The Encyclopedia of Dead Rock Stars by Jeremy Simmonds Read Free Book Online Page B

left IBC to become the first notable producer to lease his tapes to a variety of major labels. Few at this time realized he was recording many acts at his flat – merely a few rooms above a leather-goods outlet on North London’s Holloway Road. Despite this, a 1960 Top Ten hit with Michael Cox’s whimsical ‘Angela Jones’ on his short-lived Triumph Records was just a precursor to some extraordinary successes; British pop music was on the verge of major transformation and Meek was responsible for much of it in this pre-Beatles era. If the glorious ‘Johnny Remember Me’ by actor John Leyton was a pioneering 1961 effort that brought considerable attention, The Tornados’ 1962 communication-satellite overture ‘Telstar’ appeared to seal matters globally. This record was the first British hit to top the US chart – despite being dismissed by Germanborn bassist Heinz Burt as ‘crap’ on first playback. (It was later dubiously honoured as a favourite of Margaret Thatcher.)

    The brilliant Joe Meek: Often a little behind with his rent
    Joe Meek’s personal world was seldom functional, however. An unseemly incident and arrest for ‘importuning’ (the term then used for ‘soliciting’) broke the news of Meek’s sexuality to his family in 1963, although it had been an open secret within the industry for some time. A series of blackmail attempts by previous partners resulted, which only fired the latent paranoia of a man who was now experimenting with pills and hallucinogenics which intensified his belief that others were pilfering his gimmicks. One of his charges – Screaming Lord Sutch, whose schoolboy schlock-horror set pieces were ideal vehicles for the producer’s whims – was taken into a corridor to discuss business because Meek thought the entire flat had been bugged in his absence. In the event, none of Sutch’s records ever gave Meek a hit anyway, and it was French composer Jean Ledrut who threatened him with legal action, claiming he’d pilfered the melody for ‘Telstar’ (though Meek’s family were to win the legal battle for ownership of the song in 1968). It made little difference: Meek’s business acumen was virtually non-existent, and as the decade grew he was owed money, in debt and falling behind the twin stables of The Beatles/The Stones and their various coat-tailers. By 1967, a long, long time since his last major hit (The Honeycombs’ rousing 1964 number one ‘Have I the Right?’), Meek was fast becoming an anachronism in an industry that was picking up pace at frightening speed. His moods began to fluctuate wildly, and he was soon taking prescription medication for depression.
    On the morning of the eighth anniversary of Buddy Holly’s death ( Pre-1965), Joe Meek was in a belligerent mood. He was standing in the kitchen of his flat, studying unopened letters, when studio assistant Patrick Pink – who Meek was set to record – arrived for the day’s activities. Meek finished his breakfast in silence before disappearing to the upstairs studio. Pink was shortly joined by Meek’s landlady, Violet Shenton, who, observing the studio hand’s plight, offered to ‘talk Meek round’ (she had frequently dealt with Meek in the past, usually by banging a broom handle against her ground-floor ceiling). This time, though, an argument – apparently about Meek’s rent book – began to escalate in the room above Pink’s head. As he moved to investigate, a gunshot rang out. Shenton fell from the doorway, down the staircase and into his arms: she had been shot in the back. In utter shock and bemusement, Pink had barely mouthed the words, ‘She’s dead,’ when a second shot stopped him in his tracks. He looked up to see his boss prone on the studio floor, a gun by his body. Joe Meek died instantly, while 52-year-old Violet Shenton died on arrival at hospital. Police at the scene were quick to charge first Patrick Pink, then Heinz Burt, the gun’s owner (and for many years the target of