'Most peculiar mama...'

I've worn glasses for almost as long as I can remember. I've worn them in public for a little bit less time than that - I've never considered myself to be particularly vain person, but as a terminally shy adolescent who already feared that the chances of any young lady being even vaguely interested in talking to him were, to coin a phrase, less than zero I rather foolishly decided that the addition of a piece of scaffolding to my acne-ridden features was unlikely to improve matters. Ironically when I started going to watch bands (or maybe specifically to watch the guitarists in bands) I realised that wearing a pair of specs would greatly enhance my enjoyment of the performance. I also realised that it stopped me squinting and/or gawping aimlessly every time I tried to look at anything that was more than a couple of feet away from me, which, oddly enough, meant that I became a little more attractive to young ladies. Good news all round then - although it must be said that the words 'a little' are quite significant in that last sentence.
So - why am I telling you this? Well every so often I realise that my eyes have changed - you tend to assume that they've got worse, but I believe that this isn't always the case, especially as you get older - and when this happens I generally make an appointment to have my eyes tested by an optician. This usually results in them relieving me of several hundred pounds, followed by me spending a couple of years wondering if my new glasses really are better than my old ones. Then the whole process is repeated. Simple eh? 
But what I don't do is test my eyes by jumping in the car and driving 30 miles. And then driving back again. You'd have to be a complete clown to even consider doing that now wouldn't you? Especially if you'd previously driven over 250 miles anyway?
I've never met Dominic Cummings, and, at the risk of stating the obvious, I can't imagine that I ever will. I'm sure suits us both just fine. Have you heard the term 'don't judge a book by it's cover'? Of course you have. Well, just for a laugh, have a look at a picture or even better some film of Mr. Cummings - how do you think he looks? Interesting isn't it? As I'm in what passes for a good mood in my little life I'll be polite and say that he looks to me to be an odious little creep, which you might argue makes him ideally suited to be the Chief Advisor to Boris Johnson. You remember Boris Johnson don't you? You don't see much of him these days, but he's that lying toff who, bafflingly, is currently The Prime Minister of Great Britain. Now, leaving aside the fact that anywhere that has someone who would struggle to get a job on a television game show in charge of it shouldn't really use the word 'Great' in it's name, the most obvious course of action here would be for the Prime Minister to get a new Chief Advisor - after all, in these times of Coronavirus lockdown it's probably a good idea to have someone who can be trusted to stay on the right side of the law of the land giving you a helping hand. But no - apparently a much better idea is to make a rare appearance to defend said advisor's action, and then let said advisor sit in your back garden defending himself and his aforementioned actions. That's much better isn't it?
Hmm... is it me or have I missed something here? Rather like Mr. C appears to have missed the bit in The Highway Code where it says that you shouldn't drive a motor car if you haven't got good enough eyesight - after all, as he himself put it, 'I believe that in all the circumstances I behaved reasonably and legally'? Or maybe he just wanted to contribute to his infamous 'herd immunity' directive by driving up and down the county spreading the virus far and wide - after all, it's at best unlikely that he didn't at least have to stop for petrol on the way... meanwhile as the vast majority us play by the rules domestic abuse and mental health problems rise as countless people have lost work and in many cases watched their businesses go to the brink of collapse, while others can't go to funerals for family members and loved ones. And this pillock thinks that what he's done here is justifiable? 

Enough of such nonsense - let's get back to the music. Ruts D.C. contributed a song - 'Kill The Pain' in case you were wondering - to the 'Vive Le Rockdown' online festival last weekend. Organised by Vive Le Rock magazine and raising funds for The Music Venues Trust it was a rip-roaring two-and-a-half hour roller coaster ride (I should write this stuff for a living shouldn't I?!?) with a splendid rendition of the Tom Petty classic 'Learning To Fly' by The Cockney Rejects probably the best track for me. You can watch the whole thing on the VLR Facebook page here if you like - we're 10 minutes from the end...

The '40 Years Of The Crack' album cover.
Pretty cool huh?

