Makin' Time
Rhythm and Soul

The collection and who published it was to blame.

A few weeks ago, Acid Jazz released this collection called "5, 4, 3, 2, 1... The Countdown Records Story."

To put it briefly, in the mid-'80s, Countdown was part of a small mod and beat revival and among its ranks were groups that, even if they didn't write the official history of rock'n'roll, were able to carve a deep niche into the hearts of many enthusiasts; the Prisoners by Graham Day, above all, still occupy that niche firmly today, like a front-line trench.

At the time, Graham Day was paired with Fay Hallam, a talented Hammond organist whom someone described as "Brian Auger and Julie Driscoll in one body" and who, of course, had her own band, Makin' Time.

So, Makin' Time kicks off the collection dedicated to the home groups at Countdown with a remarkable rendition of Elvis Costello's "Pump It Up" but, above all, they crafted two albums, each more beautiful than the other, and to make their debut "Rhythm And Soul" even more precious was that element of surprise that always matters a lot to me, then as now.

The Makin' Time were a highly flammable mix of soul with northern spasms, rhythm'n'blues, and beat, and they had a deadly groove that literally lifted you and spun you incessantly in a nonstop dance that often led to pogo and occasionally granted you the respite of a cheek-to-cheek dance: across the channel, I think they say super groovy and super catchy.

The first five songs, from "Take What You Can Get" to "Did I Tell You," from that "WWWWWEEEELLLLL" shouted with all the breath those three boys and that girl had in their lungs that opens the rehearsal garage door for you, and continues for about fifteen minutes, really offer you no escape and overwhelm you worse than a moody Mike Tyson; "Honey" is a sumptuous and mellow soul ballad that helps you get up from the mat and catch your breath just before that blow to the head at the edge of the garage called "I Gotta Move," and still now, just as forty years ago, the first thing it brings to mind is that if the Sonics had ever been a mod group, they would have sounded exactly like this; "The Girl That Touched My Soul" is another big ballad, even more beautiful than "Honey," and those four offer it to you as a peace offering, almost apologizing for having hit you too hard so far, I remove the chorus and I even hear the more relaxed Died Pretty from the times of "Free Dirt"; but even so, to understand what a great band Makin' Time was, I always have to get to the end, to that "Stop Crying Inside" that so many, from the high ranks of the Jam to the low ranks of Wham, would have sold their soul and even their mother to the devil to write it.

And yet it was written by the bassist of Makin' Time, Martin Blunt, who a few years later gained worldwide fame and quite a stash of sterling by founding the Charlatans and starting that bizarre story that some still remember as Madchester.

Fame and fortune well-deserved, but, the way I am, those Makin' Time in the background and in slight shadow were a much more beautiful story.