The Only Ones - Baby's Got A Gun

Famed for a single song but increasingly influential, there's much more to The Only Ones than Another Girl, Another Planet

Some bands will forever be associated with, and even trapped by, one single defining song. In the case of South London’s The Only Ones, it’s their star-surfing drug anthem Another Girl Another Planet which the All Music Guide called “the greatest rock single ever recorded”.

This timelessly magical one-off, where everything sits right and lift-off guaranteed after those first distinctive, stuttering chords, was the tip of a musical iceberg which went against the grain in the punk-dominated late 70s. The band was older and heavily influenced by psychedelia, from John Perry’s Hendrix-influenced guitar to Perrett’s doomed Syd Barrett twang. Demoing his songs of love, hate and drugs since 1972, Perrett formed the group in August 1976 after being introduced to Perry, line-up completed by former Spooky Tooth drummer Mike Kellie and bassist Alan Mair from 60s Scottish giants the Beatstalkers. Their first single, Lovers Of Today, was released on the independent Vengeance label, stoking enough buzz to gain a deal with CBS. Another Girl Another Planet was their maiden voyage with the label, elevating their standing with critics and those looking for deeper musical content but not translating into sales (Although they gained a fan in kindred spirit Johnny Thunders, whose immortal You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory was blessed with Perrett’s backing vocals, while Kellie played drums at his 1978 Lyceum show). The Only Ones’ eponymous first album was released in 1978, followed the next year by Even Serpents Shine, then 1980’s Baby’s Got A Gun. While punk was driven by amphetamines, The Only Ones were imbued with the growing heroin presence which infused their songs with narcotic allure which inevitably started palling once the drug’s more numbing effects started kicking in. It was once stated that Perry’s sound dramatically changed after he hollowed out his guitar to smuggle drugs through customs while on tour. Critical acclaim and fans like David Bowie showing up at their Rainbow Theatre headliner didn’t sell the records and the Only Ones imploded in 1982, leaving a band out of time still waiting for their moment to come. Also inevitably, their influence and cult status became increasingly astronomical with subsequent generations and bands, including the Libertines and Nirvana. Perrett returned in 1996, his Woke Up Sticky album showing his songwriting still an undimmed rewarding source for those prepared to dig beneath current fads, while Perry played sessions for the likes of Evan Dando and Marianne Faithfull, also writing several well received rock biographies. After the Vodafone resuscitation, the band continued gigging through 2008 and 2009, recording new songs such as Black Operations and Magic Tablet (still yet to be released). Their last appearance was at 2012’s Rebellion Festival in Blackpool. One-song wonders? Try these for size. Tellingly, their albums have never been deleted.

Even Serpents Shine

Plenty of bands from the first wave of British punk sounded like they had learned a few things from the New York Dolls, but while most latched onto the sloppy crash and bash of Johnny Thunders' guitar, the Only Ones instead seemed more closely drawn to the witty cynicism and trashy romanticism of David Johansen's lyrics, and the Only Ones' tenuous link to the faster-and-louder gang was fading fast by the time they cut their second album, Even Serpents Shine. While there's plenty of rock & roll on Even Serpents Shine, "Programme" is the only track that seems to approach four-square punk, and with its double-tracked guitar solos, sax overdubs, and backwards tape treatments it didn't have much in common with, say, the Damned or the Adverts. Elsewhere, Even Serpents Shine more often recalls the heart-on-the-sleeve spirit of Mott the Hoople's glory days, merged with a leaner attack that still made room for John Perry's guitar heroics and Peter Perrett's wobbly but potently effective vocals. Even Serpents Shine doesn't boast an out-of-the-box classic tune along the lines of "Another Girl, Another Planet" from the self-titled debut, but in many respects, this is the more consistent album, achieving a similar degree of thematic and melodic variety while generating a more coherent sound and feeling, and the band certainly sounds tighter and more confident on their second trip to the studio. And Peter Perrett's meditations on love in its many guises still stand apart from nearly anyone else's in British rock, and the funny, keenly observed and sometimes heart-breaking lyrics he wrote for this album are every bit as effective now as they were in 1979. Even Serpents Shine may not be quite the triumph that was the Only Ones' debut album, but they were one of the very few bands of their time and place who inarguably beat the sophomore slump.

