Masters of the Universe 1995

Masters of the Universe 1995

This article was written by Barry Alfonso and appeared in an unknown American newspaper in 1995. I only have a clipping and don't know the name of the publication. But this article pretty much nails the key to Hawkwind's enduring appeal...

They say that deep in Zaire there's a dinosaur that's survived through the millenia into the present day. This living fossil has been sighted by explorers lumbering about in the swamplands, oblivious to the fact that it shouldn't even exist. The poor brute refuses to acknowledge its own extinction. Hawkwind is the same sort of creature. Ridiculed for decades as a hippie era anachronism, this ragtag troupe of British acid-accented rockers is not about to give up the ghost. Weathering numerous membership changes and riding out shifts of pop music fashion, the band has never ceased touring and recording since its inception in 1969. Pursuing its own peculiar brand of space rock, Hawkwind has always lived in a universe of its own, seemingly unaffected by recording industry trends or much else in the Real World.

It's fair to say that more American rock consumers have heard of Hawkwind than have actually listened to their records. They are a cult band par excellence, sustained by loyal fans in Europe and the U.S. while rarely receiving wide airplay or mass media exposure. (The band's sole hit single to date has been their 1972 million seller "Silver Machine".) Isolated from the mainstream, they've maintained a purity of vision that has changed little since the 1960's. This may be due to inspiration, high principles or just plain stubbornness - whatever the reason, Hawkwind embodies a definite aesthetic.

A useful analogy may be drawn between Hawkwind and another UK group of similar vintage, Pink Floyd. Both emerged from the London rock underground, wrapped themselves in a sci-fi / psychedelic mantle and transcended the need for hit singles. But what's more significant are the differences between the two. In the course of their fabulously successful existence, Pink Floyd turned pompous, slick and cynical, rendering such 'important' works as The Wall with cold-hearted excellence. Hawkwind remained a bunch of long-haired chemically adjusted bohemians, misguided at times but keeping their sense of humour and humanity intact. There's something oddly lovable about these blokes (which is the last thing anyone would say about Pink Floyd.)

You can mock Hawkwind if you will - and admittedly, there's a lysergic loopiness about them that brings flashes of Spinal Tap to mind. In the hands of a less eccentric group, their invocations of galactic grandeur would be painfully pretentious. In contrast to the wide-screen themes of their lyrics, Hawkwind's music has typically been basic three-chord 4/4 rock with synthesizer effects drizzled on top for flavouring. At once futuristic and primitive, they've always seemed aware of thier limitations and somehow turned them into strengths.

Delving into the band's catalogue of 30-plus albums is a daunting task - unless you're a hard core fan, the sheer volume of output might jam your mental circuits if not approached sparingly. A good place to start are the early albums In Search Of Space (1971) and Space Ritual Alive (1973), which feature both shorter pieces and sprawling trance-rock rambles. Or you might want to check out a compilation album, such as the Hawkwind Collection (1986). This package contains two key singles, the aforementioned "Silver Machine" and "Urban Guerrilla", a cheerfully repetitive tune about terrorism that invites comparison with Devo (!) This Is Hawkwind Do Not Panic (1984) is a solid live album, while such 90's releases as Space Bandits and Electric Tepee capture the band in healthy shape.

Much of the band's seminal 70's material was co-written by the late Robert Calvert, a genuine lunatic who nevertheless was capable of penning droll, witty lyrics. Stories abound about his craziness - on one

"Hawkwind goes all out, sharing the stage with fire-eaters, jugglers, dancing girls and other bombastic bit players"

"A few people believe that they can gain powers through some of our songs"

occasion he menaced bystanders in a British hotel lobby with a Scottish broadsword, challenging all comers. In his more rational moments he contributed the words to such astronautical anthems as "Born To Go" and "Spirit Of The Age". He could also descend from the stratosphere and dash off amusing ditties like "Quark Strangeness and Charm" and "Psi Power", adding a welcome dose of humour to all that cosmic consciousness.

Other notorious characters have passed through the band's ranks. Before he founded the punk/metal hybrid Motorhead, Ian "Lemmy" Kilmister lent his manic essence to Hawkwind as bassist / vocalist. Nik Turner was an even nmore important member - his spacey saxophone meandering added a touch of derangement in the right places before he left the group in 1976. Lately he's been touring the States with his own unauthorized version of Hawkwind and releasing solo projects.

