Lucky Seven

Mine is on the left,
theirs is on the right.

I have just - just! - returned from Regent 7 Guitars. This is a new company set up by luthier Mike Hobbs and Surrey Spray supremo Dave Francis with the intention of producing handmade instruments based on classic designs. I was contacted by Dave a few weeks ago (I used to teach him guitar back in the 1990s, he's now loads better than me!) who explained the idea of the company and, remembering that I have a 1963 Fender Stratocaster that was once owned by Paul Fox, asked if I would be interested in taking it over to their Ewell workshop with a view to them taking some measurements and producing a copy of said guitar. I thought about it for, ooh, at least half a second before saying yes... as you might expect for a self-confessed nerd like myself it's been a very interesting few hours. They're looking to launch the company at The London International Guitar Show at Kempton Park Racecourse on Sunday 25th October (hopefully!) and to this end have been industriously producing instruments to wow the assembled multitude with. From what my opinion is worth I think that they have every chance of success - the guitars look and feel great, and with pick-ups being supplied by Monty's Guitars they sound great too. In these uncertain times it's difficult to do anything creative let alone start a musical instrument company from scratch but hopefully things will go well for Mike and Dave - and you never know, I might even get a guitar or two myself...  

I'm at the table, Segs is in the mirror.

In other news the Ruts D.C. '40 Years Of The Crack' live album is finally available. Fank gawd for that! I spent rather a long time in Segs's front room signing 500 double vinyl albums and 500 double CDs - which was no hardship at all. You live your entire life to do things like that! Well, I do anyway... so many people had shown great faith in the band by pre-ordering them that I don't mind admitting that it was something of a relief when they finally arrived. They're currently available from the band's online shop but they're selling fast so if you'd like one then I wouldn't hang around if I were you... and if you've got a minute, have a look at the band's new website here - it's had something of a facelift during lockdown so see what you think.

It should have been The Rebellion Festival in Blackpool last weekend, but of course it wasn't - instead an online version of the festival took place on their Facebook page which you can catch up with here if you missed it when it went out live. It's well worth a look as there's loads of good stuff on it - but here's something that you won't see there. It's a short-but-sweet clip of T.V. Smith And Friends roaring through The Adverts classic 'Gary Gilmore's Eyes' at last year's festival - joining Mr. Smith are Pascal Briggs on bass, Jennie and Mandy from The Crows on vocals, Attila The Stockbroker on violin, Jamie Oliver on drums and your humble narrator on what Jimi Hendrix memorably referred to as The Public Saxophone. You can see here on Pascal's Facebook page - even though I say so myself we made a rather good job of it, especially as it was unrehearsed. 

Hopefully we'll do something like this again at next year's festival. 

Hopefully we'll all be out gigging before then. 

Hopefully.

Losing My Religion

So - as the Stranglers / Ruts DC tour recedes into the dim and distant past it's back to 'real' life. But what is 'real' life exactly? Playing gigs with The Upper Cut and with Big Al Reed and The Blistering Buicks? Working in Balcony Shirts? Looking forward to playing with Ruts DC this coming weekend and beyond? 
  
Well I guess it's all of these things and more. Some are more enjoyable than others (the gigs with Al and the boys have all been great, the solitary Upper Cut show sadly was not) but that's inevitable isn't it? The Neck gig supporting Ferocious Dog at The Garage in Islington was something of a classic, and it's been busy in the shirt shop too. Oh and I went to see The Who give a great show in Birmingham, with PT on fine form and playing brilliantly (were they mini - humbuckers on his Stratocaster? Ooo!) throughout. Life - 'real' life - goes on. 

All well and good - but I don't mind admitting that I'm feeling a bit... er... lost. I suppose it was always going to be hard to come back from a tour like the last one and be able to slot straight back into things, and I will say that for the most part it's all been ok - but there's a nagging in my head. And it won't go away. 
I often get asked how I go from playing bigger shows to smaller pub gigs, often within a day or so of each other - I've realised over the years of doing it that they all basically amount to the same thing. There will be someone who attends a small gig with a covers band who enjoys themselves as much as people who go to the big shows and vice versa. A case in point - my first show back after the tour was at The Dolphin in Uxbridge with Al and the boys, and was a pleasure to play as was the Sunday afternoon appearance at The Horns in Watford a couple of days later. In between them was the afore-mentioned Neck show where we bought the proverbial house down. However as we all know you don't get something for nothing in life, and it must be said that all of this has made the near-catastrophic Upper Cut Dolphin show on Good Friday so hard for me to stomach - even though we play together relatively rarely these days we're usually a good tight band, but on this occasion (and despite having had a rehearsal on Tuesday evening) all of our collective ability appeared to desert us as we floundered our way through an excruciating show. I sat up much of the night pondering the band's future (my oh my it was a long day in the shop on Saturday!) and came to the extremely upsetting conclusion that we might not have one, which is a great shame. But nothing lasts forever does it? The next night's Buicks's gig at The Three Steps in Cowley went at least some way towards restoring my faith in my ability to play in a band (I'd seriously wondered about it around 4 am that day!) so maybe it'll all be alright in the end. Let's hope so anyway.

In the meantime Ruts DC are playing The Grand in Clitheroe as part of the Into The Valley festival this Saturday night. Oh there you go - I feel better just for typing that. It doesn't take much sometimes does it? Happy Easter y'all!

Yeah I know, it's all a bit garbled, too much whining self pity, non-crisis after non-crisis - but you should see what I've left out! Fear and self loathing in West London - back to 'real' life indeed...

Be seeing you

Sad news - Gypie Mayo died today. He's one of the best guitarists - make that one of the best musicians - that I've ever seen. 

He's probably best known for replacing Wilko Johnson in Dr. Feelgood, but he also worked with The Yardbirds, The Band Of Sceptics, The Practice and many others. I saw him play many times over the years in all of those bands and more and he was always absolutely brilliant, an inspiration to me and many others. I last saw him back in June 2010 at Tropic Of Ruislip when The Flying Squad supported The Wolftracks, who were basically The Band Of Sceptics playing Howlin' Wolf songs. Johnny Squirrel was playing bass for us that night - he knew Gypie from back in the day when Squirrel played with Lew Lewis and Gypie was in The Feelgoods and he introduced me to the man himself after our set; unprompted he told me how much he'd liked my playing in 'Dirty Water'. I could have been happier, but not much. At the end of the evening he and I chatted as he put his equipment away, I'd meet him a couple of times before and he always seemed to be a genuine, humble man who loved to play music. That's a pretty good thing to be don't you think?

A few weeks ago I received a letter from Band Of Sceptics mainman Pete Sargeant; he's been to Gypie's birthday party (he and I share the same birthday, July 24th) and during the course of the evening my name somehow came up - Gypie not only remembered me but asked Pete to send me his best wishes and gave him a commemorative plectrum to pass on to me. Amazing. 
I looked at the plectrum for a few seconds - he couldn't have known it but I was having a bad day. A really bad day. I picked up my Stratocaster, plugged it in, turned the amplifier up and played 'Milk And Alcohol'. Suddenly things weren't quite so bad.

God bless you Gypie - and thanks for everything.

