The Missing Links, 1965

Sydney’s Missing Links were without doubt one of the most extraordinary Australian groups of their time, or any other. In barely three years of existence, the legendary Links managed to survive one complete line-up change; make headlines with their outrageously long hair (which actually was long, not just a bit of shaggy fringe); incorporate feedback and onstage destruction while many bands were still politely trotting out Beatles and Shadows covers in shiny suits — and finally got to release the most startlingly experimental and uncommercial Australian album of the 1960s before swiftly self-destructing in a haze of overindulgence, paranoia and general Rock & Roll craziness.  Yes, the Missing Links were punk pioneers.  Too loud, too outrageous, too unstable, too provocative, too young, too dirty, too destructive, too scary — too much.

The Missing Links began in early 1964, when a 19-year-old rhythm guitarist/vocalist/fibro-clerk named Peter Anson placed a musician’s advertisement in the Sydney Morning Herald.  Anson, along with drummer Danny Cox, had been playing in a little ad hoc musical outfit for a while with no real success; but the emergence of the Rolling Stones inspired the pair to have a proper crack at getting an electric R&B band together.  A couple of guys from a surf group called the Mystics — both lead guitarist Dave Boyne and bass player/ harmonicist Ronnie Peel — answered the ad, and an audition was duly held at the flat that Peter Anson shared with a couple of wild university-dropout brothers named John and Norm Stannard.  The two ex-Mystics fit in perfectly with Cox and Anson, so rehearsals quickly began in earnest. 

      Unbeknown to the band members themselves, there was still one link missing (so-to-speak) in the group — in the form of a curly-headed workmate of Dave Boyne named Bob Brady.  Brady had become a regular at band rehearsals, occasionally taking over the vocal mike or else bashing his tambourine or shaking his maracas in an attempt to get noticed.  The ruse worked, and even though Peter Anson had been more-than-willing to handle lead vocals; the idea of a percussive frontman (a la Mick Jagger, Paul Jones) was not altogether disagreeable.  The aforementioned Stannard brothers assumed the role of management, and the group were ready to rock.  The name ‘Missing Links’ was apparently chosen after a venue owner had commented that the group looked like “a cross between man and ape”.       

      In mid-1964, the Links began to gig around Sydney.  Peter Anson’s brother Cliff was working as a roadie for Billy Thorpe & the Aztecs at the time, and through him they managed to link up with John Harrigan — promoter extraordinaire.  Harrigan had an entire network of live venues under his  control; old surfie haunts such as the “Beach House”, “Surf City”, “Stomp City” and the “Pacific”, which — along with the gigs that Norm Stannard was finding — ensured that the Missing Links would have more than enough live work for the rest of the year.  Some of the more bizarre shows that the Missing Links played in 1964, were at a formal high society 21st birthday bash... a 1920s-style Speakeasy club (owned by genuine members of the Kings Cross underworld!)... a lunchtime store appearance in Newcastle hosted by a “Zany masked DJ from the USA” (which was promptly stopped by police).. and a benefit concert for Richard Neville, Martin Sharp and Richard Walsh’s groundbreaking Oz magazine, which had been recently prosecuted for obscenity (not for the last time as things would turn out!).

      The Missing Links soon became headline material.  Their physical appearance alone (read, hair) guaranteed plenty of cheap and vacuous publicity, typical of the era.  Peter Markmann remarks in his excellent liner notes to the Driving You Insane CD that, “Peter Anson had the longest hair of any male in Sydney” — and certainly, photographs from the period tend to confirm this statement.  The Oz connection also saw the ‘Links appear on the long-running ABC magazine-style programme ‘People’. 

Excerpt from The Definitive Article (Driving You Insane, CD booklet) by Peter Markmann

This television appearance also caught the eye of Australia’s “Wild One” Johnny O’Keefe, who had his own show on the ABC called ‘Sing Sing Sing’.  O’Keefe had previously given Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs grief over the length of their hair (he even proffered his own personal barber to “clean them up”) and one look at the unruly Missing Links persuaded him to bar them from his show outright, no questions asked. 

      As British R&B-based bands (Animals, Manfreds, Stones etc) began to make serious dents in the Australian charts, a couple of record labels realised that it could actually be worth taking notice of the Missing Links after all.  Festival expressed initial interest, as did RCA, but it was the EMI subsidiary Parlophone who snared the Missing Links in late-1964 after A&R man Tony Geary spotted them at a lunchtime concert for 2UW.  Geary, along with a young music publisher named Ted Albert, had made it clear in 1964 that Parlophone were interested in signing new and original talent — the pair also procured another young five-piece group during this period: The Easybeats.

