Better late than never…
Welcome Children Of The Freak

It’s my happening and it freaks me out!
Let’s fucking do this!

This week has marked the passing of The Electric Prunes singer James Lowe.
One of those bands that have an erratic history and even ended up not even being on the last two albums credited to them.
With more line up ins and outs than a nano thought of a one brain celled Maga moron, when the band were actually “allowed” to write their own tunage, they partied with the best of the West Coast psychsters.
This being one primo slice of spooky trip spectral goodness
Far out man, far fucking out!

Next up
Another band of ins and outs and a supposedly very mercurial leader, like The Charlatans ( No, not them) they didn’t really fit in.
Round pegs in the most squarest of holes, the beauty in mucho hindsight is that they produced one of the most varied and interesting catalogues. I think they were the US equal to The Incredible String Band.
Beautific Pacific

And finally
We leave the far ranging West Coast and head inland to the down and dirty streets of Motor City.
Not really associated with trippy guitar workout and more about Dope, Guns and Fucking In The Streets.
But the SRC were something of an enigma anyway. Not unlike classic Quicksilver Messenger Service twanging but were flowers in their hair didn’t wash in Detroit, the more darker edges cut thru the haze.
I fucking love SRC.

So there you have it kids
Another week bites the dust and so does this weekend.
I hope it’s been most splendid

See ya next time

RH X

23/05/2025

The boat slowly turned toward shore.  “We’re here,” a voice said.

Yes… yes you are my dearest freaks

Welcome to this week’s Heart Of Freakness and I’m your compound host, Col. Robert H Freak to guide your ears into the weekend.
There’s mines over there, there’s mines over there, and watch out those goddamn monkeys bite, I’ll tell ya.

Buckle up, here we go

Often accompanying a fierce slice n dice Upsetter skank, we have the mighty Dave Barker.
One of the original toasters with his demanding voice to coax the dancehalls into a rocksteady frenzy. He had a pretty sizable hit in the early 70’s with Ansell Collins in the legendary Double Barrel.
Who can beat an opening line of “ I… AM THE MAGNIFICENT”?
Yeah… that’s him, but this ain’t it.
Shocks Of Mighty is equally as thrilling and Scratch is firing on all cylinders

Next up:

Canned heat in the shape of a slice of extreme Young Gods metallic K.O.
I hear they’re making a return, which I might just have to pop along to and hope it’s as fucking blinding as they used to be live.
More Longue Route and less Skinflowers, s’il vous plaît…

D’accord!

And finally

When you love The Troggs (I do) and you love Cabaret Voltaire (lord know I do), imagine what you get when you combine the two.
The Cabs did a pulsating cover of The Seeds “No Escape” and here we have a similar path from Eric Debris.
When Metal Urbain shattered, Debris became Dr.Mix and turned a number of cover versions inside out on the Wall Of Noise album.
I have it on pretty good authority that two brothers in East Kilbride were fans.

That’s it for this week freakbeatniks

Slip your PBR ashore next week street gang, and we’ll snafu it all over again

Love your weekend because the weekend loves you

RH X

////// BONUS TRACK \\\\\\

In the morning we arise and start the day the same old way…

Not today Arthur,
let’s get far freaking out!

Here’s a bank holiday bonus freak for you freakniks

Forever Changes is in my top two fave albums of all time. It vies for the No.1 slot along with Exile, which purely depends on what mood I’m in. I’m happy with that, no complaints.
Recording of the album was troubled, and then some.
I’ve said it before, but I have a theory that often bands on the verge of splitting or having to deal with “issues” make the best albums.

Forever Changes

Exile On Main Street

Buffalo Springfield Again

All stand up to my theory.

Arthur had sacked most of the band because they didn’t seem to click with his panoramic paranoid vision of L.A. mixed in with the freaks (badge of honour, surely?), the drugs, the inevitable crumbling of the hippy dream… which I think he foretold two years before anyone else did, albeit in his own waking hours of feeling there’s trouble afoot, but he sees it differently.
Things weren’t good up at LOVE HQ, The Castle.
It was getting messy, and Arthur had begun the retreat into the self.

Getting sessions musicians from the Wrecking Crew in, Carol Kaye and Hal Blaine ( his snappy drumming on The Daily Planet is so beautiful, it defies explanation ) had caused further splits within the band.
Engineer Bruce Botnick pretty much had to coral Arthur away from lamping them because they couldn’t play what he was hearing in his head. They wanted to play so he had to tell them to shape up or get the fuck out. I think they got there in the end, but it was the last time the classic line up were together in a studio.