Ruts TV has gone from strength to strength since last we spoke - the show now goes out on the band's Facebook page (here!) every other Friday at 8 pm (although it's available to watch after that if you can't make it then) and it's featured all manner of interesting items over the last few weeks. Well I think that it has, and judging by the amount of positive comments I'm pleased to say that many people seem to agree with me. Mind you, it didn't exactly go according to plan last night, when Episode 6 was blocked by Facebook as Universal Music objected to the promotional video for 'Something That I Said' by The Ruts being featured. Bah! 
Our live album from last year's '40 Years Of The Crack' tour is out next month - if only we could play some shows to promote it - and there's also a new band t-shirt which makes a contribution to both The Music Venues Trust and The NHS available to order here if you fancy treating yourself.

Of course we've also all received the very sad news that Dave Greenfield of The Stranglers has died. We've toured with the band several times over the last few years, and while I can't pretend to have known Dave well I've always found him to be friendly and cheerful whenever we've spoken. He leaves behind a enormous body of work - it's very difficult to be a distinctive-sounding keyboard player, but Dave certainly was that and a whole lot more. He'll be greatly missed by the band's millions of fans worldwide, and by everyone who knew him personally and could call him a friend.

And sadly The Rebellion Festival has joined the 'postponed-until-next-year' list - I don't mind admitting that I had thought that it might have happened as scheduled in August but have to agree that they've made the correct decision. And we should have been on tour in America this week - that's been rescheduled for next May. Hopefully.

In these increasingly crazy days it's perhaps tempting to look back to simpler times... in the Eighties and Nineties I played in a band called The Price. Don't worry if you haven't heard if them, you're not alone.... our fifth member/roadie/referee Eastberg (it would take to long to explain the name!) is currently attempting to compile a gig list (if you came to a show and you know the date, or even better have a ticket or poster advertising it then all contributions are most welcome!) and is also running a band Facebook page, which has recently featured photos from our East German tour in May 1990 among other delights. If you'd like to see these pictures and much more besides then click here - and was it really 30 years ago? Yes, incredibly, it was. Three decades! Amazing.

Time is funny stuff isn't it? Well, it certainly is at the moment...

70 not out

It doesn't seem that long ago that the name Wilko Johnson was everywhere. And it's not that long ago that it was, in relative terms at least, nowhere. Everywhere and nowhere baby... it's certainly been an unprecedented few years for the Canvey Island assassin, from his unforgettable appearance in the Dr. Feelgood documentary 'Oil City Confidential' and his subsequent 'who'd have thought it?' recruitment to the cast of 'Game Of Thrones' to his now-well-known diagnosis and subsequent cure from cancer it's been an extraordinary time. Last night he played a 70th birthday show at no lesser venue than The Royal Albert Hall. Strange days indeed. I went along with my good friend Pete Sargeant who was reviewing the night for 'Blues Matters' magazine - as we settled into our seats we reflected on how we - all of us - had got to where we were. Pete used to see The Feelgoods in the London pubs before they started making records whereas I missed the band with Wilko on guitar - I was a bit young, and anyway I didn't have any friends to go to see a band like them with. But however you look at it the band made an indelible impression on us both as they did with so many people.

Our evening starts by coming full circle (if that's not too much of a contradiction in terms) as Eight Rounds Rapid take to the stage. Simon 'son-of-Wilko' Johnson prowls around as Dave the singer tells us that his mate's a bit tight, but he's alright. They're a great band - see them in a pub or club and they'll blow your head off, but in The RAH they have trouble ruffling each other's hair. It's not their fault of course - this is simply the wrong venue for them, they're not loud enough and seem dwarfed by their surroundings. Mind you, who wouldn't be? After their set I bump into Cadiz Records supremo Richard England and Vive Le Rock editor Eugene Butcher. They're even more disappointed by what they just saw and are looking for a bar to drink away the memory in - there are enough of them to choose from but I can't help thinking that there isn't enough money in the world to get drunk here. 

Next up is Benjamin Tehoval, a one-man band who manages to operate an electric guitar, some bass pedals, a kick drum and his voice simultaneously and at the same time. He also manages to get much of the audience wondering what the hell he was doing there. When he was told that there was only time for one more song he played 'Like A Rolling Stone' - that's six minutes of our lives that none of us will ever get back again. Pete thought it was funny, I thought it was the sort of thing that only a hopeless hippie who was sufficiently self-obsessed as to not care about the rest of the evening would do. Oh well - it wouldn't do for us all to like the same thing now would it?

