Iggy Rose was one of Syd Barrett's girlfriends in 1969.
She is most famous for being the model on the Syd Barrett album: 'The Madcap Laughs'.
Nicknamed Iggy the Eskimo, it was rumoured she was part Inuit.
One day, in 1969, she disappeared out of Syd's life and was not heard of ever since.
Almost four decades later, the Holy Church of Iggy the Inuit started to mess with things.
Its five years mission: to find Iggy and bring her back to the spotlights.
And guess what, with some invaluable help from many, many friends... we did...
Beginning 2017 Iggy Rose decided to leave social media. She died peacefully on the 13th of December 2017,
just before her seventieth birthday. Wishing you good luck, Iggy, wherever you are.
The year is in its fourth month, and I have only posted one entry so
far. I could blame this on a lack of Syd, which is partially true, but
my ongoing flair for procrastination is probably closer to the truth.
There’s an article in the pipeline, a review of the Have You Got It Yet?
documentary, but this will be published when it is finally released on
DVD, Blu-Ray, or whatever new technology they will have invented to grab
the money out of our pockets. If you haven’t read my previous post on
that documentary, and it is, without bragging, one of those
extraordinary world-exclusive Church ones, you can find that here: Incarceration
of a Flower Child.
Plenty of new Syd fans are popping out this year, like mushrooms on a
field. They often comment on the Holy Church's Tumblr
or Facebook
pages, which are invariably infested with pictures of the bard and his
band. “Great photo,” they sometimes say, “I’ve never seen that one
before.” I mainly sigh and think of two decades ago, when the old gang
of Clowns & Jugglers discussed these pictures ad infinitum.
Brighton
The previous Church post premiered an unknown Iggy picture that was
found by Emo Moore, but that news was largely ignored by the masses.
Long gone are the days when the Holy Church of Iggy the Inuit was a
force to be reckoned with. So it goes.
Anyway, in that article, we quoted a line from Iggy:
Denzil was THE Ultimate Cool. He was an unrivalled leader. The sharpest
dresser in hand-made Italian silk suits and the finest Italian shoes.
Denzil epitomised style and elegance. He was the dandiest of the dandies.
We tried finding out who this Denzil bloke was. Our theory was
that he might have been an English Boy. English Boy was a
(mostly) male modelling agency, started by the hippy aristocrat Mark
Palmer. But we couldn’t find Denzil in the scarce lists that are
roaming the Internet here and there.
Emo
Emo Moore, who is a Sixties and Floydian archivist, whether he likes it
or not, came to the rescue and published a picture of Denzil. Denzil was
a Mod.
Thanks to the wonder of reverse image search, we could find a bit more
about him.
Robert Freeman (1936–2019) is of course well-known for his Beatles
photography, but he also directed the 1968 movie The
Touchables, a sex comedy with a ‘plot thinner than a paper towel’,
to quote Simon Matthews. The only reason we mention this is because one
of the scenes of this silly film contains a sample of Interstellar
Overdrive, from our favourite Cambridge boys band. (See also: Psychedelic
Celluloid.)
Back to the Sunday Times article. It interviews a couple of Mods and if
you want to read the full article, you can go to Anglo
Zine, who preserved a copy.
We will only highlight Denzil’s parts, which are pretty nihilistic for a
boy of 18. Take the following quote:
You go down to the sea because you get bored. The summer comes around,
you keep saying you’re going to do something different – go to Jersey
and do a season. You keep saying you’re going to do something about it.
Then all of a sudden it’s September again.
Twenty-something
That’s deep, but it is mainly because Denzil thinks that life will be
virtually over in a couple of years. Too old to rock 'n' roll, too young
to die.
Once you’ve got to 20 you consider yourself a bit old-mannish. If you’re
a bit juvenile you can get away with it. But you know yourself you’re
getting on, you’re going to be left out of things.
Denzil lived in Streatham, where his father was a garage mechanic.
Things used to be lively in Streatham, but then:
...kids started going up to the West End and getting introduced to the
pills, getting edgy and argumentative. There’s a lot of lying when you
get ‘blocked’ - the number of girls you get in a week, the price of your
suit. But the drug kick is dying out a bit.
Sexual Revolution
In the same article, Eric
Burdon of The
Animals complains that 'most of the real beaty type girls are
sexually dumb’. Denzil, in his infinite wisdom, partially agrees:
The fellow’s got to like a girl a lot to have her around with his
friends. Of course you get the all-night parties. Jumping around to a
gramophone. Then all of a sudden you get tired and go to sleep.
Mods, as most of us will know, take care of their looks and their
clothes.
American styles are out, like Madras cotton jackets, and Seven and Sixes
– that’s the name we give to baby Mods who’re still wearing these 7s and
6d. T-shirts from Woolworths.
Denzil further explains that it’s suits now and basket shoes. A Mod
needs approximately £15 a week to be a leader. Most Mods only make
between £8 and £10 a week and spend about £4 on clothes.
