1970 - 1975:

1972 - Bridlington Spa Ballroom
A Slade Eruption

The brash bawling of Noddy Holder has led Slade to more triumphs than a team of David Bedfords. And Saturday's volcanic eruption at Bridlington Spa Ballroom was no exception. It was a stormer, proving beyond doubt that Slade have reached the all important step where they no longer have to be as good as their next single.

Their stamping, crashing riotous stage act is one for the kids who want to stamp and crash as well. No-one sits and listens. Like an unruly football mob behind the goalmouth their fans chant and wave scarves. It's not beyond the realms of impossibility that these fans would cause more than just a spot of bovver if fans of a rival group were to turn up. But fortunately there are no rivals here, Slade have this scene all to themselves.

With so many one-nighters behind them, their act is now perfect from start to finish. It's perfectly simple stuff - a mixture of 12-bar, their recent hit singles and material from the "Slade Alive" album - and they put it across with what appears to be a maximum of effort.

Guitarist Dave Hill and bass player Jim Lea leap onto conveniently placed tables and boxes throughout the set while Holder gets on his knees for Janis Joplin's "Move Over Baby". His amazing voice is always the root for whipping up the excitement.

"Hands up all the girls with white knickers on", he yells to the crowd. A few hands are raised and the shrieks come forth. "Hands up all the girls with no knickers on". And uproar breaks out. "We've heard there's a lot of very rude girls in Bridlington. Is that right?" 3000 voices male and female acquiesce in unison and the crowd force themselves tighter against the stage, reaching out to touch the boots of their heroes.

Few other groups could get away with such basic stuff, but it suits Slade to a tee. Like many before them, they've realised that success comes with keeping things simple. And using that formula they've found a style of their own based largely on the similarity in the sound between the bass and the drum pedals and the boot heels crashed crashed onto a ballroom floor. Drummer Don Powell 's contribution to the overall sound cannot be underestimated.

As the act wore on, the fans became indifferent to what was being played. So long as Slade were up there they were having a good time and nothing else seemed to matter - there were even a few screams during Slade's rendering of John Sebastian's, "Darling Be Home Soon". Especially as Holder, somewhat inevitably suggested that blokes have a "good feel with the birds" during this comparatively slow number.

Basic they may be, but they're very good at it. Many other groups with similar formula have tried and failed but Slade's patience and ability have brought them through the rank and file to the front. On this showing they'll stay there a long time.

CHRIS CHARLESWORTH Melody Maker - Sept. 2, 1972

1972 J. GEILS BAND, FRAMPTON'S CAMEL, SLADE - Academy of Music, NY
Slade and Frampton's Camel, British rock quartets making their Gotham debuts at Howard Stein's Academy of Music series Saturday, both appear to have bright futures, but the audience saved most of its enthusiasm for the J. Geils Band. The two shows grossed $27,500 out of a potential $35,262, probably hurt by overbooking by the headliner in the Gotham area during the past year.

Slade, together for about five years, seems headed down the pop road to success and probably will become a big group. The music is hard and solid. Lead guitarist Dave Hill was resplendent in shimmering light suit with sequin effects in his hair. Drawback for some was rhythm guitarist Noddy Holder, a good lead singer, who never let up in his screaming demands for audience participation. He roused relatively few but enough for an encore.

Frampton's Camel in their first date were instrumentally strong in rock and blues-rock with Peter Frampton, ex of Humble Pie, an excellent lead guitarist and vocalist and Mick Gallagher a standout on organ and electric piano. The combo were put together after Frampton's first solo album on A&M. Drummer Mike Kellie and bass guitarist Ricky Wills are on the album and in the group. Despite loose spots, Frampton's Camel could, make an underground mark.

Peter Wolf, energetic lead singer of Atlantic's J.Geils Band, promised that Hank Ballard, a star of the early days of rock'n'roll, would join the Boston sextet in the second show.

Kirb. – VARIETY, September 20, 1972

THE J.GEILS BAND / FRAMPTON'S CAMEL / SLADE - Academy of Music, New York - 1972

Geils and friends have already proven that they can energize a crowd, but this date offered two new tickets to ride with the world premiere of Frampton's Camel and the American debut of Slade, rudely raunchy English ravers.

Sparing the anxious the cruelty of suspense, be advised that Peter Frampton has lost none of the subtlety and fire that characterized his lamentably overlooked contributions to Humble Pie. Frampton has honed that edge further and he's now more than matched by the powers of Mick Gallagher's keyboards, Rick Wills' sturdy but agile bass lines and Mike Kellie's precise, explosive drumming.

Their set was lean on theatrics, relying on the spectacle of Kellie's whirring sticks and that facial ecstasy that crosses Frampton's smile as his lead lines soar powerfully over the band. Rough spots were to be expected, but even Frampton's staunchest admirers may be unprepared for the startling stability of so young a band. Their set drew primarily from Frampton's A&M album, "Winds of Change", with "It's a Plain Shame", "All I Want to Be", and "Jumpin' Jack Flash", all exemplary exercises in overdrive transport, and easily compelling as their superb, recorded versions. More important, the restraint that distinguished Frampton's earliest work with the Pie and the Herd is shared by the entire band, and as they expand their repertoire to accommodate gentler, acoustic numbers, the final impact should be tasty indeed.

Slade? The reports were true. First-rate raunch delivered with expedient power and requisite simplicity, packed irresistibly in a durable highly visible outer coat of pure flesh. Noddy Holder and Dave Hill walk off with top honors in Raw Vocals and Subliminal lead Rhythm Guitar, respectively, although Hill also pulls weight as resident extraterrestrial sex symbol via his metallic suit and crown of stars.

They will most certainly decimate future audiences, just as they spurred the kids at the Academy. They record for Polydor.
1973 - New York Academy of Music - GRIN / BLACK OAK ARKANSAS / SLADE
Rock Music - Britain's Slade at Top of a 14th St. Bill

Slade, headlining the Friday show at the Academy of Music on 14th Street, is obviously a group on the way up. Grin, the group that opened the evening, had to suffer heckling from the Slade enthusiasts impatiently waiting for the British group to appear. And the members of Grin, competent enough, were unable to bear it, even when they turned up their energy in an attempt to Novocain the audience into submission.

Following Grin was Black Oak Arkansas, which took no chances from the start. This group's sound was turned up to nosebleed levels, vocals were rasped hoarsely across the relentless amplification, and the announcements between the group's Southern, heavy-on-the-bass rock numbers had the urgency of end-of-the-world revivalism. For Black Oak, the audience was converted at the finish, although one yearned for a little subtlety amid all the pounding.

Slade specializes in short explosive lyrics, simple and direct, that bring strong audience response through riff and repetition. In reality, this is good-old-fashioned rock n' roll presented with flash and confidence as the quartet choreographed itself on stage rather than jumping and writhing around. This is yet another example of a rock group moving back to simplicity in music.

Novelty note: Away from the hot and the heavy, Slade presented "Lady Be Good" on electric violin, Black Oak a washboard solo, and Grin's lead singer did a perfect somersault from a small trampoline on the side of the stage. Alas, poor Grin: not even that moved the Slade freaks.

Ian Dove The New York Times - Sunday April 22, 1973

SLADE / BLACK OAK ARKANSAS / GRIN - ACADEMY OF MUSIC, N.Y. ,1973
Slade blasted their way to success at the Academy of Music (20). Decibel count was up and so was the audience by the end. Only one performance was skedded originally in the British quartet's first Gotham headline appearance, but another was added via a late show as the first went clean at a $5.50 top. It proved a good move as the second program also made it as the two Howard Stein programs grossed $32,400 of a potential $34,500.

Timing was off, however, as Grin, opening Spindizzy disk combo, opened the late show near 1 a.m. Saturday, more than 80 minutes after the listed start. Lengthy setup changes shoved Slade's opening back to 3:40 a.m. with the bill concluding at about 4:45.

Grin proved to be an acceptable rock opener, especially leader, Tom [NILS] Lofgren on lead guitar and piano, vocals and small trampoline. Then came a powerful set by Black Oak Arkansas led by Jim (Dandy) Mangrum, glittery in attire and raunchy in vocal sound and material, most of which has been etched on Atco. Sextet constantly moved, musically and physically in their most effective local outing, gutsy and raw.

The volume of the opening acts was but a prelude to the blistering sound of Slade. The screaming audience badgering by lead vocalist Noddy Holder was not as offensive as previously, but still got in the way as the quartet's dynamic energy would have been sufficient. The other members were garbed in glitter with lead guitarist Dave Hill also glittered on face and hair. Bass guitarist Jimmy Lea and drummer Don Powell complete the Polydor disk act.