Next up ladeez 'n' gennelmen, The Bard Of Salford himself, Dr. John Cooper Clarke. As a long term fan of the great man I was naturally delighted by his presence whereas Pete took the opportunity to catch up some much-needed sleep. Well as I say, it wouldn't do for us all to like the same thing... among the unmissable moments he, er, missed was a previously unheard (by me at least) tale of our hero making enough money to hire a 'snooty butler' who he assumed would be available whenever his services were required; when he came in from a gig at 2 a.m. to find said butler wearing a 'wife-beater vest' and responding to his asking for 'a couple of rounds of Mickie Most and a mug of splosh' with the words 'your dietary requirements are no concerns of mine' he replaced him with a chimpanzee. Genius.

Interval time - looking around the venue it was all a bit... 'nice' if you know what I mean. Whilst it was impossible not to be impressed by our surroundings, having seen Wilko countless times over the last 40 (40!) years it was all a bit incongruous. For every rocker in t-shirt and jeans there seemed to be several people who looked as though they'd come straight from Harrods. Maybe they had? 

9.40 on the dot and it's time for the main event - Norman Watt-Roy looks out into the auditorium and mouths 'Wow!' as Wilko plugs in and 'All Right' crackles into life. 'If You Want Me, You've Got Me' follows before the always-excellent 'Dr. Dupree' slows things down a bit - but only a bit. There's already drops of sweat on the floor of Norman's side of the stage as they swing into 'Roxette' - and suddenly it's early 1975 and I'm calling my mum in from the kitchen as Dr. Feelgood roar through an unforgettable (for me at least) rendition of the song on 'The Geordie Scene', changing my life in the process. I didn't stop talking about it for days - to be honest I'm not sure that I've stopped talking about it much ever since. Here it gets the muted approval of the all-to-polite audience, as does the rest of the set - how often have the band played for over an hour to a fully-seated audience? It takes the final one-two sucker punch of 'Back In The Night'  and 'She Does It Right' to finally break the spell and get a few people onto their feet - the security staff who up until this point had been unsubtly stopping people from doing anything as anarchic as taking photos swung even more unsubtly into action, but at least there was a bit of atmosphere at last. As demands for an encore grew Simon's amplifier was set up and speculation as to who would be joining the band was rife - I doubt that few if any had expected that the special guest to be JCC playing Simon's barely audible Telecaster on 'Bye Bye Johnny', but that was what they got. As the crew readied themselves to take the gear off the stage the band returned once more, sending the security staff into meltdown in the process - 'Route 66' bombed out the last pockets of resistance, and everybody (except I suspect the afore-mentioned security staff) went home happy. 

Or did they? On the train home I reflected on what we'd all just seen. As previously stated I've been watching Wilko play live for four decades. I saw him on his first post-Feelgoods tour and I've watched him ever since through thick and thin, playing blistering, heart-stopping shows everywhere from  small, smoky, sweaty back rooms of pubs to large outdoor festivals and all points in between, in front of handfuls to hundreds to thousands of people - it's strange to see him now, after the trauma of the last few years, as a successful act playing bigger and bigger venues to so many people wearing his name on their chests. This wouldn't, indeed couldn't have happened at any other point in his career, and it's great that it's happened now - but has he lost something in the process? It was a great gig and an event to have been at, but I have a suspicion - indeed, a sneakin' suspicion - that he just might have...

'I wanted to look like one of The Flamin' Groovies...'

The new Ruts DC single 'Kill The Pain' comes out on Westworld Records on March 3rd just in time for our tour with The Stranglers - it's from our album 'Music Must Destroy' and features Jake Burns and Kirk Brandon on backing vocals. You can see the Graham Trott - directed promo video on YouTube by clicking here - excellent!

In the meantime I am once again currently in the grip of the dreaded ManFlu. Bah! I seem to have had it rather a lot lately, or it certainly feels as though I have - maybe I've not got rid of it properly, if you know what I mean. It's certainly getting a bit boring... since last we spoke I've cheered up a (little) bit - there have been gigs with The Upper Cut in Reading and with Big Al and the boys in St Albans, Burnham and Colnbrook, all of which passed without too much incident; I'm out and about with Al and co. this weekend although if I feel like I do now I fear that I won't be going anywhere. Time for some paracetamol and an early night - give me something to kill the pain, as someone once sang...

'I'm back - in full attack...'

Friday 30th December at 4 pm, in seat 15D on British Airways flight number BA542 not long after take-off.