Six of one and half a dozen of the other

So let's start my sixth year as a blogger with Friday's Uppercut gig at The Dolphin which saw the first appearance of my recently acquired Vintage Lemon Drop guitar. It sounded good although it's going to take a bit of getting used to - I generally use my Relic Stratocaster for our gigs and this has a much 'heavier' sound. It also features an unusual wiring system as it's intended to emulate Peter Green's famous Gibson Les Paul which was also owned by Gary Moore. Depending on which story you believe the guitar in question was either being repaired or cleaned - either way the neck pick-up ended up being put in the wrong way round and wired out of phase. This makes no difference to the sound when either of the pick-ups are selected individually, but when both pick-ups are on at the same time the resultant 'hollow' sound is very different to how you might expect from a Les Paul. Add to that the fact that turning either of the pick-ups down by even a small amount alters this dramatically and also makes the guitar louder (yes, you just read that bit correctly - when you turn one of the pick-ups down it gets louder! Really!) and you have a situation which as I say will take a bit of getting used to. Admittedly I'd not had as much time to practice with the guitar as I'd have liked (excuses excuses!) but I will have to sort myself out before our next show as the guitar played well and seems to suit our style better than the Strat. Overall however it was a great gig, very well attended and with much dancing and merriment all round. It's good when that happens!

And it was a great gig at The Pelton Arms in Greenwich yesterday afternoon when your humble narrator and his Telecaster (that's better, I can work one of those!) made his depping debut in The Duplicates. With ace guitarist Matt Percival away elsewhere I joined Seamus Beaghen (Hammond Organ) and Dave Ruffy (drums) for two sets of songs, instrumentals and theme tunes and songs which I managed to get through without too many mishaps. Mind you I'd spent a fair bit of time working on the material so I'm glad that I did! I particularly enjoyed playing the theme tune from 'The Dave Allen Show' (five points if you can tell me the title?!?) where I managed to use a wha-wha pedal without falling over (although it was close a few times!) and judging by the number of people who told me that it that I made a good job of the show I, well, made a good job of the show. It's good when that happens too! In the meantime Segs exercised his DJ-ing skills with some old funk and reggae tracks, and Tom from The Phobics surprised me by coming up over at the end of the show with the words 'what are you doing with this bunch of reprobates?' It turns out he lives locally and knows the band well - which reminds me The Phobics are playing at The 100 Club on September 7th with The Bermondsey Joyriders which should be well worth catching. And The Pelton Arms is a great - make that great - pub; any place that serves a chip butty with a side order of chips ('all sandwiches come with chips and salad') has got to have something going for it don't you think?

So - year six then...

See how I suffer for my art!

Well I thoroughly enjoyed my time on Music Scene Investigation, and I'm pleased to say that I will hopefully be appearing again later in the year. (Well, fairly obviously I won't be appearing again earlier in the year but you know what I mean.) Ian, Tom and Rich were all very helpful, I managed to work Skype correctly (and what an amazing thing that is!) and if you didn't catch it then click here to see me wearing unfeasibly large headphones and sounding almost as though I know what I'm talking about. Excellent!

And apologies for the Warhol-esque nonsense above; having had one of these MacBook thingys for Gawd knows how long I've only just worked out how to take pictures with it!

In the meantime that was my first weekend for a while without any gigs (bah!) and although I never think I'm particularly busy I've just had a look back through the last few months worth of postings and considering these dark days of recession and depression I've not had a bad run overall. I've spoken to quite a few musicians lately who have had nowhere near as much work so I'm not going to complain (for once!) Still it's got me thinking about the nature of what it is that I do...

For quite a few of the shows over the last few months I've been obliged to learn songs specifically for the performance, or to learn different arrangements of otherwise familiar material. This has been both good fun and not a little daunting - I'll say now that the Killers song 'Mr. Brightside' which we played at the York show back at the start of May is one of the most difficult songs I've encountered in ages. It might not sound too hard but the intro and verse chords feature some enormous stretches (have a look at this clip of them performing it and see you'll see what I mean) which have never been a strong point of mine. Their guitarist must have very big hands, or very long fingers, or both! I also learned a Michael Buble song for that show which was easier to play but had the added pressure of being the couple's first dance, with all the scrutiny that that entails. From my point of view this sort of thing normally means a fair bit of time listening to the original tracks, looking at You Tube clips and generally attempting to work out what's going on in the song. There are numerous guitar tablature sites on the Internet, many of which can be very useful and save quite a bit of time although their accuracy is sometimes questionable as anybody can post onto them.

At the other end of the scale there was the Upper Cut gig in Staines a couple of days earlier where we were billed as a Rod Stewart tribute band - faced with a number of requests (!) we busked a reasonable version of 'The First Cut Is The Deepest' which went down well with the Rod fans. Something like that depends on several factors - fairly obviously some songs are easier to play than others even if you all know the song well it can still catch you out; there's also things like how well you can all hear each other to take into consideration, as well as how good the band is in the first place. Then there's how good your ear is - can you anticipate a chord change correctly if you've never played it before? Most of us have good days and bad days at this so you can only hope that it's one of your good days when you need to do it!

And then there was 'The Servant' at last weekend's gig with T.V. Smith which I managed to make a mistake in before the vocals had even started - and we might never play it again so I can't make amends!

So what's the alternative to spending hours in front of a CD player or computer screen? Well for the jobbing rock guitarist there really isn't one. Horn players are invariably excellent sight readers with their parts written out for them - guitar and bass players rarely if ever have anything provided for them, and most of them don't sight read conventional music anyway. I suppose this gives rise to a vicious circle where players don't learn to read music as they're never given anything to read, but parts aren't provided because most players can't read them. A notable exception to this are West End theatre shows and the like, but that's another subject for another time (and let's face it, another guitarist!)

And then there's the question of sound. It's fairly obvious to even the most casual listener that the guitars on a heavy metal recording sound a lot different to those on a funk tune. Playing the correct notes is only part of the story, you've got to sound right as well. Leaving aside the fact that this could be seen as spurious justification for owning a large number of guitars, amplifiers and effect pedals (perish the thought!) there's actually a serious point here - I agonised over which guitar to play at the afore-mentioned York show for quite some time, eventually choosing my SG as it was the easiest guitar to play the scary 'Mr Brightside' chords on. I nearly went for a Stratocaster (I needed a guitar with a double cutaway so that I could play chord high up the neck; there wasn't much in it to be honest) but I think I chose correctly in the end. This might seem like nitpicking but it's something that I find is spending a bit of time thinking about and indeed trying different instruments - the right guitar can make the gig, the wrong one can literally break it.

With regards to effect pedals, I've never owned a great number of these as I like to try to keep things as simple as possible, and the ones that I do have are fairly traditional types like booster pedals (to make solos louder), distortion, chorus, echo etc. I was talking to a guitarist recently who had a huge array of processors on a custom built pedal board because, as he put it, 'I might need play "Livin' On A Prayer" one minute and then "Mustang Sally" the next'. Hmm... I've had to do that sort of thing too but I've still only got a pedal or two wired up at any one time. This is not to say that I'm right and he's wrong (far from it - he's a lot more successful than I am!) but it does indicate a different approach to the same situation. As I say there's no right or wrong here - I just prefer to get different sounds out of the guitar and amplifier. With that in mind I'm starting to realise that I could do with a more versatile amp to go with my Fender combo which are great for clean sounds but not quite so effective on rockier material. Then again I could just get myself a decent overdrive pedal... actually haven't I got one of those somewhere?

Anyway I can't sit here typing, I've got work to do - I'm depping in The Duplicates at the end of the month and have nearly 2 hours of material to learn. The circle is unbroken... better get on with it then!