Kirb. ,VARIETY, April 25, 1973

Los Angeles Times - Tuesday May 8, 1973
Slade in the Shade as Rock Envoys

Remember the troubles T.Rex had in trying to transfer some of its enormous English popularity to these shores? Well, Slade, which has been a regular visitor to the top of the British sales charts, thanks to a series of consistently infectious rock singles, is having those troubles now. There was both optimism and concern in the air last month when Slade (Noddy Holder on guitar and vocals, Don Powell on drums, Dave Hill on lead guitar and Jimmy Lea on bass) left England for the "vital" U.S. tour. "I wished them luck and waved them goodbye", wrote Melody Maker's Chris Charlesworth, one of Slade's strongest advocates. "What else was there to do?", Charlesworth continued. "For Slade this was the big one. The ultimate goal in their two year rise to glory is to crack America like many a British band before them. England and Europe have fallen under the might of Wolverhampton's ambassadors of rock. The next month will tell whether the United States will do the same".

A Disappearing Commodity

If indeed Slade is going to become the new savior of good-time rock n' roll (a joyous, but rapidly disappearing commodity), there were few believers on hand last week at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium to celebrate the group's local arrival. For a band that draws enthusiastic, capacity audiences in England, it must have been quite a shock to see the 3000-seat auditorium only half filled Thursday. But the size of the audience was only one disappointment in what must have been a particularly discouraging day for Slade.


While one could point to the strong competition around (Jeff Beck's new group at the Hollywood Palladium and Loggins & Messina were at the Ahmanson Theatre the same night), the real problem was that Slade has not picked up much support here. Its singles (including such worthy efforts as "Mama Weer All Crazee Now" and "Gudbuy T' Jane") have not sold well and the informal, word-of-mouth grapevine - so potent a force in building audiences in rock - apparently hasn't been spreading the gospel on Slade.


Thus, Slade needs to do a lot of work to build momentum in this country. Despite its success in Europe, the rock quartet needs to gain exposure the same way any promising new band must. The safest way is to play second-billed to an established act or play several days at a club (i.e., the Whisky). By being the second act, Slade would be assured of a large audience and it would also be in the easier pyschological position of not having to carry the burden of the concert. A rock group can pick up fans by merely being "good" when it is a supporting act, but it must be "very, very good" to succeed as a headliner, particularly when it is headlining for the first time. Slade did tour the United States as a supporting act briefly last year, but its management apparently thought the group was strong enough to now headline. It was a mistake, at least here. Slade was "good" at Santa Monica, but not "very, very good". A crucial difference in degree.

Borrowed Sound System

Part of the problem was a borrowed sound system that failed half-way through the group's set, thus allowing much of the momentum that had been building to disappear by the time (some eight minutes later) the system had been corrected. But an even bigger problem was Slade's continuing, hard sell urging for the audience to "get with it", to get up on the chairs and boogie. Holder, who seemed to preface each number with a 20-30 second call to "get it on", is right when he says Slade's live success "depends 50% on the audience and the feedback we get from that audience", but he's wrong when he suggests in America he's got to "show 'em what we want "em to do". Slade has to let the audience find its own way into the music. It's a bit self-defeating to keep lecturing, even light heartedly, about what it should be doing.

Because of these various problems, there was less impact to Slade's music live (including such concert naturals as "Get Down and Get With It" and "Let the Good Times Roll") than, I would have expected from its records. But, "Mama Weer All Crazee Now", offered as an encore number, did carry all the solid rock power that the record suggests, a closing clue that Slade can - under the right conditions - provide as fine an evening of good-time rock n' roll as any band around. But the conditions weren't right at Santa Monica.

Robert Hilburn

Slade - Sundowner, Mile End, London - September 1973
Slade handle their music with the delicacy of a demolition gang, or, more correctly, a demolition gang on a works outing because they communicate a robustness to their audience that on this East End opening threatened the very structure of the renamed Mile End Odeon itself.

As ironic choice of a group then, for the opening of a bold new venture by the Rank Organization, whose name is not automatically linked with pop music, although it should be recalled that The Beatles played their opening gigs in Rank dance halls. This, then, is Rank's tilt at the Rainbow, a theatre which also tried to provide a permanent home for pop, failed, then recently opened. Rank will open three Sundowners in the near future.

As for Slade, they are everything parents must hate in modern society. They are loud, vulgar (in the best sense of the word), raucous, and, in Noddy Holder, they have a lead singer who has the touch of the old music hall comedian about him. They also murder the English language in the spellings of their songs. They come from Wolverhampton, and represent very much the football terrace mentality of life, turning their audiences into stamping, handclapping fans, with hits like, "Take Me Bak 'ome"; "Mama weer all crazee now"; and "Get down and get with it". They are currently successful, reflecting a truly working class audience, whereas other successes like Marc Bolan and David Bowie relate more to the middle classes. So successful are they that to open in the Mile End Road they flew in for one night from Los Angeles, whence they return today.

Michael Wale (London) Times - Sept. 8, 1973


The village VOICE, October 4, 1973 Dan Nooger

Saw Slade and the Blue Oyster Cult a couple of weeks ago at the Capital Theatre, Passaic's answer to the Academy of Music. The Cult blew Slade right off the stage. After they'd ripped through "The Red and the Black", "Seven Screaming Diz Busters", "Buck's Boogie" incidentally, the long rumored live version is now available on a Columbia sampler titled "the Guitars that Destroyed the World", and "It's Not Easy", the audience nearly tore the place down until the BOC encored them with that great 60s punk anthem, "Born to be Wild".

After that, Slade didn't have a chance, and they blew whatever momentum they might have built up with absurd audience-participation interludes in every song. It may work in England, where they're so idolized they usually can't hear themselves for all the screaming, but when the audience isn't as fanatically inclined, it sounds as silly and lame as it looks."

Monday, October 8, 1973
"Slade, Hard-Driving British Rock Quartet, Arrives

Slade certainly works hard enough. The British rock quartet appeared Saturday night at the Academy of Music, on 14th Street, as part of another tour in which it will try to approximate its home-country success. In Britain, Slade is the unquestioned number one among the younger bands. In this country, audiences and the record-buying-public are respectful enough, but there's no hysteria, nothing really special in their response.

At Saturday's early show, Slade bounded on to the stage and tore through a 70 minute set full of it's characteristically straight-ahead, basic rock 'n' roll music. Bu it never really coalesced into anymore than a pretty good concert. Noddy Holder, the lead singer, seems addicted to hectoring attempts to get his audiences clapping and singing along; the effect is more daunting than enlivening. If anybody could figure out the formula for guaranteed success in both Britain and America, the riches of the rock world would be his.

Blue Oyster Cult (or, more accurately, oyster) opened the show with a slightly self-conscious evocation of diabolical rebellion that still managed to produce some effectively, driving, brooding music-making. John Rockwell"

Chicago Tribune - October 17, 1973
"Sheer Volume: That's Slade in a nutshell

SLADE'S lead singer last night called out to the crowd that filled about half of the Auditorium Theater, "Is e-e-e--everybawdy cra-a-a-azy!!!"

Of course, the hyper tense assemblage answered, "Yeah!" This was very truthful of them, especially when you consider the high cost of rock entertainment these days. And with so much good rock entertainment around these days I (feverishly rubbing my ears to see if they were still working) could not help but wonder why anyone would bother to see Slade.

Let's face it. A few artless people may call this jolly band of former skinheads "art", but it's really just a bad joke that proved to be slightly profitable. Dear friends, you don't encourage a bad joke. When you do, it spreads.

Before going any further in this innocent attempt to get even with Slade for what they did to my hearing (as of this writing their music, which even they call "noise", is still swashing around in my inner ear), I wish to point out that no slight is intended for the Climax Blues Band, the highly competent rockers who warmed up the show.

CLIMAX BLUES Band's arrangements of standards like "Seventh Son", and their own originals fully deserved the encore they graciously delivered. Their lead guitarist rendered a spellbinding solo on bottle-neck guitar that made the whole trip worth it for this reporter.

Then, Slade came on, the crowd of boogie freaks leaped to its feet with no intention of sitting again and Slade looked good in superfly British "yob" (street bandit) fashions. They looked good, that is, until they started playing their instruments.