Well it's been a while since I've done this. Blogging I mean. I think that I've, for want of a better term, lost the habit. Time I got it back then.

Somewhere near the end of October - or was it the start of November? - my computer went wrong. I switched it on one night - to write a blog post if I remember correctly - and the screen remained defiantly white, albeit with a little question mark in the middle. A quick scout around the Internet (we've all got that on our phone these days haven't we? It's funny how you go to use it almost with out thinking isn't it?) revealed that it was likely to be a hard drive problem - so what was I to do? Hmm... I wonder if that computer repair shop down the road could sort it out for me?
Well it turned out that they could. Eventually. My new friend Terry phoned me after he'd had a look at it to tell that I did indeed need a new hard drive ('you have backed it up haven't you?' he asked somewhat ominously and clearly expecting the answer 'no' - yes, incredibly I had, and fairly recently too) and went on to tell me that being an 'old' (i.e. not 'new') MacBook there were limits to what could be achieved. 'How about a hybrid drive?' said he, rather more cheerily than he'd asked the previous question; he'd usually suggest a solid state drive but my ancient device wouldn't be able to cope with that but this would do the trick. Well it sounded like a good plan and was a lot less expensive than I was fearing so I gave him the go-ahead. 'No hurry' I replied when he asked when I needed the computer back. This may in retrospect have been a bit of a mistake.
After a week or so I called to see how things were going. My new mate Terry was still very much my new mate, and he lost little if any time in telling me that things were going well and that he should be able to have my computer back with me by, ooh, the end of next week. 'Oh that great' said I - it was only after I'd put the phone down that I realised that it would by then be over three weeks since I'd had the computer at home. I had several outstanding invoices to send (if you're a self-employed person like me then you'll know what I mean!) and had among other things an increasingly dim recollection of writing something called a 'blog'. I used to enjoy writing that, even if I was never really sure if anyone actually read it. I'd been able to update my Facebook page on my iPhone but writing anything more than a few words was just too fiddly. A snap decision saw your humble narrator purchase an iPad Mini as there were bills to pay online - it's amazing how much of that we all do online these days isn't it? - and anyway, I'd fancied an iPad for a while as it'd be handy for taking away on tour. I'm finding it less fiddly to use than a phone but trickier than a computer - oh well, I'm sure it'll be ok in the end.
In the meantime my afore-mentioned computer reappeared at the afore-mentioned shop. Hurrah! I rather nervously switched it on - it worked. Good! But wait a minute - something was different. Well, actually quite a lot was different. It was... well, it was like I remember it being when I first got it all those years ago. It's not how I remember it before it went wrong. Bugger! Oh hang on - I guess that means that I have to, I believe the term is, 'restore my last back up' from the external hard drive that I've got all this stuff sitting on. Well that should be simple enough shouldn't it? Well indeed it should, but after what felt like an age on the Internet I still could get the bloomin' thing to work. Terry - help!
'You probably need some iCloud settings updating, and maybe a few other bits and pieces looking at - drop it back into the shop and I'll sort it out for you' said my by-now-old mate Terry. Will do. Could I have it back a bit quicker than last time please?
Well it finally made it's way back to me just before Christmas and I'm pleased / relieved to say that it seems to working fine. Having spent years being clogged up to breaking point with far too much music in iTunes it's now less than half full - plenty of room for yet more music then - and it's good to have it back working at something faster than the proverbial snail's pace. I must still keep using the iPad though mustn't I? All's well that end's well - except that I tried to back it up last night (I thought that I'd better have a go!) and it wouldn't work. I'd better look up 'Time Machine Settings' or something like it when we get back hadn't I?