Vintage and rare guitars

And it was indeed a very long day. By lunchtime it was becoming all too apparent that I was developing the hangover that I'd up until that point managed to keep at bay with toast and coffee (either that or I was sobering up!) and by talking total gibberish to customers. Somehow I got through the afternoon - just! - and then went home and fell asleep. You knew I'd say that didn't you? But it really was a great night, with The Upper Cut giving a fine show which ended with a worrying amount of young people dancing wildly and quite a few drinks being drunk. Several kind souls bought me cards and presents, Mad Jock and his mates Brian and George came down all the way from Glasgow for the occasion (really!) and, well, quite a few drinks were drunk. The long-suffering Shirley eventually got East and myself out of the building sometime before 2 a.m. (oh yes!) by which time quite a few more drinks had been drunk. And why not?

The day itself had been relatively quiet (although you may argue that pretty much anything was 'relatively quiet' compared to the evening) with my Dad and brother coming round for the afternoon and your humble narrator showing heroic restraint when it came to alcohol. Given the mayhem that followed this was definitely a good move - I didn't have anything alcoholic to drink before 8.30 in the evening which might seem a bit serious, even (gulp!) sensible but I wanted to be able to play a decent show. Ooh, I am getting old... in the meantime Shirley and her family managed to surprise me - and I mean surprise me! - by getting me a Vintage Lemon Drop electric guitar, which was sitting on the front room table when I stumbled downstairs in the morning. Hmm... that'll be the same guitar that was in the shop a few weeks ago; given the amount of subterfuge that has clearly gone on over the last few weeks I may never believe anything that anybody anywhere ever says to me ever again!

The last gig of my 40s (sounds dramatic doesn't it?!?) was with The Chicago Blues Brothers in Sutton Courtenay near Abingdon, at the same venue / enormous house that we played at last August. As Richard arrived to pick me up around 6 o'clock the news of the death of Amy Winehouse came on the car radio - another casualty, another member of the dreaded 27 Club. Sad. I saw her at 'The Strat Pack' concert where I heard that voice for the first time - the guitar obsessives around me complained that she shouldn't have been there as she wasn't a guitar hero or something, I thought she sounded extraordinary. I wasn't sure if I liked her or not, but she certainly sounded extraordinary. There seems to have been a grim inevitability about her death, which it seems no one around her could do anything to prevent. A great shame.

It was the first CBB show for ages to feature a 3 man horn section - joining Richard on sax is John on trumpet who's not played with us before, and Andy on trombone who last played with us at Leeds Castle back in July 2007 when he distinguished himself by falling over on stage whilst pretending to be galloping around on horseback. Strange but true. Roger returns on keyboards, Tracy's on vocals, Marc and Squirrel are on drums and bass, Pete and Mike are in the hats 'n' glasses and our 90 minute set goes down well with the assembled multitude, quite a few of whom had clearly been enjoying the hospitality of the host to the full. Well the ones dancing in front of and indeed on the stage certainly had been. I seem to remember this happened last time too. Excellent!

Yesterday I had a rehearsal with T.V. Smith for our gig at the Rebellion Festival next weekend, today I'm playing a Blues Brothers show in an Italian Restaurant in Leeds. No, really, I am. This 'being 50' lark is off to a good start...

Funeral for a friend

The Uppercut played at The Dolphin in Uxbridge last night. It was a great gig - hot, sweaty and noisy, just like gigs are supposed to be. We went on late as there was football on the television, meaning that we didn't finish until gone midnight; halfway through the second set we all sang 'Happy Birthday' to our drummer Roger (it was also his wedding anniversary!) and there was much dancing and merriment all round. Like I say, it was great. It was also EASY. Easy easy easy. As easy as an easy thing being easy. Well, it certainly felt easy, compared to playing acoustic guitar at Dave Haynes's funeral the day before....

I'd been up since 5.30 a.m., having gone to bed sometime after midnight. I couldn't sleep. Obviously. At pretty much every opportunity over the proceeding few days I'd picked up a guitar and played through some Who riffs, attempting to put them into a medley. I knew from many conversations with Dave what some of his favourites were - 'Pictures Of Lily' always got a mention, as did 'Happy Jack', 'Dogs', 'Substitute', all of them pre - 'Tommy', all of them classics. The more I thought about it, the more songs suggested themselves, after all he loved 'Tattoo', and 'I Can See For Miles' has to be in there - 'I know these' I thought to myself, 'I can do this'... sometime on Wednesday night 'Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere' suddenly made an appearance, as did 'I'm A Boy', making it all too long, too unwieldy, adding to the nerves that I didn't realise that I had. Each time I played the medley it came out in a slightly different way, in a different order - I eventually decided to keep the same tempo throughout rather than vary it from song to song, which helped with the overall flow of things although it still wasn't quite working. Was 'Dogs' the problem? How could I fit 'Tattoo' in without it sounding a bit 'forced'? Should I ditch everything and start again? And then there was 'Waterloo Sunset' - easily one of the greatest pop songs of them all, but how was I going to play it on solo guitar? I changed the key from E to G which let me use some different chord shapes that I felt were more suited to solo performance then, as I'd done with the Who songs, worked out the best way to pick out the melody line among the chords. Eventually I'd done all that I could - time to go to work...

With the service scheduled at midday I arrived at Balcony Shirts at 9 a.m. suited and booted and carrying my trusty acoustic guitar (I'd changed the strings sometime in the previous 24 hours 'though I'm not exactly sure when!) along with a pink heart-shaped foldaway stool. Yes, you read that bit correctly - I'd looked around the house for something that I could take with me to sit on, and with Dave being a big fan of glam rock generally and The New York Dolls in particular it seemed to me to be a appropriate choice. As always is the case when you've got other things on your mind the morning in the shop was a busy one, which maybe wasn't a bad thing as there wasn't time to dwell on what was to come. Sometime around 11 o'clock I got my guitar out of the case, tuned it and played a few chords and scales in an attempt to warm up a a bit before walking around to George Street at 11.30 to meet my Dad who was parked there. With traffic on our side we were at Breakspear Crematorium in Ruislip by 11.40 where familiar faces were already amassing. As we walked around the corner to the East Chapel the vicar came over, introduced himself as Ken and then explained that we could get into the chapel when the current service had finished - we'd then have 'a few seconds' to get set up and sorted before the doors would be opened and Dave's friends and family would enter. I became aware of a sudden increase in tension - I don't normally get nervous before playing in public (well I don't think I do!) but this was a very different situation to the kind of thing I'm used to. As we walked into the chapel I saw the previous coffin disappear into the distance as we walked towards it; I set up the stool on the left as you looked at it, with Ken assembling his notes opposite at the pulpit. I played a chord and the reverb went on for what felt like forever - an amazing sound. 'That'll change when there's a few people in' smiled Ken. Well, he should know. Then it was back outside just in time to see Dave arrive, before we all filed into the chapel to the sound of 'All The Young Dudes' by Mott The Hoople. I knew Dave had good taste! I had a chair at the front at right angles to the rest of the congregation, just a yard or two from my guitar - Pete a.k.a. Plug the original Lurkers roadie and one of Dave's oldest friends sat nearest to me, we shook hands as the song finished. 'Play it again' mumbled Plug as silence hung in the air - it came back on just as Dave's journey along the aisle began. I looked across at Esso and his family in the front row on the opposite side of the chapel, he nodded at me with a blank expression which turned to a weak smile just as Dave's coffin obscured him from view. I felt even edgier as the pallbearers stopped a couple of yards in front of me - this wasn't a gig, this was different, bigger, more important. I could feel my heart beating as I loosened my tie and sat down. As the hymn (don't ask me what it was!) was being sung I could feel my neck beating in time with my heart as I mimed the words, all the time trying to keep my fingers moving to stay warmed up. Ken spoke of Dave's humour, his love of music especially the bands of the 1960's, how he attended a Who rehearsal when he was a lad, and then I heard him say my name. It was time.