      Tracks were laid down for the Missing Links’ début single with Ted Albert and Tony Geary overseeing the production.  A swinging bass-driven cover of Johnny Kidd and the Pirates’ 1961 hit Shakin’ All Over was done — as was a mad version of Leiber & Stoller’s Kansas City featuring Peter Anson on lead vocals.  (A version of Bo Diddley was also recorded but never completed.)  A clutch of original tunes were also taped, including the ultra-primitive Dave Boyne composition Come My Way, the incomplete Go Back (ingeniously reconstructed on the 1999 Driving You Insane CD) and arguably, the best Missing Links Mk I recording of them all — the John Stannard (he of the brothers Stannard) and Peter Anson original All I Want.  All I Want could’ve quite easily been an obscure 50s hit for some psychobilly white trash group from the American South — it has that kind of nervous energy.  The entire song sustains itself with just one simple two-note riff [E-G] and an equally basic bridge part [A-B].  The second Missing Links line-up re-recorded the song on their eponymously titled LP, but to my ears their version tends to lack the spark and character of the original.

      A few changes occurred between the time of the recording sessions and the release of the group’s first single.  For one thing, the guys all quit their already tentative day jobs, and with the exception of drummer Danny Cox, they all took over a household in the outer-western suburb of Parramatta (well... there goes the neighbourhood!)  The 1964-65 New Year period also saw the departure of long-time Missing Links cohorts the Stannard brothers.  Although Norm and John Stannard had been instrumental in getting the band up and happening, the managerial arrangement between them and the group had always been casual at best.  So when a guy called Dave Bond offered his services after a gig in Katoomba, the ‘Links decided to try him out.  With Dave Bond in charge, a Missing Links fan club was founded, bigger gigs were booked in bigger halls and a support slot on the Rolling Stones first Australian tour was tentatively teed up.  (Unfortunately though, the Stones support never happened — both the Missing Links and the equally wild Easybeats were rejected by promoter Harry M. Miller in favour of the safer, blander and far less exciting Torquays.)

      In March 1965, Parlophone issued Peter Anson’s We 2 Should Live and the Stannard-Anson track Untrue as the Missing Links début single.

Maggie Makeig, Everybody’s, 17/3/1965.

Taking its cue from one of Peter Anson’s favourite performers Huddie Ledbetter (aka: Leadbelly), We 2 Should Live commences with a decidedly folk blues 12-string acoustic guitar figure.  The vocals meanwhile, are pure Jagger (“Well ahh want you back with me bay-beh!!”).  But whilst being by-no-means a particularly commercial choice for a single, We 2 Should Live holds the distinction of being Australia’s first original R&B 45 — pipping the Easybeats’ equally wonderful For My Woman by one solitary catalogue digit.  The flip-side Untrue is classic angsty garage punk.  Dumb, naïve and superb.  The single sold only moderately in Australia but according to Glenn A. Baker in his Raven EP LP liner notes, We 2 Should Live actually made #2 in New Zealand.

      Despite the merry-go-round of wild gigs, wild girls, non-stop jamming and wild partying at the Parramatta house — not-to-mention the excitement of having their very own record in the shops — all was not well within the Missing Links’ camp.  Drummer Danny Cox was first to express his discontent, particularly over the chronic lack of financial return despite nearly a year of non-stop work.  But it was lead guitarist Dave Boyne who made the first move.

Excerpt from The Definitive Article (Driving You Insane, CD booklet) by Peter Markmann

All was not lost however.  Way back at the beginning when Boyne and his ex-Mystics band mate Ronnie Peel first auditioned for the Missing Links job, another ex-Mystic — 18-year-old guitarist John Jones — had also expressed interest in joining the group.  But as the two guitar spots were already filled, Jones offered his services instead as an occasional roadie for the band (he did own a huge 1940s Hudson after all).  With the departure of Dave Boyne, John Jones stepped into the Missing Links line-up before the valves on Boyne’s 50-watt Fender Reverbmaster even had a chance to cool down!  Drummer Danny Cox was the next Link to go missing, and his space was promptly filled by an intense 17-year-old who called himself Andy James (real name: Andy Anderson — the surname was a nod to slide-guitar blues-legend Elmore James).  Born-and-raised in the Hutt Valley in Wellington, New Zealand, Andy was a young man in search of adventure.  Having previously played drums in a couple of bands back in NZ, he was on his way to Britain to check out the famous London scene — but a short stopover in Sydney changed all that.  Andy James ventured into the Manly Hotel and asked if he could sit in with the band playing there.