To compound the madness, possibly the weirdest occurrence of two outtakes being made into a single Your Mind And We Belong Together and Laughing Stock which would absolutely guarantee a complete flop.
But YMAWBT is certifiable genius. Every inch the complexities of what’s going on in Arthur’s troubled head.
By the time he’s tried to exorcise his demons, he claims he’s had enough and is locking his mind in the closet.
The multiple structures of all of Forever are in full force here. There’s another longer version of this where he’s obviously been goading Johnny Echols to out freak his fuzztastic freak solo, which goes on until he must be mentally exhausted, and Arthur pips in over the control desk mic…” that solo was really outta sight man!”
I can only imagine that was what it was like the whole time recording the album.
Driven to the edge and driving right the fuck over it.
It’s the audio equivalent of Thelma and Louise.
I fucking miss you Arthur Lee, you beautiful fucked up demon of fantastic paranoid wonderment.

16/05/2025

Listen to them, the children of the freak, what music they make.

Back in the ol days when labels like Decca, Deram and Parlophone would sign anyone with a mop top haircut, striped shirt, velvet strides and cuban heels, the plethora of 7”s that flooded the market only to sell 5 copies and the rest end up in a skip was enormous.
It’s heyday is what is known as Freakbeat. The rnb scronk and early psych splash hybrid that was pretty much unique to the British shores and the bands were plentiful, seemingly as common as the full english breakfast or toffee apples at the fair.
Typically, the surviving vinyl now commands mucho grande moolah.
This curio isn’t My Sharona, but it’s got more than a hint of Ticket To Ride with a dollop of Byrdsian charm.

Next up…
It’s no secret that The Creation/ Mark Four were the Mod freakbeat kings in casa del Hampson back in the day.
And quite rightly… purely for Eddie Phillips alone, the righteous prince of the action painting guitar.
He more than held his own next to Townsend and Page and it’s about fucking time he got the full credit he deserves.
Here we have the lesser played UK version of How Does It Feel To Feel.
A tad slower than the more popular US version, more reverby and ethereal and it doesn’t have the violin bow wonky overdub.
Listen to those purple flashes.

Lastly
It’s been up before, but this really has to be the actual complete prime example of how to do freakbeat right.
It has everything and the kitchen sink thrown in it and then given three blotters of white lightning and sent merrily on its way.
But it’s always worth repeating purely for the fact it’s so trippy, you can actually feel colours whilst listening to it without chemical help.
You can keep yer white bicycles, I’ll stick with me Vacuum Cleaner thanks.

Will love you and leave you right there

Until the freak returns

Have wonderful weekends and may the blessed freak be with you

RH X

10/05/2025

Welcome Freakheads!

Got some solid steppers for you this weekend.
Make yer drinks cold and throw in an extra measure for good luck.

Bill Callahan might break horses but here in Maison Hampson… we cut rugs.

First up, Nola’s finest purveyors of high grade fat funk… it’s only the fucking Meters innit.
Championed by the master Allen Toussaint, there wasn’t much funk gumbo around that they didn’t add their special ingredients to.
It’s hard not to pick a slice of serious Lee Dorsey pie for their flava, but here’s some very serious centre stage funkness
Ahhhhh yeah!

Next up…
Joy Division might have walked thru the city limits of their interzone, but it didn’t stop em pick pocketing the icy chill glassy riff of this next stepper.
Nolan Porter didn’t cut many sides, but when he did, they were gold.
Grab yer soul bag, talc the floor, we’re going dancin’

And lastly…
We had her ol’ man on here last week, but it’s said, without her, Miles might not have grazed in the fields of future funk.
His sunglasses got bigger, his clothes louder but here’s the lady that put the wah in his trumpet.
A brilliantly frazzled acid flash in her own right, Betty called the shots and the men just stood around her in awe.
She was different and basically, there’s not much that can touch her when she blazed.

That’s it fer now peeps

Maybe see ya next week?
You betcha

Have wonderful funk drenched weekends

RH X

02/05/2025

Fank Fuck it’s Friday Freak,

I’ll keep this brief… first they went after Kneecap, who’s next?
We’re systematically being shut down and told to shut up.
Where the fuck is free speech? What next? Thought crimes?
As the veneer of democracy starts to fade…
Loop have been asked multiple times to play Israel and I have always turned down the opportunity and said we will go when Palestine is free.
I’ve talked to Jewish friends and I have met some wonderful Israelis and they all have agreed with my stance.
And it shall remain until Palestine is free of tyranny.
Never took Sharon Osbourne as a snowflake, but she can fuck right off.
Stop digging Sharon, go eat some more Ozempic

There… got that off my chest.
Let’s have some stellar tunage.

