Slade’s ultimate rockin’ survivor – back in touch with Don Powell

Posted on December 22, 2020 by writewyattuk

Glam Survivor: Don Powell during recording back in June in Denmark at the studio used by The Glam, whom he joined for a cover version of ‘Far Far Away’ (Photo from Danish band The GLAM’s Facebook page)

It was a grey and overcast day in Silkeborg, but Don Powell wasn’t overly bothered about that.

“It’s just grey skies here, a bit overcast, but whatever. We’ve been pretty lucky here really, and after spending quite a bit of time in Russia over the years, this is like the Bahamas!”

It’s been a strange year for us all, but the 74-year-old Slade drummer seems to have taken it several steps further, his confirmed departure from the legendary rock band earlier this year followed by a stroke later that month, bouncing back to record and rehearse with two other bands, and announce future dates with his own band and guesting with another, followed by another emergency medical setback in recent weeks. So how’s the health right now?

“Pretty good, mate, I go up the gym every morning. There’s a special program the physiotherapist worked out for me, and it’s working well.”

How are people taking the coronavirus restrictions there in this Bilston, Staffordshire-born 74-year-old’s adopted Danish homeland?

“We started a lockdown here about a month before the rest of the world. Consequently, it hasn’t been that bad really, although it keeps rearing its head every now and again. People are pretty good about it, with distances, wearing masks, and what have you. It’s just that I don’t know when’s it going to end.”

What happens when the vaccine arrives there? Will you be heading for the front of the queue?

“More than likely! I will get there to get it sorted out. I think it’s pretty important. I tell you what though, I never thought I’d see the world like this.”

Powell Wow: Don Powell with the Cum on Feel the Hitz: The Best of Slade compilation, the band's most recent UK top-20 hit

Powell Wow: Don Powell with the Cum on Feel the Hitz: The Best of Slade compilation, their most recent UK top-20 hit

And how about the dreaded Brexit? I guess you’ve got co-nationality status, but …

“It hasn’t really hit yet, but I’m not really looking forward to it.”

The sheer amount of paperwork involved promises to be a right mess, enough to make a lot of musicians reconsider if they can afford to tour in Europe.

“Oh God, yeah. It’s incredible, but we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Shouldn’t you have been out on the road with the Don Powell Band (also featuring Bob Wilson, guitar/vocals, formerly with Steve Gibbons, the Idle Race and Ruby Turner; John Briscoe, guitar, who was in a Slade tribute band and hard rock outfit the Juggernauts; Ian ‘Curly’ Davis, vocals, who has a West End show background and was with Desolation Angels; and Craig Fenny, bass, part of the original Slade II and the Redbeards from Texas)?  

“Yeah, but of course, everything is on hold now, so that’ll have to be whenever it starts again. I really don’t know when.”

There were plans for Christmas dates with the Ex-Men too, another of Don’s live projects (members including Lancashire-based guitarist Pete Barton, hence one date being not far off my patch at The Grand, Clitheroe), announced in May, including dates across Europe but also the 100 Club in London and on Don’s old Black Country home ground at the Robin 2, Bilston.

“Funnily enough, we should have been in London tonight. We were set to do three shows in Holland then come to London, but it was knocked on the head. And the 100 Club brings back lots of memories. I remember a press thing there back in about 1970, with the original line-up.”

It’s Christmas: The legendary Noddy Holder presents the latest package, Cum on Feel the Hitz: The Best of Slade

Speaking of which, your website’s list and details of all the dates you’ve played down the years still amazes me – from initial days with Dave Hill in The Vendors to The ‘N Betweens, the outfit that became Ambrose Slade then simply Slade.

It was the latter’s classic line-up of Noddy Holder, Jim Lea, Hill and Holder that managed six No.1s and 24 top-40 singles and three No.1s and 13 top-40 LPs in the UK alone. But it’s the small detail of those classic and early year shows that always stops me in my tracks. And the morning I called Don I saw that 55 years ago – on the run-up to Christmas 1965 – he was between ‘N Betweens dates at Tito’s and Silver Blades in Birmingham, then the Harold Clowes Hall, Bentilee.

“Ah, yeah, Bentilee was like a youth club gig, and Silver Blades in Birmingham was always a great gig, part of an ice skating rink. We’d be playing to the skaters going round, and when they got around to us they’d stop and have a look, then carry on skating. Then, after Silver Blades we’d go and play a late-night drinking place, open till about four in the morning.”

Also, 50 years ago – just after the release of Play It Loud, the first LP released under the name Slade, he was between dates at Portsmouth’s Tricorn Centre and closer to home at Walsall’s George Hotel.

“Oh yeah, fond memories. The Tricorn was great, but we had no roadies then and we had to drive the van up into this multi-storey car park, get the gear in that way through a door that was part of the car park.”

And those dates were before a Boxing Day gig at the Temple in Soho, London.

“Ah yes, that was a tiny little club in Wardour Street, and sometimes we’d play the Marquee first, pack the gear away then do an all-nighter at the Temple.”

For someone who’s suffered with short-term memory issues for 47 years since the horrific July ’73 car crash that killed his fiancée Angela and left him with a fractured skull, broken ankles, several broken ribs and no sense of taste or smell, he has an amazing sense of recall. And maybe that was helped by the fact that he was encouraged to keep diaries as part of his recovery to remember each morning what he’d been doing the previous day.

First Footing: From left – Don Powell, Dave Hill, Noddy Holder and Jim Lea posing for Gered Mankowitz’s camera on a freezing cold winter’s day on Pouk Hill in the Black Country for the 1969 debut Ambrose Slade LP, Beginnings

Lo and behold, despite six days unconscious – he was out of hospital within four weeks and back recording with Slade after six weeks, partway through an east coast US tour, dropping by at the Record Plant in New York, where John Lennon had just finished working on his Mind Games album. And among the recordings was a certain ‘Merry Xmas Everybody’, the song that ensured Slade became the first band since The Beatles to see three singles go straight in at No.1 on the UK charts. But we’ll get back to that shortly.

First, I mentioned how 45 years ago the band was between stateside dates in St. Louis, Missouri, on the build-up to Christmas 1975, part of a year-long, ultimately unsuccessful bid to ‘crack’ America, between the ‘In For a Penny’ and ‘Let’s Call It Quits’ singles, their popularity at home about to take a slide, the last of 17 straight top-20 UK singles.

“That was a good gig for us, and a good place to play. I often go back through my diaries, read some of the places we played. We travelled all over America, touring and everything. In fact, I must tell you this. On our first American tour we were in Philadelphia and I remember watching this group on before us. I couldn’t believe this band – they were incredible, I thought blimey, who’s this? And it was The Eagles!

“I’ve now managed to get a poster to prove to people that was the case, and actually Billy Preston opened the show, then came The Eagles, and we topped the bill. I kept telling people The Eagles supported us, but nobody believed me. Now I’ve got the proof! I told some guy in America and after many years researching he found a poster.”

I could have kept going down the anniversary line, for instance 40 years ago he was between dates at Hull City Hall and Rotter’s Club in Manchester, Slade’s fortunes picking up again after the band’s wilderness years, on the back of that summer’s Reading Festival, a new heavy metal following behind them. Or that on December 18th, 1982, they played Hammersmith Odeon, supported by Jimmy Barnes’ Australian outfit Cold Chisel, with your scribe there, barely a few weeks after my 15th birthday. A Christmas night out to remember for sure.

But time was against me, Don had the floor, and as he’d mentioned Billy Preston I moved on to The Beatles, knowing he was a big Ringo fan, telling Don I’d recently had the pleasure of speaking to fellow drumming icon, Simon Kirke, of Free and Bad Company fame, who’s featured with Ringo Starr’s All-Starr Band, and – like Don – clearly retains his love for drums and his drumming heroes all these years on.

“I don’t know if you know the story, but two or three times a year, around 40 of us get together to have a lunch – musicians, actors, writers and others – and there’s always this drummer there by the name of Clem Cattini, who started with The Tornados, best known for ‘Telstar’, which was a No.1 all over the bloody world! He then went into session drumming, and played drums on over 200 hit records, including 55 No.1s. What a record!

“He told us once he played on ‘Lily the Pink’ by The Scaffold in the morning, never knowing where he was going to next but having been booked for another session, packed his drums away then went to another studio and played on ‘It’s Not Unusual’ for Tom Jones. Clem’s incredible, and such a humble man as well. When you talk to him about certain records, he’ll say, ‘Yeah, I played drums on that’. Yet in those days it would just be like a union fee, so he got paid nothing really.”

Fiftieth Birthday: Slade’s Play It Loud LP, from 1970, with nine of its 12 tracks co-written by drummer Don Powell

Simon Kirke told me, I continued, about receiving a call from Ringo, inviting him to tour with the All-Starr Band, saying how grateful he was for that opportunity, having just gone through rehab after his own drinking problems, something both Ringo and Don could relate to.

“Yeah, that’s amazing, and I’ve also played drums with Ringo’s band. I was talking with this guy who dealt in vintage kits in Seattle, mentioned how Ringo was one of my favourite drummers, and he told me one of his friends was playing drums with him and had just started this tour.

“We then discovered he was doing a gig in Denmark, not far from where I live, and it was arranged for me to go along. And I got up on the night and played on ‘With a Little Help From My Friends’ and ‘Give Peace a Chance’, the last two songs … and I’ve got the photographs to prove it, mate!”

For someone brought up on The Beatles and who still loves them, that must have been special.

“Yeah, they’re my favourite band. Ringo was great – just one of the lads. I didn’t really know how much he wanted to talk about The Beatles, but we got on to them playing places like the Shea Stadium, Ringo saying how there were no monitors in those days but you just played as a band.”

Getting on to Don’s current health, his first stroke was on Leap Day, February 29th, thankfully with his stepdaughter Emily – a doctor – at home when it happened. 

“Yeah, that was a weird thing. I was just watching TV, had a cup of tea by my side and couldn’t pick it up. I said to my wife I feel really strange, and luckily Hanne’s daughter was here. She said you’ve had a stroke, did some tests, and said to her Mum, ‘If he was my husband, I’d send him to hospital’. So they sent for an ambulance.”

Don classed that as a ‘small stroke’, and certainly seemed to confound the specialists – not for the first time – with his swift recovery. As for his latest episode in recent weeks, he was only kept in overnight.

“Well, I felt great, and the doctor said, ‘You’re not normal’. I don’t know what he meant by that! He just kicked me out, and I felt really good. But there’s no reason for it. It’s just one of those things.”

Fringe Benefits: Dave Hill, Don Powell, Noddy Holder and Jim Lea play ir proud in their Slade ’70s chart-topping days

At this point, I hear a voice in the distance, and Don sheepishly feels he better rephrase that.

“My wife’s just said it was stress-related … whatever that means.”

In fact, that second health scare was diagnosed as a TIA (Transient Ischaemic Attack). But whatever the medical disgnosis, I told Don he seemed to be the ultimate rock’n’roll survivor, what with the tragic events of ’73, his battle with the booze, surviving those two episodes this year, and many more hospital visits down the years.

As for his old bandmates, Dave Hill suffered a stroke in 2010, and Jim Lea’s had a major cancer battle. But Don, Dave, Jim and Noddy are all still here to tell the tales, an amazing five decades-plus after the band formed. They clearly constructed these Black Country boys well back in the post-war years.

“Yeah, there must have been something in the water!”

Do you feel 74?

“No! Not at all. But I tell you what, I never thought I’d get this far. I haven’t drunk alcohol since 1985 or 1986. I don’t think I’d have been here now if I had, especially (after my days drinking) with Ozzy (Osbourne).”

I’ve told many people the anecdote Don told me three years ago about how the day he gave up drinking was the day Sharon Osbourne, Ozzy’s wife, came at her husband and Don with a shotgun at their place, sick to the back teeth of their drunken antics.

“That’s it, yeah … but I will say that if it wasn’t for her, I think Ozzy would have been dead a long time ago. I know they’ve had their fights, but theirs is a great marriage, a very strong marriage.”

Loud Hailer: Dave Hill with Play It Loud, 50 years on (Photo: Slade Are For Life – Not Just for Christmas on Facebook)

Meanwhile, another year, another Slade compilation, and another chart hit, the latest collection – Cum on Feel the Hitz – cracking the UK top-10. Clearly the appetite’s still there for the band and their music.

“Yeah, it’s amazing. You see all this stuff and think, ‘How much further can you go?’ But people still want to hear it. And you forget how much stuff we recorded until people come up and mention they’re doing a compilation, me thinking, ‘I’d forgotten all about that song!’”

And it’s nice that all four of you were behind the release. I won’t dwell on the fall-out (Don initially announcing he’d been ‘sacked via email’ by friend and bandmate of 57 years Dave in February, the particulars of which Dave soon insisted were inaccurate), but when was the last time you spoke direct to the others?

“Like I said, it must have been some time ago now. We’d have had one of our lunches at the beginning of December … but because of this crap that’s been going on … I’d have seen Nod there. I haven’t really spoken to anyone for a while now, but nothing’s been going on really.”

There was a photo on your website, showing a display of the latest compilation in an Australian record shop, and among the greatest hits sleeves was a copy of Slade Alive, which was apparently the biggest-selling LP in Australia in the 1970s. Is that true?

“Yep, it actually outsold Sgt. Pepper. We did our first tour of Australia in 1973 and were trying to find out what we meant to people down there before, which was more difficult to find out in those days, without the internet and all that. When we landed in Sydney, all these cameras and photographers were waiting, and we were looking behind us wondering who was on the plane with us – who were they waiting for? But it was because of the success of Slade Alive, and it was non-stop from there – a great tour. There was us, Status Quo and Lindisfarne …”

Our mutual friend, another Dave Hill, the North East publicist, was talking to me recently about that tour, having heard a fair bit about it through his past conversations with Lindisfarne (Dave Ian Hill, as he calls himself in print to avoid any confusion, wrote Fog on the Tyne: The Official History of Lindisfarne in 1998. He told me Caravan were on the tour too. That’s a fairly eclectic mix. 

“It was incredible. We were travelling on the same tour bus and they (the radio) was playing Slade stuff all the time, all the other bands saying, ‘Oh no, not you lot again!’. But it was a great tour and us and Quo have been mates ever since.”

Dun Deal: Don Powell’s splendid biography, Look Wot I Dun – My Life in Slade, written with Lise Lyng Falkenberg

Back up to date, we had some sad news recently about Dave Kemp, a friend of the band since the Summer of 1972 who went on to work closely with yourself and Jim Lea and was involved with a couple of Slade websites and fans’ pages, as well as more recently managing female tribute band Slady.

“Yeah, very sad, He was very poorly. We’d been mates since the ‘70s. It just so happened that we lived near each other in London. I remember going to the supermarket one day, he was there, and that was it.”

I only had a couple of dealings with Dave, but he seemed a lovely fellow.

“Yes, a lovely bloke, and like you say he was looking after my website and did a great job. And he’s been over here (in Denmark) a couple of times, him and his wife. Yeah, very sad.”

Within six months of your first stroke this year, you were playing drums on a cover of ‘Far Far Away’ with Danish band The Glam in August. There’s clearly still plenty of love for Slade on your doorstep.

“That’s it, and I was with them recently as well, doing a couple of gigs. Lovely blokes. They’ve got their own studio, not far from where we live. I’ve been down there a few times. Really nice guys.”

It got a bit confusing earlier this year, because we’ve got the Don Powell Band now, we’ve already mentioned the Ex-Men, and there’s also Don Powell’s Occasional Flames, releasing a single this summer.

“Yeah, and the stuff we recorded some time ago, I think that should be coming out sometime around now, another album we’ve done.”

What name will that go out under?

“I don’t know at the moment. It’s just going to be an online sort of thing.”

Great Pals: Don Powell with website hired help anbd all-round good mate Dave Kemp, close friends for many years

Don’s certainly kept himself busy, and was back at the drum kit by early June after his first stroke. As stepson Andreas put it in a family statement, ‘And they said he would never play drums again … honestly I think our neighbours hoped the doctors were right!’

Meanwhile, it’s now 50 years since Play it Loud was released. When was the last time you listened to that LP all the way through?

“Recently actually, as someone else mentioned the same thing. That was the first time we went into a proper studio with Chas Chandler (The Animals bass player turned Jimi Hendrix Experience then Slade manager). In fact, it was the old Olympic Studio in Barnes (South West London), where the Stones used to record. And Hendrix. It’s sadly closed down now.”

You were co-writing some great songs with Jim Lea then. The credits suggest all nine originals among its 12 tracks, including four of my favourites on that record – ‘One Way Hotel’, ‘Pouk Hill’ (an account of the band’s first album cover photoshoot), and both sides of the single that pre-empted that LP, ‘Know Who You Are’ (a reworking of instrumental ‘Genesis’, the opening track of Beginnings, the previous LP, credited to Ambrose Slade) and ‘Dapple Rose’, written by Don about an old horse he recalled from his days living with his folks. Oddly, another Don-penned lyric was ‘I Remember’, its lyric about amnesia (‘I take a long deep look at the things that I took, but it still isn’t clear’) pre-dating his memory issues a few years down the line.

I often wondered, I put to him, why he didn’t carry on with the songwriting to that same extent.

“Well, yeah, and me and Jim basically wrote that album, but when Nod and Jim came up with ‘Coz I Luv You’, we realised they could do it. And it just worked out they could do it quicker and better, so soon enough I handed over to them.”

Put it that way, and you see the logic, that October ’71 single the band’s first of many UK No.1’s, the die cast. And five decades on, I’m probably as surprised as Don watching via his website and social media pages how many tickets, posters, reviews and old pictures have been unearthed from gigs back in the ‘60s and ‘70s, be those for Slade, The ‘N Betweens, or The Vendors … quite a treasure trove.

“Yeah, it’s amazing really, and it still only seems like yesterday.”

That record: 'Merry Xmas Everybody' still has a life of its own, 47 years after its initial release

That record: Slade’s festive evergreen ‘Merry Xmas Everybody’ has a life of its own, 47 years after its release

Now the hard-hitting question … and surely he knew it was coming at some point. Has he switched on the radio or TV and heard that song these past few weeks?  

“Yeah, it’s amazing really. We always called it ‘that record’. I’ve said this many times before, but we’ve had 24 hits, yet some people only remember us for that one! But it’s great really. I’d have never thought it would still be out there.”

I guess you’ve been home-based lately, so maybe haven’t heard it so much, but do people still call and say, ‘It’s on the radio again!’

“Yeah, or I’m in the supermarket and it’s playing over the system, or if I’m in a garage somewhere. I think the worst thing is when I’m in a lift with a lot of people, and it’s playing in there!”

More or less proving his point, I told him how I was listening to Sara Cox on BBC Radio 2 the Friday teatime before our Monday morning interview, driving back from the chippy while the host was talking to a woman from Staffordshire – based around 15 miles from Don’s Bilston roots – whose hubby, incidentally going by the name of Don, had retired from the Prison Service that day. And somehow I instinctively knew what song she’d request, the first time I’d heard it this year. I was only a couple of minutes from home, but had to sit on the drive on arrival until Sir Nod had declared his annual ‘It’s Christmas!’ announcement to the nation.

“Brilliant! And I still remember the day we recorded that song. I think I’ve told you before. It was a heatwave in New York, around 100 degrees, and there we were recording that record!”

Whild Life: Jim Lea co-wrote several tracks with Don Powell in the early days, before Noddy stepped up to the plate

So what’s the plan this Christmas for you? Will it be a quiet one at home with Hanne and the family?

“Yeah, all the kids will be round, and Hanne’s parents. We’ll have a massive Christmas lunch here, there’ll be kids and grandkids opening presents, and what have you – it’s gonna be a big family situation.”

And what were your family Christmases like in the Black Country, growing up. Were those happy days?

“Yeah, fantastic. It’s always been a family thing. Mum and Dad always insisted we were all there for Christmas lunch, and all that kind of thing. Dad would go to the pub at lunchtime and have a couple of pints before he came back, and then we all had Christmas lunch together.”

And after all you’ve been through – again and again, as your old Quo mates put it – maybe you should let us in on the secret. What’s the Don Powell recipe for survival? The love of a good partner and family, and walks through the forest?

