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| Image Credit: Noel Buckley |
First letting the Tyger out age 14, I sit down with founder Robb Weir before their gig at Selby Riverside…
It’s been more than three decades since Whitley Bay’s Tygers of Pan Tang roared into mainstream consciousness with their debut album ‘Wild Cat’; ironically of course, the band was initially ignorant of the now-revered NWOBHM [New Wave of British Heavy Metal] movement, of which Sounds magazine championed them as front-runners. Over the coming years the band began their ascent – supporting the likes of Magnum and the Scorpions – with numerous singles entering the mid-reaches of the UK charts. But ultimately, disputes with MCA and a general lack of interest from rival labels saw a frustrated quartet fade from view, and never quite manage to claw their way back.
A cross-country bus journey to the Yorkshire shipbuilding town of Selby may seem a strange way to begin a night of rock n roll ecstasy, but these days it is the Selby Riverside and headline slots at Cambridge Rock Festival rather than the more prestigious Hammersmith Odeon. Regardless, sitting down with founder, guitarist and mainstay Robb Weir, he reflects somewhat philosophically on his three decades as a Tyger, retaining an infectious passion despite having resigned to the 9 to 5 of day-to-day life. “Rock n roll is a disease; one that gets into your blood and you cannot get rid of it” he muses. Something we agreed upon was that to those on the outside, it is difficult to understand; why these people are “so zombified by rock n roll”. With wonderful Geordie humour, he offers a belly-laugh – pointing to me “…and you’re doomed for life!” The band certainly like to keep themselves busy, packing in a wealth of shows at the tail end of last year, continuing into the summer – “we’re headlining a festival in Spain, then over to France in October, in the summer its SOS Festival, the Upton Festival and Cambridge Rock – we headlined there last year and Simon [manager] got a call asking us back”. A local boy myself, Robb and I shared our love for the university town’s summer in rock; a more family-oriented event then its peers, Weir relishes the opportunity to introduce the Tygers’ catalog to a new generation. Inking a deal with Rocksector last year, in this very bar, Weir and co. have been bashing away in the studio; working hard on the follow-up to 2009’s excellent ‘Animal Instinct’. Hooking up with Grammy-nominated producer Chris Tsangarides – whom produced ‘Wildcat’ and ‘Spellbound’ in the 80s – backstage at ‘Bang Your Head’ in Germany, the Tygers have been shuttling to gigs via the Ecology Rooms in Dover. “I’ve got to tell you, this album – and we’re biased of course – could have or should have been made 25 years ago, each song is better than the last” says Weir, fixing me with wide-eyed excitement.
Now in post-production, to add the frilly bits such as obligatory reversed snares and “the old-fashioned stuff”, 'Anbush' [released September 25th] could well put the Tygers on the map again. Quizzing Weir on the band’s approach to song writing today, he concedes that “we’ve reverted back to what we’re best at, our drummer [Craig Ellis] is forever looking for a groove and Jac [Meille, singer] puts his vocals down effortlessly”. 2004’s ‘Noises From the Cathouse’ attempted to ‘go modern’, a decision the guitarist now has mixed feelings about – “I’m probably to blame for that one, but it didn’t work; technology can help you, but can’t write songs for you”. For this tour, the set-list spans the entirety of their catalog plus a song from the forthcoming release; ‘Keepin’ Me Alive’. Weir holds his hands up, admitting favouritism for older material; “we’ve done our homework, that’s what a lot of the European fans want to hear – there’s only so much you can play in 90 minutes. We’re not a 2 hour band.” As for the classics, they have evolved naturally with line-up changes and fresher sound technologies; beefed up and “fed a couple of raw steaks”.
The band remains symptomatic of that fertile period in the late 70s that would become immortalised as the New Wave of British Heavy Metal – Weir’s ‘blues in A’ riff approach that has made AC/DC millionaires is still the spine of their music, and it still hasn't gotten old. I could hardly resist the opportunity to delve into the band’s history; one that started in the Weir family home, Whitley Bay in the early 1970s. At odds with the typical rock n roll epiphany, the young Robb Weir began has guitar journey with a lowly slab of wood straight from the junk shop. “My old man was a doctor, and he walked past the place on his way home; one day, when I was 11 or 12 he brought in this nylon-strung acoustic that had been painted in camouflage”. Unsure what to do with his new acquisition he began bashing away, not even knowing how to hold the instrument. “Then I thought, ‘why don’t I try to do something with this?’, so I went into the lounge with a radiogram – the dads will know what I’m on about – with an old Slade record, put the needle in the groove and tried to find the notes that matched what I heard; that’s how I taught myself”. Reflecting with near-romantic vigor, Weir’s first group Trick still brings a smile to the guitarist’s face; together with Weir’s Slade and Quo influence, there was a Crusaders-loving bassist, fresh out of Jesus Christ Superstar; a skiffle drummer affectionately named ‘Fat Eric’ and a punk-worshipping lead singer. “I wish footage existed, because it was a hell of mix. When Eric played his drums, because he was big chap, his kit would get further away from him throughout the gig. He’d then have to stop and gather it all up again! [laughs]”.
