Adrian Shaw is one of the British psychedelic scene's most enduring figures, now best known as the bassist for the Bevis Frond. Although his career found new vigor in the 90s -- when he also started releasing albums under his own name -- Shaw's long and occasionally weird musical trip began 35 years ago.

Shaw was born in post-war London in a time before rock 'n' roll. Like many musicians of his generation, he was electrified by the likes of Elvis and Little Richard and then inspired by the homegrown sound of the Beatles to have a go himself.

Shaw started out as a guitarist but turned his attentions to bass in 1967 as a member of J P Sunshine, one of British psychedelia's best-kept secrets. Upon that group's premature demise, he was lured away from Swinging London to join the Crazy World of Arthur Brown in the heart of the Wessex countryside. There, he also briefly played (and cross-dressed) with Rustic Hinge and the Provincial Swimmers -- Britain's answer to Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band -- before hooking up with Magic Muscle, Bristol's free-festival faves and protégés of the local Hell's Angels chapter. Following mid-70s stints with Atomic Rooster, Tyrannosaurus Rex's ill-fated Steve Peregrin Took, and Keith Christmas, among others, Shaw joined seminal space rockers Hawkwind. And that's only the edited highlights up to 1977.

After a break from music during most of the 80s, Shaw made the acquaintance of kindred spirit Nick Saloman and, ever since, has been playing with Saloman and wearing a variety of other creative hats. In addition to putting out the solo CDs Tea for the Hydra (1996), Displaced Person (1997), Head Cleaner (1999), and this year's Look Out, Shaw has been part of Saloman's Bevis Frond in both its live and studio incarnations since the early 90s. On top of that, Saloman and Shaw have developed Woronzow Records, a unique psychedelically oriented indie label brimming with young and slightly older talent.

On a weekend that witnessed the England football team's historic defeat of Argentina, Ade Shaw tore himself away from the television and his World Cup viewing long enough to answer my questions.

PCP: What's the earliest memory you have of pop/rock music? Do you recall the first record you bought?

Adrian Shaw: I was born in 1947 so I actually remember music before rock 'n' roll! However, it was only with the advent of rock that I really got interested. When I first heard Elvis, Little Richard and Buddy Holly I was completely hooked. I just loved everything about it. As I recall, the first record I bought was a 78 of Elvis singing "All Shook Up." Then the Beatles came along and everyone in England seemed to want to be in a band, including myself, so I got a guitar, Bert Weedon's Play in a Day book and started learning.

PCP: Being involved in the psychedelic/underground scene in London in the 60s, was it obvious to you at the time that it was a revolutionary moment for music, and for culture in general?

AS: Yes, it was obvious that something special was in the air. It was an amalgam of music, political change, fashion and drugs.

PCP: Your first band was J P Sunshine (with Rod Goodway). Although an album was recorded in 1968, it didn't appear until nearly 30 years later. Listening to it now, it sounds like an overlooked treasure of British pop psychedelia. Why didn't it come out while the band was together?

AS: It was a strange situation. I was recruited into J P Sunshine by a friend of a friend. A drug dealer who was also a budding lyricist was putting a psychedelic band together and was looking for a guitarist. I had been flirting with the burgeoning folk scene at that time, playing finger-style guitar with friends when I heard about this and went along to meet him and the other people who were involved. To cut a long story short, we ended up with a surfeit of guitarists, including Rod, but no bass player. I fancied playing bass so I went out and bought a secondhand Burns Nu-Sonic and was up and running. Unfortunately, a series of busts put paid to the band but we did record an album's worth of material before we split. This finally ended up being released in the 90s to a very good response. As the band included Rod, Andy Rickell AKA Android Funnel who was a fine guitarist and myself, I suppose it had to have something going for it.

PCP: By 1970, you had left London and were living in Puddletown in rural Dorset with the Crazy World of Arthur Brown. What was it like to live with the God of Hell Fire? Did he wear his flaming helmet around the house? Was the whole scene as mad as it sounds?

AS: It was a strange time. I originally did the Crazy World's light show, something I had no experience with but tried to make up for with enthusiasm. When the bass player left, Arthur asked me to play bass with them. The band at that time was Andy on guitar, Drachen Theaker [formerly of Love] on drums and a guy called Roy on Hammond organ. Arthur was a lovely guy albeit very eccentric. Unfortunately, Andy and Drachen got delusions of grandeur and started to treat Arthur very badly, playing songs twice as fast or half as fast as they should have been and so on. Naturally, Arthur didn't put up with that for long and quit. This led on to Rustic Hinge and the Provincial Swimmers coming into existence.

