0 thrashing - and Slade fed off it growing huger and more manic before our very eyes.
Honestly I'd put money on it that this ain't the same band I watched striving rather desperately at the MM last year. It's as if the Reading triumph and the Top Fifty EP has pumped 'em full of new adrenalin and energy and confidence because the stage literally exploded in a mass of smoke bombs, silly trousers, toppers, bowlers, whooping and a-wailing and other expressions of purest glee.
I must admit that I'd only come along to see the old classics - 'Everyday', 'Take Me Bak 'ome', 'Cum On Feel The Noize', 'Gudbye T' Jane', 'Mamma Weer All Crazee Now', 'Get Down And Get With It' et al - but like the old one goes nostalgia ain't what it used to be and before I knew it I was quite frankly swept off my feet by the sheer hard-rocking power of the reborn band.
The new Slade hit with the power of an out of control subway train putting most of the much mooted NWOBHM to shame. 'Night Starvation' is a case in point, possessing more balls than a bingo caller and featuring Jimmy and Dave pogoing goofily along to its punky pace. Other highlights had to include the arms-in-air-with-imaginary-scarf classic 'Everyday' and the show-stealing (relative) newie 'The Wheels Ain't Coming Down', and as encore justifiably followed encore the evening dissolved in my memory as a gorgeous celebration of high energy entertainment, random football chants and carefree singsonging. Sham were never this good at it.