Yet Another Girl…

The Only Ones were a band that became identified with the British punk scene largely because leader Peter Perrett had a funny voice and could write a great straightforward rock & roll song at a time when such virtues were possessed almost exclusively by the faster-and-louder brigade. This helps explain why the Only Ones' self-titled debut album is regarded as a classic of the first wave of U.K. punk despite the presence of the midtempo jazz-accented "Breaking Down"; the '50s pop moves of the opening cut, "The Whole of the Law"; "The Beast," which sounds like some sort of lethargic neo-boogie; and the graceful semi-acoustic semi-samba "No Peace for the Wicked." Of course, when the Only Ones felt like rocking out, they did it brilliantly, and along with the instant classic "Another Girl, Another Planet," this album includes the sinister but rollicking "City of Fun" and the feedback-drenched crunch of "The Immoral Story," which points to another factor that made the Only Ones heroes in their day - their eclecticism was rooted in a genuine talent for embracing different sounds rather than the inability to pick a style and master it. Perrett and his bandmates -- John Perry on guitar, Alan Mair on bass, and Mike Kellie on drums - sound like a tight and imaginative combo even when they're surrounded by keyboard and horn overdubs, and Perrett's tales of one guy's search for love and coherence in a fractured world are intelligent, witty, and deeply cutting at all times. If the creative ambition of the Only Ones sometimes comes at the price of a tight stylistic focus that would make these songs cohere better, every track is memorable in its own way, and these ten songs always have heart, soul, and honesty to spare - and if that isn't always the benchmark of punk rock, it's at least in the neighbourhood.

Emerging in the early 1970's as a fledgling Dylan-soundalike out of north London, Peter Perrett, a promising young songwriter/drop-out, formed his first band, England's Glory. In 1973, they recorded an album's worth of demos and handed acetates of these to various record labels, all of whom said no thank you. England's Glory fell apart and Peter honed his songwriting ability, passing the next three years in a haze of drugs, folk clubs and thwarted ambition. Until the punk rock clarion-call came and everything changed. The time had finally arrived and Peter's bubbling talent was ready to explode. Recruiting three veteran musicians: John Perry on lead guitar, Mike Kellie (formerly of prog-rock group Spooky Tooth) on drums and Alan Mair (who had featured in umpteen Scottish pop bands down the years) on bass, Perrett called them The Only Ones, proudly announcing from the very start that this band would be a one-off.

During 1977 they issued their debut single, Lovers Of Today on their own DIY label, Vengeance Records. It quickly became a collector’s item, receiving much critical acclaim and as a result, a bevy of major labels came swooning to their side. CBS emerged as the prize-winners. And so to June 1978 and the release of their amazing first album, titled simply The Only Ones. Stuffed full of very strong songs and was curiously old-fashioned (for the most part), in the punk rock climate. It has worn very well and boasts at least four of the best songs Peter Perrett would ever write.

Another Girl, Another Planet - the most famous and successful song of Perrett’s fractured and intermittent career, its reputation as a true classic, featured on all the Best Of Punk compilations, the critics fave rave etc., is quite genuine. Sexy, razor-like guitars stutter and pop, followed by a weird frightening sound which rushes up to the foreground like a demented monster, before settling down momentarily into the main rhythm, drums splashing an agreeable tom-tom-ride-cymbal wash and John Perrys fabulous guitar-lines. At which point, Peter Perrett's charismatic voice enters the fray with this stunning first line: 'I always flirt with death, I look ill but I don’t care about it' double-tracked on the choruses. The gaunt wastrel proclaims his love: 'I think I'm on another world with you, I'm on another planet with you.' John Perrys elegant but powerful guitar solo will be talked about for as long as people enjoy music, a high-octane rush of pure joy. 'Space travel's in my blood, there ain’t nothin’ I can do about it, long journeys wear me out, but I know can’t live without it' Is he singing about a galactic peregrination, or about his heroin addiction? Musically, the melody of Another Girl, Another Planet is very similar to a Vibrators single, We Vibrate, released on RAK records in 1977. Has anyone else noticed this? Whatever, Another Girl is one of the great tracks from the New Wave.

At the end of side 1 we have The Beast, a track as monolithic as its title suggests. Beginning with gentle guitar strokes, ticking cow-bell and some dexterous bass-runs, it is the big confessional on the album, a warning to the kids: 'Don’t touch heroin! It’ll fuck you up!'
John Perry plays a memorable, melodramatic riff prior to Perret's devastating vocal: 'run from the beast, there's danger in his eyes. He's been looking for you for a long time, you might think this is funny, but I'm not laughing, I know that it couldn't happen to me.' The song is fantastic, a ghoulish, marauding epic, vividly relaying real feelings, and real regret. 'Out in the street the modern vampire prowls, he's been spreading disease all around, there’s an epidemic, if you don’t believe me, you ought to take a look at the eyes of your friends, when someone tempts you, you can’t refuse.' The instruments get louder, it builds and builds, than falls away to its previous ghostly calm, and Perrett's parting shot: 'I've tried to show you your whole life in print, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink, think about it! All you gotta do is think about it, there's no cure.' Now the others take over with a powerhouse of ensemble playing, aided by an over-dubbed brass-section subtly placed in the mix. Drums and guitar fight it out in an explosion of excitement, with the incendiary guitar of John Perry emerging as the winner.

Amazing.

Alright, It's okay, I've calmed down now, phew!