“Yeah, a bit of all that really. We live right by all the lakes here, which is fantastic, so it’s all that and time with the family.”

Until he’s back out there making ‘noize’ again of course … hopefully very soon.

Home Again: Don Powell taking it easy back in September at home in Denmark, his base for several years, where clearly it’s still all about the kits (Photo courtesy of Slade Are For Life – Not Just For Christmas via Facebook)

For a link back to WriteWyattUK‘s December 2017 feature/interview with Don Powell, head here. And for Don’s official website, head here, for his official Facebook page try here, for the Don Powell’s Occasional Flames page try here, and for the Don Powell Band’s Facebook page, head here.

For December 2018’s feature/interview with Dave Hill, head here, for July 2018’s feature/interview with Jim Lea, head here. And to catch up with this website’s first feature/interview with Dave Hill, from December 2015, head here. You can also check out the lowdown on Noddy Holder’s live show with Mark Radcliffe in May 2013 via this link, and a WriteWyattUK appreciation of Slade from December 2012 here.  

Think that’s about it for now, folks. Keep on rockin’, and Merry Xmas Everybody!

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More songs about water and power, This is the Kit style – the Kate Stables interview

Posted on December 14, 2020 by writewyattuk

New Kit: Kate Stables, aka This is the Kit, fresh from her enforced Paris lockdown (Photo copyright: Ph. Lebruman)

This is the Kit’s latest long player, Off Off On, is a record that quickly gets under your skin, somehow tapping into key themes of this testing year, despite being written pre-pandemic.

The alias of Kate Stables (guitar, banjo, vocals) – in this case joined by Rozi Plain (bass/vocals), Neil Smith (guitar), Jesse D Vernon (guitar/keyboards), and Jamie Whitby-Coles (drum/vocals) – This is the Kit seemed to be ahead of the curve in a year in which the old ‘normal’ was severely tested.

Kate also touches on mental health and ‘not so much mood swings as brain swings’ across 11 evocative tracks. How does she feel she’s coped amid all 2020’s thrown our way?

 “These past few months have been quite a rollercoaster ride through all kinds of different emotional weather systems. I think this has probably been the case for most people. It’s an intense time of coming to terms with what is happening in the outside world, pandemic-wise but also politically, and environmentally.

“Lots to think about and lots to feel frustrated about. And lots of ways in which you wish you could help but can’t or don’t know where to start. Lots of time to think about all the problems but not being able to get out and do anything is really weird.”

Kate’s Lockdown #2 was spent at home in Paris, and got off to a rather inauspicious start.

“It started off pretty bad as me and my family all got Covid, so for a solid two weeks or so we were very much out of action and feeling ill. But looking back it was probably the best time for it to have happened. Although ideally it wouldn’t have happened at all!

“This year seems to be one huge year of learning how to roll with the punches.”

You certainly seemed to get the new LP recorded just in time.

 “Yes, luckily. Quite the fluke! We finished in the studio a couple of days before everything got clamped shut. It felt very lucky that we were able to get the recording done in time.

“It also just felt really lucky that we were able to have such a brilliant time together for a week before not being able to see each other for the best part of a year. One last hoorah before there was no more hoorah-ing for quite some time.”

With roots in Hampshire and a lot of time during her career in Bristol, has she managed to travel at all lately, or is it mostly phone or video calls with band, friends and family?

 “Not really any travelling, apart from the odd trip in France. It’s actually been quite nice to just be here. I’ve been doing lots of cycling, which has been a lifesaver and a sanity saver.

“My partner Jesse runs a community orchestra here, and they organised an outside socially-distanced bike tour this summer. I was able to go on that, and it was brilliant. Cycling all day every day and playing outdoor gigs and camping for a couple of weeks in Brittany. I feel really lucky we were able to do that this summer.” 

There are several recurring themes on this new record, and one you go back to time and again is water and power. Was that iniitally down to rehearsing in wintry, rural Wales, before recording at Peter Gabriel’s Real World Studios (near Bath)?

Keeping Going: Kate Stables is proving there’s life beyond the coronavirus (Photo copyright: Ph. Lebruman)

“Any reoccurring themes that are in my music and albums are always accidental. I never set out with a plan for a concept album or anything like that. Not yet anyway!  It’s only after I finish the songs and start listening to the recordings that I start to notice reoccurring themes and ideas.

“But it’s true that water and power are mentioned in this record. I think, accidentally, water always makes its way into my albums and songs.

“I can see that I’ve been thinking about power a bit more recently though. Not just political power or power in terms of control over something or someone, but power in the sense of ability. Ability to do something. Self-belief. Inhibition. Emotional strength. Things like that.”

The promo video for the splendid single, ‘Coming to Get You Nowhere’ tells its own tale about those remote Welsh ‘cold-water’ album rehearsals.

“I like to think places play an important part in the outcome of the work that gets done. It affects the feeling and energy between the people working together in that place, so in that way it definitely affects the outcome of the work. But I like to think there are more mysterious hard to pin-point influences a place has as well.”

I get the feeling on some songs you must have been near some raging torrent or a hydro-electro power station.

“Ha ha! I hadn’t thought about it until now, but at Real World there’s a river and a lock, and it had been raining quite a lot – the river and floodgates were definitely quite raging in places. Hopefully it’s that you can hear. All those ions!”

Shouldn’t you have been out touring this autumn? And if so, have those dates now been  rescheduled? I see there’s a Royal Albert Hall date (at least pencilled in) this April.

“Yes, all the gigs that were originally planned for just after the release of the album have now been shoved to later dates. They’ve maybe even had a couple of shoves by now. Everyone is working on a kind of week-by-week basis, gig-wise, at the moment. It’s all pretty touch and go.

“I really hope all the amazing and important independent venues and promoters are able to tread water long enough to stay afloat through all this. There have been a few socially-distanced shows added in January though, which I wasn’t expecting. Fingers crossed they’ll go ahead!”

This latest long player makes it five albums in barely a dozen years, starting with Krulle Bol in 2007, then Wriggle Out the Restless (2010) and Bashed Out (2015), with Off Off On preceded by fellow Rough Trade release Moonshine Freeze, released a decade after her debut. Does each new record tell the story of where you’re at during that spell?

“I don’t think I’m someone who has really ever thought about where I’m heading. My main goal is just to keep at it and make sure I’m still enjoying it. There’s no beginning or end or arriving for if you ask me. There’s just doing it and still doing it or doing it differently to before. So in that respect I think each record tells its own story of that particular time.

“I guess lining them all up and looking at them analytically there’s probably some kind of journey that could be mapped. People do grow and change after all. But mainly each album is its own thing, I think.”

Was working with Josh Kaufman (Yellowbirds, The National, The Hold Steady, Muzz, Bonny Light Horseman, having also collaborated with Taylor Swift on both her Folklore and Evermore LPs in 2020) what you thought it would be? He seems to have brought something out of you that works, for sure.

“Yes! It was every bit as excellent as I’d hoped. Maybe even more so? He’s such a pleasure to hang out with and make music with. He really knows his craft and is great with people. A really great person to work with.”

And is Peter Gabriel still involved at Real World?

“Ha ha, yes it’s still his studio, I believe. And the Womad offices are based there as well. I don’t think he lives there any more though. He wasn’t about when we were there. Not that I was aware of anyway. All the staff and engineers who work there are so great, so welcoming and friendly. A really top troupe. We were working with an engineer called Oli (Middleton), who was a frickin’ angel.”

It’s one of my favourite LPs of 2020, and opening track ‘Found Out’ sets the bar high. For me, there are echoes of Sandy Denny-era Fairport Convention through to Judie Tzuke and onwards, but with that sense of quirk we expect from Kate and co. It’s very much a This is the Kit record.

‘Started Again’ is another that soon resonates, ‘rocks and water’ at its heart. And while she talks about ‘This is What You Did’ as a ‘bit of a panic attack song’, isn’t it also another about coming to terms with how things are, taking strength from that?

“Yes, for sure. Coming to terms with things. But also saying them out loud to kind of exercise any negative thoughts. Things like that. We can get in a bit of a funk sometimes when we don’t talk about things enough or get outside enough. That song speaks a lot about that.”

‘No Such Thing’ offers further moments of multi-layered subtle beauty, with lovely vocals from you. There’s a real band feel here and elsewhere. And this time the water turns into electricity between people. I first heard it as ‘feed the current between you and me’, and I guess there’s a link. Then, ‘Slider’ has a more reflective late-night feel, ripe for further soul-searching. Was that part of the appeal of Paris for you – the place it becomes after dark?

“Ha ha. Paris after dark is nice. But for me it’s particular neighbourhoods in the daytime I love. Neighbourhoods where people are out using shared public space and kind of reclaiming the streets. Using the benches, parks and basketball courts and just hanging out, as often there’s not much space inside.”

Are you missing the human interaction of nightlife right now?

“Missing human interaction of any time of day! Missing human interaction in general. But it’s true that there’s something about being at a gig and being with people in that way that I really miss. There is something really great about being out with people at night and sharing the experience of a gig. I really miss that.”

I get the feeling that mantra of  ‘making time, losing time’ is about belief and those days when we perhaps don’t feel strong enough to fight for what we want.

“Yes, sure. But it’s also just about our relationship with time and how we use it, and how disciplined we are with ourselves. There’s a great Jeffrey Lewis song, ‘Time Trades’, which sums it up very well indeed. He wrote a perfect song about it. All I could manage was the phrase ‘making time, losing time, making time’. Ha ha!”

‘Coming to Get You Nowhere’ is gorgeous, and you never lose that strong sense of melody throughout. And while you ask for ‘energy, energy please’, it seems you’ve already got it here.

“Ha ha! That line has a few different meanings, I guess. Yes, asking for more energy but also asking people to tone it down a bit and not give off such chaotic high energy. To consider the other people in the room and their feelings and energy.”

​‘Carry Us Please’ is an important part of the LP’s more inspirational ethos, I sense. ‘But you won’t make this change by slagging things off, go get some ideas’. Is this the most political song here?

It is a political song, yes, but there’s other political songs on the album too. Hard to say who wins the election, so to speak. But yes, ‘Carry Us Please’ does talk about social and political responsibility, and that line in particular is about how bitchy society has become. Especially with things like Twitter. People spend so much energy on feeding each other negativity and bullying each other. No problem is going to get solved that way. It’s a waste of time energy and server space.”

On the title track, there are echoes of your namesake Kate Bush. It’s clearly deeply personal, but – like t’other Kate – you look at things differently, with a call to move on, despite contrasting emotions.

“It’s about patterns and cycles and the way we as humans explain the universe to ourselves. Patterns of lights, cycles of activity. Daily routines. Sun up, sun down. Things like that. And to not take things for granted. ‘To assume makes and ass out of you and me’, as the saying goes.”

‘Shinbone Soap’ seems to be a further example of your ‘night-time mind race and morning day dread’, yeah? And I note that the water’s turned to quicksand here!

“Ha ha! Good liquid to not quite solid spot. It’s actually for me quite a calm and contemplative song. Not so much panicking. It’s thinking about our actions and the things we do that get us stuck, even though we know we shouldn’t be doing them. It’s about memory and physical sensations. Smell, taste, temperate touch. And a sense of belonging or not.”

Then, ‘Was Magician’ sets us up nicely for the climax, and this time it seems to be about inner power –    

‘But the power, it was in her, to control it and to use it’.

Yes, again the idea of ‘pouvoir’, the ability to use your own forces, will, strength. It’s only just occurred to me but a while ago I did a cover of a friend’s song and the song was called ‘Du Pouvoir’, and my understanding of her song – a brilliant artist called Halo Maud, on Heavenly Records – is in part of the ability we have and the acknowledgement of that ability and of the power we have. Very similar to ‘Was Magician’.  I’d not thought of that before.”

And then we’re away on the splendid ‘Keep Going’. In a sense it’s part three of a trilogy on this record, after ‘Carry Us Please’ then ‘Was Magician’ – finding ways forward, then getting on with it, overcoming all barriers; that resolute thinking behind ‘This love has been ours, this love is ours, this love is still ours’.  

“Yes, I hope so. Resolute thinking and finding ways forward. Very nicely put.”

And when the vaccine finally does its job, the virus is done for and we’re free again, what’s the first thing you think you’ll do as the shutters come up and we return to the outside world again?

“I really miss swimming! I just want to go to one of Paris’ many excellent municipal swimming pools and plough up and down for as long as possible. I really miss swimming pools. And libraries. I miss all the public services and amenities! Libraries, pools, community centres! We need them!”

Eye Level: Kate Stables, aka This is the Kit, ready to return to the road as soon as (Photo copyright: Ph. Lebruman)

For more information and how to get hold of Off Off On and other This is the Kit releases, check out the band’s website and Kate’s Facebook and Twitter links.

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Songs of Yesterday and today – talking Free, Bad Company and more with Simon Kirke

Posted on December 9, 2020 by writewyattuk

Free Spirits: Simon Kirke, Paul Kossoff, Andy Fraser and Paul Rodgers, backstage, Summer 1970 (Photo: Lucy Piller)

Whichever side of the Atlantic you’re based, you won’t need reminding what a wretched year we’ve somehow clambered through. But Simon Kirke is feeling relatively chipper now, with 2021 firmly in his sights.

While coronavirus continues to ravage America, this drumming legend’s base this last quarter-century, the vaccines are on their way, he’s ecstatic that President Trump is finally on his way out of office, and he can think about touring again soon. But what odd times, eh?

“It’s been a perfect storm really, especially here, with Trump. Most of us are ecstatic that he’s going, but the last few months have been very dark, with his inaction and inability to bring this country together and at least curb the spread of this pandemic. We have a terrible, terrible mortality rate over here.

“Right now, I’m on Long Island, right at the end, pretty far away from the city. If we didn’t look at the TV, we wouldn’t know there was a pandemic going on. But soon as we go back into the city, it’s terrible. But you know, he’s gone, dragging his heels, but we’re glad to see the back of him.”

It does seem that things finally look a little brighter ahead, changing for the better, hopefully.

“I think so. We’ve never seen anything like it in our lives. You’d have to go back to the Spanish flu in 1918. There’s the UK, and my brothers live in France and the Czech Republic and it’s pretty bad there too, but it seems that a vaccine’s just around the corner. It’s just getting people to take it and trust it. I mean, what does it take? It’s 260,000-plus dead here. Unbelievable what it’s done in nine months, it’s just ravaged this country, with 12 million infected.

“There’s no work for the rock’n’roll industry, but I guess we can get that another time. I was talking with Mick Fleetwood a few weeks ago and we were saying, ‘What the fuck are we going to do when we get the green light? We’ve got around 60 bands who want to go out on the road, maybe we should go out in a package, six big bands at a time, like the old Motown and Stax revues, going out together, playing 45 minutes. That’s in a dream world – it’s not going to happen – but I just want to go out and work again.”

Pandemic aside, it seems that New York life suits you. You’ve been there a long time.

“It’s 25 years now. I always liked New York. It’s a big city and it’s got pros and cons, but I like America, Trump aside and what he’s done to the country. It’ll be a long time before it’s healed again.

“We left England when John Major was in power, and over 50 years I’ve got to know the country well. With my ex-wife, we brought the kids over, they loved it, and we’ve made a good home for ourselves. I’m not saying I’ll finish my days in this country. I don’t know. But at the moment, it’s a pretty good country.”

Ever get a chance in recent years to get back to your Lambeth roots and around London? Or is that just consigned to the memory banks?

“That’s where I was born, and I spent the first seven or eight years of my life in London. Then we went to Watford and from there out to the border of Wales, up around Shrewsbury and Ludlow.”

A nice part of the world.

“Yes, my formative years were spent – from eight to 17 before I left for London – up there. Then, after success with Free and Bad Company I spent around 25 years in London. I do miss London, a city I call home. There’s a certain … I’m trying to think of the word … refinement maybe.

“I like the manners of the English. Americans tend to be a little brusque and pushy, and you can’t tell them what to do. That’s why we’ve got such a raging pandemic here. I miss London and that refinement. For the most part it’s a gentle country in areas … although you’ve only got to go to a Chelsea vs Spurs match to see that other side!”

I should add that Simon’s a Chelsea fan, but I won’t hold that against him. It’s his birth-right, after all, even if he was born on the Surrey side of the river.

My excuse for our conversation is David Roberts’ recently-published Rock’n’Roll Fantasy: The Musical Journey of Free and Bad Company. It provides a cracking read, recalling the fast-living exploits of an influential blues-rock phenomenon and the mega-successful (particularly in America) outfit that followed in their wake, the latter co-founded by Simon, Paul Rodgers and ex-Mott the Hoople guitarist Mick Ralphs in ’73.

Within an impressive and somewhat weighty, colourful 400-page hardback tome, we get insightful testimonies from band members, insiders and fans alike, bringing epic stories back to life, with druming icon Simon and acclaimed bluesy vocalist Paul Rodgers at the heart of a five-decade trip taking readers from bedroom practises and the late–‘60s pub and club circuit to packed halls and stadia across the world. Was it a good feeling to see the finished product, Simon?

“Oh, I think it’s a wonderful book, and I’ve always liked the idea of oral history. It’s a very good idea and I love the layouts, the photos … Lucy (Piller), our fan club secretary for over 50 years now, who runs the whole show as far as I’m concerned, did a great job, and it’s quite humbling to hear some of the quotes attributed to fans who wrote in. It’s lovely.”

Boss Koss: Paul Kossoff, caught backstage during those early days of the Free story (Photo: Lucy Piller)

I guess you’re frequently reminded how much people appreciate the bands you’ve played in. But it must still give you a warm glow seeing that all recorded in print.

“I have to say Free held more affection in England than in America. For some reason we tapped into something. We were only really around four years – ‘68 till ‘72. The following year was pretty fraught with tragedy, but for some reason we settled in the hearts of many, many people in England.

“That’s so evident in some of the quotes, and we still get letters on our websites and through social media from people now in their 60s and 70s, so affectionate towards me and Paul, and of course Koss and Andy, who are no longer with us.”

Paul Rodgers and Simon, the survivors of that initial legendary group, clearly retain their love for the profession and continue to inspire old and young fans alike. But the book also provides a fitting tribute to Free guitar legend Paul Kossoff, lost in March 1976, and bass maestro Andy Fraser, who died five years ago.

The book also pays homage to Bad Company’s ex-King Crimson bass player Boz Burrell, involved from the early days – their 16th auditonee, according to Simon – to 1982 and again from ’86/’87 then ’98/’99, passing away aged 60 in 2006. And while the story of the band from 1986/94 seems to be airbrushed out – with no mention of Paul’s vocal replacement Brian Howe, who died in May this year, aged 66 – that was hardly a period in which they were on form, even though they continued to shift lots of units.

Meanwhile, chart positions tell their own tale, Free scoring seven UK top-10 LPs (Fire and Water and compilation The Free Story both reaching No.2) and four UK top-10 singles (‘All Right Now’ charting twice, reaching No.2 first time), while Bad Company failed to make an impact in the UK beyond 1982’s Rough Diamonds, despite the first three LPs going top-five (although 2010’s The Very Best of Free & Bad Company Featuring Paul
Rodgers reached the top-10), with three top-40 singles. However, across the Atlantic, Fire and Water was the only Free LP to dent the US top-20, yet Bad Company went platinum many times over, continuing to make an impact on the US charts in the ’90s. And it’s fair to say the latter band never matched the critical acclaim on these shores afforded Free, as Simon duly acknowledges.

“With Bad Company, I was reminded of something I read about The Beatles. When they left for London, there was almost a wake held in Liverpool, because they knew that once they got there, their talent would be spread all over the world from there. I think the same held true with Free.

“Once we broke up and splintered, when Paul (Rodgers), myself and Mick (Ralphs) formed Bad Company and came over to America, that affection for Free never really carried over to Bad Company the way it did in America. A lot of people here thought we were an American band, but we’d say ‘No way, we’re from England, mate! Don’t you worry!”

You say at any given moment somewhere in the world a Free or Bad Company song is being played. What were the strangest circumstances in which you heard a record you played on?