And it's been a while since I've done this too. Flown to a gig I mean. Ruts D.C. have a New Year's Eve gig at The Covo Club in Bologna. I think that the last time that I saw the original band was New Year's Eve 1981 at The Fulham Greyhound. That's 35 years ago. Doesn't time fly when you're having fun. Doesn't time fly anyway?
Since last we spoke here I've been gigging a fair bit, mostly with Big Al Reed and The Blistering Buicks as well as a Boxing Night bash at The Dolphin in Uxbridge with The Upper Cut which all but erased the memory of our last not-so-good gig there. I've also worked many-a day at Balcony Shirts which has maybe not been quite as busy as at the same time last year, and spent most of Christmas Day ill with food poisoning or something like it. Urgh! I've managed to have a couple of much-needed quiet days after Xmas before before Segs, Dave and myself got together yesterday for rehearsal - buoyed by the recent news that 'Music Must Destroy' was voted Album Of The Year in Vive Le Rock magazine ('I'd like to thank the academy' etc) we spent four very enjoyable hours running through material for tomorrow night's show. 
A lot of people don't seem to be sad to see the back of 2016. There do seem to have been rather a lot of celebrity deaths don't there? Incidentally I was very saddened to hear that Rick Parfitt left the building just before Christmas - one of the great rock 'n' roll rhythm guitarists, I met him once and he seemed to be a very nice chap. And I was never exactly the world's biggest George Michael fan, but you can't deny that the guy could certainly sing... and then there was that little matter of the vote to leave The E.U. (am I the only person that thinks that we won't actually leave?) and the truly astonishing sight of someone who appears to be a complete and utter lunatic being voted President Elect of The U.S.A.; it remains to be seen how we fare in 2017 but surely it can't be quite as crazy as 2016?

Anyway the screen says that we're 51 minutes away from Bologna and I've got 'The Liberal Politics Of Adolf Hitler' by John King to read. That's quite a title isn't it? I'm told by the author that the band are in it somewhere (that wasn't the only reason that I bought it, honest!) so I'd better get on with reading it hadn't I? 

Saturday 31st December at 11.24 am, in Room 354 of The Ramada Encore Hotel in Bologna

Ah, that's better. I sometimes wonder if there's anything in the World that a hot shower or indeed a hot bath won't fix. Not that I had anything in particular that needed fixing, but you know what I mean I think.
It's a lovely sunny morning here, so perhaps I should be out and about rather than languishing in a hotel room. Fair point - but since we have a very long day in prospect (we're due on stage at 12.30 am) a lazy morning might be a good idea.

I bet you thought that
I'd made those names up?!?

'Twas a splendid evening just gone - we were met at the airport by Mars and Angela (I first met Mars several years ago when as a member of The Valentines he was backing T.V. Smith on some British dates) who took us to our hotel for check-in then to The Jukebox Cafe for some food. The Cafe (which incidentally serves such delights as Punkcakes, Eggy Pop and, believe it or not, a Ruts Burger - if you're in Bologna then visit immediately!) is part of The Covo Club - with no table available for a while it was suggested that we had a walk around town which turned out to be an excellent idea. Whilst musicians are lucky enough to find themselves in all sorts of interesting places there's often very little time to see anything other than where you're playing and where you're staying so it was great to be able to see some of the local sights. Mars recalled seeing The Clash play an open air show in the Town Square in 1980 - Topper was late so they played the first few songs with the drummer from the support band Whirlwind on drums before giving a blistering performance. 'It changed my life' said he, looking visibly moved. I bet that it did. They changed mine too.
Outside the cafe a board advertises the (very) imminent appearance of 'U.K. Punk Legends' Ruts D.C.; the jukebox is blasting out early Stones singles and the food is going down very well as is the local beer and wine. We all pretty much ran out of steam around midnight - it had been a long day. A taxi was called but few if any other attendees were leaving - The Jukebox Cafe looks like a good place to be.
Meanwhile I've got Creedence Clearwater Revival playing on the iPod (Keith Richards earlier, it's funny how some songs come to mind when you least expect it isn't it?) and I've got a bit of time to myself, which is good because J.K.'s book is every bit as good as I was hoping that it would be. It's all go isn't it? Well, it certainly will be later.