At present the official Hawkwind line-up consists of Dave Brock (vocals, guitar), Alan Davey (bass) and Richard Chadwick (drums), plus a new recruit, singer Ron Bastard. Brock is the only remaining

original member and he is the acknowedged guiding force behind the group. Despite his status as a space rock icon, he comes across as a rather sensible, down-to-earth fellow in conversation. Reached by phone at his London home base, Brock attempted to explain Hawkwind's uncanny staying power.

"The funny thing is, the music business is always looking for new sounds, and we've been playing this stuff for quite a few years," he admits. "I find that trends come along and what we've been playing all of a sudden becomes in vogue. Here in Britain we get sampled by a lot of acid house bands, and our songs have been copied and done various ways. And the ambient music groups like The Orb are doing the same sort of repetitive rhythms that we used to get slagged off for. There's just a few more majestic chords thrown in here and there."

Despite a quarter-century's worth of experience, Brock still retains a 60's counterculture ethic about music-making. "We're easy-going sorts of characters," he says of his band. "Most times we don't rehearse very strictly and play things that go on and on and on." As far as modern musical technology goes, he claims no great expertise. "I'm a barbarian, as it were, with electronic music. We get to the point where we can't understand the synthesizer manuals, and we think 'Oh fuck, let's just do what we're doing'. And that's how we usually get along. If we did learn to play synthesizers like they should be played, then we'd sound exactly like all the other synthesizer users..."

Brock has noticed that Hawkwind attracts an element searching for esoteric wisdom. Listeners hungry for cryptic revelations have been leafing through the band's recordings for over twenty years. Certain songs (among them "Lord of Light" on Space Ritual) have been given a spell-like significance by some devotees. Brock cautions against reading too much into his songs. "We have quite a few weirdos who catch us and ask us the meanings of our words and treat us like mystics. There's a few people who believe that they can gain powers through some of our songs or even use them to exit from this world through star gates - but I've never seen any of them actually disappear into another universe. There are message we put into the songs here and there. But I can't tell you what they are - you'll have to search for them."

On stage the band does its best to conjure up an aura of the unearthly, or at least a mood of temporary dementia. Recent U.S. tours have been stripped-down tightly budgeted affairs, without the elaborate lightshows and multimedia effects that the band has been known for since their earliest days. In Britain, though, Hawkwind goes all out, sharing the stage with fire-eaters, jugglers, dancing girls and other bombastic bit players. (The video Live Legends -Griffin 1994- captures the orchestrated freak-out atmosphere of their concerts.)

"We have a strange cross-section of people at our shows," Brock says. "We have a science fiction sort of following, plus New Agers, hippies and bikers. We can actually encompass all these variations - it's like circles connecting up. We don't change what we play to fit in with anyone. Just because we play a gig where there are a lot of fanatical bikers doesn't mean we have to do just good ol' boy rock'n'roll music."

Some of the fun has gone out of performing live, he admits. "There used to be a whole festival scene in Britain with lots of young bands who'd play for free. Unfortunately the government put a bill through forbidding gatherings of more than 10 people. So times are changing here..."

Beyond music, Brock gets a bit glum in contemplating the next century. "I have a vision for the future and it's not a very good one - I can see only corruption and greed. You see it creeping in everywhere. Kids are losing their innocence a lot more - by the time they're 11 or 12, they want to become mini-adults. We write these songs to help draw attention and bring change, but you can only do so much. I used to have a lot of problems with the police because of things I'd talk about, like pollution or building unnecessary roads across forest lands. We can't go swimming in the sea around this country any more because of the huge amount of waste products being dumped. I only see it getting worse, and it's a shame."

Hawkwind continues to play benefits for various causes - one gig raised money to save four endangered black rhinoceroses in Zimbabwe. Brock and his bandmates resemble these rare rhinos in some ways - ungainly and lumbering at times, their music nevertheless has a primal vitality and a pungent charm. Space cadets from a more idealistic era, they deserve to be preserved. Hawkwind remains a species unto itself.