Noddy Holder, lead guitarist and the flashiest of the quartet's members, glittered in a silver, skintight Buck Rogers spaceman outfit, complete with six-inch-high platform shoes, a "Super Yob" emblem on his chest and a silver, custom-made, ray-gun-shaped guitar to match. The rest of the band, in more traditional yet colorful fashion, resembled the guests at a mad tea party.

BESIDES THEIR own "C'mon Feel the Noise", "The Whole World's Gone Crazy" and "We're all Crazy Now", the band presented rearrangements of "Move Over", "Darling Be Home Soon" and "A Little Bit Your Love". You could not help but feel the noise.

Slade's show sparks explosive response (especially from the 14-year-olds) only because of its powerful drummer who uses inch-thick sticks and its clever lead vocalist whose delivery sounds like a cross between an evangelist and a carnival barker.

This was the band's second Chicago appearance and the house was far from packed. Slade reportedly made a heavy impression on it's homeland's citizenry, but hopefully Americans are made of stronger stuff.

Clarence Page"

AT THE PALLADIUM
Slade Invades U.S. With a Sonic Blitz , 1974
Slade is having another go at America with its sonic blitz, and while Sundays Palladium concert was considerably more palatable than its previous shows here, the English quartet continue to undermine its potential greatness with an approach that constantly crosses the line to exhorting the audience into abusing it.

The notorious unstaid Palladium is a perfect situation for Slade, yet lead singer Noddy Holder didn't perceptibly alter his of obnoxious commands to the crowd, at one point even urging the people to get out of their chairs and shake various parts of their anatomies (there are no chairs at the Palladium). His revival-meeting interludes, blasted out in a grating Screamin' Lord Sutch-style voice, inevitably cut the momentum and lends an undistinguished boogie-band mentality to a group that is otherwise leagues beyond that level.

When the band finally did get into its songs, all was well. Slade has produced some of the most engagingly mindless singles of the past year, songs built around prodigious guitar riffs and clear rolling chord progressions. The tone is manic, the overall effect distorted and devastating, and the message eloquently pure rock ‘n' roll - "Cum on Feel The Noize", "Get Down and Get With It", "Mama Weer All Crazee Now", (sic, sic, sic).

The one to watch is guitarist Dave Hill, who looks like a busy fly with the face of a ceaselessly grinning cartoon chipmunk. There's a bit of mountain goat in him too, as he spends much of the show scaling amplifier banks, all of which embodies the attitude of silliness and high-energy abandon that finally makes Slade endearing, despite all the guff from Holder.

Getting the show underway was Al Kooper's pride and joy, Lynyrd Skynyrd, whose dynamic set of earthy rock ‘n' roll was cut maddeningly short. Sandwiched between Skynyrd and Slade were two hopelessly ordinary bands, Brownsville Station and the James Gang.

RICHARD CROMELIN / L.A. TIMES / JANUARY 31, 1974

Slade - Felt Forum / New York City - May 31, 1974

It was a fight for the decibel and Slade won. Opening act Aerosmith's mighty sound paled in comparison to the power and energy of Slade's four members. Their pounding, churning rock with overabundant bass response shook the very foundation of the audience.

Slade enjoys an ardent following in England, and judging by the reception they received at the Felt Forum, their US popularity has not diminished. As soon as they slithered across the stage, the orchestral section of the audience charged. They climbed on each other's shoulders and danced to what seemed an avalanche of unendurable sound.

Slade is something of an established act, dating back to the mid Sixties. They can, on occasion, sing a moderately tempoed noiseless song, but that clearly is not what they enjoy most. Slade's members are consummate masters of shouting and screaming an audience to the verge of St. Vitus dance. The more they screamed and cavorted in their circus/vaudeville costumes, the louder the audience roared. Lead singer Noddy Holder, looking like a cross between Rigoletto and a bloated caricature of Mick Jagger, roused the crowd expertly. Like a preacher delivering a scathing sermon, he made sure that everyone participated in the Slade experience. Slade has added a combination of tasteful glitter, showmanship and musical clowning to its act to be visually exciting. But the audience seemed to appreciate more the fact that Slade is a hard working band. They have maintained their popularity over the years and I guess there's something to be said for that. How long they can last is another question entirely.

The sound equation seems to be right, but everything else is wrong. For the most part, and despite some pleasant harmonies between Holder and Dave Hill, Slade's music has not taken off in any new direction. Most of their songs are constructed on slim and unsubstantial threads of melody, and cemented together with lyrics bound by timeworn cliches. After hearing phrases repeated ten times in succession, building themselves into predictable crescendos each time, there is really no place to go.

I preferred Slade four years ago and 200 watts quieter, when playing loud was just a catchy gimmick. Unfortunately they are still riding that gimmick and they will, undoubtedly, keep it up until their audiences are left deaf and babbling.

Robert V. Weinstein / Rolling Stone
1974 Slade / Aerosmith - FELT FORUM, N.Y.
Most of the youthful crowd at [the] Felt Forum, N.Y., Friday (31), were up from the outset, many holding their ears to cut out part of the overpowering volume. Slade, who sold out the 4,500-seat arena for promoter Howard Stein, were rockin' and exhorting their fans to make noise. But since Slade had passed the threshold of pain at the beginning, the throng could never outdo them.

Actually, the audience included many on their feet as the concert began with Aerosmith, Columbia disk act from Boston, who had one of their best local turns, especially lead vocalist Steven Tyler and lead guitarist Joe Perry. Aisles were quickly clogged never to be cleared.

But when the British headliners came out, even those in front orchestra seats had difficulty seeing, though standing on their chairs and others stood on arm rests. And Slade, especially ever-screeching Noddy Holder, the lead vocalist, loved every minute.

Holder tried to get all on their feet, all clapping along, all shouting. Most responded, knowing how to take orders. Lead guitarist Dave Hill and bass guitarist Jim Lea stood on amplifiers at times, enabling them to be seen better. Drummer Don Powell completed the Warner Bros. disk quartet, who were in too loud form.

Slade fans are willing to put up with a lot, judging by the happy faces leaving the hall, several still with their hands over their ears. No one sleeps at a Slade concert.

Kirb. - Variety - June 5, 1974 Concert Gross; Slade; Felt Forum, N.Y. , May 31, $6.50 top, $29,000 SRO

SLADE TOUR 75 - CLICK HERE For the best review ever written!
Slade / Brownsville Station - WOLLMAN RINK, N.Y. April 21st 1975

The volume was up, young fans were standing on their seats taking orders from a screeching Noddy Holder, both par for the course as Slade returned to New York, Monday (21), after an absence of almost 13 months. But there was a big difference at Wollman Rink, Central Park. The Schaefer Music Festival concert appeared to less than half fill the rink.

In the past, New York was just about the only US city, where the high-decibel British rock quartet could sell. At Wollman, the group plugged numbers from their new Warner Bros. album, "Flame", which is the track of a British film by Slade. Poor US concert b.o. could affect when, if ever, the film is released in the US.

In addition to clogged aisles, a jammed area in front of the stage and many objects thrown towards the stage, missing and hitting patrons, a disquieting note was sounded by Holder, Slade's lead singer, who virtually ordered security away from the front of the stage where they were trying to quell a disturbance. There were several fights.

For all Holder's nonsense, Slade offered strong rock n' roll as did the opening Brownsville Station, but the US combo, upped to a quartet, almost purposely eschewed any clean line. They also had a new LP to plug, the group's on Big Tree. They also blasted, but few units can compare to Slade in volume. Cub Koda of the opening act scored with his audience putdowns in response to obscene gestures, not unusual for that act here. But Koda's guitarmanship was not up to Slade's Dave Hill.

Kirb. VARIETY July 30, 1975

Concert Gross - Slade / Brownsville Station: Wollman Rink, N.Y., July
21, $2.50 top, $7,400 ($16,000 potential)
Slade Rock Group, At Schaefer Fete, Proves Puzzling
Slade, the hard-rocking British quartet, was supposed to be the new sensation just a few years ago. But British chartbusters have had trouble with the vast American market in the nineteen-seventies, and the group hasn't performed in this country for two years. Monday night it was back, at the Shaefer Music Festival in Central Park and the impression was once again puzzling.

A Slade set doesn't build effectively to a climax. Most of the songs are up-tempo rockers, and after a while ( especially with a squealing, distortion-ridden sound system like Monday's) they all began to sound alike.

In addition, there is Noddy Holder and his apparent need to be loved. Mr. Holder is the leader of Slade and he has always been [addicted] to hectoring the audience to clap and sing along. On Monday he restrained himself in comparison with his past efforts here, but he still broke the sets momentum and got on this observer's nerves something fierce.

