The story of The Hollies is a story of friendship. It started when five-year-old Harold Allan Clarke (hereinafter Allan) enrolled at Ordsall Primary School in Manchester, England. Allan Clarke: “The teacher asked, ‘Who would like this young man to sit next to him?’ Graham Nash raised his hand. There was an empty seat next to him. We got on naturally from then on. We started singing in school, and during the assemblies we stood out. We sang ‘The Lord Is My Shepherd’ in harmony.”
Inspired by Lonnie Donegan, they sang and strummed guitars, billing themselves as the Two Teens—“in short pants and sparkly shirts.” They joined a band that evolved into an early version of The Hollies in late 1962. “We were playing at the Oasis Club in Manchester on New Year’s Eve,” recalled Allan. “The manager asked what we were going to call ourselves. Holly was hung all around because of Christmas, so we said ‘The Hollies.’” Drummer Bobby Elliott confirmed this account, and an illustration of a holly leaf accented the band’s name on his bass drum head.
As the group was from Manchester, and only thirty-three miles from Liverpool, they appeared at the Cavern a lot, and developed a beat group sound (i.e. fast dance music) similar to that of The Beatles, The Searchers, and other Liverpool bands. Ron Richards, a one-time assistant to Beatles producer George Martin, saw them at the Cavern and signed them to record for Parlophone, the same EMI label as The Beatles.
On April 4, 1963, The Hollies entered the studio for the first time. Their repertoire was largely covers of American records, including their first two singles, which had been recorded by the Coasters. The group felt rushed during their early sessions. “Our first album was recorded in one day, the second in three days,” Elliott recollected. “We were so naïve. The engineer would say, ‘The echo machine turns off at half past ten’ (so they could get to the pub before eleven). We believed him and rushed to get things done by then.”
Among all the hit beat groups, The Hollies ranked near the bottom of the hipness scale, just above Freddie and The Dreamers and Billy J. Kramer with the Dakotas. The Hollies’ two 1964 album covers showed Graham and Tony Hicks displaying pompadours when everybody else who tried to pass for hip looked like The Beatles.
Under Richards’ guidance, in the UK The Hollies racked up eleven Top 30 hits—eight Top 10—before the lineup gelled in spring 1966. Allan Clarke was among the best of the beat group lead singers, as was Graham Nash of the harmony singers. Tony Hicks was an inventive rhythm guitarist who also provided a second harmony vocal. Bobby Elliott, a jazz fan, distinguished himself as one of the best of the beat group drummers. Bernie Calvert played bass and occasional keyboards. (Calvert’s predecessor, Eric Haydock, introduced the six-string bass to rock ’n’ roll.) All three instrumentalists had been members of Manchester group The Dolphins.
At a time when it seemed as though American teenage girls found any emaciated youth with an English accent appealing, The Hollies were added to a ten-day Easter show at the Paramount Theater in New York. Hosted by Soupy Sales and headlined by Little Richard, the April 1965 lineup included The Hullabaloos, The Detergents, Shirley Ellis, and Sandie Shaw. The Hollies played just two songs, five times a day. “Stay,” a previous hit of theirs in England, was a number one for Maurice Williams & The Zodiacs in 1960 and a lesser hit by the Four Seasons in 1963. “Mickey’s Monkey” had been a hit by The Miracles in 1963. Not many people were aware that Nash, a poor guitarist, played unplugged. “Our instrumental sound was best with only one guitar,” said Allan. “But Graham could never just stand there and sing. He had to have his guitar to fall back on, like a prop.”
It was the first time in America for The Hollies, and the first time each had his own hotel room. “I couldn’t get over how the taps turned on in the bathroom and hearing the phone ring like it did in the American movies,” Graham Nash wrote in his Wild Tales memoir. “And getting take-out food! There was no such thing in England, not even a hamburger stand.”
Morris Levy, who promoted the show, hosted a dinner for them at the Roundtable. Even though they hadn’t had a hit in America, he thought they were sure to break and wanted to make a deal for their publishing. The restaurant’s décor was King Arthur and the Knights of the Roundtable, but that didn’t stop Levy from booking a sensuous belly dancer. Despite Levy’s charm, The Hollies were wary of his reputation and no deal was made. Nevertheless, their lust for the alluring dancer stimulated The Hollies to write their first hit, “Stop Stop Stop,” which went Top 10 in eight countries. Tony created a Middle Eastern atmosphere on the very American banjo.