Bassist Ronnie Peel in conversation with Dean Mittelhauser, Livin’ End #3, November 1984.

      But the extent of the Missing Links’ dysfunctionality was more deep-set than even the members themselves were aware of.  Founding member Peter Anson was next to jump.  He formed a band called the Syndicate, which metamorphosed into Jeff St John and The Id. In late-May, bassist Ronnie Peel was offered a post in The PleaZers — an ex-Brisbane combo who were soon to move to New Zealand. Vocalist Bob Brady left the band too. He later turned up in the seminal R&B soul band Python Lee Jackson and was spotted later in the 1970s running a topless nightclub in Bondi Junction. 

      From thereon, the Missing Links’ situation got completely chaotic and out-of-hand.  Various members came and went (see interim line-up above), but in the end it was down to the two relative newcomers; John Jones and Andy James to construct a new model Missing Links. 

      The first and most promising new recruit for the new Missing Links line-up was a baby-faced bowl-haired lead guitarist from Port Macquarie, named Douglas Alvos Ford (born 26th January 1946, at Casino, New South Wales).

Doug Ford in conversation with Dean Mittelhauser in Livin’ End #3, November 1984.

Next to join the ragged fray was a dark-n-brooding harmonica-player and organist named Chris Gray.  Borne of wealthy parents, young Christopher Gray was determined to rebel at all costs.  His previous musical experience in blues, folk and jug bands had not been enough to satisfy his wild streak; so the opportunity to join a bunch of grungy and dirty guys like the Missing Links was enough, he knew, to really piss the folks off. 

      The new Missing Links line-up was completed when John Jones made an overture to Ian Thomas — tall and talented bass player with the rapidly disintegrating Showmen.  Surprisingly, John Jones’ recruitment drive managed to land the Links not one, but two new band members.  Showmen drummer Baden “Hutch” Hutchins was also revealing plans to defect — and the situation of a second drummer in the fledgling line-up was a perfect one for wild Kiwi Andy James.  This meant that James was now free to sing, scream, run around, bash congas and swing from rafters to his heart’s delight — instead of being hemmed in behind a drum kit.  Visually too, Hutch and Thomas were a perfect pair for the new group.  Having managed to avoid working in any sort of ‘real job’ for a over a year-and-a-half, Ian Thomas and Baden Hutchins had cultivated a couple of very impressive manes.  The new Missing Links line-up was beginning to look pretty good.

      The band didn’t waste any time in getting themselves known.  Having achieved permission by the original members to retain the Missing Links name, they seized a recording contract with the international Philips label on the strength of their reputation alone. Peter Markmann perceptively suggests in The Definitive Article, that the Philips signing may have had something to do the company’s recent success with fellow long-haired (English) R&B wild men the Pretty Things.  Certainly many conservative record labels, then as now, thought it wise to keep at least one token “cutting edge” act on their roster — just in case!  Interestingly, the only other Australian signing on Philips at the time was Kamahl — a charming Sri Lankan MOR crooner who is still popular to this day.

      So in late-winter 1965, within just weeks of formation, the Missing Links began recording at the Philips studio in Clarence Street, Sydney. 

The facilities were primitive even for the time, and the six Links found themselves cramped into very confined quarters.  No producer was present (which is probably a blessing in retrospect), and most of the recordings were done after hours, using the elevator well as an echo chamber.  The songs were barely rehearsed, and some were practically made up on the spot.

Excerpt from The Definitive Article (Driving You Insane, CD booklet) by Peter Markmann.