I sat on the pink stool, picked up my guitar and looked out into the chapel. It was standing room only, and they were all looking at me. Some faces were tearful, others stoic, others for want of a better word intrigued by what was about to occur - I felt the most nervous that I've ever felt in my life. Sitting here typing now I'm actually feeling shaky just thinking about it. I said something awkward like 'here's a selection of Who music for Dave', considered beginning with the intro to 'Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere' but instead started with 'Substitute'; after a verse and chorus it was into 'Happy Jack', a bit more awkward to play and I fumbled the melody line a bit, I'd played it fine so many times so that's really annoying but it's all going ok, it's 'Dogs' next which is probably the hardest one but suddenly I'm playing the chords from 'Tattoo' and I'm the only person who knows that I've now missed two songs out but it doesn't matter because 'I'm A Boy' sounds good as does 'Pictures Of Lily', perhaps I should play 'Dogs' now although that would make it too long, no it's time to end with 'I Can See For Miles', the chorus chord sequence seems to climb up the guitar neck for ever, and I play the last E chord as Esso drums on the bench in front of him. The end. Total silence, then applause. Are they supposed to do that?

I put my guitar down, turned towards Dave's coffin and nodded - I hadn't planned to do that but it seemed appropriate - and then sat down. Ken said something but I've no idea what it was. Then it was serious. Prayers. Curtains. Tears. Poor old Dave.

'And now Leigh will play us out with 'Waterloo Sunset' Oh, it's me again. The melody sounded beautiful, I ran through the verse and chorus a couple of times, then the middle section as people were leaving, then the verse and chorus again, my nerves had gone and so had most of the congregation, I looked up to see Plug still standing a yard or so in front of me listening intently, smiling slightly as I finished playing. Over near the exit the pallbearers seemed to have been listening too. I put my guitar away, folded up the stool and followed Plug outside. I shook hands with Ken, he asked where I play, told me that he has a Stratocaster, he enjoys playing but he can't play like I can. I told that I couldn't do his job. We both laughed. My Dad told him I was playing at The Dolphin the next night and that he should come down. My Dad's like that. I saw Esso just before we left, as we shook hands I thanked him for asking me to play then told him that I'd been the most nervous that I've ever been in my life. He told me that I'd 'made the whole thing' and was I coming for a drink? No, I've got to get back to the shop but I'll see him for a few beers in the next few days. And I will. You should never be lazy with your friends should you? As I left he said that he should get me something for playing, I went to say that I didn't want anything when my Dad interjected - 'you don't have to get him anything, you two have been friends for 30-odd years, you can't give each other anything better than that'. Like I say, my Dad's like that. And like I say, you should never be lazy with your friends. Well you shouldn't - should you?

There's no business like shoe business (sorry!)

It was a good if rather different evening on Tuesday when myself and the long-suffering Shirley went to The Peacock Theatre in London to see Chicago Blues Brothers saxman Richard Pardy in the musical 'Shoes'. Actually it wasn't that easy to see him even though he was on the stage for the whole show as the band were behind a curtain onto which various projections were, er, projected although we did spot him from time to time; it was certainly possible to hear him and indeed the rest of the band, all of whom sounded very good in what was a fine energetic show, with some spectacular dancing and brilliant singing from the cast in a 2 hour blitz of sound and light. I don't mind admitting that a musical on the subject of footwear wasn't something that I ever thought I'd enjoy, but it was very well put together and as such was a very impressive production.

On Thursday it was off to The Royal Albert Hall to see Roger Daltrey perform 'Tommy' as part of the latest series of Teenage Cancer Trust concerts. Myself and Big Andy called in at The Queens Arms on our way to the venue to meet up with legendarily fervent Who fan Steve Whiston; when we got there he'd obviously been there enjoying the hospitality for a while and was in good form - by the time we left he'd distinguished himself by coming back from the bar and walking up to 2 lads who he thought was us and carrying on talking to them where he'd left off with us. They were about 20 years younger than us! (And if you're thinking 'well he must have been pretty out of it to make that mistake' then have a look at this clip from the show - he's the chap in the suit and striped shirt to Daltrey's right... yes, he's my mate!!)

Now as someone who could politely be described as a fan of The Who I must say at this point that 'Tommy' is one of my least favourite albums by them - the original album always sounds rather weak to my ears, although I must admit that live recordings from the late '60's / early '70's are almost uniformly amazing and show how well it worked as a stage piece. As the show began (appropriately enough with 'Overture') I wondered how it was all going to go - Daltrey looked as great as ever but only Simon Townshend was recognisable from Who shows (I think the band backed Daltrey on last year's American gigs) and there was much speculation as to whether Simon's big brother would make an appearance. 4 or 5 numbers in it was evident that, yes, it's much better live than on record, although much improved by the films on the screen above the band. A rare (and to honest rather uncertain) performance of 'Cousin Kevin' ended with the lights dimming and some acoustic guitar picking that wasn't coming from anyone already on the stage - and suddenly Pete Townshend was at the microphone singing a solo version of 'The Acid Queen' amid scenes of audience pandemonium that made you realise just how much the crowd missed his contribution to proceedings. Then, as suddenly as he'd arrived he was gone, and 5 seconds into 'Do You Think It's Alright?' everything had returned to normal i.e. everybody speculating when / if he would return. Meanwhile 'Tommy' continued with 'Pinball Wizard' sounding like the classic we all know it to be and the finale of 'See Me Feel Me' / 'Listening To You' bringing the proverbial house down. A new Daltrey composition 'Days Of Light' followed before 'Pictures Of Lily' was prefaced by a story of how John Entwistle's high harmonies were an underrated part of The Who's sound. 'I Can See For Miles' sounded fabulous, but you could feel the audience willing Townshend to return; he eventually reappeared - rather reluctantly I thought - for 'Baba O'Riley' (which also featured Charlie Siem on violin) before 'Without Your Love' finished off the evening. It had been an interesting night, with Daltrey in fine voice and where slick session men ruffled their immaculately unkempt hair as they attempted to recreate the sound and fury of The 'Orrible 'Oo. I'm not entirely sure that they achieved that particular goal, but they sounded good - if a little 'nice' - to my ears.

Saturday saw The Flying Squad return to the stage for the first time this year, for a gig at Tropic At Ruislip supporting Eddie And The Hot Rods. We were offered the gig last month, and it was too good to turn down despite the fact that Andy (vocals) and myself didn't actually have a band; he suggested that he ask his old friend and drummer extraordinaire Simon Ash (he of the 'Ash Bash' gig back in June 2008) if he'd be interested in depping with us, and with Mike was reinstated on bass Andy and myself came up with a setlist, e-mails were e-mailed and we met at Ruff Rockers at 4 p.m. for a run through. We played the songs once, ran over a couple of the trickier numbers again, checked beginnings and endings and finished 2 hours after we started. Had we done enough? We'd all know soon enough...

