Bongo Fury proves a no-no for Virgin Records [by Miles]

 

Well what label did I buy it on then! Warner Bros on import it would seem!

Any Resemblance is Purely Coincidetal by Barry Miles

MACCA & MICK - more from Barry Miles on Paul McCartney ‘MANY YEARS FROM NOW'

 

'Mick Jagger often called at Cavendish Avenue and it was Paul and Mick who often checked with each other to make sure that the Beatles and the Stones didn't release a new single within the same few weeks, which would have split sales and jeopardised both their chances of reaching number one. After Marianne Faithfull left John Dunbar in January 1967 to live with Mick at Harley House on Marylebone Road, just across Regent's Park from Paul's house, they would often come to visit Paul together.

Marianne: We would go and see them a lot, but I don't remember him coming to us. Mick always had to come to his house, because he was Paul McCartney and you went to him. Paul never came to us. I was always very curious about how Mick saw him, how Mick felt about him. It was always fun to watch. There was always rivalry there. Not from Paul, none at all. Paul was oblivious, but there was something from Mick. It was good fun. It was like watching a game on the television.'

—from Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now, Barry Miles

The Macca files - Paul McCartney in Cavendish Avenue

 

'With Jane [Asher] no longer even nominally resident, Cavendish Avenue rapidly collapsed. In the living room a big jar of pot sat on the mantelpiece, books and records piled up all over the floor and the plywood model of the meditation dome became chipped and scarred with cigarette burns, tiny tangles of dog hair sprouting from the corners where Martha had pushed past.

I didn’t like asking for money because I thought it affected our friendship and I was also the one who approached him for help whenever International Times needed money to pay the staff; too many of the people he knew were hitting on him. However, he did say that I should never be scared to come to him if things were really bad. ‘Years from now,’ he said, ‘twenty years from now’, and it did look as if Indica Books would fold without an injection of cash, so I went begging once more. At least it was for the bookshop, not for me. 

I gave the secret three long rings on the doorbell, which all the girls gathered by the black metal gate knew anyway – they had eyes and ears – and was admitted. Paul’s house was set back from the road, with a front yard serving as a driveway. To the left of the house was the garage, concealing his Aston Martin DB5 and his wide-wheelbase black-glass Mini Cooper. The yard was lit by a Victorian street lamp, installed by Paul. Tea was served in his living-room, and we sat there like two English gentlemen. I asked for £3,000, to which he readily agreed and then quickly changed the subject, as if he were as embarrassed as I was at bringing it up.

Paul, having split up with Jane, was in what he later described as his ‘bachelor period’, and the house was full of semi-clad young women, one of whom looked in on us. Paul told her to go away; that we were talking business. She pulled a face and left. ‘It’s terrible,’ he said. ‘The birds are always quarrelling about something. There’s three living here at the moment.’ He laughed, because this was quite a new departure for him. Mostly I’d only ever visited the house when Jane Asher was there. ‘And there’s another one, an American groupie, flying in this evening. I’ve thrown her out once. I had to throw her suitcase over the wall. But it’s no good; she keeps coming back.’

Paul was clearly very pleased about something, and, business over, he leaped up and led the way upstairs to his music room. ‘Come and hear this,’ he said. He put on a white label acetate of ‘Back in the USSR’ that he had finished mixing the night before. ‘How do you think the cocky Americans will like that?’ he asked, and we both laughed.'

— Barry Miles, The Zapple Diaries. (2015)