“Well, this is the story of all stories! In 1971 I was in America, we’d finished a tour and I borrowed a car from someone in our record company, taking off north from Los Angeles up Route 5. I was caught speeding, and the cops searched the car and found a little roach, a joint. Back in those days that was a federal offence, I was arrested and spent the next six days in jail in Salinas, California.

“During my stay they piped music every now and again into the cells, and I heard ‘All Right Now’. The guys in the cell said, ‘What’s that music?’ I said, ‘That’s my band!’ They said, ‘Cool. What’s the name of the band?’, I said Free, and they just cracked up!”

You say how you were mesmerised by the drums from the start, the moment you saw All That Jazz on an old black and white TV set. And from Buddy Rich to Ringo Starr and Charlie Watts, plus Motown’s in-house drummers and the likes of Booker T & the MG’s and Stax Records’ Al Jackson Jr.,  you were, as you put it, ‘transfixed’. Do you still have that enduring love, through either playing or listening to fellow drummers?

“Oh, without a doubt! That’s a very good question. I’ve been playing nearly 60 years now, and still love playing drums. I’ve just done an album with an English band, LoneRider, and it’s fantastic – playing with Steve Overland (formerly with FM, and with whom Simon guested in pre-FM outfit Wildlife) and Steve Morris on guitar was so good, sort of resurrecting my love for playing drums.

“I’m not a big technician – I don’t sit down and do paradiddles on the kit. My love of drums only comes when I’m actually playing. I’ll be honest with you – I don’t practise. I spend more time playing guitar and at the piano now. That awakens other things in me. But once I got playing along with this second Lonerider album over the summer (their follow-up to Attitude), I played the best drums I’ve ever played.”

From the tracks I’ve heard, I agree. And all that certainly suggests you’re not just going through the motions all these years on.

“Oh no, and doing it by myself, just playing along to the track without any people in the room, was rather strange, but really works, and I was a good taskmaster to myself. If I didn’t think it worked, I’d just do another take. I have my own studio, it worked really well, and I still love playing – that’s the bottom line.”

That also seems to take you full circle from your teenage apprenticeship playing at local dances on the Welsh borders, adding live drums to hits of the day.

“Ha! That’s a very good connection. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Remind me how you got that first gig.

“That was from my school bus driver, Mr Lane. He had a stack of 45s and a couple of turntables in a sort of forerunner to discos, and we’d go around village halls. One minute he’d play Jim Reeves’ ‘She’ll Have To Go’ or ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ by The Beatles, ‘Baby Love’ by The Supremes …

“A whole different array of songs over about three hours, and I’d have to play along and keep in time, otherwise it would sound like a train-wreck! That was around Clun, Craven Arms, Knighton, Ludlow, Bishop’s Castle, that whole area on the border between Shropshire and Wales. Yeah, I’d never thought of that connection, but it helped me to be able to play to other people’s songs when they weren’t there.”

On your website, it mentions your ‘powerful backbeat drumming’, and you describe your style as ‘simple and solid and powerful where necessary’. That’s not a bad code to live life really, is it?

“Ha ha! Keep it simple. Yeah, that’s true.”

It seems to me that 1968 marked the beginning of the Free story, starting with your Underground ride across South West London to see the Black Cat Bones at the Nag’s Head in Battersea. You were clearly impressed with Koss, if not his band. Did it strike you straight away that you’d like to be in a band with him?

“I’d been given two years by my parents to make something of this or knuckle down and go to university. I had pretty good exam results (Simon keeping up his studies for two years to do A-levels before heading to London to try and make his name). So when I went to the Nag’s Head, there was a kind of air of desperation, as this was the last month of the 24 months.

“I was quite resigned to it – I’d had a go and it hadn’t happened. I literally tossed a coin to go out that night or stay in Twickenham, heads being for the Nag’s Head. Luckily enough it came down heads. And when I say luckily enough, that’s the understatement of the century! If I’d stayed in Twickenham, I wouldn’t be talking to you now.

“When I saw Koss, he just blew me away. He was so good, set apart from the other four guys in the band, who were older than him by a few years. The drummer wasn’t very good. He was dragging, I remember to this day trying to urge him along, speed up a little.

“When Koss came off stage at the end of the first set, I said to him, ‘You’re a really good player, wow! But I don’t think your drummer’s very good.’ And he said, ‘Well, it’s funny you should say that. Tonight’s his last night. We’re auditioning drummers tomorrow.’ So yeah, that was the start of it all.”

It was clearly meant to be.

“Yeah, and I should have framed that coin I tossed!”

Master Vocalist: Paul Rodgers with Bad Company on 1979’s US Rock’n’Roll Fantasy tour (Photo: Lyndy Lambert)

Was it a similar feeling seeing Paul Rodgers sing and Andy Fraser play bass that first time?

“Oh yeah! Koss had told me about this singer that he’d jammed with, in secret as the other Black Cat Bones would have been upset. He said, ‘I met this singer who was so good. I want to form a band with him. Would you like to be the drummer?’

“We went up to this big house in North London, in Golders Green, and this guy opened the door, looking a little uncomfortable that I was there. I only found out later he was also a drummer, Paul Rodgers had befriended him, and he was up for the job.

This guy, Andy Borenius, sadly no longer with us, it was his house and his kit, so when we walked into this very big living room, with a little kit there and a PA set up, Andy Borenius played the first couple of songs, and I knew straight away he wasn’t the guy for the job. He was very jazzy, and we had a solid backbeat.

“When I played, it didn’t even occur to me that he was also up for the job. I played a little shuffle and slow blues, then me and Koss left after an hour or so, Koss calling me the next day asking if I’d like to be in this band that the two Pauls were forming. It was years later that I learnt Andy Borenius was really upset I’d come along and kind of stolen his gig!

“As for Andy Fraser, we found him through Alexis Korner …”

Alexis (who Simon describes in the Homegrown interview linked below as ‘like the godfather of the British blues scene’) was a great supporter, wasn’t he?

“Yes, and I don’t have to tell you about Alexis, whereas over here I have to explain who he was. Anyway, Alexis told Koss, ‘You have to see this kid … and I mean he’s a kid’. He’d just got the boot from John Mayall’s band, but that wasn’t a big deal to be let go by him. That band was like a college. You came and served your apprenticeship, then left after a few months.

“Alexis told us Andy was really good and we’d have to go and see him. We were like, ‘Yeah, okay, 15 years old – how good can he be?’ But we were just knocked sideways! I still remember seeing him at Ken Collyer’s club in London, me and the two Pauls. We were like, ‘Fucking hell! Who is this guy!’ He was unbelievable!”

Andy Fraser reckoned that when the four of them first jammed upstairs at the Nag’s Head, ‘It was instant magic – we all knew it.’ Many times I’ve read about those big moments when bands come together and it just seems right, whether it’s just about brotherhood, shared dreams or manifestos. In Free’s case, the bonding moment seemed to be about Monday nights at Andy’s mum’s house in Roehampton, playing Motown and Stax records, yeah?

“Ha! You’ve done your homework. Yeah, I’ve never known a band before or since who did that, but I believe it was Andy’s idea, and he had a very good system – Wharfedale speakers and a Leak amplifier. How do I remember that? Well, I do!

“We didn’t just play Stax, we played some classical music. I was really into Mozart and Bach, and we played a lot of Beatles of course. But foremost it was Stax and Motown – that’s how we bonded those Monday nights, and I believe that really cemented us musically for quite a while.”

There’s a lovely description in the book from Mick Austin about June 15th, 1968 at another Nag’s Head, this one in Wollaston, Northamptonshire, Mick having gone along to see Alexis Korner, who was also on the bill. His vivid portraits of the band members include talk of this ‘long, straight-haired muscle-bound man dressed in a red singlet and brown corduroy trousers’, adding, ‘I still recall him taking a few strokes of the snare drum, and I instantly knew (being a drummer myself) that this bloke wasn’t taking any prisoners.’ 

He also reckons Simon ‘really hit those drums like I’d never seen before’ and mentions how, ‘sweating, hair stuck to his face, facial contortions in competition with Kossoff’, the drummer looked ‘as though he would be equally at home in a boxing ring’.

“Ha! Well, in those days, I was all out, and with songs like ‘The Hunter’, ‘All Right Now’ and ‘I’m A Mover’, they’re all pretty hard-hitting songs, so there is a parallel there.”

You talk about having Guy Stevens at the controls for the first LP, Tons of Sobs, and how it was all about a live feel, cutting it in two days and mixing it in two more. You describe Guy as ‘very endearing … when he wasn’t hurling himself around the studio spilling wine’. I’ve read a lot about his 1978 sessions for The Clash’s London Calling LP. He was a character.

“A tortured genius, and knowing what I know about drink and drugs, I believe he was an addict with a substance abuse problem, but like most geniuses had this streak of madness and self-destruction about him. But what I liked about him was that we were very young and inexperienced and he had the ability to bridge the producer/artist continents, if you will, with endearing child-like behaviour.

“On one hand he was quite a serious producer, coming up with these great ideas, yet then he could be like us – almost like a kid, not serious at all. I think that was where his spark of magic lay.

First Footing: Free's 1969 debut, Tons of Sobs, with added 'genius' studio touches from Guy Stevens

First Footing: Free’s 1969 debut, Tons of Sobs, with added ‘genius’ studio touches from Guy Stevens

“Like his cross-fading on Tons of Sobs. We had this acoustic song, ‘Over the Green Hills’, a Paul Rodgers song, beautiful, and he said why don’t we have a cross-fade into the first song, then on the other side of the album the last song can cross-fade into the second part. What a great idea!

“Paul and Andy had written a couple of songs, quite a few actually, but overall he said, ‘Just play what you would normally play on stage’, and that’s basically what we did. Tons of Sobs was really our stage set, and most of it was (recorded) live.”

Moving on into Bad Company territory, you made me laugh when you rather succinctly explained the difference between Free and your next band as not only a bit more mature but also a lot more ‘free’, not bogged down with drinking and drugs … at least initially.

“It’s true. I’ve a lot of affection for Free … the good days in Free, breaking through, amassing the fanbase we got, amazing, with hundreds of gigs all over England. But looming over everything and the history of Free would be the drug use of Paul Kossoff, and how he went downhill so quickly. It breaks my heart that the appropriate action wasn’t taken – putting him in rehab. Simple as that.”

Was there a feeling of inevitability when you heard about Koss’ passing?

“I was upset – very much, I went off the rails for a few days with grief – but I wasn’t surprised. Back in the ‘70s there wasn’t the awareness of drug use there is today. And I speak from experience. I’m in recovery myself. Back in those days no one went to rehab. You just had a cup of tea, stayed at home a few weeks and got on with it. There was no 12-step programme.

“There was AA, which had been around a long time, but there weren’t the resources for recovery there are nowadays. And I still gripe and hold a little grudge, to be honest, that Island Records and the management were so effective in combating Koss’ addictions. They could have done more.

“Free reunited for the first time to help Koss, but he needed a longer stay in rehab, so that just poured fuel on the fire really. It was done with honourable intentions, but it didn’t work and ultimately I think it cost him his life.”

In 1994, my friend Neil Waite (who also contributed a Free top-10 feature for the splendid Toppermost website, linked here) saw you guesting with Paul Rodgers at The Forum, Kentish Town, for a couple of Free numbers, writing in this book how thrilled he was to see you invited on, reckoning you still had the ability to play drums with such energy and passion. And that seems to be how so many fans put it.

“I think so. Look, I’m 71 years old now, but I think I’m playing as good as I’ve ever played. In fact, going back to when I was using, I had youth on my side but didn’t have the head. I never really played stoned, it was always after the show, so I like to think the standard of my playing has remained pretty constant … without wanting to appear big-headed.

“But my life overall is so much better now I don’t drink, and you’ll have to listen to this new Lonerider album so you can judge for yourself.”

Going Solo: Simon’s third solo LP, All Because of You

By 1996 you were touring with Ringo Starr, for the first of three All-Star band tours to date. How did that make your inner teenage Beatles fan feel?

“It was a real honour, and I’m forever grateful to Ringo for taking a chance with me. I’d just got out of rehab and he called me – he didn’t even get his manager to do it – and my daughter said, ‘Ringo Starr’s on the phone,’ and I thought she was kidding.

“I picked up the phone and he said (adopts a great Ringo impression), ‘Hello, Simon,’ and added, ‘Would you like to do a tour? I’ve heard you’ve just got out of rehab.’ That’s how small a village we live in, in the rock’n’roll world! He said, ‘Do you think you can do it?’ I got a bit tearful, but said, ‘I’m willing to give it a shot’.

“And of course, Ringo is one of the patron saints of recovery – him and Eric Clapton are responsible for a lot of people getting sober, I believe. So I went out to LA to meet him, and our styles are quite similar – he’s very simple and solid, and of course one of my influences. And it was a great band – one of the best I’ve ever played in – with Peter Frampton, Jack Bruce, Gary Brooker … wonderful.

“After the first show in Seattle I was in my hotel room, and Ringo called me and said (adopts that impression again), ‘Well, I thought you were fucking great!’ And we both got a bit tearful. It was the start of a lovely relationship.”

I guess, to paraphrase John Lennon’s rooftop farewell with The Beatles at Savile Row in 1969, you’d passed the audition, a timely chance to bounce back presenting itself. And beside the downs, it’s certainly been a grand career. So what advice would you offer that young lad who used to play along with Beatles records and many more at those local dances back in the day?

“Ah, what a great question! Erm … don’t give up, you know. Look, it’s a different world to what it was 60 years ago, but I still believe you need to keep your head on straight. Don’t do drugs – it’s a waste of fucking time. Most kids are going to try it, peer pressure and whatever, but it never ever helped. Just believe in yourself, and practise.

“There’s no shortcut to success. If you practice and dedicate yourself, whatever instrument it is – I don’t care if it’s a bloody triangle! – just practise and listen to your peers. And just follow your heart, not your head – your head’s a mess sometimes. Ha ha!”

There was much more I’d loved to have got on to, not least Bad Company’s formative days on my old Surrey patch. Maybe next time though. Besides, I was acutely aware of the fact I’d promised a quick 15-minute chat and we’d already doubled up on that, Simon good enough to call me back after technical issues first time around. Instead, we said our goodbyes, me telling Simon it had been a pleasure talking with him, and how I appreciated his time and honesty.

“Well, an interview is only as good as the questions … and that was a very good interview.”

Drum Major: Simon Kirke behind the drum kit with Bad Company on their 1979 US tour (Photo: Lyndy Lambert)

For more details of Rock’n’Roll Fantasy: The Musical Journey of Free and Bad Company by David Roberts for this Day in Music Books, head here. And to check out Simon’s website and keep up to date with his various projects, follow this link. You can do the same with Paul Rodgers, heading here.

There’s also a revealing interview online from October, Simon joining Harry Wareing for Homegrown on LTV East Hampton, talking about everything from Red Cross volunteering in the aftermath of 9/11 to movie soundtrack scoring, life in the US, Free and Bad Company days, hia drug and drink battles, meeting his wife Maria Angelica at the Cutting Room, New York, and great anecdotes about friendship and meetings with various Rolling Stones, and great anecdotes involving Bob Marley and Ginger Baker. He also plays a lovely acoustic guitar version of Free’s ‘Love You So’, gives a snippet of his take on Bad Company’s ‘Feel Like Makin’ Love’, and finishes with the wonderful ‘Maria’, a song about his beloved from 2017 solo LP All Because of You. Just follow this link.

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Battling on amid the pandemic – Chorley Theatre’s inspirational survival story

Posted on December 1, 2020 by writewyattuk

Empire Building: Chorley Theatre, with its dedicated volunteers determined it will pull through (Photo: Ian Robinson)

“This was meant to be a big year for us. It marked the 110th anniversary of our building, plus 60 years since CADOS took control, 35 years of Chorley Youth Theatre, and 30 years since the Chorley Film Society started.

“It was all coming together, and we were set to celebrate by opening a second room to increase our capacity. But then … yeah, it’s all gone out of the window really.”

Chorley Amateur Dramatic and Operatic Society (CADOS) chairman Ian Robinson is laughing, but you feel his pain. All celebratory and expansion plans postponed, uncertainty in the air. You still get the feeling and a strong belief that Chorley Theatre is here to stay though.

If you’re reading this wondering why I’m concentrating on a specific market town hub in my adopted county of Lancashire, well … let’s face it, it’s a situation so many of those working in or supporting the arts across the UK have gone through in recent months, a tale of frustration involving a community-run theatre which just happens to not be so far from my doorstep, illustrating pretty much perfectly the on-going national struggle to keep cherished venues alive amid this dreaded coronavirus pandemic and the protective restrictions that followed in its wake.

That said, even if you know the venue you may have taken your eye off the ball lately and are just spotting now that this theatre no long carries its middle name, ‘Little’. What was the thinking there, Ian?

“Part of it is that I don’t think we should define ourselves by our size. We’re the only theatre in Chorley, and now the Guild Hall (in nearby Preston) has closed one of the only venues of our type in the whole area. Also, historically, Chorley Little Theatre was the name of the venue CADOS performed in before we moved here. And with the Film Society now absorbed into the apparatus of the general theatre, it felt like it was the time to change, not least with the extension coming on.”

The extension? The theatre now runs to ‘the whole block’ at its base in Dole Lane, Chorley, including the premises of a former restaurant which stood between the venue and the (also now gone) offices of the Chorley Guardian newspaper, where this ex-journalist worked as a reporter from 1996/2006.

Live Laughs: Dan Nightingale in action at a between-lockdowns Manford’s Comedy Club night (Photo: Ian Robinson)

So now Chorley Theatre has two performance spaces, and when it eventually re-opens it will have a capacity across two rooms of 450. An exciting new era awaits, yes, but tradition remains important, and you’ll see from the photos that the impressive venue exterior still carries the Empire name, having initially opened in September 1910 as the Empire Picture House (I read elsewhere it was originally the Empire Electric Theatre, but apparently not), the town’s second electric cinema and first purpose-built flicks. In fact, a little scouting around online (not least via impressive US website Cinema Treasures) suggests this Lancashire market town alone has lost eight cinemas of various forms over the years, the first – the Hippodrome – on nearby Gillibrand Street built and opened in 1909, converted into a supermarket by the late-‘60s, that also now gone, its land reduced to car parking space opposite one of Chorley Theatre’s two ticket outlets, the Ebb & Flo bookshop.

As for the cinemas that followed the Empire in the centre of town, there was the Plaza from 1937 and fellow art deco picture house the Odeon, which opened the following year and continued to show films until 1971, soon after becoming a bingo  hall, the cost of removing asbestos recently deemed too high to save the structure, demolition imminent. As for the Plaza, which still holds affection for many around my age, that lasted until 1986, becoming a gym then converted with the rest of the building into flats and shops before being pulled down in 2012. But the Empire remains, and Ian reckons, “We’re one of the oldest surviving purpose-built cinemas in the UK … if not the world.”

Nothing’s taken for granted though, and in recent months venues across the country have had to prove their worth above others to survive. Are the Chorley Theatre team in contact with similar organisations going through those same dilemmas?

“We’re part of the community cinemas group, Cinema For all, and the British Film Institute’s Film Hub North, all part of a network, with regular events where we meet up … not for a while though! This year, the community cinemas conference was online, rather than us heading over to Sheffield and having a party. We missed out on that this year.”

In a sense, I guess you’re all in the same boat right now … struggling to stay afloat.

“We are. It’s all very tricky. But before we reopened in September, we visited the Dukes (in Lancaster), looking at what they’ve done, as we have with Southport’s Bijou Cinema. Yes, there’s been lots of sharing resources and ideas, and it’s helped a lot – you realise you’re not alone.”

And where are you at right now with regard to pandemic funding?

“We’ve done okay. It’s been frustrating going straight back into lockdown, but we managed to get funding over the summer through the ACE (Arts Council England) cultural recovery fund, part of £1.5bn the Government announced. We got £51,000 from that.

“That’s helped a lot and will keep us going, meaning the second lockdown hasn’t been quite as hard-hitting. We also got £9,000 from the BFI Film Vault, so the ACE funding will help us pay the bills and the BFI finding will help us pay for the films we put on, in turn helping us put more films on and generating more interest in the community. I need also acknowledge all those who very kindly donated via our GoFundMe campaign. That really helped. 

