Fading Yellow Volume 3

Flower Machine Records, Second Press
“22 shiny jewels of US pop-sike & other delights 1965-69”

Fading Yellow 3

This world is big and wild and half insane as Ray Davis once said.  So why not curl up with Fading Yellow Volume 3,  a veritable cornucopia of multi-flavoured aural delights?

Any scoring system fall falls down at times and this volume I’ve struggled with my three and four stars.  Three and a half isn’t an option so where in doubt I’ve opted for four.  The fives are the standout tracks.  Of that I have no doubt.

In the beginning

I couldn’t get along with Eddie Hodges Shadows and Reflections **** at first because the lyrics seem at odds with the military march of the music.  Then I heard  The Action’s version and at once the song fell into place.  The Action offer atmosphere and an edge.  Eddie Hodges gave us the original I’m Gonna Knock on Your Door in 1961 (the Jimmy Osmond version was the bane of 1972) but he also co-wrote Along Comes Mary with Tandyn Almer (who co-wrote Shadows and Reflections) so superbly covered by The Association.

Michael and The Trees Show You Love Me *** is a sultry, sulky number of shifting moods and a great falling away on ‘girl, girl, girl.’

There are interesting and quite stark harmonies in It Will Never Be the Same *** by the superbly named Wiggs Of 1666 but it’s a shame about the slightly distorted sound quality.

Jim Ryan of The Critters produced and plays on Giant Jellybean Copout B-side Look at the Girls *** and, as you might expect, it’s smooth, harmony pop with dreamy vibes.

An air of dreamy wonder also pervades Network’s The Boys and the Girls *** another 1968 B-side.

Then, as with the middle of Volume 2, we hit three great tracks in succession.

Flowers in His Hair

Saturday’s Photograph’s Gentle Loving San Francisco Man ***** is the sound of blissful loving contentment.  It’s a warm-hearted and evocative piece of jangly flower power folk-pop which also happens to be a very well crafted song.  You must have heard songs which, upon first listen, sound like something you already know or feel you have always known – well San Francisco Man is just that because it’s so instinctive and simply never puts a foot wrong.

In the female vocal you can hear the song’s routes in earlier-in-the-decade high school girl-pop but the greater maturity, a mellow vibe, harpsichord and those deliciously ‘Indian’ sliding string passages leave us in no doubt that times have changed.   The lyrics are a virtual manifesto for the sensitive, poetic Aquarian male.  I especially like the line ‘If somebody puts him down he’d pretend he did not hear, And he always walked away the better man’ – five years earlier and Johnny would have flattened the other guy with a sock to the jaw and been a hero to the girl for having done so.  Now peace and love are the new virtues.  The only note of doubt sounded amidst the air of complete contentment is the cautionary ‘And I hope to God I’ll always be around him’ – sung with a slight emphasis.

I had this down as pure 1967 which spiritually it surely is but it was actually released in 1969. That perhaps accounts for its lack of chart success.

Mark Radice

I’m always hoping that Fading Yellow will uncover a talent new to me and two tracks from Mark Radice Save Your Money **** and Wooden Girl ***** do precisely that.   I’ve posted separately on Mark’s single

Ten Tracks

The next ten tracks serve up an enjoyable variety of songs without turning-up anything truly exceptional.  The best of the ten is Voyage’s One Day **** with its interesting variety of psychedelic sounds – repeated brass motifs, busy cellos tumbling through a sound tunnel, a husky-voiced verse or two, chromatic orientalisms, traffic concrete, all in a circular day-in-a-life voyage which takes you back where you began.  The construction is unusual as the opening brass melody isn’t heard again until some way into the song, suggesting a kind of late-in-the-day bridge which turns out not to be a bridge at all. This is unlike anything else on Volume Three.

A Time of the Season riff gives way to 50s early echoed vocals and then more chromatic weirdness in Shelley Tell Me Why by River Deep ***

If it’s snotty sixties vocals with organ you’re after you’ll find them on Springfield Rifle’s Left Of Nowhere *** alongside something a little more ethereal.

Lamp Of Childhood’s First Time, Last Time *** offers fine string-backed harmonies with a kind of Mamas and Papas influence.

Toy Shop by Trolley *** has a spinning tops, miniature merry-go-round feel and could be a kind of companion piece to Mark Radice’s Wooden Girl.  