The classic Missing Links Mark II line up

The first single to eventuate from the nocturnal Philips sessions was the sensational You’re Driving Me Insane.  Backed by a fairly throwaway version of Eddie Cochran’s 1959 hit Somethin’ Else, You’re Driving Me Insane was released in August 1965.  Written (if, indeed ‘written’ is the appropriate word) by ex-Showmen drummer Baden Hutchins, the song consists almost entirely of just two (count ‘em) sludgy chords [G-F] and the lyrics: “When I kiss your lips, you’re driving me insane!” repeated over-and over.  But it’s the fiery and passionate all round performance that makes You’re Driving Me Insane so great.  Andy James’ vocals are intense and feral — occasionally letting loose with a blood-curdling scream that would frighten even Dr. Arthur Janov.  Drums and congas too, are attacked with all the ferocity of a roomful of Keith Moons — and even though it sounds at times as if Hutch is playing beer cartons instead of drums, he still manages to occasionally swamp the whole band with his thunderous rolls.  Guitars buzz and rattle over Chris Gray’s thin and piercing two-fingered organ lines, and when Andy James announces: “Your radio’s too low — turn it up!” the song launches into overdrive, continuing to power along until about the 2min-50second mark, when the whole thing suddenly just splinters off.  You’re Driving Me Insane is just about as good as 60s Punk gets — raw, powerful, exciting and REAL. 

      Eleven years later, a version of You’re Driving Me Insane sung by actor/musician Graham Matters became the main theme for the feature film Oz, directed by one-time Campact bassist Chris Lovfen.  25 years further down the track and Mojo magazine’s (UK) Spring 2001 edition voted You’re Driving Me Insane at #37 in their inaugurual “Freakbeat” top 50. Only 500-or-so copies of the original You’re Driving Me Insane were pressed by Philips, so not surprisingly it made zero impact on the charts.  Live-wise however, the Missing Links were creating a sensation.

      Amidst a sonic wall of thunderous rhythms, wailing harmonica and screeching feedback, crazed frontman Andy James would scream full-pelt into the microphone; and during hypnotic elongated jams such as their version of Bo Diddley’s Mama Keep Your Big Mouth Shut (which could last for anything up to 40 minutes) he’d thrust his mike stand into the wooden stage floor, scale the walls and leap from ceiling rafters.  No Australian audience had yet witnessed such anarchic behaviour on a Rock & Roll stage, and it would be some years before they ever would again.

“John [Jones] cooked up this deal with an amp company to sponsor us, and they supplied all our equipment.  We’d do a half a dozen jobs and take them back and tell them that they were buggered, because we really used to smash ‘em to smithereens.  We used to get it up that loud, I’ll never forget this, we did a gig at the “Bowl”, and one of the ceilings was all mirrors and we made it collapse.”

Baden Hutchins in conversation with Dean Mittelhauser, Livin’ End #6, July 1986.

“We packed out Suzie Wong’s.  We were a real joke to a lot of them, but the fans who did come down were die hard, real fired up... You’d have Doug Ford driving his guitar into the PA system and me...bashing shit out of a conga drum with a mike, making ringing sounds, with John Jones feeding back for I don’t know how long.”

 Andy Anderson (James) in conversation with Andrew Schmidt, Ugly Things #17, mid-1999.

The Missing Links

Barely one month after the release of You’re Drivin Me Insane, Philips issued a second Missing Links single.  And as unlikely as it may seem, it was in every way as phenomenal as its predecessor:

You make me feel just like a savage

Yeah I’m runnin’ through the jungle after you

I’m like a wild man on the rampage

Yeah, I’m tearin’ things apart uh-honey where are you?

I feel like a horror movie creature

But baby I don’t wanna spare you

You know you look so good that I could eatcha

But I wouldn’t kiss an apple so I won’t eat you

I’m wild about the way-out clothes you wear

About ya pretty dresses, your teased-up hair

Ya laugh at people who stare at you

Well laugh at me baby I’m starin’ too, ‘cos you’re wild!

And I’m wild about you

You’re wild, I’m wild about you (tell me ‘bout it)

(Ooww!!) Feel like a horror movie creature

Well I-I don’t wanna spare you

Yeah you look so good that I could eatcha

But I wouldn’t kiss a steak so I won’t eat you…

Wild About You (A.James), © Control, 1965.