PCP: Rod Goodway came down to Dorset in May 1970 and Rustic Hinge and the Provincial Swimmers were formed. Writing in Record Collector in 1990, Mark Paytress called Rustic Hinge the "missing link in the history and development of British psychedelic music." Why didn't we hear more from this band?

AS: Rustic Hinge was really Andy and Drachen's baby. At that time, all they were listening to was Captain Beefheart, Stravinsky and Stockhausen. They were intent on being England's Magic Band, something Rod and I weren't at all interested in being involved in. We were more inclined towards the Dead, Airplane and Quicksilver and wanted to get out of the studio and on the road. All Andy and Drachen wanted was to work for 16 hours a day in the studio and never set foot on stage. Not exactly a marriage made in heaven.

PCP: I recently saw some remarkable archive footage of Rustic Hinge performing a Beefheart-esque song called "Lychee" in the garden in Puddletown. You appear playing bass bare-chested, smoking a pipe, and wearing what looks like a very nice grey, pleated skirt. (Rod Goodway says it's a grass skirt but I'm not so sure.) Was this standard Puddletown attire? Do you recall the story behind this film?

AS: Whilst we were recording what eventually became the Rustic Hinge album, a guy from the BBC came down and said they were filming a series about Thomas Hardy country. As the farmhouse we were living in featured in Tess of the D'Urbervilles they thought some footage of the band performing would make a great contrast to the otherwise tranquil setting. They actually filmed us twice, hence the disparity between Rod's description of my outfit and what you've seen on film. The dress code was purely for the purposes of the film. The skirt you referred to was actually a very nice pleated green mini-skirt lent to me by my wife, Maureen.

PCP: By the end of 1970, the legendary Magic Muscle had formed and you were all living in Bristol. An article in the International Times from the period said this about the band: "In the great tradition of the British underground rock band they don't earn much money, they support a large family, they take drugs, they play thousands of benefits, they have trouble getting a record deal, they don't get press coverage, they take more drugs, they ball, they sometimes get the clap, they like Hawkwind, they drink stuff, they are mad.... These boys is into everything." Would that be a fair assessment?

AS: That really does just about sum it up. We took acid virtually every day for some while and certainly for every gig we played, not to mention all the other pharmaceuticals that were knocking about.

PCP: Rod Goodway's account of life at 49 Cotham Road (where Magic Muscle lived -- I think he calls it a "Freak's Castle") makes for hilarious reading. Obviously, that period could occupy a book in itself, but how did you come to be adopted by the West Coast chapter of the Hell's Angels? Peace-loving hippies and Angels seem like strange bedfellows....

AS: I think the reason the Angels adopted us was they saw that in some ways we were kindred spirits. We shared a dislike of authority and barbers and a love of music and drugs. They seemed impressed with our capacity for taking large quantities of pharmaceuticals and staying upright. This was a mixed blessing however as they would turn up at Muscle gigs and cause mayhem, resulting in us being banned from numerous venues. One of the most extraordinary days of my life was when we played the All England Run when chapters from all over the U.K. descended on Worthy Farm, the Glastonbury Festival site, for an evening of pandemonium with us as the musical entertainment.

PCP: In 1974, you played with Steve Peregrin Took. His story is a tragic one. A couple of years back, Mick Farren wrote in Mojo that Took was unable to complete projects for fear of failure and would just undermine everything by plunging himself into booze and drugs. What was he like to work with? Did you record anything together?

AS: Mick describes Steve very well. He was so out of it at the time I knew him that it's amazing we got anything done. I think his over-indulgence was partly a result of him being insecure but also that he felt obliged to live up to his own reputation. Not the most talented person I ever met but he had more going for him than a lot of people realised. We recorded four songs, only one of which I can remember, a song called "Flop House Blues." I have never come across any copies of these recordings, they seem to have just vanished. It was actually a good lineup, being Steve on 12 string guitar, Hiroshi Kato on lead, Dave Bidwell from Chicken Shack on drums and myself.

PCP: So many musicians of your generation in particular paid a terribly high price: mental illness frequently exacerbated by drugs and so forth. You seem to touch on this in the song "Roger's in a Home" from your album Tea for the Hydra. Is it about Roger "Syd" Barrett, or is it more general?

AS: I've lost a lot of friends down the years; I think it's seven dead ex-bandmates and numerous damaged ones. You can't imbibe large amounts of drugs and alcohol without it taking a toll on your system. It's partly luck of the draw, of course. I seem to have a strong constitution but am only too aware that my particular chickens could come home to roost at any time. "Roger's in a Home" was actually written about Roger Hadden, High Tide's drummer. They were very good friends of ours who lived near us in London and moved down to Dorset shortly after we did. After High Tide's demise Roger was institutionalised, a legacy of his acid taking, and never came back out.