The Orchid
So where’s the link between Denzil and Iggy, I hear you say? Well, there
was a temple for Mods, where Rockers wouldn’t stand a chance. It brings
us back to the early days of the Holy Church of Iggy the Inuit when we
discussed the dance hall Iggy used to frequent before Jeff
Dexter dragged her into the catacombs of the London Underground.
The author of ‘Changing Faces’ is Kathleen Halton (1937–1995). Kathleen
Jeannette Halton Tynan was a Canadian-British journalist, author, and
screenwriter. But she wasn’t a member of the in-crowd when she wrote her
article. Throughout the text, she keeps on calling the Orchid Ballroom
the Orchard Ballroom.
The Orchid at Purley,
according to Halton, had two bars and ultraviolet lights that played on
the dancers. Getting in cost you 3s if you could get past the bouncers.
Denzil explains that Mods didn’t call themselves Mods.
You wouldn’t be pleased to call yourself that. Though you might call us
stylists or faces. (…) If you can’t dance you might as well go home. Or
you have to dress really smart to make up for it.
Denzil did both. He was a 'face' allright, and a 'leader'.
Agenda
Mods had a filled agenda. Monday was Mecca night at the Hammersmith or
the Orchid.
Tuesday was the best night at The Scene. The Scene was the leading mod
club in the centre of London. As London Live recalls, riding into Ham
Yard on a scooter was the preferred mode of arrival.
Wednesday to Friday were nothing special, although Mods had to find the
time to wash their hair.
Saturday was West End night. Being a Mod was a full-time job.
Movies, or football? We don’t have time for them because Sunday’s meant
for the Flamingo, or sleeping, and Saturday for shopping.
Mocksters
Mods were more worried about having a good time than having a good job.
Some were just pretenders, nicknamed Mocksters. Denzil:
Everybody wants to go abroad. Some get ‘blocked’ and say they’ve just
been washed up in Switzerland or Casablanca. But you know it’s not true.
‘Changing Faces’ may be a nice period piece and (perhaps) the only place
where Denzil was given a place to ventilate, but it doesn’t reveal a lot
about him.
A New Religion
In 2013, Paul ‘Smiler’ Anderson wrote what is believed to be the
ultimate Mods anthology: Mods:
The New Religion. It is a 300+ page history of the movement, packed
with facts, anecdotes, and oral history.
Pat Farrell remembers Denzil and even reveals his last name, Denzil
Souman.
People like Pete Sinacol, Denzil Souman, Geoff Morris and Dilly (Keith
Dyett) stood out as faces. Geoff Morris was a fantastic dancer and
people would just stand and watch him. (...)
One night we were
all on the the tube going to Piccadilly Circus. The tube was jam-packed
– it was about 10 o'clock at night. All of a sudden, I'm sure it was
Denzil, put his head out of the window and shouted, 'All aboard the
night train!‘ and the whole train started singing and dancing James
Brown style.
Denzil used to hang around Tooting and Streatham. He
was good friends with Geoff Morris. Denzil was unusual because he was
South American, and there weren't that many dark-skinned people on the
scene. He always looked absolutely amazing, completely different. He
always stood out from the crowd and whatever he did, you'd notice. I
thought it was great he made it onto the front cover of The Sunday Times
Magazine. I thought it was good because it was the first article to show
what really happened. I was very proud of Denzil and anybody else who
became quite well known because I thought they deserved it.
Quadrophonic Dance Moves
Quadrophenia
is a 1979 British drama film, based on The
Who's 1973 rock opera of the same name. As Jeff Dexter had been a DJ
at The Orchid and The ‘Mingo (Flamingo), he was asked to consult on some
of the dance scenes.
I did three days with the initial cast and then had to get everyone in
the ballroom and try to show them all various dances. Sting couldn't
dance to save his fuckin' life, but in fact the dance he does is what I
taught him. Because he couldn‘t move like some of the others I gave him
a strange dance which was based on a well-known Mod from South London.
Everybody talks about Denzil being one of the sharpest-dressed Mods but
he used to dance differently from everybody else.
I remembered
that is how he danced at the Orchid Ballroom in Purley. He sort of
danced with his arms up so he didn't crease his suit. (…) So that
strange dance was actually based on Denzil’s moves. A few people said
terrible things about the way I gave Sting his dance steps at the time
the film came out, but they were people who weren't originally there. So
in one sense it’s totally authentic.
But what happened between Denzil and Iggy? Did they ever share the dance
floor? We’ll probably never know, unless the future has something in
store for us.
The Church wishes to thank: Iain Emo Moore, Iggy Rose. ♥ Libby ♥ Iggy
♥
Sources (other than the above-mentioned URLs): Anderson, Paul: Mods.
The New Religion, Omnibus Press, London, 2014, p. 138, 171, 302. Bacon,
Tony: London Live, Balafon Books, London, 1999, p. 71. Halton,
Kathleen: Changing Faces, The Sunday Times Magazine, London,
August 2, 1964, p. 1, 12, 14-15, 17-18. Matthews, Simon: Psychedelic
Celluloid, Oldcastle Books, Harpenden, 2016, p. 81.