Sunday 1st January at 2.05 pm, in the hotel lobby

Ah - the wonder of the late check out. Mars spoke to the person behind the desk yesterday who apparently is a regular at the club. That was lucky.
We got back to the hotel not long after 5 am. It had been a long night, but a good one. Opening act Mars Valentines and The Illuminations had warmed the crown up with a set of suitably punky cover versions ('This Perfect Day' sounded particularly strong I thought) and had all looked as though they were having a whale of a time. They went on not long before midnight, and stopped after a couple of songs to open a bottle of champagne (or something very like it) and to toast the start of 2017. And why not? It was Mars's first stage appearance for over two years, and he made a great job of it. And let's face it, anybody who plays a Gibson Firebird has to be alright don't they?
When we were first offered the gig (not that long ago, around October if I remember rightly) I must admit that I for one was a little bemused. Are Ruts D.C. a 'New Year's Eve type of band'? I suppose the answer to that question is something along the lines of 'it depends on where you are on New Year's Eve'. They were certainly the right type of band for The Fulham Greyhound on NYE 1981, and it turned out that we were the right type of band for The Covo Club on NYE 2017. As previously discussed we'd not played a show since November, and while there was no reason that this show shouldn't have been a good one (after all we'd sounded fine in rehearsal) there is often an element of 'ring rustiness' in situations such as these. Thankfully that wasn't the case here, and our 18-song-set-with-a-4-song-encore roared by in no time - always a sign of a good show. Afterwards there was time for a drink (or two) and a chance to talk to some of the audience, many of whom were very emotional about our performance. It's easy to forget how powerful music can be - how it brings like-minded people together, how it can stir up often unexpected emotions and feelings, and how it can mean so much to players and listeners alike. This was definitely one of those nights, a pleasure to part of from start to finish. I often bang on about how lucky I am to be able to play music - I'm not going to do that again here (for once!) but suffice to say that it's good to be reminded of it sometimes... 

Monday 2nd January at 12.26 pm, back in Blighty and at home

So there you have it - a return to blogging after what feels like ages. It's actually only a few weeks, but having written something most weeks for the last 10 (10!) years it's something that's a bigger part of my life than I perhaps realise. I started it to learn to type and to find my way around a computer - despite still being a 'two finger typist' most of the time (thumbs and the odd second finger creep in here and there) I can now get up a reasonable head of steam, and whilst I wouldn't necessarily describe myself as being 'computer literate' I can do more on a computer than I ever could, especially when the damn thing works... I'm still not really sure that anybody reads this stuff, but I'm in too deep to stop now. So I'd better carry on then! Forward!

Oh and I nearly forgot - happy new year y'all!
(Assuming that anybody is reading this…)

'Time keeps on slippin', slippin, slippin'... into the future...'

Well the busy times are back, hence the lack of blogging. Like an idiot I didn't take any notes over the past couple of weeks, so stories of Ruts D.C. at the North East Calling festival in Newcastle (we thought we were playing at 9 o'clock but were actually on 3 hours earlier - we arrived at the venue less than an hour before showtime) and gigging at The Slade Rooms in Wolverhampton (I loved the backward 'S' on the end of 'Rooms', Noddy and co. should be proud!) and The Brooklyn Bowl in The O2 Arena (a Vive Le Rock - sponsored event that also saw great sets The Newtown Neurotics, Giuda and The Cockney Rejects) have somewhat faded from my memory... I also saw Sharks at The Borderline (where I met Paul Cook for the first time and somehow promised Professionals singer / guitarist Tom that I'd play on their upcoming album - I wonder if that'll ever happen?!) and Paranoid Visions with Steve Ignorant at The 100 Club on the same night (ooh I was tired the next day!) and played gigs with The Upper Cut (at The Dolphin in Uxbridge - not our best ever performance, we really must have a rehearsal sometime) and Big Al Reed and The Blistering Buicks (where two young Polish girls's dancing at the Black Horse in Greenford enlivened proceedings no end) as well as working many-a day in the shop, to such an extent that this feels like my first day off for weeks. Surely that can't be the case? Mind you I've spent most of it asleep so maybe it is.

 More of the same this week, and next week, and the week after that...

'We shall fight them on the peaches...'

The new Ruts DC album 'Music Must Destroy' was released last Friday on Sosumi / Westworld Records. To celebrate this (ahem!) momentous occasion we played a sold out show at The Underworld in Camden Town. Support came from our friends Department S who rather cheekily inserted the riff to 'Babylon's Burning' into their last song 'I Want' (in my day you stayed in after school for doing things like that!) and finished their show to an audience reaction that many-a headline band would have been proud of.

