The maverick attitude that built Decca’s offshoot Deram into a label that pioneered prog

When starched-shirt British jazz and classical label Decca decided to ‘get hip,’ they started their offshoot, Deram, and opened the doors to psychedelia and prog rock, launching some of the biggest and best-loved acts in our world – and some minnows that slipped the net. New anthology Psych! British Prog, Rock, Folk & Blues 1966-73 documents the scene, while David Hitchcock, Pye Hastings , Davy O’List and more cast their minds back to those wonder years.

“A hip label for groovy people” was how Decca Records subsidiary Deram was announced in Melody Maker on its inception in September 1966. The slogan separated it from the rather fusty image of its parent company, which was formed in 1929 and had an impressive back catalogue of jazz and classical recordings.

It was well-known that while they’d signed The Rolling Stones and Marc Bolan – and were soon to sign Bowie – they’d passed on The Beatles , while the roster included Val Doonican and Mantovani. With Swinging London in full spate they needed a bigger piece of that action, focusing on a younger market.

Deram was formed by Decca executive Tony Hall and A&R Head Hugh Mendl, the name coming from a trademark they owned for a defunct ceramic hi-fi cartridge. Hall said Deram was to have “all the enthusiasm of an independent, with all the power and promotion behind it of a major company.”

To hit their market, Mendl sought out younger people in A&R, and in 1967 they employed a teenage David Hitchcock as ‘sleeve co-ordinator,’ liaising between A&R and the art studio while Decca were signing “anything and everything,” he recalls. “I’d meet Hugh and talk about bands I’d seen in clubs I’d gone to, like UFO,” he continues. “Hugh’s attitude was, ‘surround yourself with bright people and give them the freedom to fail.’ We failed – but sometimes we hit gold too.”

Although touted as the cool offshoot, some of Deram’s earliest releases were easy-listening albums, and some of the trendier bands came out on Decca. “The allocation was really bizarre,” says Hitchcock. “Caravan’s If I Could Do It All Over Again I’d Do It All Over You came out on Decca, then they were switched to Deram, then later switched back. I’ve no idea why.”

The advent of psychedelia prompted many British bands to stop playing covers, sideline American influences and instead explore their heritage. Some got rather whimsical. Deram signings Curiosity Shoppe threw back to Ye Olde England; Tinkerbells Fairydust recorded an early song by Jeff Lynne , their name setting a high bar for twee; The Fire – featuring guitarist Dave Lambert, later of the Strawbs – visited the metaphorical sweetshops of childhood on their single Treacle Toffee World .

Teenage guitarist Davy O’List was playing covers in The Soul System before he renamed and realigned the band as The Attack in late 1966. They seemed the epitome of a Deram band, but signed to Decca in 1967. “I had an exact idea – original British rock, which hadn’t been done before,” says O’List. “I promoted us as a mod band, because that was fashionable. We got signed straight away by the Small Faces ’ manager, Don Arden, with The Move . He had a deal with Decca that allowed him to put out records.”

Arden's reputation was formidable, but it wasn’t unusual for managers to have this sort of arrangement, giving labels first refusal on their bands. The Attack released the single Hi Ho Silver Lining in March 1967, which tanked as Jeff Beck ’s version came out simultaneously. The B-side was the tougher, proto-psychedelic Any More Than I Do . “I wanted more of a rock sound,” says O’List.

But the following month he was gone, having been offered good money by Andrew Loog Oldham to be in soul singer PP Arnold’s backing band, with organist Keith Emerson , bassist Lee Jackson and, initially, Ian Hague on drums. Arnold invited them to play their own opening set – O’List recalls writing War And Peace and Bonnie K – and they morphed into The Nice .

The Moody Blues ’ album Days Of Future Passed , released on Deram in November 1967, was one of the label’s early successes. A suggestion from A&R director Dick Rowe that the band cover Somewhere Over The Rainbow was not well-received. But they were invited to record an album for the stereo showcase Deramic Sound System series, named after a recording technique that gave a wider spread of sound by using crossover echo on the strings.

“They jumped at the chance,” says Hitchcock. “They wanted to do a concept album, as did many bands post Sgt Pepper . But it had to have strings on for the Deramic Sound System to work, so they agreed to have backing by the London Festival Orchestra.”

In 1969 Hitchcock looked at moving to RCA; but Mendl suggested he should stay on and become a producer. “I said I’d never been in the studio or done any recording; and he said, ‘It doesn’t matter – that’s what you’ve got engineers for.’ For a certain style of production he’s absolutely right. You’ll say, ‘This is what I want to hear,’ and the engineer will make that real, as a cameraman will for a film director. I was there to show the band the possibilities that suited their music and represent them on record as excitingly as possible.”

Following their commercial success, The Moodies took up residence in Studio 1 and were left to their own devices. In 2015, guitarist and singer Justin Hayward described to journalist Michael McCarty a meeting between the group and Decca Chairman Sir Edward Lewis. “He said, ‘I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s jolly good, so carry on and do it.’ We said, ‘No one will interfere with us then?’ And he said, ‘Not at all. Just go in and do what you want.’”