Apart from pacing, there is Slade's music itself. Mr. Holder is a really distinctive rock singer, with his high, hoarse, tenor, and the instrumentals are most proficiently handled. They've made some good records.

But in concert, Mr. Holder is both too smart and not smart enough: he and his band are simultaneously too tricky to sound spontaneous and too [simplistic] to sound clever. Some groups can work within the limiting format of hard rock and make you forget the limits they sell themselves on, a combination of conviction and variation within the predictable patterns. With Slade, the tension between body and brains is not so much dialectically creative as contradictory, and the music ends up constricted and boring.

Brownsville Station, now a quartet, opened the concert with a tough driving set.

JOHN ROCKWELL New York Times - July 23, 1975

November 22nd 1975 - ZZ TOP / SLADE - Felt Forum, N.Y.

A slick trio of real life rhinestone cowboys, unabashedly Texan from their illuminated Texas longhorn stage trappings to their riverboat gambler suits, ZZ Top captivated a full house of boogie lovers Nov. 22.

The trio is rapidly gaining recognition hereabouts for it's tightly knit distinctive sound, which set the crowd to beseech and receive two encores. The fact that it drew so well it's second time here is indicative of the success the group is experiencing presently nationwide.

Drawing heavily from it's first album "Tres Hombres", and it's latest release, "Fandango", the group draws raves from the crowd for such offerings as, "The Girl Who Stole My Blue Jeans" and it's near classic, "Beer Drinkers and Hell Raisers".

Group's sound system leaves a bit to be desired, as lyrics become almost unintelligible above the instruments but this is mere technical problem easily solved.

British rockers Slade opened the show and displayed their formidable skills. The players are all gifted musicians and perform well in ensemble. Costuming is elaborate with the emphasis on the order of Cockney "Pearly Kings".

The audience responded well to its selections but they were clearly ZZ Top partisans. It does seem rather a shame that Slade, does not command the recognition afforded other groups with considerably less to offer.

JIM STEPHEN - BILLBOARD - DECEMBER 13, 1975
ZZ Top / Slade - Felt Forum, N.Y. 1975

The top local appearance to date of ZZ Top, Texas rock, blues and boogie combo, packed [the] Felt Forum Saturday (22), with the Bill Graham-Phil Basil concert in association with Barry Fey, a hot ticket. Although the clincher may have been the addition of Slade, to the bill, the crowd was clearly ZZ Top's.

Slade, British rockers fronted by screeching Noddy Holder, gave one of their best ear shattering performances including numbers from their new Warner Bros. album. Holder only badgered the crowd to stand and otherwise in the closing "Get Down and Get With It", rather than throughout the set as heretofore. But the good response was hardly as warm as the reception the headliners got.

ZZ Top, who are mining platinum albums for London these days, also scored when Billy Gibbons, strong lead guitarist and vocalist, asked some character in the audience to stop throwing firecrackers since Gibbons had seen someone struck by one. He tried less successfully to get some in the front orchestra [to] take their seats so those behind them could see.

Also impressing musically, in their tight high-powered set, which ran for an hour, as did Slade's, were bass guitarist-vocalist Dusty Hill and drummer Frank Beard. But many booed when the lights were turned up,
apparently expecting more music as promised earlier by Gibbons, who had indicated a long evening was in store. However, the trio, who have been registering impressive b.o. elsewhere, especially in the south and southwest, appear ready to do likewise in Gotham.

Kirb. VARIETY November 26, 1975

Concert Gross - ZZ Top / Slade: Capitol Theatre, Passiac, N.J., Nov. 15,
$6.50 top, $21,201; Felt Forum, N.Y., Nov. 22, $7.50 top, $33,000 SRO

1976 - 1979:

1976 : WINTERLAND, SAN FRANCISCO (supporting Ten Years After and above Frankie Miller on the billing : from a longer article)

" . . . . I like Noddy Holder too, and while the stage crew take ages to sweep up Frankie's discarded vocal cords, and the kids groove on a videotape of a truly terrible local band, I wonder how Slade will go down at Winterland.

Having faded right out over here, the band must want badly to establish themselves in the States. I think it's brave of them to try. As it turns out they do OK. For a moment, the house are stunned by the sheer loudness and brashness of their entrance and then cameras are whipped out to focus on Noddy's hat and Dave Hill, the silver rabbit.

Noddy falls in to a Bay Area translation of his football jive and the kids are hooked. (Though not so the American press and music business pro's who sit round the back where the drinks are and wince their way through the antics of Slade on a small screen. It doesn't seem to be the custom for anyone over here who hasn't paid to brave the terrors of Outfront).

Meanwhile, Dave Hill enhances the vaudeville character of Slade's act by climbing stairs at the side of the stage to cuddle up against the amp, like a performer crossing to talk to the MC during the "Good Old Days", and Jim Lea solos the William Tell overture.

But Noddy's the only one you need to look at. A Dickensian comic hero, he crashes through 'Gudbuy T'Jane', 'How does it feel', 'Get down and get with it', etc, and the unbelievable braying and hollering is curiously at variance with the huge, tender, dreaming face on the video. In his way, Noddy's another original.

Kate Phillips, NME

SLADE AT THE STARWOOD - An Elephant in the Living Room
With the magnanimity worthy of a presidential campaigner, Slade has decided to get in touch with the people by playing small clubs on its last, gasp, U.S. tour. Whatever the state of Slademania in the rest of the nation, the Starwood, (which the group favored on Wednesday and Thursday) is probably the only venue in Los Angeles that would have the eternally sputtering band anyway.

Right off the bat, the presence of the high powered quartet in a place the size of the Starwood, makes for an impressive spectacle, like an elephant in your living room. Another advantage is that the rowdy atmosphere Slade spends all its concert time trying to generate is there automatically, so we were spared Noddy Holder's inspiring exhortations to abandon our chairs for rock ‘n' roll.

The floor was packed as it would be for Buddy Miles or Canned Heat, and there was plenty of space cases receptive to the groups crude energy level. With that setup, Slade's decline can be laid at no one's feet but its own. The once bearable, even promising pop outfit paddles along doggedly, oblivious to the cement around its platform shoes.

Slade's promise lay in three or four songs; inspired, vibrant pop rock powered by great song progressions and an engaging dumbness. On opening night, the group played one of them during the set, one as an encore and ignored its best, "Cum On Feel The Noize". The bulk of the show consisted of entirely trite rockers, most of them based on standard blues patterns, jacked up to maximum distortion level and capped with Holder's chainsaw massacre of a voice.

Slade's futility and persistence were momentarily amusing, but the group quickly achieved its inimitable blend of obnoxious manner and insipid music (and vice versa), destroying any lingering tolerance.

RICHARD CROMELIN / LOS ANGELES TIMES / FRIDAY, APRIL 16, 1976

Slade Combines Mid-Sized Halls With Nightclubs
LOS ANGELES - Slade, a top English rock act for the past five years which has never yet been a U.S. smash on either Polydor or Warner Bros., is booking a unique concert schedule on it's current American tour.

In as many as possible of the markets it's playing, Slade will headline both a mid-sized hall and a nightclub. In San Diego, Slade is to appear at both the Civic Center and the 750-seat Bacchanal Club, with a San Francisco Winterland date in between.

In the Los Angeles area this month, Slade opens a two-night stand at 1000 capacity Starwood Club then after a Seattle date, returns to the Anaheim Convention Center in nearby Orange County and the next night plays the Shrine Auditorium in downtown Los Angeles.

Slade got into this concept of juggling club and concert dates after its last tour because of an unusual success story in the St. Louis market. Slade had played concerts in the area, generally co-billed on various packages, and established a local identity.

However, Slade became a byword in St. Louis only after a three-night SRO stand at a club called Concerts South. Unfortunately, the nitery closed shortly after Slade's appearance, because of a wave of neighborhood complaints about the crowds drawn by the group.

But Warner Bros. now rates Slade as having a market penetration in St. Louis of 500% relative to the 2% of total U.S. sales WB gets in that urban area.

Billboard has in the past carried stories about what appears to be an increasing separation between contemporary concert and nitery audiences. In a growing number of instances, adult oriented record artists such as Kenny Rankin may draw better in a nightclub where patrons can drink or dine in comparative comfort, as opposed to a less expensive concert which would appeal more to the younger mass audience.

Slade's nightclub appearances in music media centers like L.A. may well draw a better industry, press and radio attendance than would have been the case for shows at outlying concert halls such as the Anaheim Convention Center.