First up
Talking Heads were a fantastic live band and by the time the Remain In Light tour kicked in, funk fiends like Buster Cherry Jones were in the line up.
They went off the boil for me trying to follow roads to nowhere, and as good as the first three albums were, they slayed it with Remain In Light.
The perfect album.
ENO is still in the mix and his fingerprints are all over it.
And he and David Byrne still had time to record the outstanding My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts.
Although they’d touched the Afro funk rhythms before on Fear Of Music, the wiggle was full on Fela Kuti by this one.
Crossed and Painless? Yes please Sir!

What can you say about Miles Davis that hasn’t already been said.
But when he was a shut in, paranoid about every single thing and coked out of his gourd, he wasn’t doing well in the studio.
His deal was lock tight and albums needed to be released.
Already a genius, Teo Maceo had to work his magic without Miles.
A veteran and I will say an incredibly astute editor, which is much the power of Miles.
Big Fun wasn’t really what the people wanted, a hotchpotch of outtakes from prime 70’s funky Miles.
But fuck me, Teo earned his pension compiling it and why oh why they never used Great Expectations on Bitches Brew, only Teo and Miles could tell you.
Has to be my all time fave Miles… he fucking runs the voodoo down on this one.
It’s long, but it snakes around your brain like the most potent drugs always do… stick with it, it’s fucking majestic.

Before Roky lost his mind, he was a prime garage punker.
A harmonica that out screeched Dylan, thank fuck they traded that for a jug that bubbled and went dugga dugga dugga a lot.
Here we have the original You’re Gonna Miss Me.
It’s got it all… terrible mix, terrible playing and that fucking harp.
Dunno how the cutting engineer got that on wax but he grabbed a couple of brownie points for it.
But most of all, this is def 110% ROKY laying it on the line and not fucking about.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the freak, I give you The Spades.

See ya next week
Same Freak Time
Same Freak Channel

Over n Out
RH X

25/04/2025

Greetings, Children Of Freak!

Back in the days before Kate Bush, the weird sister in the charts was the divine Noosha Fox.
Dressed head to toe in flamboyant attire from the 30’s, her unusual voice (which I must say, must have been quite the influence on fellow weird sister, Alison Goldfrapp) cut quite the swath in amongst the double denim and bubble top hairy blokey types.
As I say to friends (I do have a few) those were the days when Top Of The Pops hosted a wide array of tunage. Eclectic was the word and demolishes the auto tuned bullshit that gets called pop these days.
She wasn’t around for long as Fox but those singles were fantastically odd.
Here’s the best one I think, and some ace flanger work to boot.

David Thomas passed away on Wednesday.
I fucking love Pere Ubu – the avant garage, as they liked to say.
Even on his own or with whatever collaboration he would muster, he was the most intriguing fellow. A wonderful giant of a man who gave me hours of joy over the years.
Years ahead of his time, he truly is one of the highest peaks of freak.
Rest In Freak Crocus Behemoth
We don’t need a joke…

Lastly, a slither of later period/post Damo CAN
A beautiful bleary eyed Karoli led piece that relies less on the Holger majik edits and more on his radio interference pools of lushness…all of which gently evolves and evaporates only the way that these gentlemen could gather together.
Some fine stick work as always from Jaki, who keeps it minimal but still has the perfect heartbeat of perfect time.
If cats had thumbs, this gets a double thumbs up from my cat. She likes this one, it sends her to sleep.

Til next time
Keep the freak flag flying

RH X

20/04/2025

Hey Boy
Hey Girl
Superstar Freakdom
Here we go!

Let’s get it on with some superior cosmic slop from a real god… Mr George Clinton.
An anthem for a star child and something to believe in fer real. The kingdom of heaven is within.
Free Your Mind and Your Ass Will Follow… probably only to the local supermarket for that forgotten pint of milk, but there you go.
As a side note :
Fuckin’ Eddie Hazel playing his absolute A game… god damn… and what about that organ distortion?!
A rival to Cale on Sister Ray on any day of the week.

Next up!
The mighty Stacy Sutherland takes his stand. It’s not just Roky y’know.
Like Eddie Hazel, his playing is majik on another level.
But both died way too fucking young and they just don’t get the props they really should do.
C’mon, it’s Easter Everywhere!

And finally o peeps of faith!
The mighty ( and I’ll say it to the day I die, best drum programmer that lives) Photek.
Running some rings around Saturn in that beautiful skip only he can rustle up… with some astral travelling help from Pharoah Sanders.

That’s it fer me this week.
I hope you are all having superior weekends.
As yer Ma would say… “don’t be spoiling your dinner with all those choc eggs!”