Thankfully people just don't know when to give up. More six foot under than down and out, Slade have clawed their way back from death's dark chart-file to currently stomp about town (platform boots a-glinting) with alarming vigour. The band that time forgot.
Oh Nod, forgive me for I have sinned, carelessly packing you off to has-been limbo. Flail me and be done.
Their legacy of course is considerable. Arguably the finest singles band of the early seventies, certainly one of the most influential, they gave birth to a rowdy brood of classic tracks. Each and every one complemented by memorable telly spots.
How I remember teetering about like an idiot to 'Mamma Weer All Crazee Now', 'Cum On Feel The Noize' and 'Gudbye T' Jane' to name but three. Oh, for the days when a mirrored top hat was the height of street level elegance...
Eventually conquered peaks began to crumble under the weight of ambitions.   movie, 'Slade In Flame' was released - maybe the Scala will dig it out and refresh our memories? - and the decision to invade America taken. Like a row of teeth at a Rejects' gig, they flew out of our lives. The end of an era. Supersonic died and Top Of The Pops was never the same again. Pause to wipe away the tears.
Meanwhile back in the States, Slade were working their loons off. Two years of hard graft reaped precious few rewards. They came home in seventy seven just as the punk rebellion gobbed to it's heights. The boys disembarked at Heathrow as an anachronism, no heroe's welcome, just more hard graft.
Then bingo! A triumph at the Reading Festival and the consequent release of the Live At Reading EP featuring the smashing 'When I'm Dancing I Ain't Fighting' - sledgehammer pop in the grand old tradition. A sparkling gig at the Lyceum was all I needed to be convinced that Slade were very much alive and well and on top form. So much for the potted history.
Wrapped in a decidedly dodgy old blue duffel coat, his golfball peepers swivelling above equally blue bags, Noddy Holder ain't quite the hero I'd imagined. I was kinda hoping he'd greet me in all his silly stage togs, so to be confronted with this duffel coat...a bit of a downer as you can imagine.
Still, the man himself was bright and cheery as was the wiry Jim Lea. Unfortunately drummer Don Powelland ace guitarist Dave Hill couldn't make the trip, intrigues up Wolverhampton way and all that, so I was denied the chance to ask really important stuff like 'Why does Dave persist with that truly hideous hair style?' and other burning issues. Thus limited I asked Nod (Neville really, amazing eh?) if they were getting a trifle desperate before the Reading break?
"No, it wasn't a matter of desperation," he declares, finally shedding said duffel coat, much to my relief.
"When we came back from the States the whole music scene had changed. It was a case of starting on the bottom rung of the ladder and working our way up again, which is what we set about to do really. Just slumming it around, doing gigs everywhere and anywhere. Not only in Britain but in Europe as well, making people aware that we hadn't split up and weren't sunning ourselves in the Bahamas. We've been working solid since the hit records stopped, always on the road.
"When we returned we were in a heavy vein, the album released then 'Whatever Happened To Slade' was a heavy album, and it didn't mean anything then. It was totally Americanised. Totally out of context to what was going on at the time. If it was released now it would be in vogue because it's a heavy metal orientated LP."
Were you completely unaware of the development over here then?
"No, not really. We knew that there had been changes over here - we'd read the papers. But you'd never hear any of the music on American radio. We were thinking, 'Who are these bands? What sort of music is it?' We got back and turned on the radio and it was like a revelation to us. Good God, what's happening?! It was a totally different feeling. We might as well have been in Japan."
The band took a year off then, to assess their own situation, finally lured back to the boards for a gig in Germany. That was quickly followed by one at Reading University.
"When we did that - Fantastic! We thought, 'Crike' if we can go down like that, let's do more gigs. And that's what we've been doing ever since."
Things weren't that simple though. It was hardly hip to be a Slade booster then. It seemed people just didn't want to know.
"The radio at the time just wouldn't play us. Now Nod and I can write some good tunes, but whatever went they wouldn't touch us. It was all to do with fashion. You can't be bitter about it, we understand it. We realised that the name Slade was uncool; we knew we had to overcome our own name and people's preconceived ideas as to what the band was about.
"It's taken us two years to overcome that hurdle...But we had to do that the first time round as well. People then used to associate the name Slade with the skinhead image. But we did it then and we'll do it now."
It was in fact a lucky fluke that won the group the Reading spot. If it wasn't for a certain ex-Sab, Noddy and the rest might still be slogging around the country unnoticed, as the singer explains.
"Well, Ozzy Osbourne's band pulled out three days before the show and so they asked us to do it. We weren't on any of the billings or anything, we just stepped into Ozzy's place. We hadn't been on the road for two months. We just got a quick rehearsal together and went on. It hasn't changed to us since then but it certainly opened people's eyes. They're aware of us again."
"It was rather funny really," continues Jim. "We rolled up to Reading in our Ford Granada, we got sent to the public car park. We got all our guitars and cases and that out of the car and off we went struggling through the crowd. When we got to the artists enclosure we found that we didn't have our backstage passes, so there we were asking if we could come in. And stretching off behind us was a whole line of Rolls Royces.
"Now Whitesnake rolling up in a Rolls Royce you expect, being top of the bill. But everyone had one, the whole bill! And there's us with twenty hit records under our belt struggling through the dust.
"That's the way it's always been with us. The story of our lives, everything around us always falls apart. We've never been able to be cool. God, we've tried, I'm afraid we'll always be uncool. We felt like the outsiders going to Reading, but when we got backstage everyone started asking us for our autographs. We felt good then, that's when we knew we were in with a bloody good chance. We never die on stage either. Been around too long. We knew exactly what we were going to do, never had any problems with audiences."
The entire show was recorded by the BBC for broadcasting on the Friday Rock Show. Forty-five minutes of Slade's set was aired. "We just had to release something from it, we had so many requests."
'When I'm Dancing' and 'Born To Be Wild' were the selected songs, an arrangement was struck with the Beeb and the EP appeared on Jim Lea's own Cheapskate Records label. It's currenly jostling around the top forty as well as making a fleeting though high appearance in our own HM chart. It deserves your attention.
Meanwhile Polydor are releasing a 'Slade Smashes' compilation invaluable for wretches like me who no longer possess the originals. I asked Nod if he was at all depressed at this preoccupation with past glories?
"Depressed? No. This compilation will be great for the fans, a chance to get all the hits on one record. But we don't relate to them in the same way anymore, the way we play them now is bugger all like the records anyway."
Jim : "I didn't even like some of those old ones. We all hated 'Gudbye T' Jane' when we made it, it was knocked up in half an hour at the end of one of our studio sessions. The same for our second single, 'Coz I Luv You'. It was namby-pamby to us, a throwaway for an album. It shot to number on in two weeks and we thought, 'What a pile of shit!' It was so wet.
"But they were good times. The success never changed us, because this band just doesn't have an ego - except for Dave. I remember there was this great rivalry between us and Bolan. We used to sit in the TOTP dressing room getting powdered up, with the Osmonds waiting behind us, and everyone was taking the piss out of one another. We would come out of the Beeb and there would be all these fans after autographs and stuff. Chicks would come up to Marc and say, 'Are you Marc Bolan? Ain't you fat.'
The duo chuckle happily at the memory.
"And now we're having to live down our success. Y'know it's much harder to make it the second time around. We've never, ever considered splitting up because we know that at the end of the day we can walk on stage and blow any fucker off - and that's what it all comes down to in the end.
"And that goes right back to the beginning. Like when we were skins we were outlawed. It was really bad then. No gigs, no radioplay, nothing. But we survived because we went to places like universities and that and tore the joints apart; not a skinhead in sight in the audience, it was all long haired hippies in those days.
"We just need people to see us at face value, see? Exactly the same as they did at Lincoln or Reading. They didn't fork out their ticket money to see us at those gigs, but once they did see us they accepted us for what we were and enjoyed it...and that's all we've ever been here for."