No other tour deliberately combining nightclub and concert dates in the same market has ever been attempted, to this reporter's knowledge.

Generally, acts capable of profitably headlining concerts even in smaller halls will include nightclub dates on tours only as routing fillers in a market where they are not yet concert draws because of the lesser grosses they make out of niteries.

Slade bassist - vocalist Jimmy Lea explains: "There are certain things you can't do, in terms of both music and theatrics, in a one night stand in the larger venues. By doing both types of concerts this time out, we hope to get ourselves across to as many people as we can most effectively."

After the West Coast dates mentioned previously, Slade is due to head to the Midwest by May. Sites and specific play dates are being firmed up.

It is currently a hot issue within the live talent business (and a topic to be explored in depth by an industry wide panel at the Billboard Talent Forum in L.A. June 1- 4) as to what the combination of secondary concert dates and nightclub headlinings is most effective in breaking an upcoming act.

Slade, due to its lucky St. Louis experiences, may have found a new way to combine the best of both approaches.

NAT FREEDLAND / BILLBOARD, APRIL 17, 1976

SLADE / STARS / PYRAMID
Starwood, Los Angeles ­ 1976

Slade offered an hour-long set of primitive high-energy, over-amplified rock'n'roll on April 14 that was enthusiastically received by an audience of fanatically loyal fans.

The drummer and three metalists that comprise Slade featured in their 10-song set theatrical vocals reminiscent of Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love" or Leon Russell's "Jumpin' Jack Flash". There was almost a revivalist quality to some of the lines, as in "I want to see everyone clap your hands / Stomp your feet / and sing glory hallelujah".

The high-powered songs were wisely constructed with breaks in the middle to allow the pressure to be released before rebuilding to more metallic segments. The teasing arrangements were the saving grace to what was otherwise boring music.

Highlight of the WB act's set was "one number to let everyone cool off a bit ", which began and ended as a piano ballad with the house lights down and a chandelier to give a starry effect. At other times there were wild lightning effects.

Slade's music, while overpowering at times, was festive and not heavy-handed as is much of this genre. One jam even led into a chorus of "Hi-ho Silver". When two guitarists stood atop pillars at the end of the stage, it was like a scene out of "Tommy".

Stars, a five-man group that opened the show with a 50 minute12-song set, had many of the same strengths and weaknesses that marked Slade's set. Thee group offered more of an unrelenting barrage of same-sounding rock, and so it became tedious more quickly. Some of the stage antics, such as throwing a guitar and assorted pratfalls, seemed obligatory. The group has to its credit a song on the new fast-breaking Kiss album and has also written for Alice Cooper and BTO.

Pyramid followed Slade on stage at 1 in the morning to catch hangers-on, insomniacs and reviewers on unlimited tabs. The five-man band offered a 40-minute set, five-song set of power rock that featured occasional pop touches of keyboards and harmonica. The show, which was attended by only about one third of Slade's crowd, was marred by tripped-out talk like, "those crackling sounds are messages from our spacebrothers".

PAUL GREIN ­ BILLBOARD ­ May 1, 1976

1977 Copenhagen (an excerpt from a longer article)
"And here are Slade - onstage for the first time since '75 and guess what? They don't look any different. Not a bit. Noddy has on a blue shiny suit and a funny hat. Dave is wearing shiny trousers and a wide grin.

The first three numbers are from the new album. The sound is terrible - a churning, muddy ear splitting noise. It's a relief when they break into 'Take me bak 'ome' This is more like it . . . a good old piece of nostalgia.

The it's 'lightning never strikes twice' - one of the stronger tracks on the album, partly because it highlights Noddy's voice, which is really one of the band's most distinctive assets.

It gets a good reception and they do 'How does it feel' from the 'Flame' album. And it surprisingly works really well. For the first time you can hear every member of the group, including Jim on keyboards, and the melody line is strong and clear.

Then it's 'Everyday' another great slowie. It turns into a swaying sing-along, with the crowd waving their arms above their heads.

"This is the new single", says Noddy. "It'll be in your shops soon - so go out and buy it." It's a new song, 'Burning in the heat of love' with the same riff as the Kinks 'You really got me' and it sounds like a reasonable number. But really, it's not a patch on their old stuff - like 'Far far away which follows it. It's the best song so far, without a doubt, with a melody that still has an instant appeal. If they released it now, would it still be a hit? I reckon it would.

For me, 'Everyday' and 'Far far away' are the highlights of the evening. From now on, it's downhill all the way. The next is 'Mama weer all crazee now', a reasonable rocker, but the sound's going again and it soon degenerates into the same, thick mess they started with.

The Danish kids don't seem to mind - they wave their flags and their Slade scarves and beg for two encores. But I still can't help thinking what the British kids will make of it. Two years is a long time in the pop world. What worked then doesn't necessarily work now. Since 1975, music has moved on, changed, developed. Slade haven't. It's as simple as that."

Sheila Prophet, Record Mirror.

1977 : The same Copenhagen show (also from a much longer article)
"As a fan of long standing (and suffered all manner of ridicule for admitting as much) I prayed that Slade would turn on a good show during the evening. But even talking into account their stated aim to get back to street level music, it was a dreadful concert.

The band sweated profusely and maintained a furious pace, but there was an element of desperation about it, not helped of course by the appalling sound which obliterated even much of Noddy's terrifying vocals. The new album was there in force, naturally but only 'Lightning never strikes twice' had any real impact. The kids dutifully pulled them back for three encores, but it didn't obscure the sad reality of the concert. Maybe it was just one of those nights. But I fear for them in England."

Colin Irwin, Melody Maker, April 30, 1977.

1977 BRISTOL
Never mind the quality, feel the noise, eh? True to form Slade are killingly loud. The house isn't full, either, but those that are here are fanatical and also surprisingly young. It seems that Slade maintain an uncanny rapport with the 12 - 15 age bracket which doesn't seem to wilt despite the fact that their original early seventies fans must have grown up and moved on.

Personally, I've never paid much attention to 'em. They're a fair to good heavy rock band with a talent for hit singles and catchy tunes that depend on pretty standard rock cliches and what really elevates them is the quality of Noddy Holder's voice and the simple, good feeling that they bring to the music. They know their audience and their audience knows them - total empathy, no pretensions about the art of their music, a dirty good time is what they're after and is exactly what they achieve. These kids simply want to punch the air in time to the music and just feel good, feel part of something. This is really a football crowd with a band instead of a team, but there's no violence because they're all on the same side.

Now the fact that I don't care for playing 'Simon says' call and response games all night ("Are ya alright?" - "yeah, we're alright") to average mainstream rock music doesn't really matter. What matters is the feeling the audience gets of release and togetherness which Slade are masters at providing for them.

RAB - SOUNDS

1st May 1977 : Bristol Colston Hall
"And so, after a 2 year absence from this country's concert halls, Slade are back from probably the least successful spell during their career that has not only seen them failing to crack the States but also losing a lot of ground back in Britain They will, one assumes, be attempting during the next couple of weeks to recapture some of the old spirit that makes them one of the most popular live acts.

However, on the evidence of the opening night of their tour at Bristol's Colston Hall, whichever way way you care to look at it they've got a real struggle on their hands. In a nutshell, I haven't attended such a lamentably unimpressive gig for a very long time, not helped admittedly by a very turgid sound cutting through at literally head-shattering volume.

Their time spent away in the States, far from having had any desirable effect on their music has transformed them into a two-bit heavy metal outfit, a cross between Status Quo and Black Sabbath, only ten decibels louder.

Their present plight is obviously something the band are not unaware of, for despite the fact that they appeared as brash and arrogant as ever, there remained a vague impression of frenzied desperation, so that they seemed little more than parodies of their former selves ; and the histrionics, such as Dave Hill's guitar solo atop one of the side stacks is quite laughable in its lack of conviction.

Not surprisingly, their set was largely a balanced mix of old hits and songs from the new album, most appropriately titled "Whatever happened to Slade" (the idea for which came, incidentally, from a remark made in 'The Raver' 'round Christmas). The new platter is unfortunately something of a bomb in any case, and under the circumstances of this gig, with the exception of the highly effective climax of 'Lightnin' never strikes twice', the remainder was little more than a pumping mass of heavy metal riff."

Simon Kinnersley, Melody Maker.

(A man now fated to be forever known for talking bollocks, although I do agree that 'Whatever happened to Slade' was a 90% concert dud and of little use to the radio stations).