Love and Light
RH X

11/04/2025

Welcome to the Freak all you people out there

It’s been quite the day in my part of the world… that’s Sunny Leeds to you.

A sunny shimmer will purvey the list this week me thinks.

Let’s have a bit of Serge, shall we?
Bonnie and Clyde?
Why not…
Prime period Serge and his then current obsession with B.B., who for the great mysterious beauty that she was… couldn’t sing a fucking note the same way twice.
That aside, this is a stone cold classic. Unique and masterfully done. Peak Serge.
And B.B’s Nicoesque honking doesn’t spoil a damn second.
You’ll be saying “Bon-eeeeeee” all weekend now.

Back in the days when Phil Oakey was still wanted and chasing a cocktail waitress around Sheffield, he cut a very different dash under that curtain of hair alongside a couple of fellas that didn’t want a fascist groove thang later on.
People talked seriously of The League with the same chin stroking edge as fellow Sheffield types like The Cabs and Clock DVA.
Weird lyrics and dark passages surrounded their black hit of space on two great albums, Reproduction and Travelogue.
How different things would have been if this had been the biggest hit in the land.
Electronic Pop don’t get much better than this tall wall.

And finally…
He was the godfather of soul and if he wanted his licking stick quick, he fucking got it.
Damn Right

Some hot funk to finish and you go start your weekends right peeps
Have fantastic ones wherever you roam

RH X

05/04/2025

Late again, and I’m normally so punctual.
Old age and a weathered brain do not go hand in hand.

Anyways, let’s get into it.

First up we have one of my favourite bands ever to exist on this here globe…
Cabaret Voltaire.
Jazz The Glass originally came as a seven inch wrapped up with the Eddies Out / Walls Of Jericho 12”
All encased in a plastic wallet and you got a free badge too
Lots of neon pink involved.
It’s a mad little fucker, don’t know if the boys had been to a tapas bar that night in Sheffield but there’s a distinct Spanish flavour to the track and I have always assumed Mal is screeching Ahhh Toro!
Maybe not… but it’s a cracker and complemented still by Chris Watson’s Vox Continental organ doing its best proto Seeds psyche out.

One for the Aussies here today… Severed Heads
What can be said about the warped touch of Mr Tom Ellard? One minute (actually more like 6) you get a tape loop of a basketball bouncing and doing its best to be that annoying little fucker next door that just won’t stop bouncing that cunting ball all fucking day… and then you get the pop genius of Dead Eyes Opened.
Years before techno, this obviously has common ground with Kraftwerk… but with morbid humour.

Actually another for the Aussies, it’s a twofer!
We’ll leave with the company of Graham Revell/SPK
This is where the industrialist sprawl became quite something else, more ethereal and plaintive.
The whole of the Zamia Lehmanni: Songs of Byzantine Flowers is liquid beauty and obviously the pointer to Mr Revell’s future in Hollywood.
If you think you’ve heard it before but can’t place it, it’s used sparingly in the movie Dead Calm in a slightly changed form.

That’s it for the freak this week.
See ya next one!

Have splendid weekends everyone,
Over n out
RH X

29/03/2025

Welcome to a slightly later makin’ with the freak freak.
Second week in and I’m already slack.

Let’s hit it or quit it fellows and remember… PLAY IT FUCKING LOUD

First up, in tribute to the last of the Dolls, a fearless bunch of freaks if there ever was a day, the lightening strike that is Jet Boy.
One of the many high points of a much neglected classic first elpee, which I still say to this very day, that Todd Rundgren was the right man for the job of helming and I think he captured the mercer street spirit splendidly.
As an aside, when I was a very very young man, I turned up for the first day of a job in my resplendent Dolls tee ( this very album cover shot ) and pretty much the first thing the manager said to me was “ I knew you’d be trouble”
A very high compliment to me naturally.
Anyway, enough of my yakking, let’s rock this motherfucker!
RIP David Johansen

Next!
Another bunch of street fighting muthafuckers were The Five.
Sadly, now all gone too.
Looking At You is the rug stomping high of the still hard to listen to Back In The USA mishap.
Don’t get me wrong, not much wrong with the songs, but how can such a violently proud B52 bomber of a band sound so enfeebled by a lousy production?
Well, I ain’t here to split hairs when the party’s on, so get yer lugholes around this beautiful shaker

Finally, a little lighter number but still a slice of hip shakin heaven, courtesy of Tennessee’s finest… Mr Bobby “Blue” Bland.
It’s blues breakin’ but with the unmistakable Bland heart full of soul.

So that’s it for this week freak
Have wonderful weekends all of you
Until we see each other again

Adios amigos
RH X