“But right now, we don’t know if we’re even going to be open over Christmas. That makes a difference as to how you plan, and planning is the most frustrating part of it all.”

Curtain Call: Ian Robinson facing the public at Chorley Theatre in January 2016 (Photo copyright: Chorley Guardian)

I spoke to Ian just before the latest Government announcement regarding the end of the second lockdown and return to the tier system, which turned out to be another tale of frustration for Chorley Theatre, with the entire county placed in tier three, much to his team’s frustration.

It was only on Saturday, October 31st that the venue held its first live event since the initial lockdown, a Manford’s Comedy Club bill (named on account of support from Salford-born comic, actor and presenter Jason Manford) topped by Dan Nightingale. The following night the theatre was advertising live music from The Swing Commanders ‘with socially-distanced seating, seat-service drinks and snacks, extra toilet capacity and enhanced cleaning’. But as it turned out, the theatre ‘went dark’ again soon after.

“Yes, we had Carl Hutchinson planned for November 7th, bringing him forward four days, but it was so frustrating, having spent thousands of pounds making the place Covid-secure. That’s not money we’re going to be able to get back. We’ve knocked a wall through, put barriers up, spent so much on sanitiser, we feel we’re really safe and audiences were starting to come back.

“We also had (National Theatre live screening) Fleabag, which did pretty well, then 90-odd for the comedy club event, and again for Carl. Word was getting out, people saying how safe they felt.

“If we’re in tier three from here the word is that indoor venues aren’t going to open again … even though we feel we’re safer than many other places, with social distancing, table service for drinks, loads of toilets, track and trace, one-way systems … yet it seems like we’re being punished.

“It’s great that we got money from the Arts Council, but I don’t like that we had to compete against other theatres for that. We’re all in this together. The constant chopping and changing makes it hard, and it wasn’t just theatres going for that money – there were museums, art galleries and so on.

“I am very grateful for that funding – it’s taken a lot of pressure off. But there was a lot of form filling too.”

Stage Fright: Behind the scenes at the theatre, 2020 pandemic style, Chorley, Lancashire (Photo: Ian Robinson)

Among the casualties this year was the annual panto, The Snow Queen postponed for a year as ‘am-drams’ can’t rehearse, the venue unable to afford to book a professional alternative ‘in case we have to cancel again’.

The hope when I spoke to Ian was that the venue would come out of lockdown into tier two, so they could re-open and show films over Christmas. But despite the subsequent tier three announcement, the venue is cracking on with online events, for instance those with comedians Mark Thomas and Bridget Christie, and its own ‘Virtual CADOS’ event. However, a National Theatre Live event on the run-up to Christmas, for a stage production of Michael Morpurgo’s War Horse, was regrettably cancelled.

In an announcement on the theatre’s Facebook page on November 26th, we learned, “With the news that Lancashire has been placed in tier three coming out of lockdown, it sadly looks like we’ll have to cancel our December shows, so we’ll be in touch with ticket-holders in due course. Then we’ll have to see what happens in a few weeks. Merry Christmas!”. Get the feeling they wrote a few frustrated drafts of that message before deciding on that particular wording?

But back to my conversation with Ian, getting on to a number of prestigious dates already in the diary for 2021, including confirmed (as much as anything can be confirmed right now) visits from high-profile comics such as Mark Watson, Jenny Eclair, Rob Newman, local lad (and recent Britain’s Got Talent finalist) Steve Royle, the afore-mentioned Jason Manford, Clinton Baptiste, Ed Byrne, and Bridget Christie.

And this from a theatre which has made many good friends down the years, not least the likes of comics Richard Herring, Angela Barnes, and John Bishop, with appearances in recent years too from locally-based Dave Spikey and fellow former WriteWyattUK interviewees Johnny Vegas,  Lucy Beaumont, Mark Steel, Phill Jupitus, Justin Moorhouse, Chorley’s own Phil Cool, plus Jo Caulfield, Mike Harding, and recently-departed Bobby Ball, a regular visitor – off-stage and on.

“Jason Manford’s show’s been moved a few times – it’s been in the diary more than two years, while Gary Delaney will be coming back next year, and there are a few more pencilled in. Things are still up in the air, and next year will be a mad scramble, trying to put on new and delayed shows. And we’re just going to have to hope audiences will come back. That’s still a big worry.”

Burning Bright: The lights still burn at Chorley Theatre, with a happier, healthier 2021 in sight (Photo: Ian Robinson)

I get the impression you remain cautiously optimistic though.

“I am. We’ve been tested this year. You just have to get on with your job and hope the Government sorts their bit out. They haven’t really done that though, and they’re on the back-foot all the time. That frustration’s there for most businesses too. A lot of shops bought Christmas stock, then they were back in lockdown.

“But we’ll be running socially-distanced seating until Easter, and hopefully after then we’ll be back to full houses. Promoters have been very patient with us too. They don’t want us to go bust. They still want places to bring comedians in the future.”

The main theatre holds 230, but currently holds around 95 due to restrictions (dependent on the size of groups booking together). And while the new space is as yet unfinished, with work abandoned last Easter, in time that will hold 100 seated and 150 standing, the space configured according to each event – for live bands, talks, comedy, and plays performed in the round.

And just to stress, there are no permanent staff at this voluntary-run community hub that Ian first got involved with as a 14-year-old in 1989.

“That’s another thing. Those volunteers are our friends, and we’re a community yet we’ve not been able to see each other this year. Normally we’d do a play together, have a drink after, and all that’s been missing. You just hope they’re going to come back when we re-open.

“When we opened again in September, it was nice to see people back, to catch up with volunteers and our audiences, many telling us it was good to get back to some kind of normality. And really It’s about the fun aspect, meeting people, and all that. It shouldn’t have to be about form-filling.”

Community Hub: Chorley Theatre is ready to catch up on its celebrations as 2021 draws closer (Photo: Ian Robinson)

For a January 2016 feature/interview with Ian Robinson, putting the spotlight on Chorley Little Theatre, as it was then known, head here.

And I should stress that in light of the latest COVID-19 restrictions, it makes sense to check out the Chorley Theatre website for all the latest information about forthcoming events, via this link. 

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On the right track for sound and vision – in conversation with Saunder Jurriaans

Posted on November 23, 2020 by writewyattuk

It’s likely you’ve already heard some of Saunder Jurriaans’ music. Over the past decade, not only has he released records with groups Tarantula, Tarantula A.D. and Priestbird, but he’s also one half of an award-winning duo with Danny Bensi, creating soundtracks.  

Together they’ve created music for more than 100 film and TV series, including Ozark – recently Emmy-nominated for their work on series three – and The OA, and from American Gods, Barry, Chef’s Table and Boy Erased to acclaimed arthouse films such as Martha Marcy May Marlene, Enemy, The One I Love, The Fits and HBO series The Outsider. 

But lately Los Angeles-based singer/songwriter and composer Saunder has stepped into uncharted territory with ‘vulnerable, affecting and musically inventive’ debut solo LP Beasts, released in September on Decca. And it seems that even while Hollywood kept him busy, he never lost his love for straightforward songwriting. 

“Soon as we started scoring, I started accumulating songs. With my creative life consumed by writing film scores, I found catharsis in writing songs – music that wasn’t necessarily dictated by someone else’s story or structure. It was something I needed … and still need.”

Opening track ‘All Just Talkin’’ is a great example, Saunder setting heartfelt words to music that shifts and pulls you in surprising directions. 

“It goes into this weird, psychedelic world. I was thinking a lot about The Beatles, and unexpected ways of breaking out of song structure. I like the cinematic aspect of songs like ‘A Day in the Life’, where you go into this kind of chaos. It felt right.”

And lyrically, that song sets the tone for the deeply personal themes explored throughout.

“These songs were written after a difficult number of years dealing with depression. They were written when I was coming out of that period, but they’re about how this darker side of me has stayed with me, and about trying to reconcile how to live with that person.”

DIY Dilemma: Saunder Jurriaans has plenty of work to do on his new abode between film commissions, it would seem

Another standout, ‘Easy Now’ is one of the most personal songs, first written and performed live during a four-month period when Saunder and his Argentinian wife, artist Patricia Iglesias, were living in Buenos Aires. 

“That song very much dealt with our relationship at that time, which was on the rocks for a few years. My wife and I would sing it on stage together. It’s about us, but has since evolved to be about much more.”

And it was Patricia who created the abstract artworks which inspired the name Beasts. 

“They were paintings of these strange creatures and animals. I love them so much and wanted to use them for the album artwork. When I started to think about what to name the record, Beasts worked so well. These songs are creatures that came out of my imagination after lurking in my life for so many years. They’re elusive and fantastical, and in some ways terrifying.”

It’s a singular, personal record, one wholly his own. And it certainly carries an apt title.

“Putting out music this intimate is scary. It’s a beast. The whole album is a beast and each song is a beast.”

Saunder, born in Evanston, Illinois, in 1977, is the child of Dutch immigrants who bounced around the United States before settling in Seattle, Washington.

After moving to Providence, RI to study at the Rhode Island School of Design, he instead dropped out to play in a band. Around then he also met Danny Bensi, and they quickly became collaborators.

Live Presence: Saunder Jurriaans in live action back in 2013 in Brooklyn, NYC, with Danny Bensi over his left shoulder

Moving to New York in 2000, along with drummer Gregory Rogove they formed ‘proggy, chamber-rock trio’ Tarantula, later renamed Tarantula A.D., and then Priestbird, touring with a suitably-eclectic mix of bands.

Those included avante-jazz-funk outfit Medeski Martin & Wood, freak folk singer-songwriter Devendra Banhart, psychedelic duo Cocorosie, and heavy metal rockers, The Sword. What’s more, in Europe, they opened for Pearl Jam.

The first film Saunder and Danny composed the score for was 2010 drama Two Gates Of Sleep, with director Alistair Banks Griffin a friend from Saunder’s RI studies.

Their new way of working came naturally to the pair, critical acclaim following and leading to the pair scoring 2011 thriller Martha Marcy May Marlene, their career soon snowballing.

But this year, mid-pandemic, there was a chance to finally complete Saunder’s behind the scenes solo project. Strange times, eh?

“Yes, a very odd year! Patricia and I moved from New York to Los Angeles exactly a year ago, so we feel pretty fortunate to be in a place we can spend a lot of time outside. I’d just finished building out the garage into a studio when the pandemic hit, so was quite lucky in that respect.”

Are soundtrack commissions still coming your way? Alternatively, is a follow-up solo LP taking shape?

“Yes – both! Danny and I have stayed quite busy through this year, even though many projects got cancelled or put on hold. The world might seem to be stopped, but people still need their TV and film. Maybe more than ever now. I’ve a bunch of solo songs and music in the works, and would like to release another album in 2021 for sure.”

How would you say this year of the virus has affected you, professionally and personally? Has it changed the way you work? Might you have been out on the road touring this album with a band now? And if so, will that happen in the near future instead?

“It’s hard to say – I’ve talked a lot about this with people and can’t decide whether the whole thing has been a blessing or a curse. I guess a little of both. On one hand, to be in one place, with no holiday travels, visiting friends, limited social activities, it’s been amazing for consistency in my work. At the same time, I periodically feel ‘pandemic fatigue’ that can be creatively crippling.

“I really wish I could have done some shows around the release. I tried to keep up with the ‘live’ videos and streaming stuff that’s going on, but it’s not my favourite. I would love to put together a band and play this stuff. That would be a blast. I hope it can still happen somehow … if not this album, it will be the next!”

Beasts is an album that’s slowly but surely got under my skin these past couple of months. An alternative soundtrack for these strange times, maybe, full of reflection on the past but also a beacon of hope for a better future. Is that how you see it?

“Yes, what a perfect and wonderful observation! Not sure I need to say more – I think that’s ideally how I’d want people to feel about it.” 

Is this perhaps the record you’re most proud of, the closest to the real you, or at least the most personal so far? You’ve used the word catharsis. Was there genuine freedom in writing for yourself rather than looking to express someone else’s vision, as must often be the case in soundtrack work?

“It’s definitely the most personal, and perhaps I’m the most proud of it in that I somehow squeezed it by my very vocal ‘inner critic’ and overcame some deep resistance!

“For me it’s been cathartic or therapeutic in so many ways to just write music without having to answer to anyone else, or please anyone else, besides myself of course … which can be admittedly more difficult at times.

Yellow Fever: Saunder Jurriaans tests out his projected sun and moon tattoos, to a backdrop of Patricia’s artwork

“I love writing music for film, but it’s much like illustration in that I’m always telling someone else’s story. I need to be able to tell my own story, I guess.”

I feel I should apologise if I’ve gone too far with the following questions. I guess that’s the problem when you share your work with the world – a hundred of us might come up with a hundred different interpretations. We tend to bring our own baggage to the party. Are you easy with that?

“I absolutely love hearing other people’s interpretations of my music.”

Well, you hit the ground running with opening track, ‘All Just Talkin’’. For me there’s the feel of a lost Lee Hazlewood number at first, to a point where I half expect Nancy Sinatra to come in. But just before the minute and a half mark, you’re off somewhere else. What’s more, it happens again at the three-minute mark.

And that seems to be your modus operandi, taking us on paths we don’t expect, sharing a mighty ride. Is that part of the thrill? It’s a brave thing to do, not least on an opening song of a debut LP. Those who hear it and listen properly will love it, but I get the impression you’re not seeking a Billboard top-10 here.

“Ha ha! No, definitely not looking for the Billboard top-10! I guess I have a sort of musical attention deficit disorder – I get a huge thrill out of unexpected changes and musical juxtaposition.

“I’m obsessed with creating unlikely combinations – both instrumentally and compositionally – but also trying to make them work and not sound like Frank Zappa at his most insane … even though I do like Frank.

“I guess my process while writing a song is a modulating, changing experience – it’s not always all coming out at once. Each layer I add informs the next. I don’t usually start with a concept of the whole track, so these unexpected changes usually occur quite naturally according to how I may be feeling while writing the song.

“Sometimes they work and sometimes they don’t – I do a lot of muting and deleting!”

Band Substance: In Tarantula AD days around 2004, off to record Book Of Sand (Photo: Saunder Jurriaans)

That opening track, like many on this fine album, might have turned up on a film soundtrack anywhere between the late–‘60s and … well, in 10 years’ time. Is this you paying tribute to some of those influences that have come your way since you were first spellbound by music?

“For sure – that stuff is in my blood and bones – also the ‘80s and ‘90s. I grew up listening to classic hard rock, prog, psych, heavy metal and later was living smack in the middle of the 90’s grunge explosion, as I grew up in Seattle.

“I don’t ever want to feel like I’m trying to recreate those sounds or songs though, even though the influence is there naturally.”

‘A Different Shade of the Same’ is another that catches me out. I’m still trying to put my finger on what’s there, from The Beatles and Love through to Fleet Foxes and The Magic Numbers. Maybe even a future direction for someone like Arctic Monkeys’ Alex Turner. And there’s that big sound, socking it to us, as Otis Redding might have said. 

“This song was really inspired by one of my favourite tunes – Elliott Smith’s ‘Everything Means Nothing To Me’. I love the structure of that song – it feels like what he’s saying … not sure how to explain that any other way!”

I realise your roots were elsewhere (and later), and much of this LP was written before you even moved to LA, but ‘Easy Now’ has a late-‘60s Californian feel for me, with elements of everyone from Simon and Garfunkel to The Lovin’ Spoonful, Mamas and Papas and even something of a late Monkees vibe. Was that – albeit retrospectively discovered – a defining era for you as a songwriter?

“Man, I used to love The Monkees’ TV show so much when I was a kid! Kind of forgot about that! I’m not sure what the influence was stylistically for ‘Easy Now’ – I remember for a while I was going back and forth between wanting to write more ‘acoustic’ music and then suddenly I’d hate it and electrify everything.

“A lot of the songs on Beasts are casualties of this little psychological war, including ‘Easy Now’! It could feel like a fireside folk tune or be a more anthemic rock song like it turned out.”

I understand how that song came about, but in a sense it’s become something beyond that now you’ve shared it with the world. Maybe there’s a wider message there amid these odd times, digging deep and discovering what really matters – as America seems to have done recently, getting rid of its orange despot – and looking forward and outward rather than getting hung up on building walls and the like.

“Yes – originally the song reflected a very personal experience for me, but now it’s taken on a whole new meaning. I guess it could be a call to re-centre and try find some balance and common goal. Although I don’t think this rupture in our society is only in the US – it seems to be a global trend unfortunately.

“‘Easy Now” definitely has a glimmer of hope and I think I do too – but it’s hard to imagine how we’re going to put things back together without some major self-reflection on the part of every one of us.”

There’s another mighty change of pace on ‘Ghost Walk’, kicking in at the two-and-a-half minute mark this time. And for me there’s a kind of early-‘70s glam feel. I could hear later-day Bowie tackle this, partly taking us into uncharted territory but also harking back to his work with and influence on the likes of Mott the Hoople. And like the latter, you’ve unleashed a big sound there.

“I am and have always been a huge fan of long epic, dramatic, proggy, rock songs! Ghost Walk was written a bit later in the scheme of the record and my recording chops were much better, I felt more confident going for it. I played every instrument myself on that one … it was a real exercise in overdubs!”

There are perfectly wistful moments too, like ‘All the King’s Men’. Was that something that came into your head one day and you had to get it down and out there?

“Occasionally I’ll spit out an entire song and record in a matter of hours. I could have started to go crazy layering stuff on the piano/vocal take, but I restrained myself – which wasn’t easy – and just let it be!”

‘Last Man Standing’ is another song that takes its time to build and draw you in … then wham! Is that something you’re aware of doing, or set out to do? And while I’m at it, ‘Brittle Bones’ is another lovely, evocative … interlude, I guess, but another integral part of all this. Maybe this LP could have as easily been named Beauty and Beasts.

“I’ve written a ton of instrumental guitar music over the years and always struggle with what to do with it. I don’t use much guitar in films. I love albums with instrumental interludes, especially flashy guitar ones!

“Eddie Van Halen’s ‘Eruption’ comes to mind, as well as Jimmy Page’s ‘Black Mountain Side’. I am – before everything else – a guitar player. Sometimes I fight it and pretend I’m something else, but I always come back to her!

“And ‘Brittle Bones’ was a sort of etude I wrote while studying classical guitar. I was very influenced – and still am – by Haitian guitarist and composer Frantz Casseus.”

‘I’m Afraid (I’m a Fake)’ takes us on another major journey, and I hear a little late Beatles, guitar-wise. And while I’m not normally swayed by drum solos, there’s something suitably manic at the climax which brings a smile to the face. It’s kind of like Phil Collins in a padded cell for a while. Was this you fighting off Beasts?

“This was the last song written that went on Beasts. I didn’t even mean for it to be on the record, It was meant for the next one perhaps, but I just loved it so much, and I felt the record needed a real rock guitar solo, dammit!

“It’s very much about the whole struggle of releasing the album. It’s another one I played all the instruments and layered everything myself. I had so much fun making this song and it remains one of my favourites …

“And I’m a huge George Harrison fan. I love his weird tinny, in-your-face guitar solos. He was definitely an influence on this tune!”

After that, we perhaps needed ‘The Three of Me’. It’s other-worldly but reminds me in a sense of Neil Finn’s more recent work with son Liam. And as with him, the melodies are never far away – as is the case even among this LP’s more discordant moments – albeit again with little clue as to where we’re going before we take that next fork.

“I don’t know Neil Finn, but will check him out!”

Double Act: Danny Bensi and Saunder Jurriaans have created a mighty soundtrack portfolio (Photo: ATC Management

Ooh, I bet you are when you check him out. And then we’re away on ‘Miles To Go’, a suitably-atmospheric climax, that big sound at its heart … although – as with all the strongest songs – I get the impression it’d be just as effective stripped down to just you and an acoustic guitar as it would if it was given the major production treatment in the hands of the afore-mentioned Simon and Garfunkel or even Nilsson perhaps.