Our show was different for a number of reasons. We decided to play all of the songs from the album, three of which had not been played on stage before (since you've asked, 'Soft City Lights', 'Peacebomb' and 'Tears On Fire') while 'Golden Boy' had only featured in acoustic shows. After much deliberation we decided to use a click track on some songs which would allow us to use elements from the recorded versions on a backing track to augment the live instruments. We also invited David D'Andrade to join us for several songs - he plays guitar in The Razors with Dave, and in addition to being a great musician he's also annoyingly young and good looking with a full head of hair (I'm not bitter, honest!) so I made sure he was on the opposite side of the stage to me… add to this the for want of a better word 'pressure' of the occasion and we were set for a memorable evening. Of course as with so many things in life not everything went according to plan - Dave left his iPad at home ('thank gawd I backed it all up on my phone') so soundcheck took a little longer than it might although everything sounded good in the end, with the strings to 'Golden Boy' sounding particularly extraordinary through the PA. All well and good - except come showtime the phone decided not to work, meaning that all the work Dave had put in preparing the tracks and all the time that we'd spent rehearsing with them came to nothing. Bah! Oh well - at least we've got them for next time, whenever that may be… other than that the show went as well as any of us could have hoped for. An extraordinary, unforgettable event - but you don't have to take my word for it, as the always - excellent Elvis In The Clouds blog has published this review of proceedings which captures the story rather well - thanks Elvis!

Reaction to the album has generally been very positive, and I'm told that the initial pressing of CDs has sold out which is fantastic news. I saw the vinyl version for the first time on Saturday afternoon at All Ages Records in Camden where we participated in a signing session (which incidentally was really good fun!) and I must say that it looks tremendous. It's a couple disc set with the ten tracks spread over two 12" records so it should sound tremendous too. I'm off to sign 250 or so of them this afternoon to be sent out later this week to people who have bought them through PledgeMusic - exciting times! And talking of exciting times in addition to playing Fiesta La Mass in Rennes this weekend we've just been confirmed as the support band on The Stranglers 'Classic Collection' tour next year, which is splendid news. It also goes some way toward explaining the title of this blog posting, which I have shamelessly stolen from a review in '77 Sulphate Strip', Barry Cain's brilliant collection of writings from his time at 'Record Mirror' in 1977 and which I've been reading over the past few weeks. I first saw The Stranglers in that year - who'd have though that 40 years later I'd be in a band supporting them eh? 

Ruts D.C. 'Music Must Destroy' single is released today!

As the title of this posting suggests, the new Ruts D.C. single 'Music Must Destroy' is released today on Sosumi / Westworld Records. It features guest performances from Henry Rollins on vocals and Boz Boorer on guitar and is accompanied by a promo video directed by Graham Trott that features Segs, Dave Ruffy and myself in a cement dust-filled warehouse in The Bussey Building in deepest darkest Peckham and the mighty Mr. Rollins (aided and abetted by Segs) up in Edinburgh a couple of days earlier. You can watch the video by clicking here - if you look closely during the crowd scenes you might spot Mr. Spee from Dreadzone, Paul from King Kurt, Tara from The Duel and Bristol 'Death Or Glory' promoters Ziggy and Jon among others (assuming you know what they all look like of course…)

The album of the same name (which has already received this astonishing review - thank you Mr. Ringmaster whoever you may be!) is out next Friday 16th September, when we'll be playing a launch gig supported by Department S at The Underworld in Camden Town in conjunction with the always-worth-reading Vive Le Rock magazine. It should be a night to remember - so let's hope that it is!

'Psychic Attack' by Ruts D.C. is released today!

"Great. The Ruts are back in black - with hats. Love the tunnels… great acting, great sound, true to what so many of my old muckers are feeling these days… longtime fan Pete Townshend."

Yes, Pete Townshend. That Pete Townshend. You know, the one out of The Who. That Pete Townshend. 

What's he talking about? I'm glad you've asked… he's talking about the promotional video for the new Ruts D.C. single 'Psychic Attack'. No, really, he is. Even I couldn't make that up, and I can make some pretty weird things up. But I didn't make it up, not least because I didn't have to. The video was premiered Monday night on the Vive Le Rock and Rebellion Festival websites and you can watch it here if you like - Graham Trott did a fantastic job didn't he? 

And today the single is released on the band's own Sosumi Records in association with Westworld Recordings - I could be prouder, but not much, and I don't give myself much credit for what I do. Louder Than War have given it a great review (thanks Ged!) and tonight I'm off to see The Damned play their 40th anniversary show at The Albert Hall, which seems oddly appropriate given their connection with The Ruts over the years. What better way to celebrate? It should be quite a night, and if you're going then I'll see you there. Excellent!

'To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune. To lose both looks like carelessness...'

