London power-pop outfit the Jags had a 1979 hit with debut single “Back Of My Hand” but disappeared almost as quickly as they rose to fame. Thirty years later, MAGNET’s Timothy Gassen tells the tale of one of the new-wave era’s seminal acts. (For a history of American power pop, read our 2002 cover story.)
The term “one hit wonder” is often used as cynical criticism, usually by those who have never had even one song of their own climb the charts. What jaded music fans don’t understand is that bands that carry the weight of the “one hit wonder” tag often have a full catalog of other fine work that never reached a larger pop audience. Many pop listeners are just too lazy to search for anything but their spoon-fed top-40. That means many power-pop fans still don’t realize that the Jags remain one of the new-wave era’s most accomplished acts. And that their sound only starts with 1979 smash “Back Of My Hand.”
Record labels and radio in the U.K. were grudgingly forced to allow new-wave and punk sounds to edge onto the airwaves in the late-’70s, long before their U.S. big brothers would even consider such an experiment. The young public’s interest in these startling sounds meant a new breed of U.K. bands needed to be cultivated, signed and promoted—and quickly. The Jags were perfectly suited to seize that moment.
“The Jags started in 1978 when Nick Watkinson (vocals, guitar) and Neil Whittaker (drums) went to Wales to rehearse with John Alder (guitar) and me,” said bassist Steve Prudence in late 2007. Watkinson and Alder were the band’s busy songwriters, with plenty of original pop material to develop together. (The Jags’ John Alder is no relation to the Pink Fairies’ drummer of the same name, who is also known as “Twink.”) “The beginning was really idealistic, rehearsing in the Welsh hills. To me, it’s not so much ‘sex and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll’—it’s ‘sweat and tears and rock ‘n’ roll.’ I could fill a half pint glass with sweat from my jacket after a gig.”
Google “Golden Boots” and you’re treated to an only-on-the-Internet twist on Choose Your Own Adventure: Arizonan psych/rock or Singaporean line-dancing?
This is one of the most mind-blowingly weird anecdotes MAGNET has ever published. Ten years ago, writer Mitch Myers 
All the sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll (plus some petty hang-ups and tawdry gossip) that MAGNET didn’t find fit to print are now declassified, courtesy of our longtime cover-story operative. Thrill as we try to guess Kim Gordon’s age and gasp as R.E.M. kicks us out of Conan O’Brien. By Jonathan Valania
There’s no reasonable explanation why Flipper can make what appears to be an ordinary group of shoppers pogo in public. Rest assured, the band can still do it. A crowd of more than 400 jammed the aisles of San Francisco’s Amoeba Records in February, as the revered punk-rock survivors—now old enough to play on golf’s senior tour—lit into a throbbing, 40-minute set that included chromosome-damaged, post-punk faves “Ha, Ha, Ha” and “Way Of The World” to celebrate the release of Flipper Live (Target-video77), a DVD of performances from 1980-81. At the set’s conclusion, guitarist Ted Falconi, his cascading silver hair tied behind his back, was so locked into his instrument he remained onstage long after his bandmates departed.
The golden age of Ray Davies and Co. may have ended with 1971’s Muswell Hillbillies, but there are essential tracks scattered among the hit-and-miss LPs that followed:
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