I first saw The Hollies on Shindig! in 1965, but I was more impressed by their appearance on The Red Skelton Show in February 1966. They performed “I’m Alive” and “Look Through Any Window”—in color—and I was hooked. These were two exciting records, dynamically recorded with strong lead vocals and soaring harmonies. Although both had been Top 10 hits in the UK, neither made the Top 30 in Billboard. To this day, they’re among my favorite records.
The Everly Brothers were recording a new album in London in May, and liked The Hollies’ songs so much they included eight of their original compositions. Early Clarke-Hicks-Nash credits were simplified on record labels as “L. Ransford,” after Graham’s deceased grandfather. It was a big deal for the whole group, who also sang backup. Allan and Graham had thought of themselves as bringing The Everly Brothers’ sound to a rock combo. As eighteen-year-olds, they’d seen the Brothers in concert at Manchester’s Free Trade Hall on April 22, 1960. Afterward, Graham and Allan—who had a cold—waited for hours in the rain until Phil and Don returned to the Midland Hotel. The brothers encouraged their musical ambitions and gave them autographs. Allan remembered having them sign a cigarette pack with a wet pencil.
As pop music evolved, Graham Nash was right there in digging the new sounds. He expressed his enthusiasm to Keith Altham in an October 1966 issue of New Musical Express: “Pop music is moving forward at incredible speed. It’s not just progressing, it’s running full-tilt into tomorrow. I have never been so frightened, or excited, by the power which we have over young people.” Citing The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Mamas and The Papas, The Lovin’ Spoonful, The Beach Boys, Donovan’s Sunshine Superman, and The Mothers of Invention’s Freak Out!, he aspired “to make great albums” and “to make records that say something.”
The Hollies finally broke through in America with two Top 10 hits in 1966. Graham Gouldman wrote “Bus Stop” after his father suggested that he write “a song about two people who meet at a bus stop and have an affair.” His father even gave him the opening couplet. The Hollies’ producer, Ron Richards, said that the group initially declined to record the song because “they thought it was a bit square.” “Stop Stop Stop” followed.
In December, while supporting Herman’s Hermits on a US tour, Graham Nash was filmed by CBS news for a TV documentary, Inside Pop: The Rock Revolution (which aired the following April), steamrolling Peter Noone with his vision of how rock can save the world. In a hotel room, Nash, sitting on one bed between songwriter Graham Gouldman and Hermit Lek Leckenby, faces Peter Noone on the other, next to a wigless Bobby Elliott.
GRAHAM: “Pop singers get through to millions of people.”
PETER: “What kind of people, kids or adults?”
GRAHAM: “They get through the kids who are going to become adults. I think pop musicians in today’s generation are in a fantastic position. They can rule the world, man. Music is an expression of the younger generation. Paul Simon, John Sebastian, John Phillips, and especially Donovan, have got this great universal love, man. Today, because the kids are so tolerant and they really want to understand what people are trying to say, then they’ll go with Donovan ninety-nine percent of the way. Because what he’s trying to put over is best for everybody. What Donovan is trying to put over will stop wars dead.”
PETER: “I believe that you’re right about Donovan saying that love is a great thing. But …”
GRAHAM [interrupting]: “Now we have the power, we have the tolerance, we can go in front of a television camera and we can go on the air and say with definition that Hitler was wrong, that Rockwell is wrong, that people who hate Negroes are wrong, right? And we can get up there and shout it to the world, Pete.”
PETER: “I don’t want to argue with you. I …”
GRAHAM [interrupting]: “So, why don’t we do more of it? That’s what I’m saying. We can stop world wars before they’ve ever started.”
PETER: “I disagree. I don’t believe …”
GRAHAM [interrupting]: “You know who starts world wars—people who are over forty. People are too old to realize that love rules the world.”
