I was a Funky Worm. Yes, really.
Today’s share is something of a musical memoir. A little self-indulgent perhaps but involves Kylie Minogue, an early and unknowing brush with Portuguese and, I hope, a reminder, to some, of better days in music and popular culture.
We begin in the late 80s, when as a student still lucky enough to be funded entirely by the taxpayer, I ‘invested’ my entire college grant in a DJ set-up consisting of two turntables and an imported American disco mixer.
I had been inspired at the time, around 18 years of age, to follow in the steps of rap and scratch artists like Grandmaster Flash, whose sound was unlike anything I’d ever heard before and enthralled me into earnest emulation.
I wasn’t alone. Others of my age and musical taste were buying vinyl records made by obscure black American musicians, freshly imported into the UK, as well as unearthing other treasures at what were called ‘record fairs’ that had lain dormant since their first plays in the 70s.
Hypnotised and excited by the new sounds that washed up in London, and delighted by the ‘rare grooves’ coming to light, I was among a new niche of creators who made new music from old samples, who filled the dancefloors and eventually stormed the commercial music charts.
Fate, and love of a Yorkshire woman, had me head North, and my music making took root in the Steel City, Sheffield, in the tumultuous post-recession landscape that gave birth to ABC, The Human League and Pulp, among many other diverse and brilliant artists.
It was there I set to work with a man called ‘Parrott’ at the invitation of a local music label FON, who offered us some studio time. Gladly, we took in our record boxes and a bunch of rough ideas to in-house producer – Mark Brydon – who would go on to be one half of big pop and club hitters Moloko.
Mark indulged me and (real name) Richard, helping us loop, record and structure what turned out to be an early UK ‘house’ tune, aimed squarely at local dancefloors, with any other interest from clubbers elsewhere in the country or world being an added bonus.
In those days, the methodology was to take the ‘mixed-down’ tape, created after some long nights in the studio, to a disc cutter who would make us a test pressing in acetate, which could ultimately be played on a nightclub soundsystem.
I recall going to a man’s house somewhere near Southampton who would perform this feat, allowing us to test our creation at the City Hall Ballroom in Sheffield on a no doubt cold and wet Saturday night, in the hope of heating up the dancefloor.
As it turned out, the Northern clubbers liked what they heard – an instrumental sampled from an obscure disco-samba track by the name of ‘Chove Chuva’ by Samba Soul, who neatly blended their track with a cover of ‘Mas Que Nada’; Portuguese words that meant nothing to me in those days.
This 1977 disco tune got its new lease of life just as US and UK DJs were having success in the mainstream charts, having pleased crowds at the weekend in the clubs, giving us an open door at the major record labels, who wanted to cash in on the sampling and remixing craze.
Our somewhat obscure but favourably received creation came to the attention of WEA, or ‘Warners’ as we knew them, who thought we had the start of something good, which might be made better with some vocals and more song-like structure.
Our go-to gal for vocals and, as it turns out, a brilliant front-woman, was one Julie Stewart, who loved dancing in the clubs where our tune first found favour, and it was back into the studio for more midnight oil, hastily crafted lyrics, and a semblance of commerciality that would land us a major recording contract and publishing deal.
This was indeed the ‘big-time’, as TV appearances ensued, music press and radio interviews. As the track, which would be called ‘Hustle to The Music’, and us, the ridiculously named ‘The Funky Worm’, gained traction and popularity, a video was created and eventually an invitation to appear on iconic UK TV weekly music show, Top of The Pops.
It was here that we would appear alongside a very young Kylie Minogue doing ‘The Locomotion’, long before she became a disco diva, Yazz, and All About Eve, whose ‘live’ performance we may have jinxed. We performed before them and witnessed them then stare silently into the TV cameras as their song played mysteriously throughout the nation on living room tellies.
That would have been the 4th of August, 1988, and an unforgettable night that would see us peak at number 13 in the UK Top 20, which is more than can be said about my disposable dance moves, where I mime a trumpet I couldn’t play in real life.
Some here might know of Alan Titchmarsh, whose Pebble Mill at One show we also guested on, as the unlikely DJs-turned-popstars, who graduated from the dancefloor to the stage door at BBC Television Centre, from where we saw Blue Peter broadcast as kids.
Sure, music fans who’d camped at the gate to get pop legend autographs were disappointed when the windows slowly whirred down to reveal a limo full of nobodies, as we arrived at the TOTP rehearsals. But it was fun while it lasted, nearly 40 years ago when ‘Now That’s What I Call Music’ was still a thing, and Kylie was still synonymous with Jason.
And a mere musical memory it may have remained if not for a keen-eared producer and remixer by the name of Dave Lee, who it turns out had always had a glad ear for our track, and reached out a few months back to see if he could breathe some new life into it. This he did, and I’m delighted to say has remixed and released his new version of our version of other people’s versions, saying: “If you know your UK house, this was a pop hit, got to number 13 in the pop chart in 1988 … and it also got to number one in the Billboard dance chart, which is cool.
“I always liked this record, and I’ve done a new version of it. It’s got a cool chorus and it’s from that MARRS ‘Pump Up The Volume’, Bomb The Bass, school of UK house with lots of little samples and little bits from here and there thrown together with a disco-y flavour,” he added about our brief brush with funky fame speaking of its digital and vinyl versions that are now available.
I was a Funky Worm. And it looks like the early bird didn’t kill me off given my band’s nostalgic return on also repopularised vinyl, when heading to the dancefloor to forget the troubles of the world might also be a thing again, as it was in 80s Sheffield, UK.
New version available on bandcamp – click here
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Funky Worm official video featuring Carl
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