In the beginning, three muddy intro chords [E-G-B] are strummed beneath a cicada-like rasp of guitar scratches... and then the organ comes in — all strange, speeded-up and spacey sounding — before the immortal first line: “You make me feel just like a savage!” is screamed out in a spit of gravel.  Wild About You is perhaps the most crazed piece of Australian vinyl to be released in the 1960s.  The production (if you can call it that) has a pulsing Phil Spector feel to it, due to vast amounts of dense reverb that makes each individual instrument almost totally indistinguishable from another.  Only the woofling bass and thin reedy organ manage to constantly cut through the mire.  Doug Ford contributes a magnificent Dave Davies-like guitar solo before Andy James lets fly with the most deranged, full-throated scream in Rock & Roll history (“well… yes you’re WIIIILLD!!!”) and the song then literally self-destructs, leaving in its wake but a lonely scream of wailing feedback.  And counter-wise to so many 60s Punk “classics”, Wild About You — and for that matter You’re Driving Me Insane before it — are refreshingly non-misogynistic expressions of male energy.  Rather than your typical “Mah baby done me wrong an’ now she’s gonna pay…” kind of lyric, which tends to dominate the Sixties Punk idiom; You’re Driving Me Insane and Wild About You are CELEBRATIONS of sexual attraction and passion — positive exclamations of love and excitement rather than spiteful macho vilification.

      On the flip-side, bassist Ian Thomas made his vocal début with the ‘Links on their version of Eddie Cochran’s Nervous Breakdown.  As with Insane, a limited amount of Wild About You 45s were issued by Philips (perhaps only 200 copies tops), and these only ever sold to the band’s immediate live following. 

      In the same month that Wild About You was released, the Missing Links Mk II made the first of only two television appearances — on the popular Saturday night “teentertainment” show ‘Ten On The Town’, hosted by Mike Walsh.  The band mimed You’re Driving Me Insane, and according to Peter Markmann in The Definitive Article: “If [viewers] weren’t blown away, the band nearly was.  Unbeknownst to the Links, a high-powered wind machine had been set up which plastered them with leaves and talcum powder all over them during their act.”  The band’s performance aroused the attention of many interested viewers, with a few writing to the TV Times ranging from “outraged indignation to rabid appreciation”.  One girl from Bondi declared the Missing Links on ‘Ten On The Town’ to be “the best performance of Australian talent yet seen!”, but added, “I think maybe ‘the Links’ are too wild to catch on in Australia..”

      There were some members of the public at this time who certainly did consider the ‘Links to be too extreme.  After all, mid-60s Australia was not a place known for its open-armed tolerance of individual thought and expression.  For any young man with hair falling faintly below the collar during those years, the threat of a random beating was a fact of life.

Andy Anderson (James), Ugly Things #17, 1999.

Doug Ford, Livin’ End #3, 1984.

Andy James

So intense was this oppressive atmosphere, that keyboardist Chris Gray reportedly took to carrying a loaded rifle with him — even taking it onstage at one point.  But it wasn’t just the band who were going slowly crazy at this stage.  In October 1965 it seemed that Philips, the band’s own record company, were also abandoning their last shreds of sanity.  Because for the third time in as many months, Philips issued yet another Missing Links’ single — and this one was a doozy.  If You’re Driving Me Insane and Wild About You hadn’t been primal and uncommercial enough, then how do you figure two sides of a 45 rpm single containing nothing but over five-and-a-half minutes of reverse-tape?? 

      Released under the cryptic title of H’tuom Tuhs (Parts 1 and 2).  The fourth Missing Links single was a feedback-ridden 5’40” version of Bo Diddley’s Mama Keep Your Big Mouth Shut played backwards!

      When the Beatles released their Revolver LP in the second half of 1966, everybody remarked upon how “innovative” and “futuristic” their use of reverse tape was.  And certainly it was — no argument there.  So how do you explain H’tuom Tuhs, which had been released almost a year beforehand?  Apparently while the band were in the studio, they’d heard the tape being spooled back and thought that it sounded better that way.  Andy James remarked that the Missing Links had always been aiming for a sound that was somewhere between the jungle and outer-space.  And with H’tuom Tuhs and its satanic “Hush now kay-pon-yee” reverse chant, loping sucking bass and mesmerising backward rhythms — they came about as close to “outer space jungle music” as possible.  Pure madness!  Brilliant!

Toward the end of ‘65, an entire Missing Links album was being assembled from the late-night recording sessions all those months ago — and meanwhile, the band were gigging more than ever.  Aside from their usual spots at “Suzie Wong’s Café”, “Beatle Village”, “The Gas Lash” etc the ‘Links travelled out to regional towns such as Wollongong, Lithgow and Orange — and in November 1965 — even to Melbourne.

Doug Ford, Livin’ End #3, 1985.