Take A Look in the Mirror *** –  ‘what at first seemed so pretty isn’t pretty after all’.  There is a Byrds-like feel to this [piece from East Town Kids with nice guitar work and urgency to the vocals.

London Phogg’s The Times To Come *** This sounds like, and is, from 1969 with its pattering drums, and (for Fading Yellow) bursts of blistering guitar married to rapturous vocals.

There is a warm Pet Sounds vibe to Carnival’s  B-side I’m Going Home Tomorrow *** while Gaitley and Fitzgerald’s Séance Day ***  with its parping bassoon, shivery strings and strutting guitar has a faint recall of Curt Boettcher tracks like Hotel Indiscreet and I’m Not Living Here but with a certain Addams Family vibe.

Scandal’s Girl, You’re Goin’ Out A My Mind *** offers enthusiastic vocals and some ba-ba-bas before we reach the top track of Volume Three.

Picture this

Robbi Curtice – When Diana Paints The Picture ***** I love this song.  It simply exemplifies the way artists in the 60s could take a common genre – the love song – and make of it something completely original whilst employing a memorable melody and sympathetic arrangement to do so.  And incredibly, this is the B-side.

When Diana Paints the Picture has 1968 written all over it – the transformative ideas of the counterculture filtering through to pop, the dreamy but full arrangement in a style not dissimilar to Burt Somner or Nick Garrie’s The Nightmare of J.B.Stanislas album, the emphasis on feeling rather than appearances (‘it isn’t what she sees but what’s inside her heart’).  The lyric also casts the singer in a self-deprecating light which is never a bad thing.

Diana (the name means heavenly or divine) transforms the singer’s perception of himself when she ‘paints a picture’ (I don’t think it means literally ‘paint’ although you might choose to take it that way).  The song also draws upon ideas of the world turning from black and white into colour during the 60s such that the song itself seems to generate a kind of colourful psychedelic swirl.

The cascading wind-chime silvery bells which colour the introduction and opening line are a bit of a distraction but don’t detract from this being a fabulous song.

Robbi Curtice on Psychedelic Central 

Pastel World  

Enthusiastic, youthful vocals, some ba-ba-bas, woodwind, busy strings, a bashed cymbal and somewhere a Wurlitzer make up for a crazee good-time feel in Chicago Loop’s This Must Be the Place ***  This was produced by Bob Crewe who co-wrote many of The Four Seasons hits and songs for many other artists.  Sadly Bob died last month at the age of 82.

‘It’s a pastel world’ according to Saturday’s Photograph.  I find this kind of sun-dappled mood music hard to resist when it’s as soft and seductive as Summer Never Go Away ****.  It’s flutey and kinda warm but cool too.

Last up is Cadaver’s Haven’t Got The Time ***   which lifts off into an enjoyably unexpected harpsichord/guitar instrumental break.

This is a solid collection.  It lacks the minor key feel which unified Volume 2 but there is a varied selection here.  Most lovers of pop-sike should come away finding something to treasure.

1. Eddie Hodges – Shadows And Reflections [1967] ****
2. Michael And The Trees – Show You Love Me [n/d/] ***
3. Wiggs Of 1666 – It Will Never Be The Same – [1966] ***
4. Giant Jellybean Copout – Look At The Girls [1968] ***
5. Network – The Boys And The Girls [1968] ***
6. Saturday’s Photograph – Gentle Loving San Francisco Man [1969] *****
7. Mark Radice – Save Your Money [1967] ****
8. Mark Radice – Wooden Girl [1967] *****
9. Voyage – One Day [n/d] ****
10. River Deep – Shelley Tell Me Why (1969) ***
11. Springfield Rifle – Left Of Nowhere [1969] ***
12. Lamp Of Childhood – First Time, Last Time [1967] ***
13. Trolley – Toy Shop [n/d]***
14. East Side Kids – Take A Look In The Mirror [1967] ***
15. London Phogg – The Times To Come [1969] ***
16. Carnival – I’m Going Home Tomorrow [1968]***
17. Gaitley And Fitzgerald – Seance Day [1967]***
18. Scandal – Girl, You’re Goin’ Out A My Mind [n/d] ***
19. Robbi Curtice – When Diana Paints The Picture [1968]*****
20. Chicago Loop – This Must Be The Place [1966]***
21. Saturday’s Photograph – Summer Never Go Away [n/d]****
22. Cadaver – Haven’t Got The Time [1968]***

Fading Yellow Volume 1
Fading Yellow Volume 2
Fading Yellow Volume 4


Mark Radice: ‘Save Your Money’ and ‘Wooden Girl’

Mark Radice 45Both Save Your Money and Wooden Girl, the A and B sides of Mark Radice’s 1967 single would be among the strongest tracks on Fading Yellow Volume 3 if written and performed by a twenty or thirty year old.  Mark was aged only ten.

