{"id":7755,"date":"2026-08-06T10:43:55","date_gmt":"2026-08-06T09:43:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/shindig-magazine.com\/?p=7755"},"modified":"2026-08-06T10:43:55","modified_gmt":"2026-08-06T09:43:55","slug":"shindig-issue-178-the-downliners-sect","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/shindig-magazine.com\/?p=7755","title":{"rendered":"Shindig! Issue #178 – The Downliners Sect"},"content":{"rendered":"

Sick songs, skiffle and self-sabotage: THE DOWNLINERS SECT waived the rules of British R&B over a remarkable \u201960s catalogue that continues to influence vigilante R&B heads to this day.<\/strong><\/p>\n

HUW THOMAS gets a handle on the gentleman ravers with sect appeal<\/strong><\/p>\n

\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

By the time they released the Nite In Gt. Newport Street<\/em> EP in early 1964, The Downliners Sect were a cult. They had twice taken residencies replacing The Rolling Stones, first at Eel Pie Island and then at Studio 51, and at both spots they acted as a crucial proof of concept for serried rows of teenage mods. David Bowie would pattern his band The King Bees after them. Van Morrison decided to quit The Manhattan Showband and go into R&B after watching them play. Rod Stewart would beg to join them as harmonica player, only to be rejected in favour of Ray Sone. Some guys have all the luck, eh? Some of the Sect\u2019s heroes were taking notice, too. In May \u201964, Chuck Berry, fresh out of prison and on a landmark British tour, dropped in to Studio 51 to watch the band and, apparently, offered them a residency at Berry Park. He had a great night, signing autographs and talking guitar with the Sect \u2013 until someone whipped off his hat, revealing a hairnet he wore to keep his hair straight.<\/p>\n

Nite In Gt. Newport Street <\/em>was a DIY recording (Craine and Grant\u2018s fathers held up the microphones) and the product of necessity. What The Sect really wanted was a major record contract, having watched the Stones go national with \u2019Come On\u2019. After a further Contrast EP, recorded in the studio, was scrapped, they were picked up by Cee Cee Productions, a new venture led by producer Mike Collier. A smart and slick-talking Cockney who shared the Sect\u2019s interest in America, Collier had been a one-man British Invasion in the \u201950s, working in New York as a plugger for London Records, flogging Tommy Steele records to a largely apathetic public. Now, he was back on home soil with tales from the promised land. He selected the Sect\u2019s hoary take on Jimmy Reed\u2019s \u2018Baby What\u2019s Wrong\u2019 to be their first single and sold it to EMI\u2019s Columbia label. Craine told the Swindon Advertiser<\/em> that his band \u201cplay his [Reed\u2019s] music most naturally \u2013 in fact, he\u2019s one of our main sources of supply\u201d but the single barely perforated the UK Top 30, making #29. Future UK releases wouldn\u2019t even go that far.<\/p>\n

Publicly, the Sect heaped praise on Collier; after all, he\u2019d \u201cmade a lot of Shirelles records\u201d, or at least that\u2019s what he told Don Craine. Privately, there was some resentment. \u201cI never had any faith in Mike Collier as a producer,\u201d Terry Gibson told Ugly Things<\/em>. \u201cWe never got much studio time. He was always quick to say ‘Yeah, that’s fine.’ Most, if not all our stuff was done in one or two takes, plus they were done live with no overdubs. We always felt a bit cheated \u2019cause we weren\u2019t given the time, the expertise and the knowledge to make records as good as we wanted.\u201d Gibson wasn\u2019t happy with the take Collier chose for \u2018Little Egypt\u2019, the Leiber & Stoller number that became the Sect\u2019s second single, nor the sound effects he appended to it, but to the kids at Studio 51, it sounded like British R&B at its beefy, bratty best.<\/p>\n