“’Miles To Go’ is probably my favourite song on the record. It started as a sort of cowboy, campfire song and turned into the soundscapey distorted metal wash of doom!

“This is the type of juxtaposition I was talking about before that’s so exciting to me – melding to disparate worlds into something that feels cohesive and new.

“At one point, years after I originally wrote the song, I added the heavy metal chunking guitars at the end, which really satisfied a deep, deep part of me!”

Overall, is this something you see as completely different to your scoring work, or is it perhaps a soundtrack to a film that’s not yet been made?

“I don’t really know … so much of what I’ve learned and discovered scoring films has gone into this music, but my work scoring films has also been informed by all the roots these songs come from. I think it’s going to be an ongoing exploration!”

Finally, what’s next for you? And what’s the first thing you and your beloved will do when the virus is behind us and we can get back to somewhere approaching where we were at before the veil came down?

“I’ve just released a podcast. It’s called Giant Steps and is about running and the creative process … don’t ask me how, but I’ve become a pretty serious runner over the last years and increasingly interested in the great things it does for my mind.

“The show consists of interviews with various artists, directors, designers, musicians etc … who are avid runners. I’m working with my dear friend and brilliant film editor, Matt Hannam.

“Each episode is meticulously sound designed and scored for a sort of immersive interview experience. So that is currently taking up a good chunk of my time.

“When this pandemic ends, I really hope to get some live shows going though. I’m itching to play music with people again! For Patricia and I, we will immediately go and visit our families, with hers in Buenos Aires and mine up in Washington State. We miss them terribly.”

Saun Screen: Saunder Jurriaans is ready to break out and play live again soon, post Covid-19 pandemic lockdowns

To track down a copy of Saunder Jurriaans’ Beasts, follow this link. And you can follow Saunder’s progress via Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

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Come a long way – talking Heavenly Recordings with Robin Turner

Posted on November 21, 2020 by writewyattuk

When Robin Turner came to the phone, I half expected mayhem around him, having recently read his evocative recollections of mad days in the mid-‘90s working in the Heavenly Recordings office in Soho, one of many vivid descriptions in his introduction to newly-published, celebratory tome…Believe in Magic. Heavenly Recordings, The First Thirty Years telling us, ‘On any given day, you might answer the door to Throb from Primal Scream, who’d be in need of a ‘Berwick stop’ between Covent Garden and Oxford Circus, or Paolo Hewitt and Paul Weller, who’d end up heading a football round the office for half an hour. If that sounds like a brag, imagine trying to get actual work done under those circumstances.’

Robert ‘Throb’ Young checked out six years ago, aged just 49. As for Paolo and Paul … well, they’re not there with you now, are they?

“No! Those were what we called the good old days. Now it’s just two small kids shouting at me all the time.”

Robin’s children are 10 and seven and he’s based in Bristol these days, his label days long behind him. Well, kind of. He still does press for bands he loves with strong links to those days, notably The Chemical Brothers and Underworld. And as he points out, you never really leave Heavenly.

“It was kind of crazy. Work got done, but I often wondered why others I knew who worked in similar offices were getting offered jobs, but we never were. I think we were only suited to working for that company! I don’t think we could have coped anywhere else.”

…Believe in Magic, from Orion Publishing imprint White Rabbit, was put together by Robin with the help of filmmaker, photographer and graphic designer Paul Kelly, who led early Heavenly signing East Village.

Heavenly Father: Jeff Barrett, the driving force behind Heavenly Recordings since 1990, still in his element at the label

I told the author I also particularly liked his description of the label’s old Soho office back in the day, ‘above Ronnie Scott’s and opposite Bar Italia on Frith Street … sat on a wonky trans-time ley line that connected the 2i’s, the Astoria, the YMCA and the End. As much as it was a working environment, it was also a makeshift disco and an egalitarian meeting place – think a Quaker meeting house with religion replaced by Raw Power, Bummed and an armful of Strictly Rhythm 12-inches.’ He certainly paints a great picture.

“Well, thank you. But it was so true, that’s the problem – it’s not even a stretch of the imagination!”  

In time, they’d move premises, but are now back at the heart of things after a few years out of Soho on Portobello Road, currently ‘three floors up on Old Compton Street, halfway between the old sites on Wardour Street and Frith Street’. But a home isn’t just about addresses, label founder Jeff Barrett revealing, ‘Heavenly was already a state of mind. Seemed like the right time to make it something really special. We were all deeply immersed in music that we loved. None of us could believe our fucking luck, really.’

…Believe in Magic is seen as a chronicle not only of the spell between this fiercely independent label’s first album release, Saint Etienne’s debut Foxbase Alpha (HVNLP1) and Working Men’s Club’s self-titled 2020 debut(HVNLP179), the bookends which hold in place a further 28 key releases that arguably got the label to where it is today, but also of Heavenly haircuts, nights down the pub, pencil-eraser-carvings, cheese toasties, acid houses, Sunday Socials and lost Weekenders, all just as much a part of this amazing story. 

And as Jeff Barrett put it, ‘If there’s a continuous theme that runs through all this, it’s that everything comes down to conversations with people about music. It might seem like it all starts with someone on one side of the counter selling you something, or someone writing excitedly in a magazine telling you about a band you need to hear, but I don’t think I’ve ever really seen things as one-way transactions.

‘It’s more an ongoing dialogue, one that never really stops and helps build up this growing soundtrack to our lives, something that’s passed from one person to another. That’s really the ever-present thread. That’s why we still believe in magic.’

Three decades have passed since initial Heavenly release, Sly and Lovechild’s ‘The World According To …’ (HVN1), touched by the hands of a certain Andrew Weatherall, with various line-up changes, ups, downs and a good few office clean-ups since. Yet Heavenly ‘continue not to believe their fucking luck … still being here, keepin’ on keepin’ on’ doing what they love for our listening pleasure.

In the words of long-time associate and BBC radio veteran Annie Nightingale, who put together a compilation for the label, ‘Heavenly has always lived up to its name. Celestial tunes with the sublime sure guidance of Jeff Barrett. A beacon of integrity.’ Meanwhile, Trainspotting author Irvine Welsh’s tells us, ‘Heavenly is more than a record label, it’s the absolute nectar of all that’s brilliant in the culture of these island. I love the shit out of them and everything they stand for.’  

Nicky Wire, whose trailblazing band Manic Street Preachers issued two singles on Heavenly before joining major label Columbia, writes in the book’s foreword, ‘Right from the start, Heavenly seemed to have a real sense of itself and its mission’. He adds, ‘Stylistically, it may have looked chaotic and disconnected to the outside world, but that was the point’.

You only have to look at the early roster to see the diverse range involved – from Saint Etienne to the Manics, Camden’s Flowered Up to Manchester’s Doves, and Norfolk-born folktronica pioneer Beth Orton to Ealing double-sibling quartet The Magic Numbers, the last band signed in the pre-digital era. This was never about identikit acts. Similarly, in more recent times, we’ve had Ian Dury’s son Baxter Dury, Australian dance-pop act Confidence Man, Cornish-Welsh solo artist Gwenno, Dutch indie darlings Pip Blom, Halifax’s The Orielles, and Wirral four-piece Hooton Tennis Club.

In a nutshell, …Believe in Magic is a celebration of all that and much more, a fully illustrated history of sorts of one of the most colourful independent UK record labels; one ‘responsible for creating satellite communities of fans around the country and at all the major festivals’.

The story of Jeff Barrett alone is worthy of the attention alone, this pioneering maverick setting up the label in 1990 with the acid house revolution in full swing, after several years working at or at least alongside Factory and Creation, soon fostering interest from the likes of music writer Jon Savage, ‘part of the Heavenly extended family since the start’, not only curating a compilation on the label but also providing the book’s introduction.

It’s fair to say the early releases set the tone and tempo, from that initial recording by perhaps the most revered acid house DJ of all to singles from the similarly afore-mentioned St Etienne and Manic Street Preachers.

And Heavenly was always different to other labels; more a ‘club’ with a defiant spirit of inclusiveness, as reflected in the way they set up The Heavenly Social in 1994, alongside the Hacienda perhaps the most famous club in recent British history, The Chemical Brothers for one making their name there.

With nearly 200 LP releases in three decades, Heavenly has consistently produced some of the most exciting music across various genres – dance, acid house, singer-songwriter, psych-garage – and Robin’s celebratory work collects rare photographs, ephemera and artwork as well as those 30 great tales, mostly told in the form of oral history by artists like the Manics’ James Dean Bradfield, Flowered Up, Beth Orton, Doves and pioneering DJ Don Letts, the latter having put together a Heavenly compilation celebrating his days providing a soundtrack for London’s legendary Roxy club from December ’76 to April ’77. And together they capture the presiding personality of the label, its bands and those associated with its success.

But enough ambling, let’s get back to Robin, getting him on the subject of Jeff Barrett’s back-story, from Nottingham roots to Plymouth, Bristol and beyond, including many anecdotal nuggets, at one early stage quitting a promising career at HMV to run a market stall nearby. And then there was the night he put on The Jesus and Mary Chain at Ziggy’s in Plymouth, having stoked a media storm about the band’s riotous reputation first, that happening soon selling out, Chain manager, Creation label guru and past WriteWyattUK interviewee Alan McGee so impressed that he offered him a job there and then, Jeff becoming Creation’s first employee. It’s been an amazing journey, hasn’t it?

“It’s the kind of thing you can’t really imagine happening now – a working-class kid having a load of lucky breaks, albeit breaks he’d created. He worked hard, but it’s hard to think that could happen again now in the music industry.”

Similarly, for this label to still not just be around but remain as fresh and driven three decades on is really something, not least considering the many changes in the industry since 1990. And Heavenly still boasts such an array of acts.

“Yeah, it’s 30 years without compromising and being this disparate, extended family, but a family all the same. I mean, I’m still part of it, even though I’ve not worked there for 10 years. Like The Godfather … dragging me back in. And it’s got that identity that makes it work. And you’re right, if you think of comparable labels, there’s Creation, its last records around 2000, and Factory, where it was all over by the early ‘90s. Heavenly’s managed to out-last lots of similar institutions. Not many get that far, and Rough Trade has had lots of different iterations over the years.”

So how did Robin – whose publicity clients these days also include Steven Wilson – get involved?

“Through interviewing Saint Etienne for a fanzine that never actually happened! We became friends, I came to Heavenly to do PR, and that’s what I’ve gone back to doing since.”

What struck me going through the book was how many Heavenly records I own where I either forgot they were on the label or never realised they were, such as Beth Orton’s Trailer Park (HVNLP17).

“Yes, there’s always that interconnectivity between them all, but someone like Beth … she was so different at the time. No one else was making folk music with a kind of electronic twist to it. These days you have festivals like the Green Man (featuring acts) doing what she did. Then you listen to (BBC) 6 Music and you’ve got someone like Laura Marling, but it was totally its own thing back then.

“After Beth, things tightened up a bit, partly because (new overseers like) BMG/EMI didn’t want us to sign lots of acts. In the Noughties, there was a lot less output. But now, Jeff’s properly independent and they’re putting out records all the time, from The Orielles to Working Men’s Club.

“They just put out a single by Sinead O’Connor, produced by David Holmes. They’re absolutely firing, whereas when I was there and we were linked to major labels, quite often that was more of a speed-limiter. You couldn’t really put your foot down, and you’d end up with lots of arguments.”

Yet some of the greatest opportunities come from taking such chances. In Jeff’s case, you could argue that his whole career was built on that maverick spirit – him seemingly over-ordering copies of The Smith’s ‘Hand in Glove’ at an HMV branch in Devon and soon selling out. That got him his first real break, ending up with links to Bristol’s Revolver Distribution, one of many defining contacts.

That said, Robin doesn’t try to dress all this up into one big success story. There are stories of decisions that didn’t go quite so well. He’s not over-glamourised.

“Yeah, we’ve done some stupid things! We weren’t always sensible. If I had infinite time with this book … but we didn’t want to get bogged down in talking about distribution deals and all that. The mechanics of the music industry are very boring for people outside all that.

“And thankfully there are enough great stories here to take this approach – there’s the Manics, there’s Doves, there’s Mark Lanegan, who of all people had a Sunday Times’ bestselling book this year (his memoir Sing Backwards and Weep)!

“Then there’s Saint Etienne, who drew me to the label in the first place. I was living in Newport, South Wales, heard Flowered Up and Saint Etienne, and a light went on, thinking, ‘This is my music!’

“The thing with Flowered Up … they had such potential. An amazing live band, but they were chaos. Mad, druggy fools. And in the book, it’s all pretty explicit. But for me the only record that’s really brilliant is ‘Weekender’.”

Well, I learned a lot, not least that modern-day Australian dance-pop wonders Confidence Man weren’t even a live unit until Heavenly persuaded them, having seen what this Brisbane four-piece could do in the studio on wondrous debut single, ‘Boyfriend’. 

“Ah … such a brilliant band! I remember hearing that single the first time, thinking, ‘What the hell is this!’”

Agreed. But at the same time, it brought smiles to faces.

“Completely! I’ve seen them a few times and my kids are obsessed with them, first seeing them at a festival a couple of years ago when they were eight and five. It’s definitely a bit too racy for kids … but, you know – sod it!

“And when you think about it – another totally bonkers thing (for the label), yet when you speak to them they are completely part of this mad family, and a really solid, good pop band.”

There’s the great story of Heavenly taking on Gwenno too, Jeff – who has Cornish roots and links of his own – having that initial chat about what’s next, the artist letting on that she’d decided her next LP – after one entirely in Welsh – would be entirely in the Cornish language. And he went along with that, releasing Le Kov (HVNLP145). An inspired move.

“I know! Such a brilliant thing, and more power to the label for supporting artistic decisions like that. A lot of people would have looked at that, seeing she’d made a Welsh language record and thinking that she could then capitalise on that, or make something in English – having been in The Pipettes before.

“But no, she decided to do something in Cornish, and both Jeff and Gwen herself were of the opinion that if you can put yourself in a position where you can make an artistic statement, you might not be in that position again so you have to do it when you’ve got that kind of acceleration behind you. In five years you might be kicking your heels, thinking, ‘No one’s asked’!

“I think that was one of the strongest statements they could have made as a label. And it really paid off.”

Talking of risk-taking, however huge they became, taking on the Manic Street Preachers was a huge gamble initially, wasn’t it?

“Yes! Completely. We know them now as such a huge British act, somewhere between BBC Radio 2 and 6 Music. But – and I worked with them, I’m a huge fan, and love them to bits – back in the day, when I was still living in Wales and they were about to sign to Heavenly …well, Welsh music at that point was The Alarm, disregarded in all respects as a joke, and I just wanted to get out, as there was no scene apart from US hardcore.

“And here was a label where the first few records were a Sly & Lovechild record remixed by Andrew Weatherall, Saint Etienne’s ‘Only Love Can Break Your Heart’, Flowered Up’s ‘Weekender’ single (HVN16) … You could look at that and think this is an acid house label, or at least operating in that world.

“So signing the Manics – a four-piece punk band from Wales, with both of those things working against them – was a proper risk. But then you hear ‘Motown Junk’ (HVN8), and if you saw them live around then, you could totally see it. The energy and excitement there is absolute. You couldn’t fault it.

“And what that did, signing the Manics – and it was only ever going to be for a couple of singles to pivot them on to a major label, as agreed by all sides – the label set the template for the next 30 years. They could sign anything from that point.

“In fact, the next signing was The Rockingbirds, a country band from Camden!”

Ah, yes, HVNLP2 bringing me on to my next point. Edwyn Collins was perhaps the first artist I realised was on the label. Perhaps I just read his LP sleeves closer. And, almost bringing things full circle, his was one of the most recent live shows I’ve seen, a September 2019 appearance at Gorilla in Manchester (with a live review here) – seemingly an age ago now with the subsequent arrival of the pandemic and all that.  And his band that night included long-time collaborators Sean Read and Andy Hackett, Rockingbirds from the start.

“Yes, and speaking to Edwyn and his wife Grace for this book, I realised just how much of that record – 2007’s Home Again (HVNLP182) – and the support for it was part of a rehabilitation from his stroke. I was still working for Heavenly at that point, and that gig he did at Dingwalls … the first time he’d been on stage since, one hell of an evening. A real emotional rollercoaster. You were almost in tears when he walked on, yet the next thing … they were just going for it!”

Tremendous, and Grace and Edwyn are such a great double-act when you talk to them, aren’t they?

“Ah, Grace is phenomenal. They both are, but the way she finishes his sentences … it’s like a telepathic link at times. I adore them.”

It’s not just about the acts that have featured on the label either. For example, there can’t be too many labels that have their own hairdresser, surely.

“Ha! Basically, everything within – the 30 things in the book –was deemed relevant as long as it had a catalogue number. That included clubs we’ve run, like the Sunday Social (HVN44), Paul Cannell’s toasted cheese sandwich artwork (HVN13), and Heavenly hairdresser, Christopher Camm (HVN200).

“I describe Chris as Heavenly’s spirit animal. He’s cut everyone’s hair since … forever, and a vast amount of ideas have gone through his chair which he’s had to listen to, many of which would have been absolutely crap, but some of which will have been completely brilliant.”

Incidentally, there was even a catalogue number for the 25th birthday party at Hebden Bridge’s Trades Club in West Yorkshire in January 2015 (HVN300), its chief promoter Mal Campbell telling the tale in the book. And if you don’t know the story of Primal Scream singer Bobby Gillespie’s discarded toasted cheese sandwich, left at the home of artist Paul Cannell (who created the Heavenly logo as well as so much iconic Primal Scream sleeve art) and in time getting framed and securing its own cat.no., there’s another great reason to grab the book. And those are just a few of the off-the-wall tales within.

A more recent Heavenly act I love are Amsterdam indie pop four-piece Pip Blom, who released debut LP Boat on the label last year. It’s a shame they don’t get a chapter of their own, for there’s another great story, singer Pip and brother Tender’s Dad being Erwin Blom, frontman of John Peel favourites and session veterans Eton Crop. But I guess Robin couldn’t pick everyone, and others will maybe feel their favourites should have got a look-in.

“My daughter’s called Pip, and I’ve taken her along to see them … but wow, I didn’t know that. I love those family links in music. But with the later years’ bands, I wanted to put the onus on Jeff, and he didn’t want to direct me. He’s one of my oldest, best friends, and didn’t want to tell me what to do.”

Robin started at Heavenly in January 1994, which was when I moved from the South-East to Lancashire. My London days ended just as his truly kicked in, kind of making me wonder whether his role – with a twist of fate – could have been mine, heading from my own fanzine writing days to joining the Heavenly stable and covering all these great acts.

That said, I was fairly burned out around then with regard to the music scene, to a point that I couldn’t get too excited by the time the Brit Pop thing happened, having seen lots of great bands who deserved success not getting those breaks I felt they deserved.

“I probably remember those early days best, but at that point it was quite a dormant label, with very few releases. That is interesting. Brit Pop was this thing that wiped out everything else, but you’re right, there were lots of great scenes before that. The kind of Oasis-centric Brit Pop story I find pretty uninteresting. There was so much more to it than that.

“I preferred the electronic side, so I was working with Underworld and The Chemical Brothers out of the Heavenly office, and there was drum and bass kicking off. Noel Gallagher was on Chemical Brothers and Goldie records. It was all very interconnected. But read the history now, and it’s basically … Oasis play Knebworth, and so on!”

Yep, and I could name so many bands from that previous era who deserved more, not least personal favourites like BOB and before them That Petrol Emotion.

“Ah, That Petrol Emotion! Andy Weatherall’s Boys’ Own mix of ‘Abandon’ is one of my favourite records of all time! Jeff was managing Andy at that point, so again … all part of the big inter-connected family.”

Robin’s book is dedicated to both Andrew Weatherall and Pete Lusty, the Australian label boss whose managed bands included Heavenly outfit The Vines (who also get a chapter in the book), both gone far too young, lost in February and March 2020 respectively.

As Jeff put it in his closing piece, ‘Andrew’s name and fingerprint runs all the way through this story. He mixed our very first release, remixed our second, and it’s fair to say that his recent remixes for The Orielles, audiobooks and Confidence Man are up there with his best. His DJ sets soundtracked more of our nights than we can remember, from the first Heavenly party at the Camden Underworld to half a dozen successive summers in Cornwall as resident DJ on the Caught by the River stage we booked for the Port Eliot Festival.’