7th May 1977 - Manchester Free Trade Hall
I was asleep when Liar came on. As the shrill thrusting boogie raked my eardrums and the vocalist sincerely grunted "I've been up and I've been down / I've been lost and I've been found," I was paralysed by the type of fear usually associated with dark alleys and filed teeth. Not, I shivered, trying to rip my eyes open, The goddam Steve Gibbons Band again.

"We are Liar," said the ever so butch frontman at the conclusion of their five-minute bullying and my eyes pooped open in relief. Some relief . . . Believe this - Liar are a pale imitation of The Steve Gibbons Band, and actually play a song called 'Born to rock'n'roll'.

A couple of coughs and a jump to the interval to scan the crowd: obviously predominantly male, a definite case of Whatever Happened To The Bootboys?, all eager to welcome the lads back to the fold. Slade had no-one to impress.

But I reckon impartial onlookers would have been impressed, if not won over, by Slade's efficiently choreographed heavy metal - as slick as Bruce Forsyth and often equally irrepressible. The kind of streamlined powerhouse muzak Kiss strain for to accompany their visuals, not an ounce of flab.

On reflection, the band who gave us the definitive version of 'Born to be wild' would probably be bound to return from a couple of years in the States so severely disciplined. Their set opened with three flawless, expertly constructed punches to the throat - all the right ingredients, the pauses, riffs, repetition, relentless dynamics, false endings . . . the crowd loved it and were away and up.

It took a lot of the throng about this long to recover from the sight of a hairless Dave Hill who, with his Dumbo ears and Bugs Bunny teeth, looks less like the 'Grasshopper' he'd been nicknamed by Noddy Holder than a cousin of Paulus The Woodgnome.

Only when Slade tried for finesse and pretended that they were a third rate Beatles, playing trash like 'How does it feel' and 'Far far away', instead of consolidating their position as a second rate Sweet, did things sag. Sophistication was never Slade's forte.

Ah, the gross overstatement of 'Burning in the heat of love', the deranged indulgent guitar from Hill, during 'The soul the roll and the motion', the flashy bass licks from Jim Lea and the formal pandemonium of Don Powell's drumming. Everything rehearsed to a T. Loved it.

Even 'Gudbuy T'Jane' and 'Mama weer all crazee now' were transformed into gloriously anonymous, agreeably primitive heavy metal bursts, with Holder's mighty voice fitting (to understate) nicely into the controlled wall of noise.

Everyone had a solo spot three times over, the sound was perfect, the lightshow spot-on, the crowd felt wanted and responded with glee. It was the kind of rock-as-showbiz outing that I'd pay money to see for years to come. You can't beat professionalism and precision when it's executed with such fervour.

Paul Morley, NME

8th May 1977 : Newcastle City Hall
"Onstage, two thirty foot trucks worth of amps were stacked in a chrome and black wall exactly and appropriately as for Ted Nugent. I'd come panting in, halfway through their first number, 'Hear me calling' and already the crowd were on their feet and yelling.

But poor old Slade have blown it have they? Oh no. they hadn't got but a few bars into 'Get on up' (from Nobody's fools) before all the preconceptions had been laid waste by a band producing music from the premiere league of excitement. Noddy's Napoleon outfit and Dave Hill's newly Kojaked bonce suggested the same old harmless pop gimmickry approach. the music suggested havoc. It was sensational; a riff as piledriving as anything Quo have produced with the distinctive fuzzed, rough texture of the Slade guitars and a hint of the American funkiness working through. Compulsion.

I could hardly believe it. 'Be' from the new album, was next and it must be the most difficult thing they've ever attempted. The guitars said their piece, then Noddy and Jimmy in miraculous unison tore through a tongue twisting lyric at impossible speed. A guy in front of me couldn't punch the air fast enough with one hand so he was throwing combinations. You just had to get it out like that or bellow something non-specific but appreciative: "Yah, Slade, you motherf***ers!" Dynamics, dynamite.

Those first three numbers were magnificent and the rest of the set, including some of the old hits, couldn't quite stay up there I felt. The crowd didn't agree with me and neither did Noddy. they were on their feet and singing 'The Blaydon Races' while Noddy in total friendly rapport squawked away like a cross between Mr Punch and Schnozzle Durante.

In fact Gudbuy T'Jane stood the test of revisiting best, with its combination of speed, heavy rock compulsive hook line, full of ideas that they have developed in their new material with 'Lightnin' never strikes twice' and 'The soul, the roll and the motion'. Their rhythms are still colossal and they have all come a distance as players. 'Lightnin' especially on the revelation with Dave Hill's guitar harmonising with the vocal then Noddy counterpointing him on his own guitar. And this amid all that barmy excitement.

I expect Slade will be the Status Quo of 1987. PHIL SUTCLIFFE / SOUNDS"

11th May 1977 : Ipswich Gaumont
"Whatever happened to Slade is the title of the group's latest album and Ipswich last Saturday night was given a pretty fair idea. The gut-thundering rock from the Wolverhampton lads had them dancing in the aisles and two over-zealous fans were carried offstage in a night that the audience will not forget in a long time.

But just as they will look back at it with nostalgia, so did the fans only really respond to Slade's old favourites. 'Cum on feel the noize', shouted Noddy Holder and the crowd roared back. 'Mama weer all crazee now' he screamed and they went wild.

But the music that the band has brought with them from their two year spell in the States left little impression. Dave "Grasshopper" Hill with his newly shaved head leapt about the stage with kung-fu agility. It was a pity that his playing wasn't quite so nimble. Twice he was allowed to prance about the stage, jumping on and off a platform performing over-long and incomprehensible solos. They added nothing new to the tracks from the new album that the young fans were already having difficulties with.

But the stumbling block of the new music was soon forgotten when the fans were whipped up once again to stomp out the good old favourites and to demand the group back onto the stage for 5 encores.

RICHARD CARTER, Melody Maker.

1978 - HAMMERSMITH ODEON
'GUDBUY TO PAIN'

Back in the days when I was a wee weeny bopper, Slade were my idols. Never mind The Osmonds; Slade, Bowie, Bolan they were my heritage at a time when I thought New York Dolls were Tiny Tears' colonial cousins. If six years ago I had been offered a couple of tickets to a Slade gig, I would have thought myself the bee's knees.

When the situation arose a few days ago, I was less ecstatic. Skeletons were dragged from the cupboard and my credibility blown sky-high. Tastes change, people change, but Slade don't.

Well, Dave Hill has swapped the silver glitter for leather trews and Noddy sports similar lower garments, a frilly shirt and impressive paunch; but underneath they're still the proverbial working class heroes. The audience was 95 percent male teenagers who clapped, cheered, sang and swayed to all the old favourites. 'Gudbuy T' Jane', 'Take me bak 'ome', 'Far far away', 'Mama weer all crazee now' . . the list continues, as Noddy introduces almost every song with "Now an oldie, remember . . ."

Those numbers not culled from the singles catalogue each had a trick or treat to ensure a firm imprint on the memory. Dry ice and rainbow lighting for 'Burning in a sea of love', or drum, bass and (lengthy) violin solos from Don Powell and Jimmy Lea. They haven't forgotten the tricks of the trade.

They first start a rousing chorus of 'You'll never walk alone' before launching into their new single 'Give us a goal'; amidst the cascading toilet rolls, the atmosphere is closer to a football match than a major concert.

Holder's voice is stronger than ever, with a quality of coarse grit, but the strength of an ox. Musically, other than Lea, the band are little more than competent. Their main strength is their rhythms, which form a basis for their simple but effective melodies, Even on the only ballad of the evening, 'Everyday' the swaying of the crowd was as spontaneous as the foot stomping to 'Get down and get with it', the encore.

The surprise, for me, of the evening was that the showman proved to be the quiet Lea, who continually leapt from the speakers and invaded Hill's less active region of the stage. He even set out to deafen himself by first placing his head in the bass bin and then the drum, yet still escaped with his head soldered to his shoulders.

I'm not sure I was glad to be taken aback, but although Slade are no longer rising stars, they can still pack a punch with their greatest hits . . . live.

KELLY PIKE - RECORD MIRROR

1978 HAMMERSMITH ODEON

They say the tempo of life is speeding up. And so it is as, Slade demonstrated at the Hammersmith Odeon on Saturday night. The good old days are now only half a decade in the past - the nostalgia gap gets smaller all the time.