Despite the fact that Melbourne was home to an extremely healthy and hip music scene back in the mid-60s, they weren’t quite ready for the filth and the fury of Sydney’s infamous ‘Links.  For one thing, the band were currently going through a phase of wearing chaff bags with arm-holes cut out of them — although it wasn’t unusual for Andy James to hit the stage in a gorilla outfit or for the group to appear as pirates, gangsters or bandaged Egyptian mummies.

The Missing Links have a most unusual claim to fame — they’re different!  They’re original!  They have their own sound, not borrowed, not copied.  They write a lot of their own material, and it too has an originality and individualism, that makes “The Links” music the best thing that’s happened to the “pop” scene for a long time. The Links have been together now for about four months, and have already established a reputation of having the wildest stage act in Australia.  Maracas, Tambourines, Conga drums, and even microphones are constantly getting broken during their live performances.

Excerpt from the original liner notes to The Missing Links LP, 1965.  (Author unknown)

In mid-December 1965 the Missing Links’ self-titled LP was released on the Philips recording label, bearing the catalogue number PE-31.  The sleeve featured the band superimposed around a huge convict ball-and-chain.  John Jones actually had his goatee-beard airbrushed out of the picture for fear of causing offence!!  Once again, only 500-or-so copies of the record were pressed, and today an original copy of The Missing Links album can change hands for anything up to $A2500.  All the Philips single sides are on the record, save for Somethin’ Else, which remained unissued until the 1999 Driving You Insane CD. 

Aside from Driving Me Insane, Wild About You, Nervous Breakdown, H’tuom Tuhs (both backward and forward versions) and the aforementioned remake of John Stannard and Peter Anson’s All I Want (sung this time by a soulful John Jones); The Missing Links LP contained six new tunes — three originals and three covers. 

Covers-wise, the band tackled Bald Headed Woman — a strange, simmering, one-immering, one-chord blues written by US record producer Shel Talmy (originally done by both the The Who and The Kinks).  The Missing Links rendering of Bald-Headed Woman (with vocals by organist Chris Gray) is as good as the Who’s powerhouse version and easily better than the Kinks’.  By-the-way, Chris Gray also provided lead vocals on the Links’ throbbing feedback-drenched version of Mama Keep Your Big Mouth Shut.  Interestingly, a Bob Dylan cover was also attempted on the LP — in this case, On The Road Again from the recently released Bringing It All Back Home LP — and Andy James did an excellent job of interpreting Dylan’s surreal stream-of-consciousness lyrics over a chooglin’ train rhythm too.  The interplay between Chris Gray’s blues-harp and Doug Ford’s rasping lead guitar throughout the song is also fabulous.  The other cover contained on The Missing Links is a brilliant surf-inspired version of Some Kinda Fun.  In his notes for the Raven Records’ Let’s Meet The Missing Links EP (1979), Glenn A. Baker observed: “It has been said that, to remove the vocals from most mid 60s Australian rock singles, is to have an instant surfing instrumental collection.”  Never is this more apparent than on the Links version of Chris Montez’s Some Kinda Fun.  Chris Gray’s swirling, liquid organ, Ian Thomas’s warbling bass and Baden Hutchins’ beachy drumming are pure surf.  But the Missing Links’ grunge element is retrieved by Andy James’ urgent incoherent vocals and Doug Ford’s stuttering amphetamine lead guitar.  Years later, that ultimate doyen of Australian garage punk, Dean Mittelhauser would name his own Friday afternoon 3RRR-FM radio program after this song.  How appropriate. 

     The final three songs on the album are Doug Ford’s Hobo Man, Ian Thomas’ Not To Bother Me and Andy James’ Speak No Evil.  Hobo Man is an undistinguished blues in ‘E’, notable if only for Ian Thomas’ eccentric bass-playing, and the fact that it would be Doug Ford’s only recorded lead vocal until his classic Future Of Our Nation with The Masters Apprentices in 1971.  The haunting Not To Bother Me is the most intriguing song on the album.  Ian Thomas’ frankly appalling vocals are softened by the application of an entire gymnasium of reverb — which only succeeds in creating a weird, disconnected atmosphere to the whole thing.  I love it. 

     Finally, Speak No Evil is perhaps the lost classic on The Missing Links LP.  Although obviously borrowed from Bo Diddley... with its ‘shave-an-a-haircut-two-bits’ rhythm — Andy James’ witty lyrics and Doug Ford’s clunky lead guitar contain all the elements for a surprise hit  single.  What a shame that Philips were too busy putting out five-and-a-half-minutes of reverse tape instead!