PCP: You joined Hawkwind in 1977 and played on one of their best albums, Quark Strangeness and Charm (and the follow-up, PXR5). How did that come about? You had known them for some time and had been asked to join before, right?

AS: I knew Hawkwind from their earliest days. Their management had an office in Great Western Road that they shared with three other bands, High Tide, Cochise and Skin Alley. Once Magic Muscle was up and running I went to see their manager, Doug Smith, about getting us on their shows as their support band. Fortunately this coincided with "Silver Machine" topping the charts and consequently we played the Space Ritual tour, amongst others. As Lemmy was prone to getting into scrapes of one sort or another, their patience finally ran out and whilst I was still with Muscle I was asked to replace him. I actually turned them down out of loyalty to Muscle, which was pretty foolish as the band promptly moved to the country and imploded. Luckily I was asked again a few years later and that time didn't hesitate. I agree that Quark was one of their finest albums. Bob Calvert was really on form at that time.

PCP: Why didn't that Hawkwind lineup (Dave Brock, Bob Calvert, Simon King, Simon House and yourself) last for longer?

AS: A combination of reasons: Bob was clinically insane, Simon House left to join David Bowie, Simon King had a problem that I'd rather not go into and Dave Brock was looking for a way to get out of the contract the band had with Charisma. Consequently, after the U.S. tour we did in 1978 Dave and a temporarily sane Calvert formed Hawklords for a little while before reverting to the Hawkwind name. The Quark lineup was the last proper Hawkwind lineup -- after that Brock just filled the band with people who would do what they were told and keep quiet. This isn't to say that some talented musicians didn't pass through the ranks subsequently, but it was no longer a proper band.

PCP: You've said elsewhere -- and I'm paraphrasing -- that Magic Muscle was often about altering your mind, as it were, and improvising. Hawkwind appear to have been more disciplined musically. Was it difficult to make a transition?

AS: Not at all. I don't think I could have been in a better band than Muscle as training for being in Hawkwind. At first Muscle was purely about improvising; we would just take our drugs of choice, go on stage and jam. Over a period of time we started incorporating songs into the set involving quite elaborate arrangements so the Hawkwind repertoire wasn't in the least daunting.

PCP: Was it stressful going through customs when you traveled internationally with Hawkwind, a band whose reputation for being associated with drugs preceded them?

AS: I never once passed through customs without being searched in those days. We all had our ways of carrying through what we needed and I never got caught. I mentioned a close escape I had in 1978 to Country Joe McDonald recently and he told me I could have gone down for some years if things had gone differently. In those days we used to smoke joints openly on flights, considering ourselves (wrongly) in no one's jurisdiction. A friend in New York gave me a joint for the flight, which I tucked into the turnup of my jeans. As I was going through customs before boarding the flight, a customs officer pulled me over to ask some questions. As I was answering him I glanced down and there was the joint sticking straight out of my turnup. I thought "just keep him talking and hope he doesn't look down." To my relief he waved me on my way. Needless to say I enjoyed that joint all the more halfway across the Atlantic.

PCP: Around the time you joined Hawkwind, another musical revolution was underway. What did you make of punk? You were part of a generation that had already turned things on their head culturally and politically and yet a decade later, much that had evolved out of that upheaval was seen as "the enemy." Did you feel any affinity with punk's rebellious spirit and its DIY attitude?

AS: I had a problem with punk inasmuch as I thought they were attacking the wrong targets, at least some of the time. Hippies weren't the enemy but the establishment was. They, however, seemed more intent on having a go at "boring old hippies" than making any real impact politically or culturally. I certainly believe the punk movement brought a much needed breath of fresh air to the music industry.

PCP: Over the years you've almost joined several other bands (e.g., Poco and Marc Bolan). Do you regret any missed musical opportunities?

AS: Well to be honest the Poco thing was really just a speculative phone call, not much more than that. The Bolan gig was definitely going to happen but his death put paid to that. I do regret missing out on playing with him. He was a good guy.

PCP: Bevis Frond live performances underscore the fact that there's considerable chemistry between Nick Saloman and yourself. How did you come to hook up with him? What makes you work so well together?

AS: Nick and I were introduced to one another in the late 80s by Rod Goodway. We got on very well right from the start. It's been a source of much discussion that we have so many things in common. We are both psychedelic musicians that live in similar houses near each other. We both had bad motorcycle accidents resulting in damaged arms, both have long term relationships with our wives, both love football, both have Jewish fathers, both have one child and very similar views on the world. The clincher however was when my aunt died I came into some family documents that showed that my grandmother's maiden name was Saloman. Make of that what you will!

