In 1969 Rare Bird were on a flight path to great things. Signed to Charisma alongside The Nice and Van der Graaf Generator, their first single Sympathy reached the top of the charts in Italy and France, and made the Top 30 in the UK. But after six years of struggling to build on that success, they called it a day. In 2021, when their recordings were released in a six-CD box set, Prog explored their legacy.
As the 70s dawned Rare Bird seemed to have everything going for them. They had an immediate hit single; they were signed to one of the most enlightened and dynamic record labels of the era; and they had a sound that set them apart from everyone else. But their aspirations were to be dashed. “We were let down by circumstances conspiring to trip us up,” admits drummer Mark Ashton, adding, “But some of it happened through our own misjudgments.”
The story begins with Lunch – not the meal, the band. In August 1968, keyboard players Graham Field and David Kaffinetti first teamed up in that group. By the following November it was over and the pair brought in Ashton and bassist/vocalist Steve Gould for a new project.
“David and I knew each other from Herne Bay,” Ashton says. “I moved to London and met up with Davy O’List, who’d been the guitarist with The Nice. We tried to put a band together but things didn’t work out. By then David had also come to London; he and Graham recruited Steve, and because David knew I was looking for a band he asked me to join.”
Gould initially played guitar, but soon switched to bass. “Graham and David were keen to have two keyboard players and no guitarist,” he recalls. “They felt the need for something to make them stand apart – the absence of guitar made us unusual.”
“But we didn’t have a name,” says Ashton. “And there was no manager involved. Without someone representing us it would be tough getting a label deal.”
They recorded a demo, which attracted the attention of Tony Stratton-Smith. “We rehearsed at Graham’s flat, and through contacts I persuaded Tony, who I knew a little, and also [successful agent] Terry King, to come and check us out,” Ashton says. “We played for them in Graham’s bedroom and they were impressed. Between us, Strat and I came up with the name Rare Bird. I mentioned the idea of having ‘Bird’ in there, and Strat added ‘Rare’.”
With King aboard as manager and booking agent, the band were one of the first signees to Stratton-Smith’s Charisma label. John Anthony – who’d just produced The Aerosol Grey Machine for Van der Graaf Generator – was chosen to oversee Rare Bird’s self-titled debut album, which was recorded at Trident Studios in London.
None of us thought Sympathy was a decent choice for a single, let alone stood a chance of being a hit!
Mark Ashton
The budget was tight so it was completed very quickly, Ashton remembers. “We only had a few days to get it done. But all the material was written, and we were fully rehearsed. John Anthony was a big help; he captured our sound so well.”
Released in November 1969, Rare Bird made very little commercial headway in the UK. But a couple of months later, Sympathy was put out as a single and reached No. 27 in the UK. “That took us totally by surprise,” admits Ashton. “None of us in the band even thought it was a decent choice for a single, let alone stood a chance of being a hit! I have to credit John with pushing Charisma. He believed in it, and he worked extra-hard to get a great sound on the track. That unexpected success allowed us to buy better equipment.”
Sympathy was a major hit across Europe, especially in Italy and France – and this is where Ashton believes the band slipped up. “We should have toured across Europe and taken advantage of the impact the single had. Instead we were lazy and stuck to playing shitholes in Britain. That was a huge mistake.”
The band also failed to make inroads in the US, despite a 1970 tour and the album reaching No.115 in the Billboard chart. They played only a handful of shows, and so instead of getting a foothold in the States the way that Genesis, Yes and Jethro Tull did, Rare Bird returned disillusioned.
“I don’t want to attack anyone in particular for what went wrong,” says Ashton. “But Strat has to shoulder a lot of the blame. He got us out there with hardly any shows booked, and with no promotional plan for the album.
“Annoyingly, when we were able to perform, the audience reaction was incredibly positive. We did a date at the Aragon Ballroom in Chicago opening for The Grateful Dead and It’s A Beautiful Day [on July 3, 1970] and the crowd loved us. That offered real hope that we had what it took to do well in America – but the inactivity we then had to endure undermined it all.”
I believed the band had hit a wall. I’d also had enough of just being a drummer
Mark Ashton
“The entire trip was badly planned,” says a still-infuriated Gould. “At one point we were staying in New York hoping to pick up some live bookings, but none were available. Strat managed to get us some work there as extras in a movie, so we could pay hotel bills. We were the band in a scene shot at a gig. I have no clue what the film was called, whether it ever came out, and if it did whether that scene we were in was used. [Kaffinetti would go on to feature in This Is Spinal Tap as keyboard player Viv Savage.] The whole trip across the Atlantic – the only one we ever did – is best forgotten.”
