Pocket Rocket has recorded four new songs. So what now?

Back in the old days (oh, here we go... - Ed), you came home from the recording studio with a cassette tape of your song mixes. One cassette each, if you were lucky. You called it a demo. You'd put it on immediately you got in - and more often than not, it didn't sound half as good as you remember it doing in the studio, through their speakers. It sounded muffled; you didn't get the separation of the individual instruments that you heard through the mixing desk in the studio; and then there was the tape hiss. It was disappointing.

And years later, it still sounds shit - I know 'cos I've just played a bunch of my old demo cassettes. And years later, you realise why you never made it.

However unhappy you were with your master cassette though, it would have to do. This was basically because you couldn't afford to remix it or master it properly. Because CDs hadn't been invented. And because you were all still on the dole.

So you'd lovingly create an inlay card, from photocopies made down the library. You'd write and type up a biog - not that you really had a particularly remarkable history, except perhaps that gig at the Rock Garden, where you'd played on the same bill as Suede, before they were famous and when Justine Frischmann was still with them (he's not kidding, either! - Ed) - and then you'd get your mate at work to photocopy it onto letterheaded paper that you have physically cut and pasted together.

You'd then research as many record companies as possible, and regardless of whether they were suitable, you'd mail them a cassette and biog, and hope for the best.

A few days later envelopes would start coming through your door. Some of these envelopes would be clearly carrying returned demos - this was a bad sign, of course - and others would be without, which always seemed like a good sign until you realised it was just a tight, or lazy, record company who couldn't be bothered to return your cassette. Most of the letters within, read something like this: "Thank you for sending your demo to 'So and So' Records, unfortunately, it's not quite what we're looking for at the moment. We wish you every success blah, blah, blah..."

These letters would then be collected like trophies to highlight the stupidity of the music business you were aiming to convince of your talent. These idiots were 'the infidels'. These people were blind. They hadn't got a clue that they'd just 'passed on' the next best thing.

These days, your recording doesn't have to be called 'a demo'. You can proudly call it a 'CD'. On Monday night each member of Pocket Rocket came home from the studio with a four track 'CD'. In fact we're calling it an EP or extended player, to give it its full name.

And we won't be mailing copies of this CD out blindly to record companies. It took fifteen years, but we've learnt that lesson. We will be making hard copies, but that isn't a priority because its quicker to reach your audience these days with downloads. These days people listen to music on their computers, iPhones, or iPods. Their CD collections have stagnated, and their colourful spines are fading gradually away on the shelves in corner of their living room, like old paperbacks.

The first thing that we need to do is update our web presence. This is much more complicated than it sounds but even more tedious than you can imagine. Pocket Rocket has seven sites or pages.

So that is what I have been doing. For the last three or four days, on and off. And I'm still doing it. The process is complicated by the linking all these pages. These days, post-Facebook, you have to consider 'status' activity, as a way of promoting your releases and gigs. Some of these seven sites carry status bars, some are linked to Facebook and Twitter, others aren't. But basically, the objective is to minimise the amount of status bars that you have to update. And maximise the spread of the single piece of news.

I also need to update biogs, create some new banners and some artwork for the downloadable EP, too.

All this is all in preparation for an email-out, announcing the release of the new downloadable EP, with links to where you can buy it, or simply stream it.

To be continued....

20 sung and 20 unsung classics

I went to see the Arctic Monkeys last night.

Not really. I went to see The Stranglers last night. I would have liked to have seen the Arctic Monkeys but a) they’re not playing and b) had they been, I wouldn’t stand a chance of getting a ticket, unless I began non-stop calling Ticketmaster from 8:55am on the day tickets went on sale.

No, a friend of mine had some free tickets to see The Stranglers at Shepherd’s Bush Empire and the friendly and sociable thing to do was of course to accept the offer of one. I’ve seen them live a few times now over the years. On the first occasion Golden Brown was in the top ten. I think it was 1982? I think it was number two in the charts at the time? Anyway, I was at secondary school, for sure, and it was one of the first gigs, if not the first gig, I ever went to. Either that or the Kinks? Both were at the Guildford Civic Hall.