People keep telling me there's a Slade revival going on, but it's hard not to laugh. It's more than interesting to watch those who've seen them live attempt to convert those who keep their look of bemusement and incredulity intact during the discourse. It's also funny to watch the curious become fervent disciples whose faces light up at the mention of Slade. They're the ones who stumble across the truth, via the experience, that there is no Slade revival.
The word revival always implies that the band were redundant for a period between their 'hey-day' and their current 'resurgence' but Slade have remained constant throughout.
They slogged up and down the toilets and flea-pits of this country for five years before their first hit 'Get Down And Get With It' gave everybody the opportunity to realise that they are one of the best live attractions in this land.
Their aggressive, energetic and enthusiastic stage show was successfully translated into a string of raucous singles that celebrated the mythical rock 'n' roll spirit with a vengeance. Songs like 'Mama Weer All Crazee Now', 'Cum On Feel The Noize', 'Take Me Bak 'ome', 'Gudbuy T' Jane' and the others contained on this 20 track precis of the time when Slade and the record buying public connected are the best reminders of the power some felt and others ignored.
Those who have realised the power of Slade will already have the majority of the songs on this collection. Those who have only recently caught up with the fact that Slade have remained constant and those that have reconnected with a fundamental lynch-pin of that mess we call rock 'n' roll will find this set a useful but ultimately unsatisfying reminder of the joy and exuberance of the Birmingham quartet of Noddy, Jimmy, Don and Dave. Those who have yet to find out had better start here and then grasp the opportunity to 'ffel the noize' at the first chance. (4 and a half stars out of five).

I know, I know, another five star review. Seems that virtually every vinyl sweetmeat I weigh up these days is worthy of the ultimate accolade, but I kid you not chums, despite the gloomy doomy 'music is dead' attitudes promoted by various intensely boring manic depressive types I honestly believe that musically things have rarely been better.
Take a gander at some of the classic modern records that have seen the light of day these past few months - The Skids, The Jam, The Rejects, The Specials, Madness, Motorhead, Manners - oi vay in a babylon breddren, talk about diamond wheezers. And at the same time not instead of musical progress but as a nice little bonus on the side, we've been treated to re-issues of some of the old time heroes who made my own teeny weeny days go with a grin and mucho din...Big Gal Glitter, the soon-come Judge Dread double and now this mighty meaty big and bouncy collection of twenty timeless Slade faves.
For once I'm speechless, well almost anyway, and it's only with near superhuman self restraint that I prevent these perspiring pinkies from tapping out the full horrorshow history of my Slade memories, from that initial encounter on the Eammon Andrews Show blistering through 'Get Down And Get With It' with cropped-head conviction, through hundreds of backing track adolescent adventures, right up to undoubted chart supremacy and Earls Court mayhem with, I must confess, silly hat and cape flying in the wind.
All I'm gonna say is that as far as I can see this collection is a perfect reminder of the glories that were, marrying raucous rock and singalong pop in a superb celebration of unpretentious goodtimes. They're all here, the rowdy faultless chart-toppers 'Coz I Luv You', 'Take Me Bak 'ome', 'Mama Weer All Crazee Now', 'Skweeze Me, Pleeze Me', 'Merry Xmas Everybody' - ten silver discs, two gold discs, one platinum.
There's the mighty scarf-waving anthem 'Everyday' too, and the similarly moving homesick howsyafarver 'Far Far Away', not to mention the pre-Rejects football fave 'Give Us A Goal', then the r 'n' r circus medley 'My Baby Left Me.That's Alright Mama', the stompin' stormer 'Get Down And Get With It', and even, whisper it, one or two I ain't so fond of like 'Thanks For The Memory' which makes me think maybe, just maybe, the rot was setting in even before the American failure. But they're just the exception that proove the proof of the pudding washes whiter.
Because what we're talking about here then, men, is a near miraculous disc that every home should have. And what's interesting is that recent live performances indicate that the band, despite their methusela-like antiquity still rock like good'uns and Noddy is still the same colourful clown with the prime primal power-lung scream, so maybe there's a chance that Slade'll become heroes for a new generation...
For the moment, however, I don't give a monkey's toss about speculating and such like, all I wanna do is put this on again full blast and dodge the missiles from the ignorant barbarians who I'm forced to share this under-paid under-staffed office with.
ALRIGHTTTT EVERRRYBODYYY, DO YA FEEL ALRIGHT, (cont. ad nauseum)

