Marble Arch - London's richest and most
fashionable quarter, but at night its more secluded streets became the centre of London's
underworld. Into this jungle of terror came Martin Fry, here he constructs his Kingdom
with a group of musicians hand-picked for the occasion. The first step was to record a
debut single, his reasoning - to produce a heady night club narcotic - his reasons - Stage
One in building a pop catalogue that could sound track the 80's and beyond. To be mission
impossible or mission accomplished? These were the questions he felt needed answering.
As he placed the
finishing touches to the recording a voice cut in, "Hey, Mr. Fry, maybe a little more
saxophone". "No", came the reply, " I think we're just about
through". On the final playback the assembled party were ready to smile. " Yeah,
that's about it". Packed closely around the mixing desk in the Polygram control room,
people were shaking hands as they listened intently to the sweet and sour mash of larynx
and guitar, bass and drum, conga and horns. Fry wandered outside into the cool night air,
pleased but not fully content.
Cut back to a period twelve
months prior - and remember, retrace steps and begin… Fry's own obsessions with Pop
had taken him out of his bedsit but nowhere important. With ambitions to carve out a very
considerable niche in the International pop world, a portfolio of arrangements and an
attache case full of surprises, he had a world view and a name ABC… What he needed
more than anything else, was a group to back it up.
Recruitment would not be easy,
but with a certain amount of detective work and a wide scope dragnet in operation, members
were found. Musicians, who knew the meaning of a clean shirt and even cleaner syncopation,
with promises of a road that leads from your living room to Las Vegas, Fry was armed.
It seems that the initial idea had been to make music like a factory would build a car, with a designers attention to detail - scanning from bumper to fin, upholstered and customised to personal specifications.
Six months later the ABC sound
had developed into a catalogue of songs that were to excite the hearts of many a record
company mogul. The decision had been to show no mercy with the conglomerates. Intoxicating
the A & R department bosses was one thing - but reaching the dance floor voter was
another. A series of live performances followed, delivering a high butane set when the
need arose, championing their sound, chaperoning their songs to bigger audiences.
A taxi horn blared out and Fry snapped into focus, then stepped back into the control room. The record had been completed and with it Stage One in the proceedings. "Are you pleased with the results?" the voice got louder - "Mr. Fry!!". The singer was thinking fast and furious, so one card had been played, the self-congratulatory moments were not enough. Fry was thinking about the next move. ....
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