We arrived at the venue just as The Hot Rods were loading their gear in - great to see Richard Holgarth again (he mixed the sound at The Square in Harlow when The Price used to play there back in the '80's and '90's) who has just started using Stratocasters rather than SGs as he broke the headstock off one of his old ones and has 'moved on to something sturdier'. This gave us chance for some guitar nerdery as we compared our guitars with plenty of observations along the lines of 'ooh this one's got a different neck radius' that easily scared off anybody unfortunate enough to get caught within earshot.

9.10 and with a healthy crowd in we kick off with 'I Can Tell'. I think I was a better guitarist at the rehearsal than at the show (bugger!) and we had the odd mad moment here and there but overall the band played well even getting an encore which is always a good thing for a support band. Afterwards we did a roaring trade in CD's and t-shirts (thanks to Shirley and East on the merchandise!) and declared our evening to be a success. Oh and in case you were wondering, Eddie And The Hot Rods were absolutely brilliant - but you knew I'd say that didn't you? Well - I've never made any secret of the fact that they're one of my very favourite bands, and with a setlist drawing heavily on their first album 'Teenage Depression' (can that really be 35 years old? Yes it can, and I should know as I bought it when it came out!) as well as some later songs alongside the inevitable 'Do Anything You Wanna Do' they showed just how underrated they were and indeed continue to be. A great evening all round.

And it should be a great evening this Sunday 3rd April at The Load of Hay with The Duplicates - come on down!

'This could be the last time' - until next time...

I found out on Friday morning if I'd managed to learn 'Livin On A Prayer' well enough when I joined Glee Club U.K. supremo Richard in his Bracknell recording studio to record the guitar parts. Richard spent a fair amount of time attempting to recreate the talkbox effect that's used on the guitar during the first half of the original recording (I didn't have one handy!) and did a very good job; I used my Relic Stratocaster as I needed a guitar with a tremelo arm for one section of the song (in case you're wondering, it's the 'divebomb' effect halfway through the second verse - I very rarely use one, to the extent that when I came to practice that part I couldn't find it!) and even though I say so myself, it all turned out rather well. Mind you I wouldn't be writing about it here if I'd played terribly...

Saturday evening I went to The Old Fox in Ickenham to see Awaken, and a very odd evening it was too - when I arrived they were halfway through their first set, with a young man slumped unconscious in his seat near the front door and beery builder blokes alternating between ignoring the music completely and slapping each other around the face roaring 'you're my best mate you are' before dancing with each other. The band played a good set but not a great one, seeming a bit out of sorts and committing a setlist faux pas of monumental proportions when they switched from playing material like 'Brown Sugar' and 'I Saw Her Standing There' to a version of 'I Predict A Riot' that cleared the dancefloor in seconds, an incident that somehow summed the evening up for me. So down was I when I got home that I had to watch the Henry Rollins interview from the 'Punk: Attitude' DVD to get my spirits back up - it worked, but that's punk rock for you...

...which brings me to The Price. Malcolm called me mid-afternoon to say that he was halfway to the venue and had forgotten his microphones - as he put it during the show, 'it wouldn't be a Price gig if something didn't go wrong' - and there were the almost inevitable 'sorry I can't make it' messages from various people throughout the day but from the opening of 'Memory' (we hadn't played that one this century!) to the last unrehearsed encores of 'Too Many People' and 'Turning Japanese' it was one of the best and most enjoyable reunion shows that we've done. We were bit scrappy here and there (we had just one 3 hour rehearsal for a 1 1/2 hour show! Mind you that doesn't explain my appallingly out of tune solo at the end of 'The Price You Pay'...) but overall we played well, even including a new song (so new that it doesn't have a title yet!) put together in about 20 minutes from an idea that Malcolm bought in to the rehearsal - you could argue that we'd have used our limited time better by learning the old songs properly, but The Price always did things like that! Plenty of old faces gave us a rousing reception, and it was great to see a few people that hadn't been along for ages; sadly with band members ever more committed to other things it seems that events like this will get more and more difficult to organize which is a shame - still there's always the Sunday nearest to East's birthday next year... talking of whom, I left the man himself outside a kebab shop bemoaning the fact that they weren't serving anymore. I think he'd been drinking...

And The Flying Squad return to show business this coming Saturday (26th) when we support the ever-wondrous Eddie And The Hot Rods at Tropic At Ruislip - we're rehearsing at 4 in the afternoon and on at 8 in the evening!!

Back on the streets

Well my phone didn't ring, but as the computer clock clicked over to 14.50 'City Of The Dead' by The Clash was playing on the Balcony iPod. No really it was... and how sad is it that Gary Moore has died. I saw him play a few times, notably at the '50th Anniversary of the Fender Stratocaster concert in 2004 at the Wembley Arena where his version of Jimi Hendrix's 'Red House' stood out among an evening of standout performances. He was a fine musician who always gave 100% to every show - no, every note - and he's a great loss to the World of the electric guitar.

Talking of electric guitar - the absence of gigs for your humble narrator means that there's been chance to get out and see a few gigs in the last week or so, although oddly enough most of them have been at The Half Moon in Harrow. Last Friday (the 4th in case you're taking notes) Awaken played a fine show in front of an enthusiastic audience that even managed a bit of dancing in the second set; all such behaviour stopped during the 2 songs that I played with them (since you've asked they were 'Sweet Home Chicago' and 'Hard To Handle' - Pete has offered to get a longer guitar strap for me if I borrow his guitar again!) but I enjoyed myself all the same. Saturday I met the aforementioned Pete at the venue to catch the riskily-named Beaver (do your own punchline!) powering through 2 sets of harder rocking material than the previous night had featured, but no less entertaining all the same. I've known Clint the guitarist since my days in Pro Music (remind me to tell you what happened there one day... actually someone said to me the other day that 'no one goes there now that you don't work there as it's staffed by kids that don't know what they're talking about'. Surely that can't be true - can it?!?) and he's a fine player - he wasn't too happy with his performance as he had an ear infection and couldn't hear out of his right ear (I know the feeling!) but I thought he played well. I must try to catch the band again.

Wednesday evening I was down at The Load of Hay in Uxbridge to set the P.A. up for David Ferrard; it was a show organised by some Brunel University people (I never did really find out what was going on!) and when I got there around 7.45 they were pretty much ready for the show to start - maybe the students all go to sleep earlier these days? After a (very) quick set-up David performed 2 sets of folky originals mixed with a few Robert Burns songs (the students didn't seemed to have heard of him!) and American traditional numbers reflecting David's Scottish and American heritage. In true folk club tradition there were a few floor spots (where an audience member gets up and does a song or two) including a couple from Brunel lecturers whose prowess behind the microphone clearly caught their students unaware. A good gig - and the Acts Less Ordinary gigs start there again on Sunday 27th February with The Noisy Boys (as one local wit put it, 'they are neither noisy, nor are they boys...') with more to follow. With that in mind myself and East retired to the bar after David's show to discuss the possibility of a Price show there in the not-too-distant future - yes, we could be going to do it again just one more time...