      In order to promote the LP in December ’65, the Missing Links appeared for a second and final time on the ‘Ten On The Town’ TV show, performing Wild About You.  During that month, the ‘Links also earned a feature article in Everybody’s magazine.  And although the article covered the same old ground, the lead colour photograph — showing the sextet gathered amongst garbage cans in a rather seedy looking alleyway — remains perhaps THE most definitive Australian 60s punk image of them all.  It’s certainly my favourite pic at any rate.

      Early 1966 saw the beginning of the Missing Links’ decline.  The first casualty was organist Chris Gray who left the band for reasons unclear.  Possibly it was parental pressure, or perhaps it had something to do with his heavy marijuana intake, which — combined with the band’s weird lifestyle and a constant fear of random beatings — made for a less-than-desirable state of mental health.  But the two members of the band who were most feeling the strain were Ian Thomas and Baden Hutchins — the two ex-Showmen. 

“They were just slack guys.  They didn’t want to practise... Ian and I were the only one with vehicles, so we had to pick everyone up when we had a gig.  To get to a job at 6:30, I had to leave at around four in the afternoon.  We’d go to pick the other guys up and they wouldn’t be ready or not home! ...It was just the little things that cheesed people off, and that’s how the end came about.  Ian and I gradually convinced the other guys to get to gigs on time, and for a while it was really like a breath of fresh air...then it started going downhill again.”

Baden Hutchins, The Definitive Article (Driving You Insane, CD booklet).

Philips arranged studio time for the band, and the five-piece Missing Links laid down some soul-influenced cover versions.  Unfortunately halfway through the recording sessions, Baden Hutchins had quit the group — he was now engaged to be married and had had enough of the wild side of Rock & Roll life.  Andy James filled in on drums for the remainder of the sessions and soon Ian Thomas had left the band too, to rejoin the Showmen.

     At that point, the Missing Links pretty much disintegrated.  John Jones joined a wildly-kitted out R&B combo called the Richard Wright Group, whilst Andy James and Doug Ford decided to relocate to Melbourne and form a new group to be known as Running Jumping Standing Still.

    In character with practically every other move that the record company had made in regard to the Missing Links, Philips issued a final EP some two weeks after the band had decided to split up.

      The Links Unchained EP (featuring only four faces on the cover: John Jones, Andy James, Ian Thomas and Doug Ford) was released in April 1966, and it sold to practically no one.  Two soul standards are attempted on the EP: a grungy rendering of James Brown’s I’ll Go Crazy as well as the crazed Sam The Sham And The Pharaohs’ million seller Woolly Bully.  There’s also a version of Van Morrison’s tender One More Time, but the best track on the EP by far is the raucous Don’t Give Me No Friction

Originally done by an obscure Los Angeles band called The Green Beans (Baden Hutchins apparently came across a promo copy of the single at the Philips office), Don’t Give Me No Friction is classic Missing Links, and a spectacular way for the band to have gone out. As with all songs on the EP, Andy James handles the lead vocals with considerable passion and verve; but the ‘song’ itself only goes for 2 minutes 14 seconds before kicking into the most cacophonous wall of squealing feedback, raspy guitar scratches and ultra-primitive mongrel drumming you would ever wish to hear.

      For the last word on the Missing Links, I will once again refer to Peter Markmann’s The Definitive Article, where he quotes Andy Anderson [James]:

“It was all pretty uncharted territory in those days.  Amazing how any of us survived it at all.  I’d forgotten the different gangs that wanted our heads.  You’d get through that and then try to survive on fried rice and Chico Rolls* [*a deep fried, battered Australian fast food delicacy], then get through the speed trap, then patch up the broken instruments and try to get through another gig without ending up with a drumstick sticking out of your eyeball or a guitar in the teeth.”

Andy Anderson in The Definitive Article (Driving You Insane, CD booklet).

Recommended Listening:

The Driving You Insane CD (Half A Cow) contains every 45-single side, the Unchained EP, the entire self-titled LP as well as five other unreleased studio tracks by the first line-up. As a bonus, the CD also contains 3 tracks from the Showmen, and the original CD package contains 40 pages of liner notes with a cornucopia of delicious photographs and assorted ephemera.  Corduroy records have also reissued the original The Missing Links LP on 12 inch vinyl with all the CD extras on a separate 12 inch entitled Digging Through The Bins.