Neither are they the kind of sugary pap one tends to associate with child prodigies manipulated by producers with dollar signs in their eyes.  No, this being 1967, a more intelligent and less overtly commercial approach is taken.  Wooden Girl especially, takes the fact that the singer is aged ten and then does something interesting with that, so we have something genuinely intelligent and engaging going on here.  I’d describe the sound as kind of homespun Sergeant Pepper meets spacey Hannah-Barbara.

‘Save Your Money’ and ‘Wooden Girl’ both feature catchy melodies (‘Wooden Girl’, incredibly so), slightly off-kilter, not overly produced arrangements and a canny knowledge of how to take the styles of the day and weave them into something a ten year old might sing about.  That father was recording engineer Gene Radice must have helped but there is no getting away from the fact that these songs simply stand out.  My only gripe with Save Your Money is that I can’t make out some of the lyrics and therefore lose the story – not Mark’s or the production’s fault at all, just the sound quality of the recording here.

Clavichord-rich B-side, ‘Wooden Girl’, is a very infectious piece of psych-pop which a band like Kaleidoscope might have come up with and is even stronger than Save Your Money.   The story of the wooden girl is the classic tale of a child’s make-believe friend gone a little too far so she is more real than the people around him.

You’re not always quite sure on first listen which elements of the accompaniment are Mark’s voice-as reverbed-backing-vocal and which parts are actual instrumentation – somehow this blurring accentuates the sense of the child’s enclosed, imaginary world.  He even manages to use what sounds like a kazoo to actually add something to the song rather than turn it daft or lightweight as might so easily have been the case.

Mark has gone on to do a great deal in music so I am sure to be posting about him again.

ATV lightspots live on in Birmingham National Library

Birmingham’s National Library lost out in winning the Stirling Prize for the Best New Building this week.

Am I alone in finding that the library’s external ‘filigree screen’ is a reminder of the famous 70s ATV lightspots ident?

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It probably takes a TV geek to see such things but Birmingham was home to Midlands ITV company ATV for over twenty-six years so it’s a fitting gesture but possibly an unintended one.

Turn of the Century

No. 31 in Top 50 Bee Gees’ Songs 1966-72

By Robin & Barry Gibb
Lead Vocals: Barry & Robin
Album: Bee Gees’ 1st 1967

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“Everything’s happening at the turn of the century”

As the opener to their first international album, Turn of the Century announces the brothers’ arrival in England not with a blast of the modern but a jolly fanfare from the past. The Bee Gees had travelled not just overseas but, in a sense, back in time, back to their own pasts, back to the ‘old country’ and a swinging London enthralled to Victoriana. Here they set out their stall with aplomb, conjuring a bustling world somewhere between Oliver Twist and a Quality Street tin.

I struggle to make out the lyrics ‘Big wide hats and men in spats’ until researching this piece, preferring ‘people had too many spats’. And I do love Robin’s Cockney ‘orseless carriages.’

Whilst not one of their major songs, Turn of the Century is a solidly crafted piece of pop which lifts the lid on their new career and survives as a solid and highly melodic contribution to toytown pop.

No 30 Suddenly
No 32 You’ll Never See My Face Again

You’ll Never See My Face Again

No. 32 in Top 50 Bee Gees’ Songs 1966-72

By Barry, Robin & Maurice Gibb
Lead Vocal: Barry Album: Odessa, 1969

“‘It took a thousand years to find out why”

You’ll Never see My Face Again follows on naturally from Odessa, maintaining an air of loss but, significantly, not regret.

An undoubted reaction to Robin’s walking away from The Bee Gees in 1969, this is tackled uncharacteristically head-on. Indeed, the mood is bitter and accusatory – ‘it’s much too late to change your ways’, ‘You think that you can stand and lie, It makes me laugh – you’ve got no friends.’