Over the next eight months, “On a Carousel” and “Carrie-Anne,” credited to Clarke-Hicks-Nash, were big hits on both sides of the Atlantic. Tony Hicks wrote the latter modeled on “Mr. Tambourine Man.” Graham, quite taken with Marianne Faithfull, wrote the lyrics fantasizing about her. In Marianne Faithfull’s autobiography she writes of first meeting The Hollies on tour (with other acts) in late 1964: “Graham Nash was my favorite. He was much more articulate and interesting than anyone else on the tour (but even then I was smart enough not to have sex with him). I’d have lunch with Graham and spend the night with Allan.” Graham thought better than to use her name, so Tony’s placeholder lyric “Hey, Mr. Man” became “Hey, Carrie-Anne.” Allan contributed the bridge. Ron Richards suggested the novel steel drum for the instrumental break.
The group delved into the progressive, psychedelic sounds of the time. They got their feet wet with Evolution, a fine album recorded at Abbey Road while The Beatles were completing Sgt. Pepper’s. Graham embraced psychedelia—he had even taken LSD—and this affected his relationship with the rest of the band, whom he dismissed as “a couple of beers and a game of darts with the boys.” He was also “the only one who smoked dope in the band.” Graham hung out with rock’s elite at London’s private clubs. Eric Burdon showed him a book on M. C. Escher when they were both on acid. He was captivated, and it proved to be the catalyst for Graham becoming interested in art, whereas he had formerly described himself as “a guy who never read a book…who never went to a museum.”
During 1967’s “Summer of Love,” standards had shifted: The Beatles’ “All You Need Is Love,” Small Faces’ “Itchycoo Park,” and The Beach Boys’ “Heroes and Villains” were all Top 10 in the UK. So, where did that leave The Hollies? Graham pushed them more in this direction for their next album, titled Butterfly in the UK and Dear Eloise/King Midas in Reverse in the US, released in November 1967. When “King Midas In Reverse” was issued as a single, few recognized it as Graham’s plea for help as his marriage deteriorated. It was not the subject of hit records, and when it bombed commercially, it was a real blow. “We were knocked-out over it, but Ron Richards told us it wouldn’t be a hit,” Allan remembered.
The group thought they had made a good album, so they were crushed when it failed to make the British charts. Allan felt the band lost perspective: “It was the ‘Flower Power’ love-thy-neighbor period when everybody loved each other. Whatever you did was great, keep the good vibes going.” In subsequent songwriting meetings, Graham felt as though The Hollies no longer trusted his commercial judgment. Allan confirmed, “We weren’t turning onto his kind of music, which wasn’t our kind of music.”
In an effort to get back into the Top 10, Allan and Graham wrote a trifle about schoolboy romance. They titled it “Jennifer Eccles,” after their wives: Allan’s wife’s first name and Graham’s wife’s maiden name. The girls even contributed to the lyrics, uncredited. It worked all too well, reaching number seven in the spring of 1968.
Graham, upon reflection, was bothered that it was a regression. It wasn’t a song “about something,” or one of the new songs he wrote that the band had rejected. The previous summer he and his wife had vacationed in Morocco. On the train trip from Casablanca to Marrakesh, he wrote an impressionistic song and titled it “Marrakesh Express.” “The Hollies did ‘Marrakesh Express’ and ‘Be Yourself,’” Allan revealed, “but they just didn’t work as Hollies songs. We were thinking harmony all the time, and his new songs weren’t suitable.”
On February 14, 1968, The Hollies performed for free at the Whisky a Go-Go, the only time the group with Graham played in Los Angeles. It wasn’t an advertised gig, just an impromptu showcase for friends and industry insiders. Afterward, Graham smoked marijuana with David Crosby and Stephen Stills in Stills’ Bentley. At one point during their conversation, Stills said to Crosby, pointing at Graham, “Which one of us is going to steal him?” Graham refers to this moment as when he made up his mind to leave The Hollies, yet Stills was still in Buffalo Springfield—for a few more months—and there were no other plans afoot.