PCP: When I saw the Bevis Frond play New York last year with Joe Propatier on drums, the three of you rocked incredibly hard. Most artists tend to mellow out, turn down the volume, and grow older quietly. You don't seem inclined to do so?

AS: We don't show any sign of mellowing. We love playing loud rock and neither Nick or myself feel inclined to stop doing so just because we're knocking on a bit. If we thought we were losing it we'd stop, but the band just seems to get better and better. The new lineup with Jules Fenton on drums and Paul Simmons on second guitar is the best yet. I'm really enjoying playing with them and can't see it stopping in the foreseeable future. We're coming to the U.S. for another tour in October and I'm looking forward to getting a chance to show American audiences just how good the band's become.

PCP: Initially, Bevis Frond records were almost 100% Nick Saloman projects. You've performed on the last two studio albums, Valedictory Songs and What Did for the Dinosaurs. Does that mean you play more of a role in the creative process itself, or is it still essentially Nick's project?

AS: For a variety of reasons Nick has generally played all the instruments on most of his albums. Lately though, he's come round to thinking it's better to use the live band in a proper studio. As it happens, I've been on bits and pieces of Frond albums for years. I played on Superseeder [1995], for instance. Although Nick and I run the touring Frond as a partnership, on record it's his baby and always will be.

PCP: The Bevis Frond play quite regularly here in the U.S. Would it be fair to say that the band receive more interest and respect here than back home?

AS: We get more interest in the States and mainland Europe than we do in England, which is predominantly a dance music market at the moment. That's not to say we are ignored in the U.K. We always do well when we play in London and Valedictory Songs was Mojo's album of the month when it came out. A large part of the problem in England is that we don't have a major label hyping us and we don't fit within the conventional image of what a band should look like. I know that if we were 25 years younger we would be much bigger than we are but we can't change that.

PCP: You run Woronzow Records with Nick. How do you divide the responsibilities?

AS: It's very much a cottage industry. We share all the work including being A&R men, doing the cover art for our albums, running the mail-order side of things and so on. We also act as session men whenever necessary.

PCP: Woronzow has a very diverse roster: everyone from legendary figures like Simeon, Tom Rapp, and Country Joe to bands like the Green Pajamas and the Alchemysts. What criteria influence the decision to bring artists on board?

AS: The beauty of Woronzow is that we put out whatever we like. If a band or artist's music grabs us we release it. It's as simple as that. We love psychedelic music, so the things we put out generally have a psychedelic leaning.

PCP: How did you come to put out those great records by Simeon (and the Alchemysts), Tom Rapp, and Country Joe?

AS: We met both Simeon and Tom Rapp at the first Terrastock festival in Providence, Rhode Island, and having information about them of a sensitive nature we were able to blackmail them into recording for us. Nick met Country Joe whilst doing an interview in Berkeley. The DJ had asked Nick who his favourite artists were and he mentioned Country Joe. When he turned up at the station, Joe was sat waiting for him. Joe mentioned coming to London to play the Queen Elizabeth Hall and Nick offered our services as his backing band. It all went on from there. What gave me the biggest buzz was finding myself on stage in a concert environment with Joe, who was one of my heroes, with my son Aaron by my side augmenting the Frond on guitar and keyboards. It really doesn't get any better than that.

PCP: Can you tell us about any forthcoming Woronzow releases that you're especially excited about?

AS: We have the new Lucky Bishops album about to come out, a new Alchemysts CD on the horizon, a Keith Christmas acoustic album, a projected Ethereal Counterbalance album with Rod Goodway and we recently recorded an album with Sacramento's Anton Barbeau, which we will be releasing later this year.

PCP: Starting with groups like Magic Muscle, you've often been involved in musical ventures that display a communal sensibility. You've talked about your desire back then to be in a "people's band" and you played benefits and the free-festival circuit in Britain for years. Even now, with Woronzow, there appears to be a communal feel about many of the projects you've worked on. You play on one another's records and put out collective ventures like Acid Jam II. Why is that approach to making music important to you?

AS: Back in the 60s and 70s there was a real community spirit about. It was just great to be part of a movement that was so radical and at the same time so much fun. There really wasn't a "them & us" feeling dividing bands and audiences. It was much easier putting on free festivals and happenings then as the authorities hadn't wised up to how to stop them like they have now. With Woronzow we are dealing with like-minded artists, generally pretty eccentric, and there is definitely a community spirit that's developed which is pretty much worldwide. The new technologies have really helped. E-mail, web sites and affordable digital recording have all played a big part in this.