Though by no means a packed house, the Odeon audience was at one with Noddy and the lads - and this was both good and bad. It was good because Slade needed a welcome. It was bad because some of the audience were too fanatical to give the support band The Brakes, an even break. The brakes are sort of 'middle of the wave' and they put down a tight, good humoured set, the best of which was their last number, 'Bits and pieces'. The energy they displayed on stage just goes to show how things have changed since Slade were riding high - Slade, the great high energy band of their time, came across almost lethargic by comparison.

Between announcements concerning their happiness (and relief) to be back at 'Ammersmif, and after quite a lot of 'Take me bak 'ome', 'Gudbuy T' Jane', Get down and get with it' and 'Weer all crazee now', Slade reeled off their new anthem, 'Give us a goal', which will be of considerable interest to rabid footy fans and of no interest to anyone else. Perhaps there is some fundamental comment on our times in the spectacle of an audience scrabbling for rolls of toilet paper during a rock concert.

It seems we English take a perverse delight in wasting our best rock singers - Roger Chapman springs to mind, and now Noddy Holder. Shaved heads and violin solos do not great music make, and it is a shame that a singer of Holder's talent, originality and force is bogged down in such a mire of sound and fury. I guess that's showbiz.

One last word to the staff of the Odeon, who battled to keep order with a minimum of hassle and a maximum of tolerant discretion. Well done, you courageous few.

DAVID BLAKE, MELODY MAKER

1979 - WATFORD BAILEYS
If ever a group personifies the volatile nature of the pop game, then it's Slade. For two years from 1972 they could do no wrong . . . had even the heaviest critics foaming at the mouth about how wonderful they were. They had credibility with a big C. Long before Mr Pursey was fostering his working class myths, Slade were into spelling in a bad way - 'Take me bak 'ome', 'Mama weer all crazee now', 'Gudbuy T'Jane' and 'Cum on feel the noize'.

Only it was fun then and however crass you thought Slade were there's no denying they could write decent chunes. Then they blew it. their movie 'Flame' failed to ignite the public's imagination, repeated attempts "to break" Slade in America failed, and - fashionable though it was to be working class in '76 - by this time, Slade were strictly outre.

Still managed by ex-Animal Chas Chandler, they're now to be found working the colleges and cabaret circuit and are regulars at Watford Baileys.

Although acutely aware of their unenviable position, they still attack with all their old gusto. The Bailey's audience wasn't exactly bristling with life, but for all the band seemed to care they could have been bill-topping at Earl's Court. The glitter has gone, platform boots are left in the wardrobe (though Noddy still wears his trusty titfer), but the only concession to 1979 appears to be Dave Hill's leather strides and a severe shearing of his locks. Visually and musically they were tight and exciting, Hill and Jim Lea swapping stage positions with energetic dexterity.

In the final analysis there is little real difference between Slade and Status Quo and Thin Lizzy. And it could be that a hit single would shoot them back to the top. But it could also be that they're designed to remain in the shade for the rest of their natural . . . . time will tell.

STEVE CLARKE, NME

1979

MUSIC MACHINE, LONDON

Slade were left stranded when the tide of the new wave ran through the music business. The fact that Slade made their reputation as one of the best nights out in the country has been obscured by the glitter of yesteryear. This conditioning has detracted from the fact that they are impeccable musicians. Sure, Dave Hill still waggles his bum while teetering dangerously on high heels, but his guitar playing is always fresh, assured and entertaining - even without the lunatic visuals. Jimmy Lea provides a standard of bass guitar virtuosity that merges perfectly with the relentless pounding of Don Powell's drums. Noddy Holder still displays that legendary fog horn voice that's hard, gritty and raspy, a classic rock'n'roll blunt instrument.

The oldies like 'Take me bak 'ome' , Look wot you dun', 'Gudbuy T Jane' and 'Mama weer all crazee now' all sounded even fresher than my memory led me to expect. The tracks they played from their new album 'Return to base' sounded equally interesting. Slade are as good a slice of text book loud, raucous, rowdy, rock'n'roll spirit as you are ever likely to see. It's time for a re-evaluation of Slade and it might as well start with you. I advise you to come and feel the noise soon.

Reviewed by MIKE GARDNER (for Sounds)

1980's LIVE reviews

1980 - SLADE / U2 / DISCHARGE - THE LYCEUM

Euphoria, excitement, acclaim, celebration - you name it, Slade commanded it tonight, roaring out of the swirling mists of time like conquering heroes returning to their native land. 'Retrogression' you scream, 'Bollox' I say, Slade were by far the punkiest band on the bill, but then the opposition wasn't that hot . . .

* Review of Discharge and U2 follow which are not really very interesting, but the U2 review concludes as follows: Underneath the glittery surface U2 would appear to be nurturing some severely unhealthy elements . . .

Which is more than can be said for Slade, who presented one of the most pleasurable hours of yob rock it's ever been my pleasure to 'oi-oi' to this year. The atmosphere had enough electricity to supply the domestic power needs of the USA for five years - the crowd was like a huge slice of the Kop 80 minutes into a 5 - 0 thrashing - and Slade fed off it growing huger and more manic before our very eyes.

Honestly, I'd put money on it that this ain't the same band I watched striving rather desperately at the Music Machine last year. It's as if the Reading triumph and the top 50 EP has pumped 'em full of new adrenalin and energy and confidence because the stage literally exploded in a mass of smoke bombs, silly trousers, toppers, bowlers, whooping and a wailing and other expressions of purest glee. I must admit I'd only come to see the old classics - 'Everyday', 'Take me bak 'ome', 'Cum on feel the noize', 'Gudbuy T' Jane', 'Mama weer all crazee now', 'Get down and get with it', et al - but like the old one goes, nostalgia ain't what it used to be and before I knew it I was quite frankly swept off my feet by the sheer hard rocking power of the re-born band.

The new Slade hit with the power of an out-of-control subway train, putting most of the much-mooted NWOBHM to shame. 'Night starvation' is a case in point, possessing more balls than a bingo caller and featuring Jimmy and Dave pogoing goofily along to its punky pace. Other highlights had to include the arms-in-air classic 'Everyday' and the show stealing newie 'The wheels ain't coming down', and as encore justifiably followed encore, the evening dissolved in my memory as a gorgeous celebration of high energy entertainment, random football chants and carefree singsonging. Sham were never this good at it . . .

GARY BUSHELL - SOUNDS, November 1st 1980

1981 - HAMMERSMITH ODEON

"Here's a number for all of you who don't get enough," announced Noddy Holder. "It's called 'Night Starvation'!" suddenly it clicked: none of these people get enough. One saw the whole thing - the identification with fearless macho guitar heroes, the aggressive phallic imagery, the Roger Dean trip - as one big fantasy myth of overpowering ubiquitous masculinity. To be precise, a really heavy scene. Slade however, who made this blinding revelation possible, don't quite fit in with it.

What freak of evolution has turned these jesters of Glam Rock into monsters of HM? Perhaps it was to be expected that all the various practices overturned by the new wave should form some kind of alliance to run it out of town for good. Whatever it was, Slade are onto a good thing, and they know it. Heavy Metal's major weapon is that it doesn't need to apologise; it never entertains the concept of selling out. The more successful a band is, the more "power" it has.

At least Heavy Metal fans make a point of enjoying themselves. I must even admit to a twinge of nostalgia on my own part - those great stacks of Marshall amps, the hush as the lights went down, the red lights winking out of the darkness. . .

And yet, as with all those supergroups way back when, the excitement came before the show and not during it. The moment Slade broke into their first rock blues, the sheer sexlessness froze me into stoical rigidity. I became a martyr to my ears. The only thing that made up for this complete musical de-sensitisation was their undeniable visual appeal; the delightful Dave Hill in a stetson, Noddy Holder's mutton chops, even Jimmy Lea's green violin. But despite this, despite even Holder's unique voice, numbers like 'The wheels ain't coming down' or 'We'll bring the house down' are just vulgarised Southern rock without the raunchiness.

Of the old hits, 'Take me bak ome' and 'Cum on feel the noize' (one of several enjoyable encores) were the most enjoyable. The uniform blandness of everything else was equaled only by the delight and apparent devotion of their new audience.

BARNEY HOSKINS - MELODY MAKER - 1981 (Obviously the odd one out in the hall . . . Why did he bother to go?)

1981 - BLACKBURN KING GEORGE'S HALL

Tonight was a time for forgetting work, politics, reality . . .music. A decade of Slade. A handful of hits and cult status. Keep singing. Four cowboys; Noddy Holder's powerful voice at the helm. They could do no wrong tonight. Oldies, newies . . . songs of no real fixed abode - they were all given an equal cheer. And the coloured lights and the dry ice . . . well it was all really . . . .