Barry doesn’t yield a thing to Robin. He feels justified in his resentment because he is the one keeping the band going and Robin is the deserter.  It’s as much about Barry consolidating his position as band leader as it is about brotherly relationships.  His mood becomes a little more reflective with the wistful title line but even here he maintains his stance of invulnerability.  The song isn’t called ‘I’ll Never See Your Face Again’.

In Day Time Girl, Barry mourns the flight of a lost lover but even although she used him, he concedes feeling a sad regret.  You’ll Never See My Face Again conveys no such regret in the wake of Robin’s departure.

The acoustic guitar, as with Odessa, is strummed unusually harshly amidst Bill Shepherd’s open, uncluttered arrangement.

No 31 Turn of the Century
No 33 Bad Bad Dreams

The Changes DVD Review

Original TV series: 10 episodes, tx. Jan-Mar 1975, 5.20-5.45pm, BBC-1
DVD: 2-disc set, BFI, August 2014 


It sounds grumpy to begin a review by saying ‘Why has it taken so long?’ The Changes is a well remembered, ground-breaking piece of television, first transmitted almost forty years ago.  There was a re-showing on UK Gold in 1994 (imagine that now) and pirated copies have been in circulation for a while but the series seems little regarded by the BBC itself and has been allowed to quietly rest in semi-obscurity.

So it falls to the BFI to release The Changes on DVD which means it comes with a minimum of fuss and commercial blah and we are treated to a thirty page booklet which is thorough and informative (justifying the slightly higher than the norm asking price).

Picture quality is perfectly watchable considering no restoration work has taken place and, sadly, is unlikely to do so as this is not regarded as a major league release.   Sound is fine throughout, thanks in part to actors not mumbling their lines beneath frenetic soundtracks as is so often the case today, though the closing theme does sound a trifle wobbly on its sustained notes.

Peter Wright’s opening essay sets The Changes within the socio-economic context of the times though perhaps not everyone will agree with his analysis. He also examines the series set against developments in BBC children’s television in the early-mid 70s.  Interviews with cast members and particularly with director John Prowse and producer/adaptor Anna Home would have been the icing on the cake but Wright’s essay, in reviewing documentation from the time, rightly pays tribute to Home and BBC Head of Children’s Television, Monica Sims, as major forces in seeing The Changes through to completion.

The booklet also features composer Paddy Kingsland’s recollections and useful biographical pieces on Kingsland, Peter Dickinson and Anna Home.

Apart from the obligatory stills gallery, the sole DVD extra is an only mildly interesting 1983 government film consisting entirely of stills, At Home in Britain, about the lives of Asian residents living in Britain.

The Changes: bad wires, good faith and a question of balance

The Changes: bad wires, good faith and a question of balance

10 episodes, Original tx. Jan-Mar 1975, 5.20-5.45pm, BBC-1

A well remembered and ground-breaking children’s drama series emerges from the  mists of the mid-70s into 2014 and onto DVD.  This is what ‘The Changes’ means to me now and what it meant back then.  

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World’s End Housing Estate, January 1975


I was nearly eleven when The Changes was first broadcast in January 1975. It was a pertinent age to view the series as it prefigured major changes in my life that year.

1975 was the year I moved from a cosy village school to a huge comprehensive.  Almost simultaneously, my parents left the comfortable, airy 60s detached house of my childhood and bought an older building which needed a lot of repair, making it feel exposed, unhomely and, crucially, pre-modern.

The series unfolds not just as Nicky’s search for the origin of The Changes but as her own journey from child to adolescent. It was a journey I was not yet ready to make in January 1975.  But as the year advanced, I had a sense of stepping into a harsher, less sheltered world, underscored by my growing awareness of the sort of issues tackled by The Changes.  By the end of 1975 I was forced to leave childish things behind as a premature adolescence began.  The sombre feel of The Changes prefigures the depressive mood of my teenage years and their search for meaning and identity.

‘A series for older viewers’

I am sure I recall the pre and post-John Craven’s Newsround warning of unusually adult content in the forthcoming programme at 5.20, as that sort of message would definitely have made me prick up my ears. I couldn’t have guessed at how visceral and violent that content was to be.