One of the latest batch of Balcony Shirts proudly states 'Real Men Bake Bread'. In a moment of inspiration Scott (it's his design) came up with the idea of writing a song that would teach the listener how to make their own loaf (he does things like that!) which meant that first thing on Saturday morning Balcony Shirts became Balcony Studios as your humble narrator sat behind the counter of the The Custom Bar recording his Telecaster onto Scott's Pro Tools equipped laptop. The plan is to make a video to go with it, put it on YouTube and, well, take over the World. It sounded good so why not? Well, realistically there are any number of reasons why not, but I'll let you know how we get on. The day turned out to be a busy one, with probably the most unusual request coming from a young lady who had a t-shirt made to wear on an upcoming episode of 'Total Wipeout' - on the front it said 'THE BOY BASHER', on the back 'IS BACK' and I for one wasn't about to wind her up.

For the evening it was back to The Half Moon in Harrow to see The Bolaji Blues Band. Ken from Awaken is on bass and I've known guitarists Danny and Dave for quite a while but had never managed to catch the band before - I arrived just as they were starting their first number 'Worried Life Blues'. They sounded good and they're all excellent musicians, but I found that most if not all of the solos (and therefore the songs) went on rather too long for my liking. As I say the playing was terrific (the keyboard player hadn't played with them before - you'd never have known) and at it's best it all sounded fabulous - but at other times it reminded me why I like punk rock so much. Then again I found out later that they normally have a saxophone player who couldn't make the gig so they extended the guitar and keyboard solos to make up time so maybe I should stop moaning... Pete from Awaken got up with them for the last 2 numbers and to my surprise they invited me too get up too, but I declined the offer - I'd had far too much to drink by then! It turned out to be a good decision as they then played 'Rambling Man' - I'd definitely had to much to drink to get that one right!

No drinking last night (well, not too much!) as it was time for a gig with The Ali Mac Band at The Bulls Head in Barnes. The last few gigs with Ali and co. have been in an extended format, but this time I joined the standard line-up of Ali on vocals, Bill on bass, Hud on drums and Simon on guitar - I've depped for Simon with Bill and Hud before but this was the first time we've all played together. When Ali told me about the gig I was keen to be involved as George McFall had run The Stormy Monday Blues Club there for many years; it was the first time that I'd been back there since his untimely death last year and I wasn't the only person who kept expecting him to walk in... it being Valentine's Day there weren't too many people in attendance, but those who were there saw an excellent performance. Ali sang well, Bill and Hud were as solid as the proverbial rock, and Simon and myself must have been doing something right as we were getting applause after each guitar solo. That's never happened to me before! A great gig all round.

Back down to Earth - no gigs this week. Bah...

Chocks away!

An indication of how quiet it's been on the gigging front lately comes with the news that I've just done my first (and therefore only) gig in Europe this year...

After a late night on Monday (as always I blame East, and as always it's his fault...) I managed an early night on Tuesday in preparation for a very early morning on Wednesday. As my alarm went off at 5 a.m. I realised that I'd woken up every hour more-or-less on the hour throughout the night, and felt more tired than ever. Weird... after a cup of coffee and the usual 'I'm sure I've forgotten something' checks the long-suffering Shirley dropped me at West Ruislip Station (it's a bit easier to go from there rather than from Uxbridge) in time for the 5.47 train into London (that's why I call her long-suffering!) With Will Birch's excellent Ian Dury biography for company the journey passes quickly although I couldn't help noticing how many people are asleep on the train at that time of day. I guess they're just used to it? I could almost have gone to sleep myself if I hadn't bee worried about somebody walking off with my guitar, or in this particular instance, someone else's guitar as I've got Miles's Stratocaster (as mentioned a little while ago) with me - I'll have to buy it now won't I? Well I'm going to anyway as it's a good spare for my Relic Strat which I use for quite a few gigs. Actually that reminds me - I must actually get some gigs...
After an equally easy journey on The DLR I bump into Jon and Stuart on the forecourt outside London City Airport - we're all meeting there for a flight to Belgium where we're playing a Blues Brothers show. 'We' in this case are an amalgam of players from the Chicago Blues Brothers band and The F.B.I. Band - Pete (Jake) Dave (trumpet) Chris (keyboards) and myself (guitar, in case you or indeed I have forgotten) from The CBB-er's alongside Tony (Elwood) Ian (saxophone) Jon (bass) and Stuart (drums) from the F.B.I. boys. We're the first there - Stuart's already checked in online (sensible man!) so Jon and myself make a half-hearted attempt at self service check-in before Pete, Chris and Dave arrive and with Tony and Ian close behind we all check-in by more conventional means.
Jon and I took our instruments to the excess baggage area before going upstairs to make our way through security, which is very tight (I don't know about you but I'm glad it is!) but we're through in time for me to spend £7.40 on a vegetarian sausage sandwich and a cup of coffee (!) before we make our way to Gate 2C where the sight of our aircraft - a Fokker F50 - caused some consternation among group members. I must admit I was a bit nervous myself which is silly if you think about it - I mean, they fly all the time don't they? 'There's gaffa tape holding that propeller together' says Chris cheerily as we all tell ourselves that it's not gaffa tape... overall it turned out to be a fairly uneventful flight even if Dave did describe the take-off as feeling like we were in 'a glider in a catapult', such was the ferocity of our ascent. He also said something about 'a dogfight over the Channel' but I didn't catch the context of that comment, which on reflection may be for the best... we had an amazing view of the wind farm off the Kent coast, and the landing at Antwerp was a bit bumpy but not too bad. After meeting up with our driver (didn't catch his name sadly) and minibus we made the short journey to The Scandic Hotel where we check in. I've got (wait for it!) room 101 (oh yes!) and my door key doesn't work; on my way back to reception I meet Stuart who's got the same problem, and by the time our keys were in working order most of the band had turned up in the lobby with their keys. After successfully gaining access to my room I dropped my stuff off and went out for a stroll - not much of any interest nearby - before coming back to find Pete, Tony Dave and Ian in the bar preparing to leave for the local Christmas market. When their taxi turned up I ordered myself some tomato soup (and very nice it was too) before heading back up to my room. By now I'd realised that my phone wasn't going to work - maybe all the shenanigans earlier in the year when I thought I'd lost it and got a new SIM card as a result have come back to haunt me? - so I messed about with the T.V. for a while, eventually finding BBC1 and 2 (strange how you look for things that you know from home when you're away isn't it?) before indulging in a much-needed shower and some equally much-needed sleep.
2.45 p.m. and it's back down to the lobby to meet up for a 3 o'clock departure for the venue. After about 45 minutes we arrived at Kasteel Van Saffelaere, a castle (yes, you read that bit correctly) which some band members found a little disappointing as it was clearly a rather recent structure - 'I didn't think castles had double glazing' was a typical comment, although there was an astonishing bit of topiary in the garden in the shape (literally!) of a bush cut into the shape of a grand piano complete with pianist, which left Ian and Dave unable to resist the chance for some Red Hornz promotional pictures.
The backline is already set up on stage - I've got the ever popular and indeed ever wonderful Fender Blues Deluxe combo to play through, and Jon's got a Trace Elliot combo which sadly sounds a bit rough so the crew replace it with an Ampeg set-up which brings a smile to Jon's face. After a 'which band's versions do we play?' discussion we decide that we'll go for the F.B.I. arrangements, and soundcheck with 'Midnight Hour', 'Soul Man' and 'My Girl'. With everything sounding good it's off to find our dressing room which is actually The Honeymoon Suite (I'll leave you to do your own punchline!) complete with a four poster bed and a toilet / bathroom that doesn't have a door (again I'll leave you to do your own punchline!) On the way there Ian tells me that his band Swagga have just received some money from Strummerville to put towards recording a single - excellent! They're playing at The Dublin Castle on January 15th which I must try to get along to.
After some food (pasta and tomatoes for me, pasta and prawns for everyone else followed by chocolate pudding) and drink it's back up to The Honeymoon suite to hurry up and wait, or in my case to doze off on 3 giant cushions. 'It looks like you being eaten by 2 giant lips' said Dave as only he can. We're eventually on just before 10 o'clock for 90 minutes of studied indifference, wild acclaim, and all points in between - a classic corporate gig then. Generally it's a good show with the odd mad moment here and there, and we're back at the hotel just in time to discover that the bar had closed. Bugger!

