Side 1
'The Blues Are Still Blue' - Moss
'Ancient Rolling Sea' - Holloway
'Checkmate' - de Zoet
'California' - de Zoet
'All You Need is Hate' - Moss
Side 2
'Tomorrow's Hits Today' - de Zoet
'Wallace' - Holloway
'The Late Great Cassiopia' - Moss
'Hobart Paving' - Holloway
'Take Me Round Again' - Holloway
1971 was a big year in music, perhaps the biggest. Colossal records were being released everywhere you looked. In the UK, Led Zeppelin 'IV', Paul and Linda's post-Beatles debut, 'Ram', and 'Bryter Layter' by Nick Drake explored wildly different musical paths. Stateside, Carole King's 'Tapestry' would become one of the most revered albums of all time, with Leonard Cohen's 'Songs of Love and Hate' not far behind. All of these albums had one thing in common. They wouldn't have existed without the influence of Utopia Avenue.
When 'The California Sessions' LP was released in 1968, after a whirlwind tour of the USA, it seemed like the band could do no wrong. Feted on both sides of the Atlantic, the only real question was: what would Utopia Avenue do next? The answer took many fans by surprise. The band did nothing.
Respective record labels in London and New York had anticipated a quick follow-up, something to capitalise on the dying embers of the burned-out sixties scene. Perhaps there were moments when Dean, Elf, Jasper, and Griff could have been persuaded - not an album, but maybe an EP, something to keep the fans' attention. That all changed on the 3rd July 1969 with the death of Brian Jones. The Stone had been more than a mentor to the band; he had been a kind of yardstick by which they measured the true extent of their success. All four attended his funeral, and manager Levon Frankland remarked at the time,
'It felt as though something had changed, something fundamental which would be difficult to fix. I think the band took a long hard look at themselves: what if it had been me? What if it was me lying dead in a coffin, and not Brian? That meant a lot of soul-searching, and for the record company, that meant no product. I could tell that there were some twitchy fingers out there. I mean, as crazy as it sounds, it would not have been impossible for Utopia Avenue to find themselves making history as the biggest band ever to be dropped by a major label. Then Altamont happened, and well... let's just say it got easier to say that the band deserved a break.'
The Altamont Free Festival was one of the biggest happenings of the year and became synonymous not with musical talent, but with human failings. Hell's Angels, hippies, and copious amounts of LSD proved a fatal combination, and the event was widely reported as the death knell for the 'flower power' era. Utopia Avenue had been due to play the festival, sandwiched somewhat incongruously between Jefferson Airplane and The Flying Burrito Brothers, but were forced to pull out when their visas were temporarily revoked due to ongoing litigation between the band and film producer Anthony Hershey, who had sued them for breach of contract. Though the court case was subsequently settled without fuss, the close escape cemented the band's opinion that they were not yet ready to re-enter the studio or to tour. Dean Moss, already counting himself as a lucky man having escaped serious injury when he was involved in a botched armed robbery in San Francisco, was determined to spend as much time as possible with his young son. Elf Holloway kept a low profile, occasionally being seen on the King's Road with a female companion who was apparently writing her biography. Jasper de Zoet was the most active of the band, sitting in on live sessions at the Rainbow or the Marquee. Peter Griffin lived a simple life in Yorkshire, with local newspapers reporting that he was building a studio near to his parent's home.
And so, the sixties dropped out, not with a bang but with a whimper. The seventies promised a more exotic approach to rock, with old acquaintances of the band such as David Bowie tipped for stardom. And as 1970 drew to a close with the break up of the Beatles and the enormous international success of Simon & Garfunkel's 'Bridge Over Troubled Water', there were some who wondered whether there was still a gap in the market for relative old hands such as Utopia Avenue. Levon Frankland was never worried, though his frustration occasionally got the better of him.
'It was difficult at times, I can't deny that. I would ring round the band, going over royalty payments and licensing options. Harry Saltzman was desperate to get them for the 'Diamonds are Forever' soundtrack, but nobody batted an eyelid. Elf said she'd rather carry on listening to 'Just Another Diamond Day' by Vashti Bunyan. Dean wanted a cameo but didn't want to record. Jasper said he felt the films were misogynistic and colonial in their attitude. Griff didn't return my calls. All the while, though, I felt sure they would get back together, that something would spark the magic again, even if only for one last time.'
That moment finally came, as is so often the case, by coincidence. In March 1971, Elf Holloway boarded a Boeing 2707 to JFK and found herself sitting next to Jasper de Zoet in the first-class cabin. A cosmic joke perhaps, but one that was to have profound consequences. Catching up during the flight, the pair agreed to have dinner together the following evening. Unfortunately for them, they were spotted by a photographer from the New York Post, and the next day Frankland had to phone the pair with the grim news that the tabloid splash was being presented as a split in the group, with Elf and Jasper going it alone as a duo. Quick to dispel such rumours, Elf and Jasper made hurried calls to Dean and Griff. These conversations set in motion a chain of events that was to lead to Utopia Avenue entering the studio again for the first time in almost three years. Levon Frankland explains.
'No-one would seriously have believed the stories, least of all Dean and Griff. But the net result was that they were all talking again, and that was important. Elf had two weeks booked in the Hamptons with her biographer after which she was free, and Jasper had a ten-day masterclass session at NYU after which he too had nothing in the calendar. I suggested that they should all meet up, not in LA, or NYC, or anywhere with history for the band, good or bad. I tentatively suggested Memphis, and the Elvis connection sealed the deal. Two weeks later we all met up, and the music just seemed to flow naturally. Perhaps it was pent-up frustration, perhaps they'd been planning it all along, I don't know. But it worked. It was magical.'
The group spent time at Sun Studios, Stax, and Ardent in Memphis, before returning to the UK to finish the sessions at Air Studios and Griff's home studio, with mixing and mastering completed at Rockfield in rural Wales. The finished result was issued without a title, though it quickly came to be known by fans as 'The Transatlantic Sessions'. The cover featured a simple photograph of the four band members in a field with the sun setting behind them, leaving them almost in shadows. This was an album filled with light, however.
Here, all four members of the band look back on 'The Transatlantic Sessions', and how the tracks evolved during the recording process.