Four famous pop names are back in action. Roy Wood, Gilbert O'Sullivan, Peter Noone and Slade were all stars in the early seventies. But they faded from the scene when the New Wave groups came along. Now the talented lads who were top of the pops time after time are back on the road.
Slade are set to slay pop punters again with their raucous brand of rock.
The band that put bop into pop are back with a bang.
Just to be different - they've always been that - Slade insist they are not making a comeback.
But they can't deny that they have been out of the limelight for years.
And whatever they say, they are doing all they can to rediscover the formula for chart success.
Back in the early seventies, the outrageous lead singer Noddy Holder was a top pin-up in music magazines and was mobbed wherever he appeared.
But now he's singing a different tune. The bug-eyed and belligerent star is desperately hoping to hit the headlines again.
And Noddy's hopes of hitting the charts are based on more than mere ambition - if 50,000 young fans are anything to go by.
Those fans screamed Slade's praises when the band put on a knockout performance at the Reading Festival in Summer.
They were delighted to see Slade in full swing again, but they were not as happy as Noddy...he was over the moon.
A stirring gig at a big festival was just the thing to get the band back on the right track.
Guitarist Jim Lea says,
"Our problem was that although we had as much confidence in ourselves as ever, our audiences didn't!
"We thought the only way we could get our records played on Radio was to change our name."
But Slade didn't have to take that drastic step.
"Now it looks like it's all coming up roses again." says Jim.

Record Mirror - May 1980
Return Of The Wanderers - Slade Alive Again

I can remember when 'Top Of The Pops' was fun to watch. Every Thursday you had the sight of Rod Stewart and The Faces playing football and swapping instruments mid song. You could smirk while watching Sweet attempt to get credibility while dressed as tastelessly as the three flying ducks on Hilda Ogden's wall.
There was Marc Bolan, vamping, pouting and strutting his star spangled face with his guitar lead tucked neatly in his back pocket. There was the infamous lead singer with , the thankfully forgotten, Chicory Tip who managed to inspire mass hatred and contempt for his hamfisted attempt to do a Rod Stewart impression while dressed as an extraterrestrial being from Blake's Seven on a budget of two 15p luncheon vouchers.
Then there was Slade. Don Powell sat on his drums, impervious to all around him, chewing Wrigley's with his, seemingly, pneumatic molars, pumping out the stomp rhythm with his candy striped sticks.
Bassist Jimmy Lea rocked and swayed as he careered around the tiny podium which is festooned with streamers and hoardes of pubescent revellers.
Dave Hill had his chubby face permanently fixed in the grin position as he teetered dangerously on his, seemingly, telescopic platform boots while wiggling his silver lame buttocks at the cameras.
Finally, there was Noddy, the true leader of the gang. A real nutter who commanded attention, if not by his authority, then by his sumptuous foghorn of a bellow that was loosely called a voice. He told us when to stomp, when to clap, when to feel the noise, and got us all crazy then.
So whatever happened to Slade?
In many ways Slade are back to square one. They made their reputation long before 'Get Down And Get With It' battered its way into the charts in August 1971 as one of the best nights out in the country with their forceful brand of rock.
After five years of hard slog they were rewarded with a Polydor recording contract and the miscalculated image of being Britain's first skinhead band. They decided to release a stage favourite 'Get Down And Get With It', an adapted Little Richard number, recorded where they sounded best, on stage. It was a song that they claimed summed up in three minutes what the band was about, sweat, booze and aggression tempered with the good time spirit.
The single crept up the charts with only the diligence of John Peel and Radio Luxembourg keeping the song on the airwaves and their solid touring schedule to keep it afloat. The single reached number 16 but that was just the beginning.
"We consciously thought of going for three minute hits, obviously when you've had a smell of the charts you don't want to be a one hit wonder." claims Noddy Holder.
For the follow up Noddy wrote for the first time with Jimmy Lea, a combination they've stuck with ever since.
"We weren't convinced with 'Coz I Luv You' as a hit but Chas Chandler, the ex-member of The Animals and manager of Jimi Hendrix and our manager since then, told us that it was a great song and it had our stamp on it. We thought it was a bit wet." says Noddy.
The 'wet' song made number one within two weeks of release.
The band then started on an impressive string of hits including 'Take Me Bak 'ome', 'Mama Weer All Crazee Now', 'Gudbuy T' Jane' and 'Cum On Feel The Noize'.
"We stayed on a level in terms of fame," says Jimmy Lea. "Marc Bolan was getting big articles in all the Sunday papers. We just couldn't crack it the size that he was at all. The only thing that cracked it for us was live apperances."
The live appearance in particular was the Lincoln Festival, purported to be the last great festival with most of the big names like Rod Stewart And The Faces, Beach Boys, Joe Cocker and even Monty Python. The press descended on it as if it was a wake for the Woodstock nation, as it seemed to be, with the likes of Stanley Baker and high powered city magnates involved in the organisation.
"They booed us when we went on stage," recalls Noddy. "They all thought 'What are you doing on this festival with Cocker and the Beach Boys?' But we built and built and built. At the end we did 'Get Down And Get With It' which had been a hit by then and the crowd went beserk and we stole the show. We had all the music press front covers the next week and that cracked us to the masses."
"People now don't give us credibility because usually they haven't seen us live. We still pack out everywhere we play but people think we were off the scene for two years even though we were working solidly around the world."
"People think we've split up and they think it's all old hat so it's a matter of breaking down that barrier again which is a good buzz for us," he adds optimistically.
After the hits and the moderate success of their movie 'Flame' they tackled the United States Of America.
"People were saying we died a death out there because of a few measly write ups that came back and I have to tell them that you can't survive two weeks, let alone two years, there if you're crap," asserts Jimmy.
"Our albums all made the top 100 which is good considering we never had a hit single to carry the album along with it."
But back home they found that absence had cooled their hit making potential.
"When we came back in 1977 the climate had changed and the New Wave was happening. We enjoyed it but we didn't realise that we'd become semi-heavy metal and very Americanised with the big arena rock thing. We wrote the 'Whatever Happened To Slade' album and it was totally the climate," explains Noddy, adding that the correct time for release would be now with the resurgance of the haevy metal wave.
"Because it didn't take off we decided to work solidly here to get a firm foothold again.
"It was a blow to the ego, you think that you can come back and everthing will be as it was and it's not like that," continues Noddy.
They took nine months off trying to decide on a direction until a one-off gig made them realise that Slade have only one direction and that's to play to their strength on the live stage.
Now with many of the new bands acknowledging them as inspiration, Slade find themselves on the threshold of a new recognition. A recognition that should start with the recent release of their good value six track EP at the bargain price of £1.49 called 'Six Of The Best'.
"We think our time will come again. We wouldn't carry on if we didn't think we could. When we get in front of an audience and they're still going crazy we know we've still got it.
"All the success we've had we've had to fight for and it was never an easy run the first time round. We were together five years before we even got a record deal. We've learned that if we stick at it our day will come again."

