Ivo ran Musicland in the deeply dull suburb of Hounslow had the Sixties even reached Hounslow, let alone the Seventies? but he managed to return to Ealing when Musicland now called Cloud Seven after a takeover transferred Mike Smith to another branch. It was now 1972, the time of glam rock, a revolution in dazzling sound and satin jackets, which helped British pop escape the cul-de-sac of denim and hard rock, a world of singles as well as albums. But Ealing, with its copious clubs, bars and students, had held on to its Sixties dream, as one of Londons musical epicentres, the birthplace of British jazz and blues where The Rolling Stones had got their first break.
One regular at the Cloud Seven shop was Steve Webbon. A few years older than Ivo, Webbon had boosted his credibility by quizzing Ivo about country rock pioneer Gram Parsons and then asking about a job. Ivo hadnt heard of Parsons, but hed found his assistant.
Steve Webbon currently runs the back catalogue department of both 4AD and Beggars Banquet labels. In the late Sixties, he studied at Ealing Art School, moving on to unemployment benefit and spending most of it in Cloud Seven, in thrall to the sound of west coast American music. Manned by its two Yankophiles, Cloud Seven stocked up on what Gram Parsons had labelled cosmic American music, before he died, like Tim Buckley, of a heroin overdose. Nowadays, people call it Americana, a repository of roots music that pined for a simpler, humanistic society while rejecting the flash and excess of rocknroll. Only in the shape of Bob Dylan and The Bands return to American roots did British audiences pay attention; in America as well as the UK, Parsons raw, Nashville-indebted sound was overshadowed by the softer, sweeter bedsitter folk of the eras million-selling singer-songwriters such as Carole King and James Taylor.
Next to this, Ivo felt glam rock and its more adult cousin art rock to be inauthentic. It was too look at me, too frivolous. I later learnt that there was depth there, and obviously there was something different about David Bowie. But his Ziggy Stardust explosion had put me off, and Alice Cooper and Roxy Music werent serious enough either.
Ivo was happy in his domain behind the Cloud Seven counter: I was having a whale of a time. Until I got mugged, that is. It was just before Christmas 1973; the victim of a second mugging that evening died from the attack. Carrying the night safe wallet after shutting up the shop, Ivo was knocked unconscious, landing face first and breaking his nose: I was freaked out, and left London, back home to Oundle, to the womb. But I immediately knew Id made a stupid mistake.
After two months, Ivo called Cloud Seven and got a desk job at the company head office. He graduated to conducting impromptu stock checks (to catch potential thieves among the staff) before managing the branch in Kingston, a relatively unexplored satellite town just south of London. Yet it was home to a thriving student campus, and the Three Fishes pub, an enclave of American west coast and southern rock: Everyone wore plaid shirts, drove VW vans and listened to The Grateful Dead, Ivo recalls.
The Kingston shop was first on the import vans route from Heathrow airport, so Ivo was the first to lay his hands on albums such as Emmylou Harris Pieces Of The Sky, Tim Buckleys Sefronia, and Bill Lamb and Gary Ogans Portland, pieces of exquisite rootsy melancholia that hed sticker with recommendations and sell a hundred copies of each. Ivo became especially infatuated with Buckleys five-octave range and equally audacious ability to master different genres. He began ordering album imports such as Spirits The Family That Plays Together and Steve Millers Children Of The Future because they had gatefold sleeves, made from thick board; the packaging was part of the appeal, tangible objects to have and to hold. Pearls Before Swines use of medieval paintings that were rich in symbolism but gave no indication of the music inside was another alluring draw.
But again Ivo became restless. Once hed received the Criminal Compensation
Boards cheque for £500 to fix his broken nose, Ivo forwent the operation (it was later paid for by the National Health Service) and went travelling with his friend Steve Brown, hitchhiking through France, taking the train through Spain and then the boat to Morocco, in the footsteps of those whod sought out premium-grade hashish. After two months of beach-bum life, a cash-depleted Ivo was back in London, seeking work again. Steve Webbon, now managing the Fulham branch of a new record shop, Beggars Banquet, said the owners were looking for more staff.
One of the owners was Webbons old school friend Martin Mills. Theyd stayed friends while Mills attended Oxford University; Webbon remembers hedonistic nights in student dens, where casual use of heroin was part of the alternative lifestyle, though, he adds, Not Martin, he was more disciplined, not stupid like some others. Mills room would resonate to west coast classics: The Byrds, Moby Grape, Love, The Doors, Webbon recalls. English groups werent that inspiring we were more interested in the next Elektra Records release. That was the kind of record label to follow, and ideally to be part of.