Episode One’s opening scene is one of domestic familiarity – schoolgirl Nicky Gore does her homework with the television on in the background while her mother sits knitting and father reads the paper.  Then, from nowhere and everywhere, the angry ‘noise’ begins, prompting Nicky’s father, involuntarily, to smash the television.  It is hard to express how shocking, how terrifying was that sudden and inexplicable act of savagery in a suburban living room, witnessed in my own suburban living room back in 1975.

This single act leads into an orgy of mass destruction taking place across Britain, apparently caused by the noise compelling people to destroy machinery. The scenes of electrical appliances and even bicycles dragged onto streets and smashed up alongside burning cars, were – and still are – incredibly disturbing.  The series talks openly about many people left to die and we see Nicky forced to leave an old man in a doorway to fend for himself.  A thin veneer of civilisation is stripped away literally overnight as Britain is cast back into a pre-industrial age.

I don’t think I had seen anything so unsettling on television, carrying such an air of urgent threat perhaps since the apocalyptic Dr Who story Inferno almost five years earlier. The sense of dislocation, panic and utter fear is palpable.

Parallel worlds

What was depicted in that first episode built upon my semi-conscious awareness of growing discontent in the adult world around me, a world of sudden power-cuts, energy conservation campaigns (‘Save It!’) and constant scenes of industrial conflict on the television news.  What I was experiencing was a child’s view of the breakdown of the post-war consensus and the very uncertainty of society itself.  The Changes also bore disturbing parallels with the notion of a post holocaust Britain, at a time when I was becoming aware of the cold war and nuclear threats.

Seen now, it is as if what we are looking at is an alternative view of Britain, an extreme form of what might have come about if industrial decline had continued apace and instead of being propelled into a world of Thatcherite conspicuous consumption and an economy driven by global financial services, Britain reverted to a kind of isolated communitarian/agrarian republic, overall poorer yet potentially more egalitarian and with a distinctly land-based local identify, too fragmented to be called patriotic.  In other words, a wholesale rejection of consumer capitalism and all that has come to be seen as ‘modernity’.  This perhaps seems fanciful in an age of 24/7 electronic media saturation and near global capitalism but would not have seemed so to Britain ‘managing decline’ in the mid-70s.

When Anna Home came to adapt Peter Dickinson’s trilogy – The Weathermonger, Heartsease, The Devil’s Children – she inserted this pre-Changes opening episode to allow the full force of what follows to have maximum impact.

‘Devil’s Children’

Nicky and her parents try to escape to France but she becomes separated from them amidst the chaos of the city streets.  Compelled to make her own way, she chances across a small band of travelling Sikhs and joins them.

It took me a while to accept this turn of the story as a child, as, at first, it seemed insufficiently connected to what had gone before.  In retrospect, as a ten year old, I was probably a little young for the programme’s target audience and wanted episode one’s explicit sense of drama and threat to continue, if not heighten.  I can appreciate the subsequent episodes more now than then.

The sensitive and overwhelmingly positive portrayal of the Sikhs – the contrast between Nicky’s can-do feminist individualism and the Sikh’s deferential traditionalism – is an unusually forward-thinking aspect of the series at a time when British television sitcoms were awash with crude cultural stereotypes.  The series shows how genuine understanding, respect and affection can be established across racial, cultural and religious divides.  But The Changes never wears its liberal, feminist, multiethnic and environmentalist credentials on its sleeve and does not feel patronising in its portrayal of race and culture.  Nicky encounters and adjusts to this new world and we do so with her.

It seems extraordinary that it took a series for children to ask whether a minority community can thrive in a ‘host’ country (the debate was still framed in this way then) and show how this might look.

‘Wicked and dangerous’

Racism, misogyny and suspicion rear their ugly heads as a kind of neo-feudalism takes over the land. Machines become synonymous with ‘wickedness’, outsiders and dissenters branded as ‘evil.’  Nicky herself is put on trial as a witch and faces death by stoning.  The series seems to be making a critique of dangerously inward-looking tribal religiosity, one which is entirely white and male dominated.

As The Changes is shot entirely on film and on location, it benefits from an immediacy which studiobound drama of the time often lacks. It is essential that what we are seeing looks and feels like ‘the real world’ and indeed it does.  Only occasionally do we drift slightly into children’s drama cliché – the choreographed fight sequences in episode five and the exaggerated baddie acting of the black bearded robber chief are cases in point.  Other characters, such as Arthur Barnard the bigoted farmer turned quasi-squire, impart a genuine sense of brutish ignorance and menace.