At a packed Odeon there were bikers, skins, punx and Barry Normal's all keeping the legend alive.
When Slade hit the stage amid a kaleidoscope of coloured lights the atmosphere in the Odeon was similar to the Kop after Liverpool had just scored. It was as though the clock had been turned back five years and Slade were still a supergroup making a rare appearance.
Slade's stage presence is so powerful that you are pulled into their brash rock 'n' roll world whether you like it or not.
All the hits were there and if the new single 'We'll Bring The House Down' was anything to go by then Slade could at last be in command of the charts again.

Sounds - February 1981
All Crazee (Again) - Hammersmith Odeon review - Steve Keaton

"GOWANNNNODDEEE!!" bellowed an obese lunk next door to me as the lights dimmed. "Yyeahgoodole Noddee! Whoahhoooo!". The poor guy seemed almost rabid with excitement. I was getting quite worried. I can tell you.
His not unnoticeable paunch was quivering quite violently and I began to have terrible visions of it bursting over my already filthy pumps. Imagine all those partially digested hot dogs, curdled ice cream and flat lager.
Charming. And he wasn't the only one. I was surrounded by bawling punters, boots were stomping and arms flailing. I could have drowned in a sea of ruptured stomaches and no one would have noticed.
Too be honest, Slade had this gig handed to them on a telly promoted plate. They could have hidden behind the drum kit and blown kazoos all night and still have gone down a storm. But they didn't, of course. Noddy Holder OAP ('orrible aging popstar) and his jolly band of brigands gave everything they had - they delivered the goods with a sledgehammer. Without question it was the brightest, hardest and (most definitely) loudest set I've yet see them unleash.
They were as slick as Deep Throat and just as chatty. Mind you it was also horribly predictable. They churned out all the usual old "we're gonna have a rrrrockin' and rrrrolin' night tonight" flannel and it was song for song the same as the last time I caught them. Only the audience were wilder. But then what do you expect? As far as glitzy knees ups go this was the tops. The band played their parts brilliantly and the kids loved the movie. Yep, their flashbomb tapestry is back in favour once again.
Slade have, I think, finally shed their image as rock's zombies, long dead yet still stumbling around. Certainly tonight they packed out the Odeon with conviction and the atmosphere was far from nostalgic. The great old smashes like 'Gudbuy T' Jane' and 'Mama Weer All Crazee Now' came over fresh and strong and mingled well with the newer and heavier 'Night Starvation' and 'When I'm Dancin' I Ain't Fighting'.
Dallas Dave Hill particularly excelled himself - despite the Larry Hagman handmedowns - with some masterful guitar work, most notably on the showstopping 'The Wheels Ain't Coming Down', the standout track from the 'Return To Base' album (check it out yobs). I must admit though that my interest waned at times, the 'Live EP' medley is becoming a trifle wearisome and I could have lived without all the pandering to the simian element (chants of 'You'll Never Walk Alone' and such like) but then them's the breaks. This gig was a triumph, of that there can be no doubt.
Slade's main concern must now centre around the vinyl to consolidate the success of their recent compilation elpee with other chart honours. I can't say I think that the new single 'We'll Bring The House Down' is overly hot but I'm sure it'll bring Top Of The Pops back within their eager grasp. Friends, a new age of Slademania waits drooling just around the next speaker stack.