And both Andrew and Pete were fondly remembered by Robin as we wrapped up our chat.

“I’ve still got a text message from Andy, trying to arrange an interview which never happened. He was one of the last people I was due to speak to for this book. Much like Chris (Camm), he’s somebody who was very important to the label and was always there, even though he was never a signed artist.

“He was managed out of the office for ages, and DJ’d for us, from these weird little nights at The Social onwards, and was such a brilliant, lovely chap. He passed away just as we were getting to the finishing stages of the book. As did Pete, another friend of ours, and another brilliant bloke.”

…Believe in Magic is available as a £30 hardback, or £35 limited-run exclusive special editions with either a 7” Saint Etienne single (HVN550STE – ‘Spring’ b/w ‘Spring (instrumental)’, the A-side taken from Foxbase Alpha and available for the first time as a single, the flip side previously unreleased) or a Working Men’s Club track (HVN550WMC – ‘Angel (part 1)’ b/w ‘Angel (part 2)’, as heard in WMC’s live sets and here in a studio version produced by Ross Orton, split over both sides of a 7”). Special editions also include a fold-out map by Herb Lester of Heavenly’s London hotspots, with more detail here. 

Work Experience: Robin Turner attempting to tick the ‘no publicity’ box in the Heavenly office, all those years ago

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Independents’ Day – fighting the lockdown from behind closed doors at Action Records and Vinyl Exchange

Posted on November 9, 2020 by writewyattuk

Corner Shop: Vinyl Exchange, Oldham Street, Manchester. But the shutters are down for now (Photo: Vinyl Exchange)

As the UK returned late last week to ‘non-essential’ retail limbo – aka Lockdown 2 – amid the on-going coronavirus pandemic, I felt it was high time I caught up with two treasured independent North West record shops among many more nationwide forced back behind closed doors.

But fear not. Action Records in Preston and Vinyl Exchange in Manchester are here to stay, determined to weather the storm, albeit in online-only format right now in line with the latest restrictions.

Adaptation appears to be key in these testing times, and Gordon Gibson at Action Records and Richard Farnell at Vinyl Exchange are no strangers to having to think differently in order for their long-established, cherished independent stores to survive.

Let’s start with Gordon, who set up his first record stall in Blackpool in 1979, and who’s hardly had the 40th anniversary celebrations he might have envisaged when we looked forward to that occasion in a feature during the summer of 2018 (with a link here).

“Well, no! We’re just hoping we can get to 41 now!”

First there was the lockdown in mid-March, the adopted Lancastrian with Stranraer roots forced to shut his doors until mid-June. And now it’s happening all over again, trading in store ending at the close of play on Wednesday, November 4th, the shop closed for the foreseeable future.

But while there’s no clear end-date to the latest national lockdown, Gordon’s determined to battle on behind the scenes, the level of community support last time suggesting he has reason to remain optimistic for the shop’s future.

Early last week, Action Records announced, “In line with Government guidelines, we will have to be closed from Thursday until further notice. We will be operating a click and collect service, either by using our website or phone. Mail order will continue as normal. We look forward to seeing you soon!”

Two’s Company: Gordon Gibson with the legendary John Peel at a Fi-Lo Radio session, 2000 (Photo: Action Records)

It was a typical understated but resolute approach from Gordon – who first picked up the keys for his Preston shop in the early ‘80s – and nothing you wouldn’t expect in such trying circumstances, mid-pandemic.

“In the first lockdown, we did alright. There was a lot of support around. And the weather was good. It was a kind of different atmosphere then. We managed to get through, but I think it might be bit tougher this month, going up to Christmas. I don’t see it being so easy, and the online thing …people tend to get fed up with that. They want to get out and buy stuff.

“I don’t know how it’s gonna go … but as long as we take enough to cover the bills …. I don’t want to lay anybody off. We just want to get through it.”

As well as himself, Gordon has three staff, his son helping out behind the scenes too.

“I just don’t want to go down that route, getting involved with furloughing. And even that’s different this time to the original scheme. We managed to get through last time without doing any of that, and let’s just hope they’ll let us open at the beginning of December. If they keep shops shut going up to Christmas, so many businesses will be knackered.”

You mentioned the level of community support you had last time from a loyal customer base, for the three-month lockdown. I guess all you can hope is that they’re there for you again this time around.

“Yeah, hopefully. Although there were a lot of extra factors involved last time, and we did a lot better on mail order. This time we’re going to have to rely mainly on the regular type of customers.”

Of course, there would be an outcry if Action Records – the subject of 2015 short documentary, ‘Chased by Nuns’, and a business that’s also served as an occasional record label, revered in indie circles through releases from the likes of The Boo Radleys, Fi-Lo Radio, local stars Big Red Bus, Dandelion Adventure, The Common Cold, and most recently Ginnel, plus the late Mark E. Smith and his legendary band The Fall – was no longer on Preston’s main thoroughfare.

Queue Action: The congregation awaitibng the arrival of Reverend and the Makers in 2019 (Photo: Action Records)

But this inspirational character, now in his mid-60s, has witnessed enough closures around town in recent times to keep a level head.

“Oh yeah, you just see empty shops when you walk through town. And I see a lot of cafes and worry that this is going to kill a lot of them off. We’ve got away with it so far, but this (lockdown) is going to be crucial for them.”

I’m guessing you get a similar vibe talking to fellow independent traders you have links with in neighbouring towns and cities.

“Well, yeah, everyone’s in the same boat. At least we’ve been open as much as we can. A lot of record shops around the country have never re-opened … just doing mail order. They haven’t opened their doors (since last time). But we had to – we’re a record shop and want to meet people!”

I’m guessing you’ve had to either cancel or at least postpone a few music-related events you were planning on hosting.

“We’ve still got a lot of ongoing gigs, like those with The Cribs and Seagulls … all still in the pipeline. We just have to confirm the dates. They’re all still going to happen in (nearby nightclub) Blitz.”

I get the impression it’ll only really be the Amazon-type mail order firms wringing their hands at the prospect of another period of online-only trade in your sector.

“They will be, but I’m also worried about the supermarkets. There were mentions of that in Wales (for their earlier circuit-breaker lockdown), when people asked – rightly so – ‘Why should they be allowed to sell clothes? Why should they be allowed to sell anything that’s not food or deemed an essential item?’”

Vinyl Score: A happy punter behind the mask after a long queuing experience for #RSD2020 (Photo: Action Records)

I guess there’s a knock-on effect, even if it’s just someone buying a Lewis Capaldi CD or a bestselling paperback on the way to the tills.

“Yeah, and why should they be allowed to sell that? Supermarkets have absolutely cleaned up. They may not be in the same market as me, but they’re in the same market as a lot of others. Even HMV has to close.”

If anything positive is coming out of this, it’s various independent book stores and other non-retail giants coming together as mail order concerns, to try and compete with bigger online businesses.

“Well, there is that. And there’s the Entertainment Retail Association, behind Record Store Day and all that (involving more than 200 independent record shops across the UK). We were meant to have this RSD (Record Store Day) Black Friday retail promotion for record stores coming up (November 27th), but that’s just before we’re meant to open … if we are allowed to then.”

And yet, customer loyalty is something that’s helped you get through before now.

“Yeah … we’re hoping. As long as we can pay the bills and all that … it’s just a case of getting through, hoping we’re not shut after the beginning of December. Christmas is maybe not what it used to be – for anyone these days – but it’s still a big piece of business.”

It’s a similar story at Vinyl Exchange, a shop lots of record lovers across the region will know well,  in the heart of Manchester’s Northern Quarter, set up in 1988 by Jo Bindley and Mark Jarrett, who worked at London’s Reckless Records and realised a similar business model could work elsewhere, relocating accordingly. They began in a smaller shop, mostly selling records from their own collection to get things going before expanding into the current premises on Oldham Street in 1991 as the business grew.

Richard Farnell, originally from Deepcar, near Stocksbridge, on the outskirts of Sheffield, started working there in 1995, having relocated from South Yorkshire, telling me he ‘was tired of living in grotty shared houses back in Sheffield’ and ‘wanted a change of scene’.

Charming Man: The Suncharms’ Richard Farnell rehearsing in a Bamford attic in 1990 (Photo: Richard Farnell)

“I’d had a Christmas job in Our Price over there, which expanded to about six months, then worked in a second-hand shop, Jack’s Records, one or two days a week. I also worked nights on the bar at The Leadmill. I was mostly focused on playing bass in a band and naively thought working in record shops would be something to do before getting famous!”

That band was indie favourites The Suncharms, who by 1993 – by his own admission – ‘had fizzled out’, Richard ‘doing a whole lot of nothing for a while’. But two years later he decided to send his ‘meagre CV’ to various record shops around the country, ending up with an interview at Vinyl Exchange, ‘no doubt helped by the fact that my brother was friends with one of the staff’.

“I’d been visiting Manchester since 1986 when my brother moved here to study, so it didn’t feel like too much of a scary move. I had two interviews – one to get to know me and another to gauge my music knowledge – and got offered the job. Within two weeks I’d moved over and found myself living in another grotty shared house, but now on the ‘wrong’ side of the Pennines!”

Having worked his way up to a supervisory then a management role, when the owners decided to sell the business, he joined forces with fellow manager, James, buying the business as a going concern, taking over in August 2008.

So, a dozen years on, how’s it going for this 51-year-old – married with two children and living in Sale, South Manchester – as we enter a second UK lockdown?

“Initially, the first lockdown was pretty positive. It gave us chance to catch our breath, and the website did really well in the first few weeks. However, towards the end it felt the novelty was wearing off, and it was less busy. We furloughed all but two of 11 of us. Our customers were really supportive, and you could recognise many regulars’ names appearing on online orders who we’d normally see in the shop.

“I hope we get the same level of support this time, but it does feel like this lockdown might be different. I’m concerned people might be less inclined to spend if worried about their jobs and income. But I guess we’ll see.”

Tree’s Company: Richard Farnell at home in Sale with a copy of Felt’s Penelope Tree (Photo: Richard Farnell)

Does it make it worse being on the run-up to Christmas?

“Potentially, as I suspect many people will be tightening their belts, but on the other hand there should hopefully be enough people wanting to treat themselves to records, CDs and DVDs to while away the hours of lockdown boredom. And I remain fairly positive that there are enough music lovers out there who want to support independent shops like ours.”

Is there a good community feel where you are? The Northern Quarter has a good reputation for its nightlife and general vibe, and I’ve enjoyed past visits to The Band on the Wall, and the Night and Day café a few doors from you, where I caught the reformed version of The Chesterfields last year, supported by a certain outfit also back recording and playing occasional shows, The Suncharms.

“Ha! Yeah, it’s a very vibrant area, but much of that’s based around the bars and cafes, which of course can’t properly function now. It’s nice that there are a few record shops within spitting distance of each other, and we know them all and feel we’re all mutually supportive of each other. And we’re a ticket outlet for a couple of local gig promoters like Hey! Manchester.”

Was there a feeling of solidarity regarding Mayor of Greater Manchester Andy Burnham’s recent stand for local businesses and battle with the Government? The last few weeks seem to have – cliché alert – put the region back on the map in a show of resilience and independent spirit.

“I think most local businesses were pleased with Mr Burnham’s stance. There is a proud tradition in Manchester of putting up some resistance when things get tough.”

True enough. And like Gordon over at Action Records in Preston, do you see it similarly with regard to the threat of online competition, supermarkets, and so on?

“I totally get where he’s coming from, and yes, there’s a lot of competition online. But supermarkets selling vinyl is possibly a passing trend, and they only really focus on a few current pop acts and reissues of the usual ‘heritage’ bands. If they start stocking second-hand copies of rare psych-folk albums or punk singles though, then I’ll be worried!

“I think our strength is that as well as the big-name artists from the past, we also focus on many different niche genres, and a lot of rarities and collectable one-off items.”

Action Stations: Gordon Gibson checks his rising stock at his Church Street HQ (Photo: Neil Cross / Lancashire Post)

For more details about Action Records’ online operation, head to their online  site or keep in touch via the shop’s Facebook page. For Vinyl Exchange info, head here and keep in touch via Facebook. And for details of other record shops involved with RSD Black Friday on November 27th, follow this link.

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Whole lotta Sweet’n’Sour shakin’ goin’ on – Baby Shakes talk transatlantic special relationships with The Undertones

Posted on November 8, 2020 by writewyattuk

Shakin’ Foundations: Baby Shakes, 2020 style. From NYC with plenty of glam-rock love (Photo: Alexander Thompson)

There was always a healthy relationship between the NYC and UK punk and new wave scenes, each movement inspiring the other, from the inspirational effect of the New York Dolls and Ramones on the Sex Pistols and The Clash onwards, back to Blondie and Talking Heads, and right through.

And it seems that this transatlantic influence continues, judging by the latest 45 from happening New York outfit Baby Shakes. But how did this young outfit end up recording with two members of Northern Irish legends The Undertones? Well, you’re about to find out.

Similarly, the Derry outfit always acknowledged their US influences, from the MC5 and Motown to the US psych and garage scene, and like Baby Shakes there was also a nod to the glam-rock era, both bands citing a love for treasured outfits like Slade, Sweet and T-Rex.

Baby Shakes, founded in 2005 by Mary Blount (lead vocals, guitar), Judy Lindsay (lead guitar, vocals) and Claudia Gonzalez (bass, vocals), and joined in 2015 by Ryan McHale (replacing original drummer Dave Rahn), covered The Undertones early doors, tackling 1979 single ‘Get Over You’ live, and their latest single includes their take on that great 45’s treasured B-side, drummer Billy Doherty’s ‘Really Really’ on the flip of a more recent happening number by Undertones guitarist Damian O’Neill, a glam-tinged twist on 2018 solo LP stormer, ‘Sweet’n’Sour’.

It was during the gap between lockdowns that the girls made their Atlantic crossing to Northern Ireland to record vocals and breathe added life into those two numbers, Billy (drums/percussion), Damian (guitar, bass, organ) and Billy’s nephew Stephen Mailey (guitar) initially putting down backing tracks at Small Town America Studio, Derry.

Considering themselves a rock’n’roll/punk band and touring fairly relentlessly since February 2005, taking in the US, UK and Ireland, mainland Europe, China and Japan, attracting new fans wherever they play, Baby Shakes already a few LPs and several singles behind them, and recently sold out London’s legendary 100 Club as part of a set of dates sadly cancelled due to the pandemic.

Boasting ‘catchy melodic vocals over dirty guitars and a killer rhythm section’, they say their influences range from Chuck Berry to the afore-mentioned Slade, having shared stages with Buzzcocks, The Boys, Iggy Pop, and The Barracudas, among others, en route, including The Undertones.

They formed out of a series of encounters at legendary venues such as CBGBs and the Mars Bar, bonding over a love for the Ramones and The Go-Go’s, The Nerves, early Bangles and Motown girl groups, and were soon carving out their own sound, ‘riffing on sizzling guitars and melodic tunes, wrapped up in a Brooklyn sheen’.

According to the indie label behind their new release, the latest Baby Shakes single is the first of two for Dimple Discs. But let’s cut to the chase and ask them direct. And while regular readers know I’m not one for Q&A style interviews, preferring to get to the heart of things with a phone call or one-to-one (or in this case one-to-four) scribbler-to-artiste meetings, I succumbed to COVID-19 last week and was left with severely low energy levels, so – dreading lots of  transcription, post-NYC phone call, might finish me off – I fired off some questions their way, hence the answers being attributed to ‘Baby Shakes’ rather than any one individual band member. So here goes, and they did a cracking job, as I kind of expected.

As I’ve pointed out in my intro, there’s always been that healthy reciprocal relationship between NYC punk and new wave and the UK scene. But how did you chance upon The Undertones’ back-catalogue? You’re way too young, surely. Who introduced you to Derry’s finest?

“We like to think music is timeless, and so are great bands! No one’s too young to appreciate Mozart or punk. In all honesty though, our taste in music is pretty much influenced by people from different generations; a grandfather who loved Elvis, parents and siblings who were into ‘80s new wave, uncles that loved The Beatles or Black Sabbath, and older ‘cool kids’ at school that made us DIY punk mix-tapes. Can’t remember exactly how we came across The Undertones, but it was probably at the point we discovered Sex Pistols and the Ramones, in our ‘tween years. Those two bands changed everything for us, we got hooked and went digging through the used rock bins at the local record shops for ‘77 punk, and pretty much got our history lesson from there.”

The UK scene took a nod from earlier disreputable acts like the MC5 too, and The Undertones often cite the importance of the late ‘60s US psych/garage scene, not least Lenny Kaye’s Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era compilation. Was that something you were aware of?

“Absolutely, we’re big fans of MC5 and the whole Detroit rock scene … especially Suzi Quatro and her first band the Pleasure Seekers! We know Damian is a big Stooges fan as well, and have that in common with him.

“As for US psych/garage, we like The Music Machine, The Seeds, Love, 13th Floor Elevators (R.I.P. Roky) The Merry-Go-Round (R.I.P. Emitt), ? and the Mysterians (we actually got to play with them once), the Sonics, and of course The Byrds, the album Pet Sounds (but all Beach Boys as well), and Flamin’ Groovies are like our Rolling Stones. We actually first discovered The Chocolate Watchband because of The Undertones’ version of ‘Let’s Talk About Girls’. Great band, and The Undertones do a fantastic cover.

“And here’s a fun fact – the Japanese sleeve for the new single was in homage to The Choir’s ‘It’s Cold Outside’ original Japanese 45. The artist, Von Sentimental, was inspired by this cover art and decided to put a modern punky twist on it.”

It’s not just about punk and new wave, early rock’n’roll and ‘60s Motown either. Like The Undertones, I see you have a penchant for glam-rock and treasured UK outfits like Slade, T-Rex and Sweet.

“Yep, we’re glam-rock fanatics! The plan was to do a record with that crunchy boot-stompin’ ‘70s glitter sound. Billy and Damian played the part of Chinn and Chapman! Think we made something together that would’ve been a great fit on RAK Records in the day.”

Still Shooting: Baby Shakes shoot the video for the new 45, a first with Undertones’ Billy Doherty and Damian O’Neill

How did you get to know each other in the band? Were you school or college friends, or edgy neighbours?

“Judy and Claudia met at a punk show at CBGB’s when they were teenagers. They both had studded jackets, pink/blue hair and collected UK ‘82 and ‘77 punk singles, so it made sense they’d become good friends. They used to jam out to Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers songs together in their living rooms. A friend of ours, the artist Avi Spivak, knew we were looking for bandmates, so when Mary moved to New York from Seattle, he introduced us at his DJ night. We all got along so well, and when we heard Mary sing, we knew it was the perfect style for the kind of music we all wanted to play. And she played guitar too! As for Ryan … we’ve had many drummers in the past, but he was definitely the missing puzzle piece. We met him through mutual friends when we needed a drummer for a show.”

What did the first set include? And were you already Baby Shakes by then?

“That first set included our rendition of ‘Get Over You’, along with a couple of our own original tracks we’d been working on for a few weeks before we booked our first gig. We also did a cover by the British all-girl band The Gymslips, The Boys, and would always jam out on a couple of Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers tunes at practice, so sometimes those made it into our sets.”

How important was the NYC club scene for honing your skills – was that your apprenticeship of sorts?

“It was incredibly important, because the NYC punk/rock’n’roll scene is all about showing your chops. We needed to prove we could stand up there with everyone else and give it all we’ve got. If you’re just a cover band you automatically get dismissed, but being a DIY-band that writes your own music and plays well earns respect on the scene. Think we managed to surprise a few people that didn’t know what to expect from us, and to inspire some girls to start their own bands along the way, which is a pretty rewarding feeling for us.”

Tell us more about how you ended up meeting then getting to know The Undertones.

“The year we started Baby Shakes we recorded a cover of ‘Get Over You’ on our demo. It was the first cover we ever recorded and somehow the promoter of the show heard it and asked us to support them in Brooklyn. It was a dream come true. We were just starting to play out live, so we were nervous about playing in front of them. Judy recalls her fingers turning into spaghetti when she saw Damian O’Neill watch us during the soundcheck!