Decca and Deram’s output was prolific since they had their own studios in London’s West Hampstead, which was much cheaper than using a commercial studio. And as Hitchcock states, only three to five per cent of records make serious money while 90 per cent don’t make any – but nobody knows which ones will succeed.

On the production line was Wembley’s The Syn, who grew into Yes , and Southend’s Procol Harum , alongside Bournemouth trio Giles, Giles And Fripp , who released The Cheerful Insanity Of Giles, Giles And Fripp on Deram in 1968. The group would lead to the very serious King Crimson , but then played idiosyncratic songs and came across as a comedy band, gurning rural types in ties and tweeds, with guitarist Robert Fripp sporting a fake bald head.

“It was meant to be incongruous and absurd, but that’s the way we were expressing ourselves at that time,” says Michael Giles. “We didn’t want to do those posey pop photos. I tried all the hippie stuff for a couple of months – the kaftan, the flares – it felt false. So I reverted to my Englishness and to hell with what everybody else was doing.”

Progressive rock was growing out of psych, typified by Egg – Dave Stewart on keyboards, drummer Clive Brooks, and Mont Campbell on bass and vocals – who released Seven Is A Jolly Good Time on Deram in August 1969. One of the few prog novelty singles, it’s a kind bluffer’s guide to time signatures, with a singalong chorus. However, “it was never going to be a hit,” says Campbell. “It could have been a very good song, but it was too badly recorded, for one thing.”

The band released two LPs – Egg (1970) and The Polite Force (1971) – on Deram, featuring an abundance of tricky time signatures. Campbell, a classically-trained French horn player, says, “I was too musically over-educated to be a rock musician.” Their lofty ambitions led to a 20-minute composition named Symphony No.2 ; but when a friend sent a copy of The Polite Force to American composer Aaron Copland, Campbell had his pretensions punctured. “He said we were ‘counting freaks.’ It took me years to get over being told that! But he was right – that’s what we were.”

David Hitchcock was most closely associated with Caravan, getting them signed and producing their albums from In The Land Of Grey And Pink (1971) through to Blind Dog At St. Dunstans (1976). He made some structural arrangement suggestions for songs on Girls Who Grow Plump In The Night and also piqued their interest in unusual time signatures by playing them albums by jazz trumpeter Don Ellis, who composed in metres of 19/8 and 27/16.

“David was the perfect fit and we were extremely lucky to have been singled out by him to join Decca when the artists were given so much freedom to experiment,” says guitarist-vocalist Pye Hastings. “He recognised early on what was going to work. Apart from being a brilliant producer, he could see us potentially pulling in different directions and subtly steered the project.

“I would always run new songs past David for his opinion before committing to recording. It would save any embarrassment later on when confronted by a complete howler – we’ve all written one or two of those, believe me.”

Camel also recorded for Deram and Decca, with Hitchcock producing Mirage and The Snow Goose in 1974 and 1975 respectively. “On The Snow Goose , we wanted a repetitive guitar motif [for Preparation ],” he recalls. “So we recorded a 32-foot tape loop that went all around the control room and then put that onto another multitrack. Andy Latimer could have played it for three minutes, but it wouldn’t have had the same feel.”

It was a difficult commission, with Latimer and keyboardist Peter Bardens constantly arguing, and the band were frustrated by the drum sound and with having to overdub keyboard and guitars to achieve separation. “It was almost like it was jinxed, so we decided to scrap it all and redo it in Island Studios,” Hitchcock says.

Examples of the 90 per cent of the bands that didn’t make it, produced by Hitchcock, were Walrus, Aardvark and Satisfaction (“One of the best horn sections ever”); and he has a fondness for Mellow Candle, whose 1972 album Swaddling Songs is now regarded as a lost folk-rock classic. East Of Eden had travelled from psychedelia to more progressive territory but found themselves largely overlooked, apart from their anomalous 1970 hit single, Jig-a-Jig , which was originally a live encore.

Pink Floyd ’s Nick Mason produced one of Deram’s most ambitious bands, Principal Edwards Magic Theatre, which featured dancers and dramatic elements onstage. Guitarist Root Cartwright wanted to take rock music and “broaden it out and make life more interesting.” They started on John Peel’s Dandelion label; and, as Principal Edwards, recorded two singles and their final album, Round One , for Deram in 1973-4. Keeping afloat financially proved impossible, however. “We were trying to do a complete show in the way that Genesis or Pink Floyd did, but with about a thousandth of the budget,” recalls Cartwright.

By the mid-70s, Deram’s heyday was over; but, with Decca, they’d given a chance to some of the most inventive, imaginative and eccentric talent of the psychedelic and progressive era. Their ethos can be summed up by Mendl’s response to Hitchcock when asked why he released records by the highly rated British saxophonist John Surman, even though they were unlikely to shift units.

“Hugh said, ‘That’s not the point. We can do, we should do, so we do do it. It might not be commercial today or further down the line, but it’s important that the art be preserved.’”