Slade Bak 'Ome Feature : 1973

Slade return from America – louder, dafter, and ready to reclaim the throne!

Slade’s Slade Bak 'Ome, a three-page feature in Music Scene, January 1, 1973.

More Slade homecoming chaos added weekly.

The noise that greeted Slade when they walked on stage was comparable to that made by the Shed when Peter Osgood heads in yet another goal. It continued throughout the concert, and by the time the kids had jumped to their feet and started giving a cross between the Black Power and Nazi salutes it was all a bit frightening.

Slade were bak 'ome in Wolverhamp-ton, during their recent tour, playing to their staunch followers at the Civic Hall. One got the impression that if Noddy had told them to go out and set fire to the gasworks they might have done just that.

The group's hold over the fans was absolute. Halfway through the first number, a small bunch of kids led a charge to the front and they were soon joined by dozens more. Every move that Noddy, Dave, Jim or Don made was greeted with a loud cheer.

The all-conquering heroes had returned.

Earlier, friends and relations were chatting among themselves as Dave and Noddy made awful noises with their guitars in a corner of the dressing room.

"Give us a D." said Dave to Noddy and a little boy stood transfixed by this interplay between the pair. Jim and Don were taking no notice of this whatsoever, ignoring it. rabbiting with their girl friends.

"Isn't this a bit like a football team playing at home?" I asked Noddy. referring to the concert. "It's like a home game every night." he replied.

Dave launched into a Chuck Berry riff on his guitar and Noddy walked away. Don joked: "That's gonna be a hit that." He kept trying to catch Dave's attention. by shouting "H! H!", but "H" Dave's nickname in the group couldn't, or wouldn't, hear him.

I am handed an "I've Been Slayed sticker and Noddy, seeing this. yells:" E ain't ad a drink yet. This is swiftly remedied and then in strolls Slade's tame P.R. man. Les Perrin, doing his Captain Queeg bit, continually clicking two huge china walnuts in his hand. Something to do with his shoulder he claimed, but it was all a bit beyond us.

Dave and Noddy resume their guitar duo and suddenly there's a huddle round the door as Jim calls out: Ere's a mate, anyone got a camera?

Jim. Dave. Don and Noddy drift off into different parts of the room, seemingly impervious to the fact that this is one of the big nights for the band

and the fans alike. Perhaps they couldn't realise that their reception later on in the hall is to be as noisy as hell.

"I suppose we'd better get changed into our glam rock gear." Jim joked and everyone had to leave the room. Dave, the utter showman and extrovert on stage, wasn't taking part in the joking and laughing. He was being the quiet man.

Around the backstage area. encountered a bloke of about forty or so who came out with the amazing quote: "I reckon Slade are more popular than

Enoch now." This is Powell territory. "We used to play here for three and six and pack it out, and it's still the same crowd." says Noddy who has

joined us. "We haven't got to put on a special show for them, they know us."

The lights dim, Slade go on stage and it's all happening. Slade's manager, Chas Chandler, stands with his wife in the balcony looking pleased with what is going on and Les Perrin begins making notes of just about everything he observes.

Suddenly, the show is over and it's back to the dressing room one of the thirty-seven people are milling around. A buxom blonde catches my eye. Dave's sister, I'm told.

"Did you used to be in the Animals. then?" asked a woman of Chas. "Yeah."-" 'Leader Of The Pack?'' "No, that was the Shangri-Las," replied with a tolerant air. he

The man from the record company is there with his wife and he gets introduced to Dave's dad. Then most of

seems quite proud of his son's achieve-ments.

Jim wanders over to me and asks: "Do you remember that night at Newcastle City Hall with the Animals when you wrote for a paper: 'Ambrose Slade, a good band and they moved well on stage'? I've still got that cut out. Bloody funny that!"

The massive cheering crowd that had gathered outside the stage door is gradually dispersing and shortly we are all bundled into seven cars to begin a motorcade across town to a pub where a late-night celebration is to be held. It is a pub and a half with records stuck on the ceiling and pictures of music and screen stars and starlets all round the walls.

A zany pianist who has a spectacular line in humour begins an hour-long per-formance with Slade joining in now and again. God alone knows what time it all went on to, but as I left in the not-so-early hours, everyone was still at it. Slade have certainly discovered the knack of unwinding.

words: Richard Green/