The early '60s London R 'n' B scene is ripe for exploitation, and writer/ director John Sweeney scores points for his depiction of would-be-cool musos ("Your voice sounds really black, man").
There's an authenticity to the songs too, but ultimately such positives cannot save the film. Tiny budgets demand innovation, but Sweeney slavishly follows convention and comes off looking amateurish in the extreme, especially in the misguided forays into a painfully toothless criminal underworld.