For their second album, the band decided to produce themselves. Ashton was convinced at the time that it was another mistake. “I argued that we should retain John. But Graham wanted us to take over the production side. For one thing it was cheaper. The others sided with him. It was a bad move; we needed someone outside to focus our ideas.
“Without that, the album became too self-indulgent. It wasn’t as strong as the first one. We also weren’t given enough time to write the new material, so weren’t as prepared as we should have been when we went into the studio.”
As Your Mind Flies By came out in September 1970, but it was another commercial failure, which led to a parting with Charisma. “The band were dropped because we weren’t selling records,” says Gould bluntly. “There’s no other way of putting it.”
But that wasn’t the end of their problems. Both Field (who died in 2018) and Ashton quit. “We never had any money, and the gigs we played were shite,” says Gould. “Rare Bird were going nowhere. So when Graham got an offer on his own from CBS he decided to take it.” He would release one album in 1971 under the band name Fields.
As for Ashton: “Graham had already left, and I believed the band had hit a wall. I’d also had enough of just being a drummer; I wanted to write music that was different to Rare Bird. I was into Neil Young and Bob Dylan and that’s where I was determined to position myself. John Anthony sorted me out with a solo deal through Trident Productions, who also had Queen. I did two albums as Headstone [1974’s Bad Habits and Headstone a year later.]”
A lot of people who were fans of the previous albums deserted us, and we didn’t pick up a new audience
Steve Gould
The much-changed Rare Bird subsequently signed to Polydor. They now sounded more like Crosby, Stills & Nash, which was down to Gould: “The classical style on those first two albums was due to Graham’s influence. I got fed up with it and wanted a fresh start. What we were doing wasn’t selling, so it was time for a new approach.”
Gould switched to playing rhythm guitar, with Paul Karas on bass and Ced Curtis as lead guitarist. But it didn’t alter Rare Bird’s fortunes. Once more self-produced, third album Epic Forest was put out in November 1972 and didn’t sell in Britain; it did chart in the States, albeit peaking at a lowly No.192. “A lot of people who were fans of the previous albums deserted us,” sighs Gould. “And we didn’t pick up a new audience.”
There were further line-up changes for the next album. Fred Kelly came in on drums, while Karas was replaced by Nic Potter – best known for his stint with Van der Graaf Generator. Self-produced once more and titled Somebody’s Watching, their fourth album was released in August 1973 and proved to be a commercial non-event. It did include a fascinating version of Ennio Morricone’s For A Few Dollars More, under the title Dollars and featuring John Wetton on bass, whose name was misspelled on the album artwork.
“John had been a friend of ours from early days of Rare Bird,” says Gould. “I can’t remember if we’d already parted with Nic before recording that track, or whether we just fancied playing with John. But it was great to work with him.”
Andy Rae came in as bassist for what would be the band’s final album. “By then there was no money,” explains Gould. “That’s why Nic left. Andy had been our roadie, and we’d often seen him playing bass. So we got him in.”
Ced Curtis and Peter Rice co-produced Born Again, released in May ’74. It was the final burst of activity; and in 1975 the band split up. “We’d fizzled out,” says Gould. “We all knew it. Calling that album Born Again was wishful thinking – it wasn’t to be.”
Do I have fond memories of the band? Not really
Steve Gould
Looking back, Rare Bird’s early releases were unquestionably among the most enticing progressive albums of the period and superbly represent a unique and creative line-up. “The Nice, in particular Keith Emerson, were a big influence at the time,” says Ashton, who now lives in France and paints under the name Mark Ashton Vey. “However, we had our own sound, especially on Rare Bird.”
While the band soon adopted a more conventional approach, even here can be found engaging pockets of progressive inclinations. “Although we broke away from the style on those early records, we never quite shook it off,” admits Gould.
Rare Bird remain an enigma who, in both incarnations, recorded breathtaking music that still sounds remarkable. “We had a bit of success,” says Gould, who went on to play bass in Alvin Lee’s band for two decades. “But not enough on which to build a career. Do I have fond memories of the band? Not really. We got what we deserved.”