By the summer of 1968, The Hollies had been out of the US Top 30 for a year. “Our label executives on both sides of the Atlantic lost confidence in us,” Bobby Elliott said. “They suggested we cover other writers.” Manny Kellem, an executive for Epic Records in the US, suggested the band record an album of Bob Dylan’s songs. It was an opportune idea. Both The Byrds and Manfred Mann had done well covering a number of Dylan’s songs, with the latter’s “The Mighty Quinn” a recent Top 10 record.
Graham was very much a part of the group during the initial recording of the Dylan covers album. But he thought the “Las Vegas” type of arrangements were “sacrilege.” In July he took a vacation, back to Los Angeles’ Laurel Canyon, where he would sing with Crosby and Stills for the first time. In early November, Crosby and Stills flew to London. Graham holed up in their Moscow Road flat for three weeks working on songs.
Allan Clarke: “A friend stopped me on the street and said, ‘Did you know that Graham has a band together in the States?’ I confronted Graham and he said, ‘Yeah, I’m leaving.’” Graham confirmed his lack of tact: “I didn’t have the balls to tell Allan or the other guys.” On December 8, 1968, Graham flew to Los Angeles, leaving behind his home, his band, and his wife. Welcoming him was a California that he loved, a new band and support system, a new best friend in David Crosby, and a new love in Joni Mitchell.
Allan wasn’t totally straight-laced—he believed in UFOs—but it was hard for him to relate to Graham’s passion for the latest far-out music, and he didn’t quite understand Graham when he pontificated about ”the inner mind.” They drifted apart, and it was a huge blow to Allan to lose his best friend. The Hollies also lost a spokesman who felt more comfortable talking to the press and engaging the audience during concerts. Terry Sylvester, who had been a member of Liverpool bands The Escorts and The Swinging Blue Jeans, was a perfect replacement. He could approximate Graham’s tenor, and was a better guitarist. He rerecorded Graham’s vocals on three of the Dylan tracks and finished the album. “I didn’t even know what half the lyrics were about,” Allan revealed.
Once again, the group’s commercial instincts were right on the money. Hollies Sing Dylan (Words and Music by Bob Dylan in the US), released in May 1969, became the group’s bestselling (non-hits) album in the UK. Recollections to the contrary, the album was well reviewed when it was released. John Mendelsohn writing in Rolling Stone referred to it as “a flying gas,” while astutely realizing that it was “frequently insensitive to Dylan’s material.” Ken Barnes in Phonograph Record Magazine, Robert Christgau in the Village Voice, and I in the Daily Bruin all gave it, with similar reservations, good reviews.
The following month The Hollies recorded a song that Tony found at a publisher’s office. Bobby Scott and Bob Russell wrote “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother” using a familiar phrase most associated with the slogan for Boys Town, a children’s home. The record is a tour de force. Clarke’s voice is magnificent, and the strings and harmonies tastefully complement the band’s playing. Allan contributes the sensitive harmonica, and session man Reg Dwight (better known as Elton John) the piano. The record became The Hollies’ biggest hit, a signature tune that rose to number three in the UK and returned the group to the Top 10 in America after a two-and-a-half-year absence. In 1988 The Hollies record was used in a Miller Lite beer commercial in Britain and reentered the Top 10, this time hitting number one for two weeks.
In fairness to The Hollies’ collective judgment, none of the songs Graham played them became big hits. “Marrakesh Express,” a favorite from Crosby, Stills & Nash, managed to get only to number seventeen in the UK and twenty-eight in the US when issued as a single.
When it came time for The Hollies to record their next album, Allan felt the band’s demeanor had changed: “It wasn’t about who had the best song, it was more like ‘I have a new song and it’s my turn.’” The band had gotten lazy, according to Terry Sylvester: “We’d copy the demos instead of working out more planned arrangements.” Allan wrote “Long Cool Woman (In a Black Dress)” with Roger Cook (Cook’s partner Roger Greenaway is also credited) in the style of Creedence Clearwater Revival. When The Hollies recorded it in July 1971, it wasn’t earmarked to be a single. The song was sparingly produced by the group as their long-time producer Ron Richards was ill. There were no familiar Hollies’ harmonies, and Allan even contributed the prominent rhythm guitar.