I love the Stranglers but I pretty much draw a line at the end of side two of La Folie. Beyond that I liked the odd song; I feel the same about Always the Sun as I do about Avalon by Roxy Music. I like it mostly out of loyalty. I am also uncomfortable about the idea of seeing them without Hugh Cornwell. This is the main reason that I wouldn’t pay to see The Stranglers these days. To me, it would be like seeing Queen without Freddie Mercury or dare I say it, Led Zeppelin without Robert Plant 'cos yes, I hear from my news-hungry wife that Page, Jones and Bonham Jnr are actually considering embarking on a tour without Percy).

Clearly, the moshing 40-somethings in front of the stage, indeed the majority of the audience last night, couldn’t have cared less about Mr Cornwell’s absence. I know even stubborn old me began to feel just a bit petty, especially once I found myself singing along to hit after hit. I enjoyed it after all. I got over my prejudice. Temporarily at least, I forgot about missing Cornwell’s tones and presence and wit. It was entertaining. There were 'hits' (I use the term relatively) that I hadn’t anticipated too like Tank and their Doors-like cover of Walk on By; both sent shivers down my spine. This is a sure sign of my nostalgic pleasure.

Now, The Stranglers’ last hit was in 1990 and was a cover version of 96 Tears which reached number 17 in the charts (remember The Charts?). Two years earlier they scored their second biggest hit with a cover of All Day and All of the Night, which reached number 7, but that was it for the Stranglers’ hit machine. It ran out of pop-petrol. 1990 was also the year that Hugh Cornwell went off to pursue a solo career. He hasn’t managed another hit either. He hardly needs one though; bearing in mind he still reaps the rewards of the Stranglers continuing to tour his songs.

The mid to late 80s we’re obviously a difficult time for the Stranglers. They were after all a dire time for music generally. The Stranglers were looking for a new post-Golden Brown identity, they needed to prove they had longevity. Always The Sun got them some recognition in the US but wasn't big in the UK. The hits during this period were few and far between. Hugh Cornwell clearly didn’t believe in their longevity, not in a creative respect anyway. I couldn’t tell you if the songs were still any good. I had moved on to other things. It’s not unusual though, in fact you could say it’s common for bands to eventually lose their hit-making ability, facility and credentials. For some, success itself, takes the edge off the words and music. Others simply run out of ideas. The Stranglers had a good run of twelve years or so. They went from pub-rockers to near-chart-toppers and managed to pull off a 7/8 time-signature and a song about heroin in the same hit record, Golden Brown – I hear it now mostly when I’m shopping at my Sainsburys Local. I don’t think they know about the subject matter.

Now if the Stranglers hadn’t have gotten so famous, would they still have been as prolific? Would they still have written Golden Brown and Always the Sun? Let’s say they never made it far enough out of Guildford. Or that they bubbled under but never quite made it. Would they have matured out of their punk sound without chart success and gone on to improve their songwriting without it too? Would they still have a hit or two up their sleeve? Would they still be going? Is there a Stranglers out there, that didn’t make it and who still have a wealth of great songs in a box in an attic somewhere? I think there must be.

But would anyone be interested? Well, a good song is a good song. It is timeless, isn’t it? It just needs the right promotion. Wouldn’t it be great to put a CD-compilation together of lost gems. Great obscure moments in local rock history. 20 Unsung Classics, I’d call it. I’m sure they’re still being played out there on old tape-cassettes. I know, ‘cos I have a demo by a band called the Contours from Guildford, which dates back to the New Wave era. I still put it on from time to time ‘cos I like the songs. The sound qulaity isn't great but there’s a couple of really good songs on it.

If you’ve got a lost gem, a hit that should have been, drop me a line at tobyburton@rock-til-you-drop.com. I'd love to hear it, and about it.