PCP: Your work has roots in the British progressive rock tradition. Over the last few years in the U.K., younger bands like Radiohead, Clinic, Elbow, Gorky's Zygotic Mynci, among others, seem to be recycling elements of prog rock and incorporating them into fashionable and sometimes commercially rewarding formats. Do you listen to any of these bands? Do you like what they're doing?

AS: I like elements of all the bands you mentioned whilst not being completely sold on any of them. My favourite band of the last few years is the Lucky Bishops and I'm not just saying that because they're on Woronzow. They are a genuine throwback to the days when bands could sing, write and play. It's funny that you say my music has roots in progressive rock because I was never a great fan of prog, with certain exceptions. I do understand why you say that, however; I do like a bit of ostentatious musicianship from time to time.

PCP: You're an amazing multi-instrumentalist. Can you run through for us what you play on Look Out?

AS: On Look Out I play guitar, organ, bass, piano, mandolin, synthesiser, banjo, harmonica and percussion. On top of that I use various technologies like sampling and sequencing. I love gadgets and am quite happy to utilise whatever will do the job for me.

PCP: Something that struck me about the new album is how diverse the songs are -- from more sparse tracks with piano and acoustic guitar to bigger arrangements with fiddle, banjo, and harmonica. Did you set out with variety in mind?

AS: I always like to experiment with different styles but don't set out to be diverse just for the sake of it. If anything, I have to rein myself in to a degree.

PCP: Your work often appears to deal with transience, disillusionment, and the generally ephemeral nature of things. I'm thinking of tracks like "Tattered Butterfly" from the last album, Head Cleaner, and "Another Face" and "Remembrance of Things Past" from Look Out. Why is that? Is it an inevitable product of aging?

AS: I think it is. As you get older you tend to get a little disillusioned and a bit more cynical. It's a natural process. Whilst I love life I am only too well aware of the transience of our existence. A lot of Look Out was written whilst I was undergoing treatment for Hepatitis C. The illness and drug regime tend to make you a bit gloomy and that's reflected in the songs. I've always loved a touch of melancholia in music anyway.

PCP: The beautiful "Father's Day" seems particularly melancholy. Bari Watts' solo on that one is especially poignant and powerful. Is this a more personal song than some of the others?

AS: "Father's Day" was written primarily about a very good friend of mine who was battling an extremely serious illness. At the time I wrote it the prognosis wasn't very good for him. The situation was exacerbated by the fact he had two young children and was desperate to live long enough to see them grow up. Fortunately, after a lung transplant he has made an excellent recovery.

PCP: On "Another Face," you invert Kennedy's cliché about asking not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country. Is there a degree of social commentary in that song?

AS: To be honest that was more mischievous than serious social commentary. I wanted to put a kind of sound collage into the middle of that song and was working on it when I came across Kennedy's speech. I thought that little bit of digital twisting was too good an opportunity to miss.

PCP: The summery "Rhododendron Mile" is one of the standout tracks. You sing about saying goodbye to "Hardy country." I assume it's about your time down in Dorset with Arthur Brown. The song seems to express a sense of ambivalence and disillusionment with regard to that period.

AS: Very much so. What should have been a beautiful experience in idyllic surroundings turned into a nightmare. As I described earlier, both Andy and Drachen turned into monsters once they had the opportunity to do so. Even though the house we moved to in Bristol was probably the biggest heap imaginable, the experience there was wonderful. Another lesson learnt: it's people who are important, not surroundings.

PCP: On Look Out, "The Chosen" deals with Jewish refugees in World War II. Obviously, one doesn't have to be Jewish to identify with the tragedy of the story underlying that song but to what extent do you think your Jewish heritage influences your work?

AS: Not a lot really. I am an atheist through and through. I'm certainly interested in the cultural aspect of my Jewish identity but it doesn't go any further than that.

PCP: You don't perform your own material live. Why is that?

AS: I've given this a lot of thought over the years. It would be really difficult to translate what I do on record to a live show. Consequently I don't think you'll ever hear me playing my songs live. Fortunately, playing in the Frond I have plenty of opportunity to play live and I'm quite happy with that.

PCP: And finally, what's next for you?

AS: I'm very much enjoying watching the World Cup at the moment. As I said before, we have a lot of Woronzow projects in hand, a U.S. tour on the horizon and sooner or later I plan to move to the country and breathe some fresh air for a change. Other than that I'm very happy with the way things have worked out. If you'd told me in 1967 that I'd still be playing in a band in 2002, I would have found that very difficult to believe.

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