Seeing the success that Graham was having with Crosby, Stills & Nash, and imagining his share of the money from the millions of albums that they were selling, Allan was getting restless. He wanted some of that. As the group had rejected a number of his songs for the new album, titled Distant Light, he wanted to record a solo album.
Here’s Bobby Elliott’s take: “Because the LP didn’t feature much in the way of strong harmonies, Allan took the spotlight. He was getting a big ego. People were taking him around, saying, ‘Allan, you are The Hollies!’ and he started to believe it. He saw Graham make his million and thought that if he went solo he’d make his as well. Although he might have stayed with the band, after he got his hit, he most assuredly would have left.”
When The Hollies wouldn’t let Allan record his solo album, he felt betrayed. “I really don’t understand what transpired,” he said. “Graham Nash and I originally started The Hollies, and the others were subordinate to us.” Allan left in October 1971. “I didn’t want to leave, I had no idea if I would be successful, but I decided to take a chance. I titled the album My Real Name Is ’arold because I was stripping myself bare of the past.”
Epic Records smelled a hit and released “Long Cool Woman” in May 1972. It became The Hollies’ biggest record in America, hitting number two and going gold. Similarly, Distant Light became their biggest selling (non-hits) LP. The problem for The Hollies was that Allan was no longer in the band to sing their hit live. The problem for Allan was that he was immersed in recording his second solo album when his first hadn’t sold well and hadn’t yet been released in the States. With obvious disappointment, Allan said, “I was not in a position to tour America as part of The Hollies, or to get the recognition for writing and singing the hit.” And, somewhat petulantly, he qualified it as, “It’s not a Hollies song, it’s my song.”
When I met Allan the first time, in mid-September, “Long Cool Woman” was still in Billboard’s Top 10. “I’m a friendly person. I try to get along with everybody,” he reasoned. “It’s weird, but all my connections with The Hollies have been severed. It’s as though they never existed, especially with ‘Long Cool Woman’ giving The Hollies a new lease on life in the States when it was done a year and a half ago. I said, ‘You’ve gotta release that as a single.’ They didn’t initially because I was leaving.”
The Hollies had been impressed with a Swedish band, Bamboo, they had toured with in Sweden. Tony even produced a few sides with them. They enticed the lead singer, Mikael Rickfors, to replace Clarke. Rickfors was an excellent singer, but Allan was a tenor and Mikael was more of a baritone and the revised sound deviated from that of The Hollies. “All through my career with The Hollies, I thought of retaining The Hollies sound because it was magic,” Allan said. “I thought they should find a singer to imitate me.”
Romany, The Hollies’ album with Rickfors, released in September, had some good tracks, but with no hit single it didn’t sell well. With two unsuccessful solo albums, Allan was motivated to return to the fold. He rejoined the band in July 1973. Rickfors went back to Sweden. In November The Hollies recorded a song that Roger Cook’s secretary had recommended to Allan. “The Air That I Breathe,” written by Albert Hammond and Mike Hazelwood, had been on Phil Everly’s first solo album. The Hollies’ most magnificent record, it was to be their last (newly recorded) big hit, charting in the Top 10 in the UK and US. They continued to issue albums throughout the seventies, recording the occasional track—like a cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “Sandy”—that sounded like a hit to me. They even reconciled with Graham Nash, who rejoined the band for an album and tour in 1983, but by then the magic was long gone. In 2010 The Hollies were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
I interviewed The Hollies on November 21, 1972, for an article that Rolling Stone published the following January. I met them and their publicist, Toby Mamis, at the Beverly Comstock Hotel, just west of Beverly Hills. Although Tony Hicks, Terry Sylvester, and Bernie Calvert were all there and chipped in with comments, Bobby Elliott did most of the talking. I got to meet Mikael Rickfors the next night, when I joined the group at the E Club, Rodney Bingenheimer’s first attempt at an English disco. The more I got to know Toby, the more I liked him. He was smart, knowledgeable in the music business, and we shared similar musical interests: the British Invasion and glam rock. Our friendship developed when Toby relocated to Los Angeles in June 1974. Although he doesn’t live here anymore and I don’t see him as much as I’d like to, he’s still one of my best friends.