Turning Japanese: The alternative cover of the new 45

“But they were all such nice guys! They complimented us on the show, signed our records and took photos with us. We got to chatting backstage and it was such an inspiring experience for us, and to this day they’re still one of our biggest influences. We still cover their songs live and we paid homage to them on our second album, Starry Eyes. Our insert is a replica of the inner sleeve of Hypnotised and has photos of us meeting them. So, I guess you can say we really look up to them!”

Was getting to work with Billy and Damian a logical next career step, bearing in mind their influence on you? And what were your first impressions on meeting The Undertones when you toured together early on? 

“Since day one, the ‘Tones have been incredibly supportive and encouraging. They’re all super-sweet, really funny and very down to earth. Although we’ve been nervous about supporting them and recording together at first, we all get along so well, and it’s always been such a good time in their company. When we got to chatting, we realised we had a lot in common as far as taste in music and a similar sense of humour. We were literally in tears laughing at their jokes some nights in the studio and on the phone! Billy’s nephew Stephen is rad too, he played second guitar on the tracks and we had a blast with him out in Derry. It was just such a fun experience, like no other recording session we’ve ever had.”

You clearly knew their back-catalogue. But how about Damian’s solo record? And what did you think when you were offered the wonderful ‘Sweet’n’Sour’, a song you somehow made your own (as is the case with the wondrous ‘Really Really’)?

“Yes! We thought the songs were so catchy, and absolutely love them! Damian and Billy are brilliant songwriters and producers. This was our first time doing anything like this and we thought the tunes were a perfect fit for our band.

“When we heard the demos of the songs Damian wrote, we instantly loved them! They’re so catchy and fun, and we had the tunes stuck in our heads for days. He’s a brilliant songwriter. Damian and Stephen both did a great job at writing some catchy guitar licks to match it. We were honoured that they trusted us to put our own Baby Shakes spin on them vocally. The music matches our sound so well.

“And Billy’s tune ‘Really Really’ has always been one of our favourite Undertones songs, so it made sense as a cover since it was originally the B-side to ‘Get Over You’, the song we covered at the start of our band that initially linked us up and wound up bringing us all back together years later. It’s almost like things came full circle. We had fun reimaging this song as a modern take on a 60’s girl group tune, Billy being the Phil Spector-esque force behind it.”

It sounds like you were well looked after on your visit to Derry.

“They gave us the grand tour, which was amazing. Being able to see where it all started and getting a history lesson from our muses on the streets where it all began was incredible. We really nerded out, and of course people kept recognising them on the street. Everyone is so nice in Derry!”

“When Billy asked if we wanted to make a record together, of course we said, ‘YES!’ We were thrilled they’d want to work on music with us. It sounded unreal, but the next thing we knew we were on a plane to Derry to record vocals for four explosive tracks that Billy, Damian and Billy’s nephew Stephen played music for. They gave us that personal tour of Derry and we really got to understand how The Undertones grew up and what things were like when they were starting the band.

“It was such an incredible experience for us, we learned so much from them and it was really encouraging to have their guidance in the studio. We’ve never had a producer on any of our previously recorded material, so this was a new challenge, but they really pushed us and we had so much fun with them. We felt so comfortable being ourselves around them. They really got us, we were totally on the same page as far as the sound we wanted and it’s as though we had all known each other and had been working together for years. Overall, it was such a magical experience.”

How would you describe Baby Shakes 2020, as opposed to the initial 2005 version? What have you learned these past 15 years that you wished you’d known at the beginning?

“That anything you want to achieve takes a lot of persistence and hard work. Sometimes people call us lucky, but luck has nothing to do with it. From the day we started we’ve sacrificed a lot and worked really hard for many years just to be in a touring band. Also, you have to be thick-skinned and know how to take criticism and rejection well. Not everyone is going to agree with you or like what you’re doing, but that doesn’t matter as long as you’re passionate about your work and have fun in the process. We’ve gotten really good at working together and learning how to compromise with each other. It’s how we’ve been a band for so long. There are no egos, no laziness and we all do our part, so it’s been an amazingly fun journey as a band family.”

Was it a thrill to first get over here and play the UK?  

“We’ve been wanting to play the UK for so long, so we were thrilled when we first got offered shows there a few years ago. Playing a headline show at the legendary 100 Club in London was a dream come true! We had another gig booked there right before the lockdown, and we can’t wait to be able to go back as soon as it’s safe.”

It’s Billy on drums on this single, but Ryan’s still involved, right? And has social distancing and the pandemic disrupted your rehearsals?

“Oh yeah, Ryan is still stuck with us – ha ha! He hasn’t gotten rid of us yet! We all chat every day, but after the first two months of the pandemic we had to give up our rehearsal studio, unfortunately. We’re trying to get a rehearsal in soon at an hourly space, because they’ve just reopened recently, and we really miss playing together and seeing each other.”

First Footing: The debut LP, 2008’s The First One

These have clearly been testing times with Covid-19 and the orange bigot in charge amidst this crisis. Have there been day-jobs to help you get by?

“Well… it’s been difficult. Since New York is such an expensive city and we were used to having such a busy tour schedule, we were pretty much all working as much as we could, pre-pandemic. We worked overtime in between tours and took extra jobs to afford the rent, because we were taking off weeks at a time for touring every couple of months. During the pandemic some of us have been going to work full-time and the other half have been unemployed or under-employed. Some of our places of business have closed indefinitely and freelance work is skimpy. It’s kind of a huge mess and we’re really hoping things can progress, and we can start recovering … with better leadership by 2021. Besides our trip to Derry and recording the EP, this year has been a huge disappointment. But we’ve still got our chins held high, and we’re doing what we can. It’s so exciting to have a release in 2020, so at least there’s that!”

And while I’m on (bear in mind I asked these questions more than a week ago), have you all voted yet?

“Definitely! We all turned in our ballots early this year. The big day is coming up soon and we’re hoping for the best, it just has to be better!”

Quite right too, and I’m putting finishing touches to this interview the day after it was finally offically declared that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris were on their way to the White House, for what promises to be a happy ending to what until now has been a frankly awful year. Meanwhile, from homegrown tours and UK and European jaunts to trips to South-East Asia, it’s been a hell of a blast since 2005 for Baby Shakes, hasn’t it?

“It’s been a dream come true, and we’re very fortunate to be rewarded for all our hard work! Can’t wait to continue travelling, playing and doing what we love again, one day soon!”

So what happens next? Are there plans for another ‘Babytones’ collaboration? And is there a new Baby Shakes LP on the horizon (even if touring it might not be so easy in the circumstances)?

“We’ve been writing some new tunes while we’ve been cooped up inside during the lockdown, and our goal is to have a new Baby Shakes LP written and hopefully recorded when we come out of this pandemic. We also have the second single of the EP that we recorded with the ‘Babytones’ on the way to be released by the lovely folks at Dimple Discs. And you can bet that it’s just as fantastic and catchy as the first one!”

So, there you have it … but I couldn’t just end it there. The following answers came via good friend of this website, Brian ‘No Relation’ O’Neill, on behalf of the Dimple Discs label, grilling Undertones legends Billy Doherty and Damian O’Neill on the BabyTones project, first asking what they make of their NYC buddies.

Billy: “What do I think of Baby Shakes? They are sensationally glam-tastic; my pop rockin’ chums who make you feel good all over.”

Classic Single: The Undertones’ Get Over You, c/w Really Really, a huge influence on Baby Shakes

Damian: “It’s obvious that Baby Shakes live can shake any joint to its very core. They have a pop sensibility and general enthusiasm that could win over the most hardened critics. But it wasn’t until working with them that we discovered a steely determination that they were gonna nail these songs, no matter what. They really worked hard to get it right, and their humour and enthusiasm made it one of the most fun sessions we’ve ever done.”

So how long has this transatlantic ‘special relationship’ and hands across the water affair been going on?

Billy: “I first met Baby Shakes when they supported The Undertones in 2005 at the Southpaw in Brooklyn, and was instantly drawn to them when they made their entrance at our soundcheck. After those initial awkward acquaintance protocol procedures, I was surprised how much we seemed to have in common, especially as it takes ages for me to get to know someone. I instinctively knew they were very special and refreshingly different.

“Actually, one of my all-time favourite memories was playing drums for them that night, when they covered ‘Get Over You’, which they played at a blistering speed … and boy, can they play! I watched their show and was captivated by their energy and genuine commitment. After the show we all met backstage and talked songs and bands, and especially how we all loved the glam-rock era. My administration was going by the second and I just couldn’t stop myself, so I popped the question, ‘Do you fancy making a record?’ ‘Yes!’ they shouted, jumping about in excitement and delight. What a precious moment that was. So we made plans to get a blockbusting tune for them, and thanks to young Damian O’Neill, he penned a golden nugget with ‘Sweet’n’Sour’. Damian, myself and Stephen Mailey, my nephew, recorded the backing tracks in Derry early in 2020. We then arranged to bring them over from New York to record the vocals.”

Damian: “We’ve been fans of the Baby Shakes ever since that Southpaw show. They then supported us again in New York at Le Poisson Rouge in May 2019. What made it extra special was Billy joining them on drums for ‘Get Over You’. Watching them nail the song together was the closest I’ve ever got to hearing what The Undertones would sound like from afar, only with youth and beauty added to the mix! In short, it was wonderful. This prompted Billy to suggest we explore a ‘Baby Tones’ collaboration that would incorporate our mutual musical influences, like ‘70’s glam and pop. We would provide the backing tracks and Baby Shakes the vocals.”

And what did you think of the new versions of your tunes?

Billy: “I really, really love the new Baby Shakes version of ‘Really Really’. Working with them, Damian and Stephen was such a tonic. It was so wonderful, enjoyable and refreshing to be intoxicated with everyone’s enthusiasm. Yes, for me it was truly magical, and I can’t wait to do it again.”

Damian: “I’d like to think ‘Sweet’n’Sour’ and ‘Really Really’ neatly merge Derry poptones with New York sassy attitude. There’s an infectious new freshness and enthusiasm oozing from the grooves.  The entire recording process was a total delight, and that’s obvious when you put the needle on the record for the first time. Billy and Stephen improve ‘Sweet’n’Sour’ by making it more immediate and snappy, especially in the chorus. Stephen’s guitar lifts the song to new heights, backed with Billy’s glam-a-lam floor-tom tribal beat. And not forgetting the girls’ wonderful vocals, which add a toughness that was missing from the original.

“A firm favourite among Undertones fans, ‘Really Really’ finally gets the pop stardust treatment it’s always deserved. It was as if Billy had written the song back in ‘78 with Baby Shakes in mind. Just a pity it’s taken 42 years to finally do it justice! And The Shangri-Las-esque talk over at the end of the song kills me every time I hear it, especially when the girls sing in the closing bars.”

Baby Love: New York City punk-rock’n’rollers Baby Shakes made it over to Derry in 2020 (Photo: Nathan Frohnhoefer)

‘Sweet‘n’Sour’/‘Really Really’ is available on limited-edition 7” vinyl and via various music streaming platforms as a digital download, with details from the Baby Shakes website or at https://dimpledisc.bandcamp.com/music. And to keep a handle on Baby Shakes, you can follow the band via Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, including links to the new single’s promo video.

For this site’s most recent interviews with Damian O’Neill (May 2019) and Billy Doherty (October 2016), follow the links. And if you’ve yet to track down Damian O’Neill and the Monotones’ 2018 LP, Refit, Revise, Reprise (with a WriteWyattUK review here), check out his official website and Facebook page. You can also see what else is on offer via Dimple Discs, their roster including fellow WriteWyattUK favourite Eileen Gogan, via Facebook and Instagram.

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Evoking the spirit of early Uriah Heep – a tribute to Ken Hensley

Posted on November 7, 2020 by writewyattuk

So many times I’ll put a record on and be transported back to specific times and places, that ability and chance to reflect involving many a genre, many a style of music, many an evocative memory. And while there was no real turning around for this Guildford lad once I moved from a diet of The Beatles, ELO, Queen, Slade and Wings towards punk, new wave and post-punk in my formative years, my appreciation of music occasionally drifted back into various unexpected areas.

A ‘60s and ‘70s soul fixation was coming, via Motown and Stax to Hi, Kent, and Philadelphia International. But old school hippie rock and psychedelia hovered in the background, and if I hear hairy-arse prog classics like Uriah Heep’s Look at Yourself and The Magician’s Birthday albums, I’m back to holiday, lunchtime and after-school visits to my friend Neil, aka Burger, in the attic of a four-storey house on The Mount, a stone’s throw (OK, a bloody long stone’s throw, I admit) from Lewis Carroll’s final resting place, for music I still equate with the mystical world the Rev. Dodgson inhabited during his own late 19th century visits to my hometown, the first a century before I was born.

With hindsight, I can’t imagine Uriah Heep ever took themselves too seriously, but they certainly played their mystical brand of heavy rock with straight faces, and within a couple of years of my late discovery of these innovative blues-driven, prototype metal-meets-prog Londoners, This Is Spinal Tap landed, and I couldn’t help but see a few similarities. And believe me, I did my homework in studies of the ‘Eep, my host always keen to put them on as we embarked upon another frame of pool in Burger’s attic (there’s a perfect title for a UH LP if ever there was one), matches I was more often than not soundly beaten in, despite occasional sly practises at The Queen Vic back in Shalford, run by fellow visitor James’ folks’ (where coincidentally, Neil served as landlord a few years later). Whatever time of day I dropped by, out came the vinyl, often initially with a groan from this teen, too cool – at least in my own head – for such heavy hippie fare. But those records made an impact, even if I never willingly admitted it back then.

Picture the scene. It’s 1983, I’m 15, it’s the Easter school holidays, and while principal songwriter Ken Hensley – who died this week after a short illness, aged 75 – had left the band three years earlier after 13 LPs, those classic early Uriah Heep records were still getting plenty of traction at No.52.

I’ll digress for a moment to a conversation around then with my old man, who swapped working as a Guildford-based loco fireman on the steam railways for the GPO in 1961, his following 30-plus years as a postie including a spell delivering to The Mount. Telling him one day I was off to a mate’s house there, he enquired, ‘What’s his name?’ and I guardedly replied, ‘Erm … Neil.’ A trademark gruff response followed. ‘Kneel down and …. (I’ll leave that bit out)? I meant, what’s his surname?’ The penny dropped. ‘Oh … Underwood,’ wondering what was coming next. He hesitated half a second, the old grey matter whirring, then announced, “D.J.,52.” And he never seemed to forget those details, even when dementia kicked in many moons later.

I loved growing up where I did, my home village a couple of miles out of town, a council house just a bankside path away from the idyllic River Tillingbourne, with woodland to explore either side of the stream. I saw it as the Beverly Hills of council estates compared to most in the area, and that wonderland over the back fence is a place I often return to in dreams – day and night – to re-live those ‘Tales from the Riverbank’ fellow Surrey lad Paul Weller wrote about, ‘where we ran when we were young’. As with my Woking neighbour, ‘True, it’s a dream mixed with nostalgia, but it’s a dream that I’ll always hang on to, that I’ll always run to.’ Yet despite that rural idyll, I also felt I was missing out when I considered that a few mates were so close to one another in town, with Neil barely a 10-minute walk from our secondary school, while for me that journey involved five-mile round-trip bike, bus or train rides.

Neil’s place was an open house back then, and a few of us were regular callers. Even the milkman would walk in, see what was needed by opening the fridge, replenishing it accordingly. ‘I think you might have a burglar,’ I said once, my ears straining, hearing an intruder downstairs. ‘Nah, that’ll be the milkman,’ my host replied, matter of fact, a grin on his face, ‘Checking what we need.’

Anyway, back in the attic, the needle was lowered on to the vinyl, another of Burger’s inherited LPs from his older sister, long since moved out, although her posters of local prog outfit Camel still adorned the wall. Neil’s white soul-boy brother was probably downstairs playing Level 42, his favourites cracking the top-30 earlier that year for the first time, Neil memorably telling us how his brother’s pals left the bar at Guildford Civic Hall in a conga when they played their biggest hit so far.

‘The Chinese way; Who knows what they know; The Chinese legend grows.’

Some days it was Led Zeppelin blasting out of the top window, and again it was initially under sufferance from my point of view, put off by the over-played ‘Stairway to Heaven’ and unmoved and distrusting of those mega drum solos like on ‘Moby Dick’. But I was soon seduced by old school heavy barnstormers like ‘Rock and Roll’, ‘Whole Lotta Love’ and ‘The Lemon Song’. I was already a fan of much of 1979’s In Through the Out Door, lured in by Nicky Horne on Capital Radio, and tracks like 1975’s ‘Kashmir’, but here I grew to re-evaluate the band’s earlier dirty blues moments, getting past the unappealing hair and the rock posturing.

On this occasion though, we were back in the time machine to late 1971, listening to an album released within a few weeks of Neil and I’s fourth birthdays, frenetic title track ‘Look at Yourself’ setting the tone, the harmonies of melodic rocker Wanna Be Free’ up next, teeing up side one’s atmospheric climax, introduced by Hensley’s three-deck keyboard, Neil rocking back and forth on an imaginary tottering stool, figurative long hair blowing in the breeze. Then came Mick Box’s searing guitar, Burger providing facial expressions to match, and his take on Paul Newton’s lines, playing that pool cue as an imaginary bass. And there to our imaginary right was Iain Clark on drums, lead singer David Byron at his side, waiting for his moment to step forward, the look of the fox about him, not unlike Vivian Stanshall doing the sublime ‘The Canyons of Your Mind’ with The Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band, glancing skywards before setting the scene,

‘There I was on a July morning; looking for love; With the strength of a new day dawning, and the beautiful sun.’  

I only learned this week that Manfred Mann adds Moog synth on that track and ‘Tears in My Eyes’, the song that announces side two, another powerhouse slice of vinyl that takes us through – via the progtastic ‘Shadows of Grief’ and more reflective ‘What Should Be Done’ – to the dirty blues finale that is ‘Love Machine’. Hell, the album cover even featured a mirror so you could, erm … well, look at yourself, kids.

But it’s ‘July Morning’ that resonated most with me, and still does to this day, an epic on a par with that aforementioned Led Zeppelin IV  biggie and Deep Purple’s ‘Child in Time’, if maybe not so lauded in wider circles. They don’t write ’em like that anymore. To quote my Aussie friend Bruce Jenkins’ May 2015 Uriah Heep appreciation for his Vinyl Connection website (linked below), ‘Then comes ‘July Morning’, centrepiece of this album and a stage favourite for years and years. Hensley’s organ features with rich reedy chords and simple but effective melodic lines; the extended final section where the keyboards extemporise over a repetitive guitar riff is organ/synth heaven – the US version cover notes by Hensley reveal that the synthesiser is played by guest Manfred Mann.’

Well, we already knew that last part, didn’t we, readers (* winks to camera). As for the commercial success of that LP, it just about made the UK top-40, their first to do so, but reached the summit in Finland and made it to No.5 in Japan a year later, its title track reaching No.4 in the Swiss singles charts. Not sure what all that proves, but they were on their way, soon filling arenas, selling millions of LPs, sharing bills with Rush – the latest subject of a ‘fanthology’ from author friend of WriteWyattUK, Richard Houghton, Uriah Heep opening for the Canadian outfit on their first US tour – as well as Kiss, Three Dog Night, and even Rory Gallagher.

Of that third LP line-up, the big league closing in, founding members Newton and Clark – perhaps marginalised by that core of Hensley, Box and Byron – soon departed. Clark’s replacement Lee Kerslake arrived in time for 1972’s Demons and Wizards, and arguably made the biggest impact of the new personnel. He died just a couple of months ago, having gone on to work with Ozzy Osbourne in the early ‘80s. As for Byron, real name David Garrick, him of that distinctive operatic lead vocal, he died aged just 38 in 1985, while one of Paul Newton’s replacements, New Zealander Gary Thain, who initially shared bass duties with Mark Clarke, checked out at just 27 in 1975 after his own troubled series of events.