When Trick disbanded, Weir met Richard ‘Rocky’ Laws through an ad placed in the Newcastle University. A common misconception is that the NWOBHM was entirely a reaction to the punk scene, but for the Tygers and others, it was happening simultaneously. Taking their name from Michael Moorcock’s Wizards of Pan Tang, Weir and Rocky hooked up with Brian Dick [drums] and began rehearsing – alternating between covers and early Weir-penned originals ‘Fireclown’, ‘Suzie Smiled’ and ‘Slave to Freedom’. “We started going to shows together, and were really influenced by Rush in terms of the ‘power trio’ thing; we’d go home and crank out our riffs, Brian would put his groove down and we started playing our own shows”. Adding vocalist Jess Cox, the band gigged heavily around Newcastle, occasionally venturing out Def Leppard’s stomping ground in Sheffield, blissfully unaware of the wider movement they were considered to be a part of; “I wasn’t buying ‘Sounds’, so when we were cited as front-runners to this NWOBHM thing, it was a surprise”. Now 33 years since their debut single for Neat Records, ‘Don’t Touch Me There’ is held as a staple of the period and something of a cult classic in rock and metal circles. The 7” vinyl - featuring two boogie rockers a la Quo/UFO and the Rush-inflected closer – marked the band’s first trip to a professional studio; thinking of my own copy nestled away at home, my interest in those sessions was finally appeased thanks to Robb’s candid memories. “I was bewildering; we’d never seen a studio before. It was an old cinema and they’d cannibalised the front end. The studio was at the top of several flights of stairs, with an area we assumed was where you could have cup of tea!” House engineer Micky Sweeney dug the band’s sound, when he would invite them into the control room to listen back, Weir could barely contain his excitement; “it was like, ‘bloody hell, is that us?’”. True enough, as most band members never get to experience being on the other side of the fence, as it were; “it was wonderful to have a recording that was ours”. The original Neat release is now worth a handsome dime, however, when London came into the picture, deals were done and MCA repressed the single; the Tygers played the Lyceum in early 1980 with NWOBHM stalwarts Praying Mantis and a still-unsigned Iron Maiden to their biggest audience yet.
It would not be far wrong to argue that clashes with their label had actually been evident at this early stage. Having snapped up Iron Maiden, EMI advanced them £100,000, Def Leppard got a quarter of a million from, and “we got twenty-five grand from MCA – the richest company in the world, so the others had the edge on us”. But a few months later, Weir approached the record executives about a support slot that could well have altered the course of history for the band. Van Halen were playing a serious of high profile dates and were in need of an opening act, duty-bound, Robb inquired. “There is nothing funnier than the looks the office clerks gave me as I walked through in my denims; ‘please Mr management-type person, sir…’ but it was no use, the studio was booked”. ‘Wildcat’ would enter the charts at a respectable #18, but Weir still kicks himself about it today. Moreover, gripes escalated following the release of third album 'Crazy Nights'; while the album contained some of the band's strongest material, it felt rushed and suffered from lacklustre production. Scoring a hit with a cover of the Clovers' 'Love Potion No.9', MCA pressed the band to record music credited to outside song writers. For Weir this was beyond the pale; "We'd written a batch of tunes that we were really proud of, and they dropped that one on us...", it was the beginning of a downward spiral that would culminate in the line-up dissolving in 1982.
Drawing our interview to a close, the affable Mr Weir continues to hold high regard for those early years as I ask my final question – how much of an affirmation is it that the NWOBHM is still so widely discussed the context of rock history? For the guitarist, the scene must have had considerable impact in the first place for it to remain; “it’s a bit like a bomb crater; you can still go and visit it and no one has managed to fill it over so it must have been pretty damn deep when the bomb went off! People are still talking about it and playing it, and here we are, the Tygers are larger than life!”
I would again like to thank Robb Weir for giving me his time and enthusiasm to this article; it certainly isn't easy for a wannabe journalist to be taken seriously. I would also like to say a big thank you to the Tygers of Pan Tang for the years of pleasure they have given me, and for a barnstorming set on saturday night; the roof of the Riverside will never be the same again.
Cheers lads, have a drink on me. See you in Cambridge. J
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