"Here's a number for all of you who don't get enough," announced Noddy Holder. "It's called Night Starvation."
Suddenly it clicked : none of these people get enough. One saw the whole thing - the identification with fearless macho guitar heroes, the aggressive phallic imagery, the Roger Dean trip - as one big fantasy myth of overpowering ubiquitous masculinity.
To be precise, a heavy scene.
Slade, however, who made this blinding revelation possible, don't quite fit in with it.
What freak of evolution has turned these jesters of glam-rock into monstres of HM? Perhaps it was to be expected that all the various practices overturned by the new wave should form some kind of alliance to run it out of town for good. Whatever it was, Slade are on to a good thing, and they know it. Heavy metal's major weapon is that it doesn't need to apologise : it never entertains the concept of selling out. The more successful a band is, the more 'power' it has.
At least heavy metal fans make a point of enjoying themselves. At most of the new youth gatherings I have attended, the sense of ritual is so all-embracing that one is ashamed to be caught looking at the stage. I must even admit to a vague twinge of nostalgia on my own part - those great stacks of Marshall amps, the hush as the lights go down, the red lights winking out of the darkness...
And yet, as with all those supergroups way back when, the excitement came before the show and not during it.
The moment Slade broke into their first rock blues, the sheer sexlessness froze me into a stoical rigidity. I became a martyr to my ears. The only thing that made up for this complete musical desensitisation was their undeniable visual appeal : the delightful Dave Hill in a Stetson, Noddy Holder's mutton chops, even Jimmy Lea's green violin. But, despite this, despite even Holder's unique voice, numbers like 'The Wheels Ain't Coming Down' or 'We'll Bring The House Down' are just vulgarised Southern rock without the raunchiness.
Of the old hits, 'Take Me Bak 'ome' and 'Cum On Feel The Noize' (one of several encores) were the most enjoyable. The uniform blandness of everything else was equalled only by the delight and apparent devotion of their new audience.

The Slade revival has been somthing of an ongoing affair, stretching back at least as far as 79's commendable 'Return To Base' and a sprinkling of dynamic Music Machine dates around that time.
These conveyed a refreshing circa '72 all-'avin-fun-together atmosphere a million miles away from the current gang war attitute that dictates one must be a futuristic / rockabilly / skinhead / headbanger etc. So why are they continuing to gain ground now?
Well, whatever the escapist merits of New Romanticism, there's still a fair bit to be said about the properties of getting down and getting with it, the kind of grass roots entertainment that Slade personify. Plus however loud and raucous they are they can still write songs - y'know, those old-fashioned, well-rounded things with structures, story-lines and neat, irresistable hooks.
Here the latter are represented by 'Wheels Ain't Coming Down' and 'Lemme Love Into Ya'. The first is about the relief of finding out that the aircraft you're on isn't so dodgy after all and thus is an honest evocation of the good to be alive feeling so beloved by us all.
The second is a surprisingly progressive ballad, slow, splintery and swash with more synthesised effects. Yep, Slade can be experimental but since their ace card has always been to seduce with the most banal of football terrace chants, it's there that they really excel.
Not even the remorseless 'Nuts Bolts And Screws / I Heard It On The News' grates too badly though 'When I'm Dancin' I Ain't Fighting' does truly become a bit of a pain. The concept of 'It's so bad that it's good' also rears it's head on 'Hold On To Your Hats' which with a bit of luck won't be released as their next 45.
Elsewhere Noddy, Dave and the boys show a good capacity for variety, their manager's 'My Baby's Got It' a reasonably rockabilly rip-off and Chuck Berry's @I'm A Rocker' a vindication of their pub rock roots.
At the same this is something of a double-edged sword. Too untamed for parties and too undanceable for discos. It's difficult to justify a record like this on it's own terms. Slade are essentially a live act and on vinyl the vital ingredient of spilt beer is sorely missed. But all things considered the pros outweigh the cons, a point which is unlikely to escape the attention of the fans who've put them back in the singles chrt. (Three and a half stars out of five)

