Teddy Boys Don't
Knit (1981)
Teddy
Boys
is often derided
even by some of Viv
Stanshall's most
loyal fans for
possessing neither
the depth of
Men Opening
Umbrellas
Ahead
nor the hilarious
wordplay of
Sir Henry at
Rawlinson End.
Yet while there may
be some truth in
both claims, it can
still be enjoyed as
the closest
Stanshall ever came
to reinvoking the
unique essence of
the Bonzo Dog Band.
Certainly it is
infinitely
preferable to
the Bonzos'
actual efforts at
reunion — the
lamentable
Let's Make Up and Be
Friendly
from 1971, or 1992's
execrable single "No
Matter Who You Vote
for the Government
Always Gets In."
Close scrutiny of
the credits reveals
that, in fact,
Neil Innes
and
Roger Ruskin Spear
helped out on
several tracks
(along with the
mighty
Richard Thompson
on guitar).
Approached in this
spirit, though
Teddy Boys Don't
Knit may not
match
The Doughnuts in
Granny's Greenhouse
in terms of sheer
comic genius and
melodic invention,
it is still an album
to treasure by one
of the great
unregarded geniuses
of British music and
literature. Recorded
in 1981, it finds
Stanshall emerging
from a very dark
period, blighted by
nervous breakdowns
and various forms of
addiction. Now he
was enjoying family
life for the first
time, an experience
that filtered into
songs like "The
Tube" (a reference
to his baby daughter
as a channel through
which food passes)
and "Bewilderbeeste"
(a bizarre but
tender love song for
his wife). Several
of the songs here
are leftovers from
Sir Henry,
but none the worse
for that. In fact
it's hard to see why
the wonderful "Terry
Keeps His Clips On,"
for instance, was
excluded in the
first place. Other
songs hark back to
rock & roll
pastiches like
"Canyons of Your
Mind," and there's
no lack of the '30s
music hall influence
that first inspired
the Bonzos.
"Possibly an
Armchair" is
delightfully wistful
and "Calypso to
Collapso" possesses
a sensuality far
removed from the
kind of music most
people associate
with Stanshall
(though undercut
somewhat by the more
characteristic
refrain "Pork pies
in foyer"). Most
typically of all,
there's the kind of
gleeful delight in
the absurd
possibilities of
language that
Stanshall shared
with the likes of
James Joyce
and
Spike Milligan.
Where else would you
find words like
"idi-amin-o-syncraties"
or
"vomit-oratorium"?
If the album does
have a fault, it
lies with the
plodding pub rock
arrangements that
sometimes leave
Stanshall's flights
of fancy earthbound.
Yet there's no doubt
that Teddy Boys
has been shabbily
treated by critics
and record companies
over the years — and
this is doubly
unfortunate since,
while various
subsequent
recordings stay
unaccountably locked
in the vaults, it
remains his final
sanctioned release.