My alarm goes off at 8 a.m. - after a few faltering attempts I get Breakfast T.V. on the telly and reflect on how odd it is to watch British T.V. when you're abroad. It's not that long ago that it would have been unheard of - then again when I got back to my room the previous night I'd found a subtitled 'C.S.I.' and found myself attempting to understand the subtitles rather than listen to the dialog. I think I may have been a little tired... at breakfast Pete, Dave and Chris report on their failed attempts at getting a sauna while I completely failed to see the 'use sliced bread only' sign on the toasting machine and so put some (very) roughly hand sliced bread into it - I don't think too many people smelt the burning...
In the minibus on the way to the airport the radio bursts into life with some accordion music and panic grips the band - 'you hum it, I'll leave' says a clearly disturbed Dave, and Tony says 'it's the sort of music you play when you want your guests to leave' just as a track that Pete thinks sounds like The Mike Sammes Singers comes on. 'We'll Meet Again' is playing as we arrive at the airport and everyone quickly gets out, grabs their things and heads for check-in. There's not much to do at the airport - actually there's pretty much nothing to do at the airport - but there's not too long to wait for our flight. 'There's gaffa tape on these propellers too' says Chris cheerily as a clearly unamused Pete asks Tony if he'll swap seats with him so that he can sit by the window. I spent most of the flight talking to Dave about subjects as diverse as boxing and Stephen Fry (the two weren't linked in case you were wondering) and musing on whether we'd ever see anything other than cloud out of the windows. Back at the airport it's goodbyes to all and sundry although I end up travelling a fair bit of the way home with Jon who I leave at Finchley Road. I was back serving in Balcony Shirts by 1.30 - 3 1/2 hours earlier I was in Antwerp, and my journey from there to London had taken less time than my journey from London to Uxbridge. Back to work eh?

Sorry this posting is a day later than it might have been. As always I blame East, and as always it's his fault...

From Breakspear to Bethnal Green

And the obituary column continues - my mate Tony has died. I met him through Stuart the guitar repair man, he was a very clever chap, a bit of a boffin who worked at the BBC, played some guitar and liked motor sports among other things. Shirley and myself went to his funeral at Breakspear Crematorium last week and she realised that she knows his son Richard through her work. Stu tells me there might well be a memorial gig for him with donations to Cancer Research UK, and there's an interesting idea for people to play his guitars rather than their own. I'll do my very best to be at that one.

Talking of guitars (for once!) the excellent Steve Simpson (aided and abetted for some of the show by his brother Bruce on guitar and mandolin) gave a splendid performance at The Load of Hay last Sunday. He's playing some shows with the reformed Slim Chance in the not-too-distant future which should be well worth catching as well as continuing to play with Roger Chapman (we're thinking of playing the Family classic 'Burlesque' in The Upper Cut - Steve showed me the 'correct' way to play what is a very tricky song on guitar. Top man!) but it always seems to me that his solo shows are a chance for him to play what he wants rather than what he plays as part of someone else's act. Highlights were many and varied 'though I have to mention his version of the Meal Ticket song 'Golden Girl' (here is a recent version that also features fellow ex-Meal Ticket man Willy Finlayson - good song don't you think?) and the Bob Dylan song 'When I Paint My Masterpiece' as standout songs. A fine performance.

Sunday night gigs for the rest of the year feature the wonderful Kris Dollimore this coming Sunday (21st) then The Upper Cut 'pre-Christmas / Terry the bassman's birthday' gig on December 5th followed by the legend that is John Otway on December 12th - that's not a bad line-up is it? And my fellow blogger and Blue Five member Voltarol is on the radio at 8.45 tomorrow evening playing some of his beloved Brazilian music - click here to join him!

An interesting Wednesday saw your humble narrator accompany Stuart the guitar repair man (him again! - now there's a name that's been absent from these hallowed pages for a while; remind me to tell you why sometime...) to Westmount Music, a new instrument shop in Marlow Bottom. Paul the boss seems a nice chap, and the shop's an interesting mix of stuff so let's hope they can make a go of it. I was left thinking was that they should play some music or show some DVD's in the shop as the atmosphere was a bit 'cold' although maybe that was just me? In the meantime it was off to visit Miles (a longtime customer of Stu's who features in this posting among others) where we dropped a guitar off and where I, after a look at his rather mind-boggling collection of instruments, somehow ended up taking one of his guitars back with me with a view to possibly buying it off him. How did that happen? 'Try it at your gig on Saturday' said he cheerily. Ok, I will... from there we made our way to a farmhouse near Cobham for a visit to Electric Wood, the home of Wal bass guitars. Stu worked for them a few years ago, and Paul the luthier had asked him to come across to have a look at a MIDI bass that wasn't working properly - while he looked at that I spent a bit of time in the spray booth where a badly damaged 1959 Gibson Les Paul Special was being refinished. All very interesting stuff - no, really, it was. Well, I liked it!

The Good Old Boys returned to The General Elliot in Uxbridge on Friday evening, and gave a suitably boisterous performance in front of a suitably boisterous audience. The twin guitar attack of Pete and Simon sounded as excellent as ever, Hud and Nick didn't put a foot wrong all night and Alan sang as well as I've ever heard him - and if you ever wanted to see Nick Simper play 'Hush' then here's your chance. Afterwards East and myself ended up discussing life, the universe and everything with Hud, who regaled us with tales of touring Christian venues in America with Rick Wakeman and much more besides. As I stumbled off homewards at (gulp!) 2.30 a.m. I said something along the lines of 'I've got to be in Balcony Shirts in 6 1/2 hours' (well, that's what I intended to say; it probably sounded more like 'I'f gotta being Bacony Shirs in sis anna haf ours'. Mind you, East understood me although we can only wonder what his reply of 'Warrghh!' was actually intended to be...) and realised that maybe, just maybe, we should have left when the band finished at midnight as we'd originally intended...

Considering the previous evening's antics Saturday at Balcony Shirts could have been a lot more difficult than it turned out to be, although judging by the increase in customers Christmas is definitely on the horizon - mind you I did have to have a sleep pretty much as soon as I got home. All this 'getting older' stuff isn't all that it's cracked up to be I can tell you... still it was back to The Misty Moon in Bethnal Green for the latest Upper Cut gig, and a very enjoyable one it was too - we went on after the boxing for 2 well-received sets with much dancing and general jollity, although I did wonder what was going on when a large chap walked past carrying a tall blonde lady over his shoulder... I used Miles's guitar for the first set and mine for the second - the general consensus was mine sounded better (it should, it's a lot more expensive!) but that the other one could be a good addition to my guitar army. Oh well - there go the wages. Again. Perhaps I should sell something first... hmm... I'll have a think over the next few days...

