The roots of punk rock have been analyzed, dissected, and debated to death, and even though I could talk about this stuff forever, we’ll save the broader story for another time. But just for the context of this month’s feature, here’s a little background. The early UK punk scene comprised a mix of influences from the ‘50s and ‘60s and a few odds and ends from the decade from which it was spawned, the 1970s. And that’s where a scrappy little proto–pop-punk combo called Slik began to rear its collective spiky head. (More on that in a minute.)
Several trends and factors catalyzed the rise of punk rock in the UK during the mid-to-late 1970s. The UK music scene of the early 1970s was heavily informed by glam, pub, and prog rock, genres that shaped the setting for punk’s rise by providing both inspiration and a backdrop for rebellion.
One of the most apparent influences was the pub rock scene that came together in the early ‘70s via several raucous ts back-to-basics bar bands that encapsulated the rebellious spirit that would eventually inform punk. Bands like Eddie and the Hot Rods, Dr. Feelgood, Brinsley Schwarz, The 101ers (featuring future Clash star Joe Strummer), and Kilburn and the High Roads, to name a few. The scene’s DIY ethos and in-your-face vintage rock ‘n’ roll stylings were definitively a connection point for the rise of punk.
The UK glam rock scene was on the other side of the spectrum. At the top tier were David Bowie, T. Rex, and Roxy Music, all with an arty side that enhanced the theatrical aspects of their stage personas. But, there was also a slew of early UK glam bands down the food chain that were louder, dumber, and far more in-your-face. Bands such as Slade, Sweet, Gary Glitter, Mud, and the Glitter Band all employed first-pumping pop refrains set to loud guitars, danceable beats, and chain-gang choruses that were as infectious as they were primitive. While the two scenes may not have had much in common on the surface, they both had elements that harkened back to the raucous swing of early rock ‘n’ roll, which would make a resurgence during the ‘70s. And prog rock, with its complex makeup and pretentious prognosticators, was the antithesis to punk’s back-to-basics, DIY approach, and in turn, helped to spur on its development via the resentment early punks had for its music.
Enter Slik. Formed in Glasgow, Scotland, during the early ‘70s under the moniker Salvation, the band went through several iterations before finding its footing in 1974 with members Kenny Hysolp (Oil Slik) on drums, Jim McGinlay (Jim Slik) on bass, Billy McIsaac (Lord Slik) on keyboards and the then unknown James “Midge” Ure on guitar and lead vocals. If the singer’s name sounds familiar, that’s because he’d later go on to superstardom as the frontman of new wave icons Ultravox, plus stints in pop-punk supergroup with ex-Sex Pistol Glen Matlock in Rich Kids, new romantic trailblazers Visage and even a role in Thin Lizzy. A musical virtuoso, punk pioneer, and songwriter writ large, Ure is still a big deal, but for some reason, his tenure in Slik rarely gets mentioned.
Slik was an interesting band. With a youthful and rebellious image and penchant for loud guitars and bombastic performances, the band soon found itself under the wing of pop songwriting duo Bill Martin and Phil Coulter, who were also writing songs for another youthfully exuberant band, the Bay City Rollers, who’d have global success with stomping pop-rock numbers like “Saturday Night” and “Shang-a-Lang.” Ironically, while written off by critics and serious musicians as lightweight bubblegum pop, the Rollers played their own instruments, employed anthemic chants, and sported spiky hair long before it was en vogue in punk circles. They were also a big influence on the Ramones. On top of all this, there are several references to the Rollers within the Sex Pistols canon, even stories about how manager Malcolm McLaren saw his Sex Pistols as the “dark side” of the Bay City Rollers.
While it was obvious Martin and Coulter saw their new protege Slik as the heir apparent to the BCR throne — even dressing them up in coordinated baseball outfits — global success would ultimately elude the band. That being said, Slik put out a solid pop-rock record (self-titled, 1976) and a clutch of singles that warrant further investigation. Throughout its career, the band would be affiliated with several labels. Still, most of its output would be through Bell Records, known for its glam rock roster, including another proto-punk, Suzi Quatro.
Rife with hooky anthems and haunting, melodramatic ballads, the Slik album is an entertaining ride from start to finish. From the stomping “The Boogiest Band in Town” with its nod to the 1950s, to the eerie ballad and hit single “Forever and Ever” and the anthemic “The Kid’s a Punk” (a purposeful nod to the new scene percolating in the UK), the album covers a lot of ground. One has to wonder if the band was not so constrained by its songwriting handlers, its true pre-punk spirit would’ve been unleashed to a further extent — especially given Ure’s future pedigree.
Ironically, after a few more singles and mild success around the UK and Europe, Jim Slik would be replaced by future Skids and Public Image Ltd. member Russell Webb, and the band would soon morph into the full-on punk outfit P.V.C.2, releasing the excellent triple-A-side single “Put You in the Picture.” The new band’s output would be slim, and Ure would soon leave to join Rich Kids. The other three would carry on as post-punk outfit The Zones, but success would pass them by.
While Slik will most likely be resigned to a footnote scratching the surface of the UK’s glam and punk scenes and a springboard for Midge Ure, its brief legacy has recently gotten a shot in the arm via a sweet new comp, The Complete Slik Collection (7T’s Records). Featuring the band’s entire recorded output, this 2-disc set includes a booklet detailing the band’s history and discography, plus a slew of bonus tracks, including the recordings from P.V.C.2, The Zones, and even a track from Rich Kids (a cover of “Put You in the Picture”).
Had its timing and circumstances been different, and had Slik picked the punk lane, perhaps we’d be having a very different conversation, talking instead about a plush, multi-album and coffee-table book box set and recounting all of the serious critical acclaim the band had garnered during its heyday. But alas, as is often the fate of many pop-oriented bands, Slik’s legacy will most definitely be relegated to lightweight bubblegum status, even though its members could not only play the hell out of their instruments but also had more than a few clever ideas up its collective sleeves.
For questions, comments, or something you’d like to see, drop me a line: Retrohead77@yahoo.com.