There are very few special effects overall, bar a mind-bending, colour saturated sequence and kaleidoscopic review of key scenes in Episode Ten and the series doesn’t demand them.  Its unflashiness is one of its great virtues.

I like the fact that it is not afraid to adopt a lighter tone and a leisurely pace at times.  This gives a greater sense of ‘real time’ unfolding and of the slower feel to life following The Changes.  It accentuates the role that the land itself plays in the drama – the changing landscape of river, farmland, woodland and forest.  It’s possible to see the middle episodes of The Changes as some kind of English, ruralist road movie with Vicky’s journey becoming less and less connected with the modern and the urban and more and more with the past, the land and, eventually, a mythical England.

The Noise

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Bad wires: The noise seems to travel along power-lines

Paddy Kingsland’s synth/electric guitar dominated incidental music (with sitar and tabla for the episodes featuring the Sikhs) gives the series a great deal of ruralist medievalist/70s atmosphere. There is perhaps a little too much music at times, particularly in some of the earlier episodes (the overuse of the same theme in different keys at the start of Episode Four grates a little) but there are also some lovely and most evocative passages such as Episode Nine’s horseback ride which is beautifully shot too.

In the DVD booklet, Paddy Kingsland’s recalls almost smashing up his Delaware synthesiser to create the noise.  The result is chillingly effective, a little like running a pencil over piano strings with the sustain pedal held down whilst holding your head in the instrument’s cavity so that you are both surrounded by the swirling sound and feeling its resonance inside your head  – only ten times as terrifying.

The unusual option to include different music for start and end titles works very well, underlying the before and after worlds and with an apt musical amalgam of the two at the story’s conclusion. The opening theme uses tabla and synth to convey – in a 70s funk kind of way – the fast pace of modern, urban life, then giving way to the noise and a sense of disintegration.  The trumpet/horns dominated end theme hints at something medieval and magisterial, yet timeless.  It has a kind of foreboding, understated grandeur.

I also like the device of actually showing the scene of the story’s climax – the mysterious standing stone in a quarry cavern – as the closing titles’ backdrop to all ten episodes, so that as each episode advances we have the sense of moving another step closer towards this ending, the source of The Changes. The imagery forms a totally unexpected end to Episode One, intrigues us by Episode Seven, and begins to make sense by episode Eight or Nine.

The voice of the ‘thing’ is masterfully realised – the sound of something ancient, unknown and unknowable, hidden from us yet conveying a sense of great latent power and elemental emotion which threatens to burst forth in full fury at any moment – infinitely more effective than standard alien monotone sci-fi voices.

Merlin myth

I am not sure how I feel about the eventual resolution lying in myth and legend.  In some ways, the largely unexplained magical ending seems like a kind of retreat from the hard-edged nature of what has gone before.  On the other hand, it embeds the series’ radical social/political agenda in wider, deeper notions of time, place, continuity, freedom and change as well as myth, legend and the unexplained.

Nicky’s confronting the thing has echoes of 1971 Doctor Who story The Dæmons, in which another spirited but defenceless female (Jo Grant) risks all to confront an immense source of power in mythological form and in so doing, a threat to the world is averted.  Another parallel with The Dæmons is Nicky’s conversation with Jonathan as the industrial world returns, in which she reflects that human-beings must be free to make their own mistakes, decide their own futures, even if those decisions may seem dangerous and wrong.

This ending seems to express an optimism that an innate balance can be found.  Perhaps that is ultimately what The Changes is about – balance and equanimity.

Over time

Such has been the rapid pace of technological change over the last forty years that a pre-Changes world of 1975 probably feels to us, or certainly our children, almost medieval in its crudeness.   It’s strange to think that I lived through that ‘medievalism’.

The Changes remains an ambitious, challenging and highly original piece of television. The further away we move from the mid-70s, the more clearly I see how The Changes draws upon many themes of the time, themes I was only dimly aware of as a ten year old.  Those same themes – environmentalism, multiculturalism, racism – and The Changes itself, remain as pertinent today as nearly forty years ago.

Don’t be put off by the early-web appearance of Tony Gosling’s Bilderberg.com as this site as it is an excellent resource on The Changes.  In fact, its primitivism seems oddly fitting.

Robin Carmody’s essay is a passionate and insightful appreciation of The Changes.  

The Changes DVD Review