Noddy Holder and his rock group Slade have silenced the hearing experts.
As one of the loudest bands in the world, they should be deaf as posts, say the boffins.
But Harley Street specialists have discovered their hearing is above average.
The test was part of a survey on the effects of loud music
Noddy, the group's 30-year-old singer said "Everybody was amazed at the results."
And Slade's ear splitting sound is now back in the charts after a three year break with 'We'll Bring The House Down'.
"It's nice to be back," says Noddy, "especially as we've been written off as has-beens.
"After six years of solid success when we chalked up 20 consecutive hits and six number ones we suddenly became unfashionable and nobody wanted to know us.
"It was very depressing but we just swallowed our pride and started from scratch again."
Noddy said the group has always had it's ups and downs, although they'd never thought seriously about splitting up and quitting the rock scene.
He added, "We were always confident that people would get bored with the New Wave bands and go back to fun with good old rock and roll."

They were always the loudest. But five years after Slade were written off, they have proved they are a band that can last.
And once again Noddy Holder and his boys are bringing the house down with their brash, basic brand of rock.
They are in the charts for the first time since 1978 with the single 'We'll Bring The House Down'.
For many pop fans the new success is a big surprise - except to Slade. Holder, 31, says "We knew we could come back, We never doubted it."
"Sure we had a few lean years and went through a period when we were unfashionable. But we never thought of splitting up.
"When the hits stopped coming it made us all the more determined to go out and fight our way back to the top."
The band - Noddy, Jim Lea, 28, Dave Hill, 29, and Don Powell, 30 - this year celebrate a fifteen year partnership.
Holder says "We always said we could carry on playing together as long as we were enjoying ourselves.
"Well, we still are. And we are still as loud!"
Slade have just finished a British tour in which they belted out old hits and new at no less than 90 gigs.
They found they were playing to new fans and hundreds of faithful followers who remembered Slade a decade ago led by Holder in top hat, platform boots and half-mast trousers.
Their new album, also called 'Well Bring The House Down' is in the same old Slade style - thumping, no-nonsense, high-decibel rock.
And if you hear Holder screaming a little louder than usual on the band's new single he has a very good reason.
The song is called 'The Wheels Ain't Coming Down' and was written about a ride he had in a plane in America when he thought he had just 45 minutes to live.
He says "Jim and I were on the way to a radio station when the captain told us he could not get the wheels down to land.
"We were diverted to another airport for a crash landing.
"It's not a great feeling knowing you might have only 45 minutes left in life.
"We drank all the booze there was going. Happily the pilot brought the plane down safely."

In case you didn't know Slade are on the up'n'up again. Their taste of the big time was long and extremely sweet, six number one singles, and four number one albums, but once the hits stopped coming Slade were not prepared to fade into a lazy retirement.
At last their gruelling touring battle has paid off. They recently sold out the Hammersmith Odeon and with 'We'll Bring The House Down' Slade have their first top 30 hit in three and a half years.
we're not a comback band, we've always been here and it's just that we've been unrecognised. We've been through everything. I just really enjoy what I'm doing." Slade's likeable lead guitarist Dave Hill tells me.
A swift train ride to Slade's home base, Wolverhampton, and Dave Hill is on time, waiting for me at the station. I politely break up his conversation with a local Led Zep, Sabbath, Slade fan and Dave drives me in his Jag to an ethnic scratchings and steelworks Black Country pub.
Apart from his feathered cowboy hat and high-heeled boots he blends smoothly into the Coronation Street surroundings. Dave is a down to earth, professional interviewee who unwittingly shows off his polished expertise by answering my questions before I've even asked them.
"We wouldn't have kept writing songs if we didn't think that we were gonna have hits again. We'd have just played our oldies." explains Dave.
"When the Beatles became successful Lennon said 'We're playing now what we've been playing for years, but it's only now that we're being written about so now we're selling records'. The same applies to us. We've stuck it out, we've played what we believed in and we've waited for our boat to come in. I mean you can't keep going down well and not get something at the end of it. If we were dying I'd say that's it but we haven't."
Slade's boat started to come in at last year's Reading Festival. They were a last minute addition to the bill but were the success of the weekend.
Slade have always been first and foremost an upfront live band. During the last few years they've played anywhere that would have them and it's this solid touring which Dave reckons kept the band together.
Slade's new single is another turning point for them because it's managed to capture their unique stage magic on record. Dave explains, "We wrote the song around the audience as we wanted to give them something to sing along to. Nowadays no-one seems to be bothered with giving the audience anything."
The way the band captured their live atmosphere on record is a story Dave is keen to tell me about.
"Rather than having a carpeted studio sound we decided to record the drums in the bog and they sounded really big in there. So just for the hell of it we put all our gear in the bog and even did the vocals in there as well. It gave us just the sound we wanted and we called it 'bog rock'.'
Dave admits that the only ambition he has left is to have hit singles again - though he says that the band still need the money.
"We've all had our Rolls Royces but in fact I'd much prefer a Ford Granada. We've got nothing to prove anymore, we just live with our means. We've all stayed up Wolverhampton 'cos we feel more comfortable living here. We found we couldn't fit in with the nightclub scene in London because we always felt we were being ripped off in all those trendy places. Only Don lives in London and that's 'cos he's still a bachelor and he reckons the talent's better down there."
Slade are a remarkable band. Though they've reached the heights and then hit rock bottom their honest approach never seems to have wavered. Their determined attitude has at last won them the respect the press and the gig-giong public.