'I've been dead a long time'

Jimi Hendrix died 40 years ago today. He was 27 years old.

'Once you're dead you're made for life.'

Millions of words have been written about him and his effect on the music world (an indeed the world in general) and in many ways his presence is even greater today than when he was alive and making music. These are odd times for the electric guitar, as players are churned out on conveyor belts from nebulous 'institutes' which claim to teach the would-be guitar hero all that they'll ever need to know to play any type of music that they're ever likely to encounter - many would say that players who learn in this way are soulless and unoriginal, two words that could never be associated with Jimi Hendrix. To some he's the greatest ever exponent of the instrument, to others he's the most overrated player of them all, but few if any will deny his impact. Ask people who saw him perform about him and you can watch them being all-too-briefly transported back to a time when anything seemed to be possible, and when maybe, just maybe, music could change the World.

'My goal is to be at one with the music. I just dedicate my whole life to this art.'

His life story has been documented in almost Biblical detail, and as such doesn't need re-telling here; when he crash-landed on a swinging but nevertheless unsuspecting London in the Autumn of 1966 it's fair to say that no one had ever looked, acted or sounded like him. And I don't just mean musically - listen to recordings of him speaking and you hear a polite, almost impossibly gentle voice that redefines the word 'cool' and almost sounds as though he knew something that we (the rest of the population of the World) didn't but that maybe, just maybe, we could find out if we all listened closely enough. By all accounts he was a shy, intoverted person whose desire to please people is often seen as a contributory factor in his untimely demise - it seems the word 'no' wasn't in his vocabulary! - and as such his, shall we say, adventures with drink, drugs and women are all well-known. However the one thing it seems everybody agrees on is that above all else he lived for the music. Everything else just came along as well.

'A musician, if he's a messenger, is like a child who hasn't been handled too many times by man, hasn't had too many fingerprints across his brain. That's why music is so much heavier than anything you've ever felt.'

His first single 'Hey Joe' sounds almost tame compared to what was to follow but put in context of the music of the time sounds nothing short of revolutionary; the next two singles 'Purple Haze' and 'The Wind Cries Mary' pushed the boundaries even further both in terms of composition and sound. By the time you get to the first album 'Are You Experienced?' you're hearing a guitarist of unparalleled ability playing music that seemed to include elements of every style of popular music that had been heard up until that point in time but that somehow sounded nothing like any of it. The second album 'Axis : Bold As Love' came out only a few months later and was no less extraordinary, focusing more on his songwriting skills although it still contained some amazing guitar playing, and the third album 'Electric Ladyland' remains a sprawling masterpiece of monumental proportions that would still sound radical if it was released today. And the fourth album - well, the fourth album didn't come out, at least as far as Hendrix was concerned. The 'Band Of Gypsys' live album (featuring Billy Cox on bass and Buddy Miles on drums) released in 1970 was a contractual obligation not considered an official release by the man himself although it does include the incredible 'Machine Gun' which contains what for many people is some of his most inventive and astonishing soloing. His projected fourth album was to be 'First Rays Of The New Rising Sun', which he'd been working on for at least a year at the time of his death. Posthumous releases of some of the material appeared on albums like 'The Cry Of Love' and 'Rainbow Bridge', and a version of the album was eventually 'officially' compiled (by recording engineer Eddie Kramer among others) and released in 1997; although it's highly unlikely that it would have emerged in this form had Hendrix have lived to see it's completion it's a good indication of his musical direction at the time of his death. It contains some truly remarkable recordings, with many featuring multi-layered interlocking guitar parts of extraordinary inventiveness and complexity. It could be argued that without Chas Chandler's production and editing skills that were with hindsight so evident on the first two albums he was heading too far down the path of self-indulgence (something that can certainly be said about parts of 'Electric Ladyland') but he certainly wasn't running out of ideas, as further releases like 'South Saturn Delta' and 'Valleys Of Neptune' show. They're still finding recordings from the seemingly never-ending studio sessions that all but dominated the last year or so of his life today - they're not all good, but they're not all bad either.

' You have to go crazy. Craziness is like heaven.'

As a live act The Jimi Hendrix Experience (featuring Noel Redding on bass and John 'Mitch' Mitchell on drums) hit the ground running with a series of early club gigs in around London. Manager Chas Chandler invited the great and the good from the music industry including virtually every name guitarist in the country, all of whom witnessed a live performer who had paid more than enough dues in more than enough backing bands and was not about to let his chance to take the spotlight pass him by. His showmanship quickly became the stuff of legend, and again we all know the story - playing the guitar with his teeth, behind his head, using tricks picked up over years on the so-called 'chitlin circuit'. To me the most remarkable thing is not just what he did, but how he did it - watch this version of 'Hey Joe' and see if you agree with me that none of it ever looks any effort to him, as if it's all just part of how he plays. He apparently grew to hate it, but it rarely if ever looks like it to me. There are several live DVD's available if you've not seen it for yourself - the Monterey set established him in The U.S.A. and is high on pyrotechnics (it's a bit of a shame that 'Wild Thing' is probably the best known number as he really could do so much more than set fire to a guitar!) while the Woodstock footage has less showmanship but some of his most celebrated playing including the infamous rendition of 'The Star Spangled Banner'. Great stuff.

'I've been imitated so well I've heard people copy my mistakes.'

In the 1960's the electric guitar was still a comparatively new instrument, and there were people around that were extending the sonic possibilities - Jeff Beck and Pete Townshend were both using distortion and feedback, The Beatles were recording backward guitars and Eric Clapton had stunned British guitarists with his work on the seminal 'Bluesbreakers' album. Hendrix did all of these things and more, armed only with what today would be seen as simple, even primitive equipment - a Marshall stack, a Fender Stratocaster turned upside down to accommodate his left handed playing (different than anybody else again) and the few effect pedals that were on the market at the time. Electronics genius Roger Mayer certainly contributed to the story by modifying his pedals and building a few exclusive devices for him, but that on it's own wouldn't have given him his sound. That came from him and him alone, and remains to this day a sound that many strive for but few ever approach. And then there's the playing itself, with elements of blues, pop, soul, jazz, rock'n'roll, even country picking, but sounding nothing like any of them but somehow sounding like all of them at the same time. Again, watch the footage - it always looks to me as though the music comes straight out from within him through the guitar, to such an extent that it's sometimes hard to tell where the instrument ends and the man begins. Does that sound pretentious? Watch and see if you agree. And here's something to ponder - next time you see a picture or a bit of film of him, have a close look at his hands. They're big. Very big. He could literally wrap his right hand around the guitar neck. If ever a man was built to play the guitar, it was Jimi Hendrix.

'If I'm free it's because I'm always running.'

So, 40 years after he left the building what are we left with? Recordings that still sound futuristic today, live performances that have literally become the stuff of legend, and a body of work that continues to captivate old fans and win over new converts with ease. It has been analysed so closely that it's almost devoid of any mystery, although of course the one great mystery remains - how did he do it? We all try to get the sound, but nobody ever really does. We all try to play the notes, but they never come out quite how he played them. And no one - no one - can get the feel of his best playing, where it sounds as though he's striving for notes that only he can play with a sound that only he can hear, making music that sounds like nothing else before or since. To me he was the man that the electric guitar was invented for, and it doesn't get any better than that.

'The story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye
The story of love is hello and goodbye
Until we meet again...'