Back in the 1980s, before the internet and YouTube, it was hard to dig up information about forgotten 1960s bands. Knowledge was at a premium.
In 1980, Edsel Records released a compilation called The Ultimate Action by the English mod band The Action. I bought it because the sleeve notes were written by Paul Weller, and as a massive Jam fan I was intrigued.
The Action were an unlikely choice for a retrospective. They had a fearsome live reputation but released only seven singles between 1965 and 1969 — none of which became hits. The LP simply gathered their A-sides and B-sides.
A Mod Band with Soul
The Action grew out of Soho’s Scene Club, playing soul-influenced pop at the heart of the mod movement. In 1965 they signed to Parlophone under the watchful eye of George Martin. They supported The Who, played a long Marquee Club residency, and built up a dedicated mod following.
They were a classic “blue-eyed soul” band, with frontman Reg King rivalling Steve Marriott of the Small Faces as a vocalist. Their live set was stacked with covers, and they prided themselves on never covering songs by white artists.
By 1966 they were co-headlining the 6th National Jazz & Blues Festival at Windsor alongside Cream and Georgie Fame.
Studio Struggles and Lost Albums
Attempts at recording an album were sporadic. George Martin and Giorgio Gomelsky both tried, but nothing stuck. A set of late-’60s demos eventually surfaced 30 years later as Rolled Gold. One track, Brain, still sounds astonishing today, is if every idea the Gallagher Brothers ever had was rolled into one song.
A second set of demos surfaced under the title "Action Speak Louder":
The problem was simple: while The Action were superb performers, they lacked a songwriter. In an era when their peers had Lennon & McCartney, Jagger & Richards, or Pete Townshend, The Action were left singing about dancing and falling in love — just as lyrics were becoming more ambitious. Most great lost albums of the 60s were lost because of drugs or chaos. The Action were tight, focussed, brilliant performers, just unable to convince record label execs that they could compete in a market that was shifting all the time.
Like many mod bands, they tried to expand their sound, even slipping John Coltrane’s India into their setlists, only to alienate the skinhead element of their audience.
In 1968 they supported The Byrds at the Middle Earth Club. Guitarist Martin Stone recalled, “Richard Thompson was backstage with his mouth open. I was hooked.”
From The Action to Mighty Baby
Reg King quit in 1969 for a solo career.
The rest evolved into Mighty Baby, recording two albums (Mighty Baby and A Jug of Love) and backing King’s solo record.
Years of playing to demanding mod audiences had sharpened their chops, and Mighty Baby members became sought-after musicians in the early ’70s. They became central figures in the emerging folk rock scene, appearing across groundbreaking albums: Roses by Shirley Collins, The North Star Grassman and the Ravens by Sandy Denny, and John Martyn’s Glistening Glyndebourne.
By 1971 the band had converted to Sufi Islam, travelling to Morocco to study. This wasn’t unusual for the era — Richard Thompson and Cat Stevens embraced Islam, George Harrison and John McLaughlin leaned into Hinduism, and Pete Townshend followed Meher Baba.
Their last major outing was on the Glastonbury Fayre triple LP soundtrack, one whole side taken up with an extended jam, based on John Coltrane. This is the full 30+ minute version. Anyone with mod inclinations might want to look away now:
Later, after another personnel shift, Mighty Baby morphed into Habibiyya, playing devotional music with instruments from around the world.
Where They Ended Up
The Action’s members went on to curious afterlives. Alan “Bam” King formed Ace, finally scoring the huge hit he deserved with How Long.
Martin Stone became a notorious occult book dealer and inspired a character in Iain Sinclair’s White Chappell, Scarlet Tracings. Ian Whiteman is now one of the UK’s leading Islamic calligraphers.
The Action may never have written a hit, but their from blue-eyed soul to psychedelia to Sufi devotion — tells you everything about the restless creativity of the 1960s. The time from Hey Sha Lo Ney to Habbibiya was 6 years, and yet the musical evolution was greater than any modern band would ever contemplate.
And they still sound incredible.