HEDGEHOPPERS ANONYMOUS, "DON'T PUSH ME" C/W "PLEASE DON'T HURT YOUR HEART FOR ME," LONDON 9417 (REL. 2/1966)

 

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Jonathan King was Britain’s equivalent to Phil Sloan. Both wrote pop songs with great hooks but were compelled to pen more relevant items of social protest and observation. Where Sloan was mocked—perhaps due to his record label’s boasts that he was “the new Dylan” (the line forms at the left, fellas)—King achieved global success with his 1965 recording “Everyone’s Gone to the Moon.”

Both songwriters, in their approach through unknown territory, made clumsy steps, but their work made it clear that pop music could be about anything. Less intimidating than Bob Dylan, King and Sloan kept one foot (or, at least, some toes) in the pop end of the spectrum. Their melodies demand equal footing with the lyrics. Dylan’s songs sometimes have eloquent melodies, but the music is always a sidecar to the words.

1965 had been the global year of folk-rock. King and Sloan created an anthem apiece; Sloan’s “Eve of Destruction,” which seemed kitschy in the 1980s but is relevant all over again in 2025, inspired considerable controversy, as did his solo single “The Sins of a Family,” which was banned from airplay in some American cities.

And as Sloan found a pop outlet in another band (The Grass Roots), King attached himself to a band with an unlikely background—five guys doing maintenance work in the Royal Air Force. To pass the time, they put a band together, attract the attention of a topical songwriter and get one major hit. That was the saga of Hedgehoppers Anonymous. This quintet went from servicing military bombers to playing provincial clubs. In 1964, they named themselves The Hedgehoppers, after low-flying aircraft that was planned for use, should WWIII break out, and played in public for the first time. They began to attract interest from promoters—and from a university student who’d recently signed a production deal with Decca Records. Johnathan King, who would top charts with “Everyone’s Gone to the Moon,” caught the band’s live act and was impressed. He approached them and asked if they’d be interested in signing with Decca and recording some of his songs.

The group was excited and worried at once: still in military service, they feared the worst if their superiors caught wind of this. King suggested they append their name with “Anonymous.” Despite their misgivings—which would prove true—they recorded King’s topical “It’s Good News Week” and saw the record soar up the UK charts. It made the Top 50 in America in the year of “Eve of Destruction” and “Like a Rolling Stone.”

This brought the group major publicity and, because they’d not applied for permission to work outside the military, headaches. Reporters and fans sought the band out at their military base. The cat was out of the bag and the bandmates applied for a military discharge. Two of them were turned down and were replaced.

By this time, they’d cut their second single, “Don’t Push Me,” which we’ll hear today. In a move of corporate hubris, Decca reckoned that, with the debut single a smash, they needn’t publicize the follow-up. This strategy seldom worked out well and cost the group a potential charter. Neither song had the anthemic quality of “Good News Week,” but the rugged, earnest performances had appeal.

“Don’t Push Me” is a Dylanesque laundry-list of complaints/opinions/observations. It’s a “builder” arrangement. A catchy bassline morphs into a full string section and orchestration, with the urgent voice of lead singer Mike Tinsley in front of it all, with a breathless series of indictments from King’s pen. If it didn’t hit the charts, it did find release in nine countries, some with picture sleeves (as in the Belgian release pictured below, before the Cash Box review--one of their Pick of the Week choices.)

“Please Don’t Hurt Your Heart for Me” is a love-adjacent song also by King. A Buddy Holly-ish melody turns into a plaintive, minimal folk-rocker. Duane Eddy-ish guitar interludes give this song a schizophrenic feel. It’s the band playing everything—not session ringers. Their lead guitarist has a bit of the early “leadfinger” George Harrison to his style, but you feel him striving his hardest to get the right notes and rhythm. A for effort, John Stewart (not the popular satirical talk-show guy)!

Their final US release, which was played here 700-ish days ago (on Facebook), combines a cover version of an American soul number first recorded by Little Jimmy Williams and a passionate-slash-hysterical love song by King. Its chart failure caused London Records to refuse further Hedgehopper releases in the US. The group had three more UK Decca singles—all spendy collectors’ items—before they called it a day at the end of 1966. It was the end of the British beat-group era, and a good time to lower the curtain.

Tomorrow: Oh, boy. Such a crazy record…such a great record. One single—two artists—two insane songs. A favorite 45 of The Cramps; this scarce 1958 one-shot showed up in a seller’s low-priced, random records. Was I delighted when I saw it! You may be as well once you hear it…