Good old fashioned fun and a collection of memorabilia. Keep spending. All 300 of the fans here had bought something. T-shirts and badges to remember the best night of their lives. And what a story to tell their friends. History in the making it was. Keep Slading. You'll bring the house down on me one day.

Alan Entwistle (SOUNDS)

1982 : KEELE UNIVERSITY CHRISTMAS BALL

Ah Slade! The very name evokes memories of the old Radio 1 club, when the world first had its ears syringed by THAT voice bawling out 'Get down and get with it'. Since then Slade have enjoyed the heady heights of super-stardom and plummeted back down into the obscurity from whence they came. Nothing if not resilient, they spent some time in America until their rebirth in the unlikely ashes of Reading Festival. In the 80's, Slade are louder and ruder than they've ever been and more fun!

From the start they waste no time in whipping the assembled revelers into the seething, sweaty mass that is par for any Slade gig. Noddy is his usual mix of Clockwork Orange Alex and the artful dodger. Dave Hill struts and swaggers the whole time, while ripping out lead guitar riffs of a standard that makes him the thinking man's Angus Young.

The real surprise though, is Jimmy Lea. In addition to his bass duties, he finds time to trundle through 'purple haze' as well as a nifty fiddle solo, part of it played behind his back. Dexy's who, John?

At the sharp end, Noddy keeps a firm hand on the atmosphere, pushing it to the edge of chaos, but never allowing it to peter over the edge. As for the songs, well need you ask? Apart from Gary Glitter, very few people can play an entire live set comprised of hit singles. Slade could if they wished, which they didn't. There are favourites of course: 'Gudbuy T Jane' and the immortal 'Get down and get with it', as well as later material, 'Lock up your daughters' We'll bring the house down' and so on.

The only time the pace relaxed was during the new single C'est la vie' which is the nearest Slade ever get to being romantic. The crowd responded with arm waving, while those who knew it sang along in tearfully drunken unison, ignoring the beer that slopped all over the floor and neighbours' clothes. There were a few glasses smashed and there were a couple of times when the lighting desk was in grave danger of taking a walk across the ballroom, but the atmosphere never hinted at the ugliness that ruins so many good-time gigs these days.

The encore was a medley of 'Cum on feel the noize' and 'Mama weer all crazee now'. and that was it. But what about THAT single? Back they came, Noddy wearing a full Santa Claus costume and asking us if there was anything we'd like to hear. "You'd bloody better, after I've put this f***ing lot on!" was his considered opinion and they went straight into the song. Considering the number of times they must have played it, Slade could be forgiven for a cursory run-through, but that's not their way. Like everything else, it was done with foot to the floorboards. On this showing, Slade are maintaining the philosophy that's sustained them through the last decade: "Make 'em have it!"

Reviewed for SOUNDS by SIMON SCOTT

1983 : LOUGHBOROUGH UNIVERSITY

SLADE
Loughborough University

I HAD a yearning to be right at the front. Defying the crushing mass of the crowd for the opportunity to gaze into the mouth of Noddy Holder.

I wished my eyes could extend out like a little pair of marbles on the ends of stalks to reach deep down inside, past the yellowing teeth, the fetid tongue, the tonsil scars, way down yonder to examine just where that coarse Yodel comes from.

There's definitely something lodged in the body of Noddy Holder that could be removed after his death (although some would prefer it done sooner) and exhibited in the Authorised Medical Personnel Only section of some pioneering research hospital.

There, one December day, it would send shivers of terror streaking through the veins of young medics by bawling from its glass case:

“Merrie Christmas Everybody...!”

Noddy Holder's voice, is a dream (!) topping to Slade's otherwise unremarkable but high-horsepower racket. That vinegar gargle reels off intros and chants too transcendental to repeat, making little sense when not delivered with the sage-like wisdom of the master.

Dave Hill wears a cowboy hat in place of a mortar board and plays guitar like graduate of BBC2's Rockschool. He takes a batch of two-note riffs, presents them this way, that way, back to front, upside down, inside out and laces either end of each song with a grandiloquent yet somehow poetic overkill.

And then there's Jimmy Lea. Watching Jimmy Lea is a show in itself. Kicking his bass. Eating his bass. Playing 'Purple Haze' on his bass. Jumping all over the PA. Leaving, then returning for a delectably oafish violin solo.

Slade are a perfectly rounded entertainment. A celebration of the ritual in pop-rock (with all the narrow boundaries that that glib category implies). Slade neither stretch nor contract into anything above or beyond their immediate selves.

Thoughts of their potential metaphysical resonance are dulled when they start chucking bog rolls. There is a kind of excitement: the controlled kind. Like a box of safety matches, Slade are inflammable but not dangerous. Not that they need to be. The Streamers are thrown back and forth. Arms are raised. 'You'll Never Walk Alone'. The building seems to move.

I was lounging on the balcony and the sea of hands below took on the eerie to-and-fro motion that the carpet had the last time I was seriously drunk (August 3rd 1978).

But this time, I didn't throw up.

REVIEWED BY MICK SINCLAIR FOR SOUNDS.


1983 : LOUGHBOROUGH UNIVERSITY "Reviewed" by David Quantick for the NME (a paper not renowned for having any sense of humour whatsoever).

'MAMA WEER ALL CLISHAYZ NOW'

Here they are again, being famous. With 'My oh my' doing well, 'Merry Xmas everybody' pottering about, and with royalties from Quiet Riot's 'Cum on feel the noize', Slade ought to be looking like an interesting band. Unfortunately, Slade have a dogged determination to be as ordinary as possible.

Tonight their audience was made for them; a collection of cider-filled students in the worst of 1978 fashion, they were old enough to remember Slade's golden days and tasteless enough to appreciate the drivel that Holder, Hill and co now turn out. So tasteless that the cheers for 'We'll bring the house down', that unfulfilled brikkies promise, were louder than those for 'Take me bak 'ome', 'Mama weer all crazee now' and the like.

In the 1970's Slade's combination of melody, the Holder voice and a rocky stance made for a mad thunderous record with a bright red label. Nowadays, they're content with an extremely sane thunderous noise.

There is a kind of poetry about something like Merry Xmas everybody (the descending chords and the despairing vocals gave lines like 'Does your granny always tell you that the old songs are the best?' a good pop grace. But put that next to 'Lock up your daughters' (which sounds like a song about locking up your daughters and is a bout as interesting as mucking out your hamsters) or the atrocious 'A night to remember' and you have got to get down on your knees and thank the good lord that you never had the slightest desire to see Slade do an evening of bad heavy metal. Take me back home.

1982 HAMMERSMITH ODEON - 'HOLDER HOLDS ON'

As the house lights dimmed the stage exploded and the early seventies on eight legs took the stage at the Hammersmith Odeon. Noddy Dave, Kim and Don. Remember the hats? The suits? The platform boots?

Somewhere along the line Slade have been caught up in the heavy metal movement, but with the exception of re-hashed Whitesnake riffs in the shape of 'Lock up your daughters', the link is a weak one. Admittedly, the Slade patches can be caught rubbing uncomfortably frayed edges with the Sabbath and Rainbow ones, but you can't judge a market by a bikers back.

No, beneath the wailing guitars and pounding drums is a pop band. Give it a few years and I can see the SingalongaSlade albums in the party favourites section in your local record shop.

From the second they took the stage the crowd were with them, and every number precipitated frenzied audience reaction. They must have been doing the same act for years now.

Jimmy Lea is an absolutely masterful entertainer and bass player, and still knocks out one of the best rock and roll violin behind his head, under his elbow, between his legs. And he didn't miss a note. Dave Hill storms the stage looking caricature of his former self. His slightly overweight body is squeezed uncomfortably into a one piece leopard suit, with feet perched menacingly in a stacked pair of white cowboy boots. A hat secure on his head for the majority of the gig, but when one of the two models who joined the band onstage for one number took it off, it sent him diving for a re-claim as his bald patch was there for all to see. Still, it doesn't matter Dave - we still love you. Or "Go on, Dave, you ugly b*stard!" as one fan behind me exclaimed.

Slade haven't got anything new to offer, but they can still get on stage and deliver. While everyone reminisces about the time the Stones, The Who and Quo have remained together, just remember this lot have been without a single lineup change for over 12 years. Let's wait and see if todays pop darlings are still delivering in the 90's. Somehow, I think Slade will be.

TONY HORKINS - SOUNDMAKER, January 8th 1983.