As it was, Byron, Box, Hensley and Kerslake remained at the band’s core until 1976’s High and Mighty, when the original vocalist was fired amid his on-going battle with the booze. Of the four personnel who played on the first three albums, there’s just Mick Box and Paul Newton left now, in their early 70s and quick to pass on respects to their old bandmate and Uriah Heep’s initial chief songwriter this week. And I too salute Kenneth William David Hensley (August 24th, 1945 – November 4th, 2020) here – paying tribute to a gifted multi-instrumentalist and composer with a passion for poetry and fantasy, who realised his ambition to make it in a band, recently reflecting on that period of his life with the classic line-up of Uriah Heep – talking to Eamon O’Neill at Eon Music – as something that ‘was all like a mad dream’.

‘At the sound of the first bird singing, I was leaving for home; With the storm and the night behind me, and the road of my own.”

Apparently, Ken  Hensley sketched out ‘July Morning’ on his guitar in the early hours while bored waiting for the headliners to finish so the two bands could leave on their shared tour bus, ‘in the North of England somewhere’. My friend Niall, who got to witness Uriah Heep a couple of times in their early ‘70s heyday at Guildford Civic, paid his own tribute yesterday and said Ken was ‘one of the good guys’. And he’s right. We only briefly travelled the same road, but I admired his musicality and sense of vision, this old school prog-rock innovator who encouraged those who followed his path to realise the power of dreams … mad or otherwise. Can’t say fairer than that. Rest in peace, Ken.

For an intimate, detailed interview with Ken Hensley by Eamon O’Neill from just a few weeks ago, celebrating the release of Uriah Heep’s career-spanning ’50 Years in Rock’ 23-CD boxset, follow this Eon Music website link. 

Furthermore, friend of this website Bruce Jenkins, based in Melbourne, Australia, has his own Yesterday’s Tomorrow appreciation of early Uriah Heep on his splendid Vinyl Connection website, with a link here. 

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Going viral, 2020 style …

Posted on November 1, 2020 by writewyattuk

This is a WriteWyattUK public service announcement … without guitars. Hereby follows a written intermission, after a testing fortnight on the home front in which this website’s sole scribe finally succumbed to the dreaded coronavirus. Normal service will be resumed as soon as I’m ever deemed (in my mind or anyone else’s) normal, or at least when energy levels are high enough again. Until then …

Masked Avenger: The author in Falmouth last month, and already awaiting his next fix of post-virus sunshine (Photo: Lottie Wyatt)

Mud-and-leaf-caked trainers fastened. Check. Lumberjacket on, raincoat zipped. Check. Potent mix of hotdog pieces and cheese in plastic cup. Check. Back door open. Check. Now where’s that dog?

Poor Millie. A week stuck in the house, just the back garden to look forward to when it comes to outdoor pursuits. A back garden increasingly resembling a Great War battlefield. Bucket-loads of rain and soggy wanderings taking their toll, the grass-free patches afforded us by taking on a rescued female Labrador-cross just before the first lockdown (our rescued Collie-cross, Tom … RIPee … would wee everywhere, but neatly around the edges, with no damage done– our girl’s alternative is somehow highly toxic) turning from dry earth to gloop.

I’m not complaining. We at least have the luxury of a spacious back garden. Thousands don’t. But it’s become mighty small since that positive test came in for my beloved. This morning, not for the first time, there was hope in those gorgeous eyes that the pre-amble might lead to a proper w-a-l-k. She followed me around a bit, sat beautifully, charged around me, edging closer to that front door. But soon enough she got the picture. If we were going anywhere, it wasn’t beyond the front door. Instead, it was back to Passchendaele, 1917 style. And before anyone picks me up on that, I’m not making light of an historic nightmare. Just think of it as descriptive.

I ventured over the back step towards the trenches (more WWI imagery, but I’ll stop there) and proffered a small chunk of cheese. Millie took it, I carried on. I turned back. No sign. She was gone. She’d sniffed the air, looked out, then darted back through the kitchen and on to my better half’s lap in the back room. I went back to the window, showed her the cup. Her response? The facial expression suggested, ‘You are joking, mate’. Playtime was over for now.

The previous night, a similar tale, but we at least got some exercise in. I threw hotdog on to an armchair, she jumped up and retrieved. I threw the next bit by the living room door. She charged through, click and collect style. I moved to the foot of the stairs, threw the sausage up towards Andrew the chicken (don’t ask) at the top by the stained-glass window. She clambered up and wolfed it down. You get the picture. We got two-thirds of the way down the cup before she’d had enough and burrowed back into the sofa. I needed a sit down and a wheeze by then.

There I guess is the other side of the coin. The joys of COVID-19. Yep, we’re not complaining. Worse things happen at Chelsea. We’re still here, we’re relatively fit, and we’re getting through. Two of us have tested positive, the third reckons she’s got it, but it didn’t show up on her test. My better half got there first, her day-job in a pre-school the likely cause. However amazing her and fellow staff are, sterilising every corner of their setting within an inch of its life, with a meticulously safe regime in place, they’re still dealing with under-fives and – in some cases – parents not quite on that same page. And they’ve been open so long this year, either fully or just for children of those deemed ‘essential’ workers. It was only a matter of time before complacency elsewhere – and I mean among parents and guardians, not staff – had an impact. Now there’s a few of us ‘extended families’ going through this. One positive test for a staff member was quickly followed by news of at least two children feeling poorly, the centre temporarily shut down. Maybe that trotted-out official national line about children not being super-spreaders wasn’t quite true after all.

Lazy Day: Our Millie, taking it easy, wondering when the next proper walk is coming her way (Photo: Malcolm Wyatt)

I’m not here to set myself up as either an expert or a martyr. I don’t know it all, and some people have got it far worse. But it’s shit, all the same. If you can avoid the coronavirus, please do. Not least as it’ll help keep the hospital wards clear. Those underfunded hospital wards run by committed but underpaid NHS staff. Yep, those care workers this Government was more than happy to stand outside and clap for, but determined not to give a payrise. Scum.

We’ll get through this though. Thankfully, we haven’t got the underlying health conditions that would make this all so much harder. I don’t want to alarm anyone here, but that first night I definitely knew I had this – before the positive, official conclusion – was hard. I was knackered, in bed by nine, but couldn’t sleep. My breathing was fast, and the more I thought about it and others I knew and liked who would struggle in similar circumstances, the worse it got. This was no cold. I struggled to regulate my breathing, and it took me a couple of hours before I finally got there. I eventually drifted off, for at least an hour. My biggest crime that night, after my beloved let Millie out for a wee in the early hours, was letting on to her that I’d been struggling earlier. I dozed back off while she remained awake, listening to my breathing, worried about a repeat episode. Well, they say you drop your guard now and again.

Thankfully that stage didn’t last long, touch wood, although there have been instances since, once when I hear my big sister was waiting at her local hospital to be admitted. Thankfully no COVID-19 there, but your mind still goes into overdrive. I’ve never encountered panic attacks or incidences of claustrophobia but guess there’s something in that. Mostly it’s been a story of fatigue for me, but also lack of appetite, alternate sweats and shivers, and …. did I mention I was tired? A sore throat too, but maybe that was down to my OTT swabbing technique, making sure I’d reached my tonsils at the testing centre last Sunday. At one point, I prodded slightly too far and there was a horrible retching sound. The poor lad manning the tent had a brief glance around the partition flap to make sure I was alright. I apologised a minute later, and he brushed it off, announcing, “I’ve heard far worse noises lately … and that’s just from my fellow staff.”.

And there’s the thing. From the car park attendants to the staff within, they were great. Hats off to South Ribble Borough Council in my case. If only this was all run at local Government level. But how about the track and trace people? Well, let’s be positive first. They were soon on to me, and every time I’ve had a phone call, they’ve been great. The right mix of info and concern. Also, a little humour and a few laughs. The fact that I was throwing in the odd one-liner might have helped break the ice. So fair play to all those manning the phones … in my experience. However, where it seems to go wrong several months down the line is in the actual machinations of the system. There seems to be bugger all joining of the dots, and it’s turned into something of a game at ours as to who’ll get the next call from them and who will then swap places and be the last to get released from self-isolation.

This Wednesday alone, my partner had two calls, one leading to tears of frustration from her as she tried to explain to the woman on the line that while she had in fact come into contact with someone with the virus (i.e. me), she already had it, and that’s why he’d caught it. And this on a day when she was knackered before she even picked up the phone and was really struggling to conjure up the will to go through it all over again. Our youngest also got a call, one which ended with a mighty groan, letting us know her own release date would be a day later than she’d been assured before, on account of my later positive status, meaning she’ll now miss her first day back at sixth-form college. And this in the most frustrating of years for an 18-year-old, already one of the many victims of the algorithm fiasco that put a dampener on her A-level results just a few months ago.

Meanwhile, I got another call, where I had to explain to someone I wasn’t just another sad sap who had been in contact with someone who’d got a positive test, but I too was positive, having found out for sure on my birthday, as made clear by the first line of the message, which confirmed my date of birth. Thanks Serco.

Yorkshire Landscape: The view from Bole Hill, Sheffield, during the author’s brief pre-tier three trans-Pennine trip (Photo: Malcolm Wyatt)

The most recent call I received was from an Australian operator. We were having a bit of a laugh, to be honest, and I got the impression this was as much fun as she’d had on the phone all day. Well, you’ve got to laugh. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’ she asked at the end of our conversation. Well, you can remove this incompetent Government if you like. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got that power,’ she replied, with a hint of regret, I felt. The day before, I asked someone else, after the same question, if maybe they could go around Matt Hancock’s house and gaffer-tape it up to stop that arse of a health minister getting out. And on the call before that, I asked a girl with a lovely Irish lilt in her voice that made me feel better for at least a minute to be put on to their incompetent boss, Dido Harding, as I had a few questions for her. Well, it was worth a try. If you’re not feeling weary and frustrated before, you generally are by the time you’ve reached the track and trace call stage. Don’t get me wrong, Lots of genuine people are working hard within that framework, doing their best to provide a system that helps pulls people through some dark times. But never let it be forgotten that this Government handed over the reins to an untested organisation – their corporate pals – instead of bringing in experts in the field working with councils and healthcare professionals at local level. 

My better half was soon informed via her app that she’d be allowed out from the start of Friday (not as if her current energy levels suggested she’d be looking to celebrate in any illicit late-night bar in the area), but an email sent her way once they found out I was positive too suggested she’d be in until Sunday. Surely this far down the line, the company awarded this contract should have in place a system that can work out how to put all those individual bits of information together for the bigger picture. To be fair, they’re clearly making more calls now, as opposed to previous months, but neither of us felt any more assured or clued up after those conversations.

And note that I’m not calling this NHS Test and Trace. It’s a Serco-run system, arguably using the NHS as a good character reference, its £12bn budget seemingly blown, its instigators having failed to drive infection rates below critical levels, its Government sponsors and their allies having exerted ideological commitment to the private sector over over-riding concerns of the health of the nation. This is Boris Johnson’s mate’s company, its leader – Dido, the Queen of Carnage – having previously made a pig’s ear of her time as chief executive at TalkTalk and even more recently remembered alongside fellow Jockey Club board members allowing Cheltenham racing festival to happen earlier this year, 250,000 spectators there for what many deemed a super-spreader event while everything else seemed to be closing down, positive cases soon escalating.

I recognise it’s a difficult situation, but in our cases there are three of us living together, two of whom have officially tested positive at different times, the other convinced she’s had it, even though the results came up negative the day she was tested. The reason my test was only undertaken six days after my better half’s was because I honestly didn’t want to throw my youngest daughter under the bus. She’d put up with having to sit looking at our miserable faces quite long enough. In this shitstorm of a year – one that started with Johnson blundering into office, clambering from one crisis to the next ever since – she’s already put up with far too much, doing everything asked of her, in a year which – reaching her 18th birthday – should really have been about celebrating good grades, hard graft, and life itself.

The same goes for my eldest daughter, studying hard in Sheffield yet somehow truly robbed of her second year there. First, we were all locked down together, and it went fairly well in the circumstances. We made a point of weekly dinner theme parties and kept ourselves entertained through various inventive means. Character-building. But while it’s far easier for two 50-pluses to carry on down that route, it can’t be for two gifted young women at such key stage of their lives. They stayed in, they followed the increasingly confusing advice from atop, and eventually, when the chance arrived, our eldest returned across the Pennines to try and re-establish her independence. She’s been getting by ever since, somehow. It’s not always easy, making that small talk on the phone, but we get by where hugs would often work better.

As it was, eldest daughter was affected first. In a house of six conscientious students, half of them succumbed to the dreaded disease. Accordingly, they locked down, scrubbing away at the kitchen between separate visits, and generally doing commendably. Then after two weeks’ isolation, she heard that Greater Manchester, Merseyside and our own patch in Lancashire were going into so-called tier three level restrictions. You could hear the concern in her voice over the phone, and we decided there and then to do something about it. No specific time had been mentioned for the status changeover, so we planned a Saturday daytrip, meeting in the in-between Peak District. We could walk around Bakewell and properly catch up, try and do something a little more normal. Healthy perhaps. But then came news that tier three shenanigans would come into operation after midnight, first thing Saturday morning. Probably announced first via the Mail, and the telegraph. That seems to be how this elite Government works, with mere contempt for the workings of Parliament. Accordingly, my better half, who’d finished for half-term a week early, and I, jettisoned our immediate plans and instead headed over the Pennines to meet her at a park in Sheffield.

Lounging Around: Millie, keeping this writer as sane as he’ll ever get amid these twisted times (Photo: Malcolm Wyatt)

There were complications, a landslide at Snake Pass bringing a major diversion – ironically, us driving through the gorgeous Derbyshire countryside we originally planned as the location for our meeting – and it took us two and a half hours to get there. But we had fish and chips in the park, spent two and a half quality hours there, then headed home via the M62 this time, only to realise part of it was closed for repair works late that night. It took us – yes, you guessed it – another two and a half hours to get home. As it turned out, we’d planned something different that day. It was my mother-outlaw’s 75th birthday, and we were set to finally visit the pub (not having taken advantage of any Government-sponsored meal deal back in the summer) for the first time together in 2020. Instead, Grandma and youngest Granddaughter dog-sat in our absence. 

Matters moved on the following day, and on the political front, Andy Burnham dug his heels in for Greater Menchester where Tory-run Lancashire hadn’t. The Government and its hand-in-glove media tried to paint him as just another trouble-maker fighting his corner and trying to get more money for his patch. But he knew the desultory amount offered by way of a help package was nowhere near enough, something Johnson, Sunak and co. clearly realised in retrospect by upping the perecentage for the furlough system after all.

On the local front, we discovered that two children from my partner’s pre-school had been taken ill and were about to be tested. The following day my beloved realised she wasn’t feeling so well either. Maybe we were just knackered from our cross-Pennines round-trip. We felt awful for having possibly brought our eldest daughter into this. She was masked up throughout our visit, but the feeling remained. We felt guilty for having brought the girls’ grandmother to the house too. Thankfully neither have fallen ill since. Within a few days, several more staff from that setting, and their immediate family, had also succumbed.

So where are we at? Things escalated again this weekend of course, Johnson standing in front of his lectern for another display of public incompetence, alongside two leading scientists. Barely 10 days earlier the Tories had been tweeting about how Labour had been advocating another national lockdown, pouring scorn on their plans, saying that it would be ‘the height of absurdity’ to do what their own scientific advisers were calling for: introduce a ‘circuit-breaker’ lockdown immediately to stem what was already becoming a massive second wave. They dithered again, with disastrous results. Total incompetence.

I won’t go far into the mask thing here, but it’s about common courtesy if nothing else. The science may be a little mixed on this, but it’s not hurting me to put a proper bit of cloth over my nose and mouth when I’m back in the shops and treat shopkeepers, shop workers and fellow shoppers with a little respect. We owe them that for them still being there. It won’t be forever.

As it is, my app suggests I’ll be out tomorrow (Monday 2nd), by which time hopefully I’ve got the energy to at least take our Millie for a proper wander, building on whatever my better half has already managed. She manged to do a short walk yesterday, and hopefully will later today too. I’m certainly looking forward to walking the pavements of my adopted Lancashire town again. God knows, Millie needs it. But this is hardly freedom. Nothing much will change until we have a proper antidote. A cure. By then, God knows what a mess we’ll be in as a nation, not least as the chancers in charge are pressing on with their no-deal bullshit on the whole Brexit fiasco front. Don’t get me started on that. I’ve now got to try and add another paragraph so this ends on a more positive note …. the very word positive achieving a rather negative association amid this pandemic.

Rainy Day: The view from the front at WriteWyatt Towers during the author’s self-isolation (Photo: Malcolm Wyatt)

Despite what you might think, I remain optimistic (is that a better word?). Next week, I’m hoping America votes out its national clown and our own clown car of a Government will have to think again on what constitutes its planned UK-US trade deal. While we’re at it, I’d be happy to see Brexiteers finally get their wish for a day if it means we can refuse to allow Nigel Farage back into this country after his further Trump rally buffoonery over the Atlantic. I had my hopes up early in this pandemic that we’d come out of it so much better as human beings. I saw us on the doorsteps clapping for care workers and the NHS and thought, ‘Maybe people aren’t going to stand for being run by some toff elite anymore’.

A side-issue maybe, but the strength of feeling behind Marcus Rashford’s recent free school meals campaign also brought me a little hope. And yet Tory MPs were having none of it. It seemed that an official pat on the back for its architect was deemed quite enough. There are no simple answers there either, but a Government that presides over a nation where the one true successful growth area is in food banks needs seriously re-examine its policies. This council house kid remembers all too well the stigma of being in a separate queue for free meals in middle school days. It made me request – I didn’t enjoy those meals anyway – that my Mum made me sandwiches instead. There are times when you don’t want to stand out from the crowd. But Marcus has been there, and he gets it. Give him the support he needs to make that work.

Talking of which – and starting to wrap up now – I love my football but haven’t been to see my club play since mid-January. I also love live music yet haven’t seen a band play live since mid-March. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen my family in the South-East since early January. I was lucky enough to have a week with my girls in August in North Wales, and a couple of days around a university visit in Cornwall with my youngest fairly recently, but even then we put off visits to friends nearby. It didn’t seem right in these increasingly strange times to go house-calling. But with friends all over the UK and further afield, this year has sharpened my resolve to catch up with many of them when the coast is finally clear. And it will clear.

Thankfully I can still immerse myself in the immediate company of my better half, my daughters and a gorgeous four-legged creature that makes us all smile on a regular basis. Then there are all the others who’ve pitched in on the phone, by video link or knocked at the door – beyond the call of duty – with essential shopping this past fortnight. I’ve got my music, films, documentaries and TV series to further entertain me (all the more reason that those creative industries are properly subsidised too – something I’ll no doubt get back to when I’m next putting together a feature), and it’s fair to say this pandemic has properly reminded me what’s important in life.

So here’s to encouraging the scientists who can hopefully reach those breakthroughs that ensure we safely return to some form of normality again sometime soon. We can’t afford to just follow the science when it suits us. It’ll be too late for so many, but we’ve got to have hope. Here’s to a brighter future and people waking up to what’s truly important in life.  Keep on pushing, as Curtis Mayfield put it in his Impressions days. And while we’re talking Curtis, he perhaps put it best on his self-titled solo LP, released 50 years ago in September and still as pertinent today …

‘Move on up towards your destination, though you may find from time to time complications’.

Stay safe, my friends.

Autumn Sky: The view from the back at WriteWyatt Towers during the author’s self-isolation (Photo: Malcolm Wyatt)

Talking of going viral, at the end of October 2020 – when the author got his positive COVID-19 test result – this website’s viewing figures topped 11,000 for the first time ever during a calendar month. Yes, going viral in more ways that one. Perhaps it’s not quite as shite a year as I’ve imagined all the way along. That leaves us comfortably on target for another record-breaking 12 months, reading figure-wise – not as if I can do anything else other than cover our website costs with the proceeds of those annoying ads – and now means we’ve had 455,000 page views since we started, more than 400,000 of those in the last half-dozen years. So thanks one and all for reading … and reguarly returning. Much appreciated.

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