Hey kids, bored with all this so-called futuristic disco dross? Tired of doing the old Two-Tone two step? Wanna change from the foolishness of current top fashions?
Then Slade (gawd bless 'em) have produced a pole-axing panacea which is just up your street. Ten tracks of rejuvenated roguery guaranteed to cause severe structural damage to the sturdiest of dwellings and delight the most surly of yobs.
'We'll Bring The House Down' is both a monumental triumph for the band who over the last few months have swept spectacularly back into favour, and a real treat for those kids who've moved unreservedly behind 'em. It is, in short, a corker, brimming with a knowing confidence and expertise that has far from withered through age.
The title track opens the show. I must confess to being wholly unimpressed by it when it was first crammed down my lug'oles pre-chart smash time. 'Not a touch on't earlier 'un' could be heared muttered sagely about Neasden. Well of course time and sales have proved me completely off the ball, the single has capitulated Noddy and Co firmly back into the charts.
Anyway it quickly careers into the splendidly sexist 'Night Starvation' wherein young Holder postulates on the potential pleasures of the horn. It is quite possibly the album's standout, or should that be stand-up, track. With a faultless hook and breezy beat it'd make a brilliant single, even if it's saucy subject isn't exactly staid TOTP fare. 'I Wanna feel her, hold her, squeeze her,' drools the lecherous Nod, to which the Sladettes in the background coo, 'They like it, you like it, we want it/more oh yeah!' - marvellous stuff.
There's an apparently re-recorded version of the live stunner 'Wheels Ain't Coming Down' - it was you may recall one of the more formidable cuts from the 'Return To Base' elpee - as well as a studio version of the 'When I'm Dancin' I Ain't Fighting' single, both of which feature some tremendous axe work from Dave (well pied on TISWAS) Hill. In fact he excells himself throughout, giving the sound a distinctive and stylish muscle.
The second side is more out and out heavy metal, what with the almost AC/DCish 'Dizzy Mama' and a thunderous 'Nuts Bolts And Screws'. And such is their power that they even breath a sort of life into that horrible old Chuck Berry chestnut 'I'm A Rocker', a considerable feat in itself, I'd say. 'We'll Bring The House Down' is when all's said and done an invaluable addition to the realms of demolition rock. Slade are back with a vengeance!

There are some events and incidents which, by virtue of their sheer awfulness, are designed to remain indelibly linked upon the annals of time. The fall of the Roman Empire, for example, Margaret Thatcher's general election victory, the pilot episode of Dallas...and Castle Donington 1980.
.....
But you can't hold a party in the middle of a damp Saturday afternoon and expect all the guests to stick around to the end. Not, that is, unless your name is Slade.
Although hampered by the worst rain of the day, Slade conquered the proceedings and absolutely stole the show. It wasn't totally surprising. Slade are indesputably a Festival Band - they know the ropes - and they work their best at HM extravaganzas where their glossy over-the-top antics bash down every barrier.
Slade didn't stop to consider the problems. They merely marched on stage and rattled through almost everything they've ever written - 'We'll Bring The House Down', 'Gudbuy T' Jane', 'When I'm Dancing', you can imagine the rest - taking the unconcealed piss out of all the heirarchical posturing that generally passes for showmanship at such places.
'I want everybody to get up out of their seats,' bellowed Noddy Holder, summing up the absurdity of the situation. And everybody did. Mentally that is. For an hour, the sloth slipped out of the arena and sixty thousand fists punched the air in the traditional manner to acknowledge that Slade, at least, had made the discomfor worthwhile before the band launched a hundred bog rolls into the atmosphere and took their leave in a storm of genuine appreciation. Clearly, Blue Oyster Cult were going to have 'fun' following on.
Blue Oyster Cult already had troubles. The night before the festival, their drummer Albert Bouchard had caused the band's first line-up change in a decade, leaving the drums in the hands of a roadie and the Cult in something of a precarious position. Exactly what they didn't need after Slade...........