Well, that was a very - make that very - busy few days in mad-guitar world. I wrote about it all when I got home in the early hours of this morning after playing with Ruts D.C. at Guilfest - to be honest with you, it was a bit of a rant. I was tired but I wanted to get my thoughts down, and while that's sometimes a good idea (if nothing else it helps to clear your head of whatever is rattling around in it at the time) it was somewhat coloured by the fact that I was still annoyed about our set earlier in the evening being cut short due to overrunning. Not good frankly. Not good at all. I've thought about reproducing it here but to be honest it doesn't read very well - it's very disjointed and it must be said not particularly pleasant to the band who were on before us who after introducing their 'last number' then proceeded to play three songs. The nicest thing I call them is 'hippie tosspots' - it then goes downhill from there, ending with a quote from a song that I played on Saturday evening. It's quite funny in places (even though I say so myself!) but I'm not sure that anything would be served by it being here.

Things had all been going so well up until that point. Thursday - which I don't mind saying seems like a lifetime ago after a weekend such as this - had seen a splendidly-enjoyable Ruts D.C. rehearsal (the studio had air conditioning which with temperatures outside in the 80s made it a very pleasant place to be!) after which your humble narrator appeared at The 100 Club with The London Sewage Company. We played well, and with The Morgellons and Menace also on good form it was a suitably energetic start to this run of shows.

Friday was a long - maybe that should be l-o-n-g - day. Vern the driver arrived in the bus to pick me up just after midday - by the time we'd collected everybody else (including meeting Cadiz Music supremo Richard England in a petrol station where he was with Jay and Paul from The Urban Voodoo Machine - surreal!) and journeyed to Southend it was 6pm. But the mood was good, and soundcheck at Chinnerys took no time at all. With a bit of time before the first band I walked up to The Railway Hotel - when I arrived landlord Dave Dulake was testing a Theremin that was sitting on top of the piano in the bar. I did several gigs with him a few years ago, and it was good to catch up with him again. The food there is good too! I got back to the club in time to see The Dogtown Rebels who began proceedings well; after them Eight Rounds Rapid were as excellent as ever, but with the temperature in the club soaring (oh for the previous day's air conditioning!) I went outside for a bit of air and was greeted with the sight of heavy rain and forked lightning across the sea. Scary! Our set went very well until water began leaking in from above Segs's head - someone gave him a comically small bucket (I think it was the sort that you build sandcastles with!) which provoked much merriment from all concerned, although it goes without saying that this could have been a very dangerous situation indeed. In the meantime Segs told some very funny stories about his time living in Southend, and despite the risk on electrocution our show went down well with band and audience alike.

Marc Whiles takes a well-earned
breather after having been
driven insane by Ruts D.C.'s
outrageous backstage demands.

Last week I'd received a call from Sex Pistols Experience drummer and manager Dave asking if I'd be available to dep with them at Guilfest on Saturday evening. Given the fact that I was already playing at The Penn Festival with Ruts D.C. that afternoon and that we were also playing Guilfest on Sunday a sensible answer might have been 'no' - but where's the fun in that? As we were on at 1.30pm the shows didn't clash, but there was the problem of getting me from Penn to Guildford. At this point my good friend Andy Miller (a.k.a. Big Andy) exhibited the same problem I had with the word 'no' and offered to drive me from gig to gig - when we arrived at the festival he was already in attendance and raring to go. With Marc Whiles stage managing (he's worked with us as a driver / tour manager on several occasions, and it was good to see him again) everything went according to plan, and we were on stage at exactly half past one. With more than a few Ruts and Ruts D.C. t-shirts in the crowd we had a better reaction than I for one originally thought that we might (we were on after Whigfield - really!) and all pronounced ourselves to be pleased with the show. After watching The Selecter (who were excellent) Big Andy set the controls for Guildford - after some confusion upon arrival we eventually we given wristbands and a car pass and were able to make our way to the Vive Le Rock stage where we met up with the rest of The Sex Pistols Experience and saw a few songs from The Bermondsey Joyriders and Imperial Leisure. It's showtime at seven o'clock - with five minutes to go there's no sign of Big Andy (he told me later that there were so many people in the tent that he literally couldn't get through to the backstage area!) and I can't get into his car to get the Steve Jones t-shirt that I'd planned to wear during the show so I have to go on in the striped shirt that I've been wearing all day. It had been a while since I last played with the band but everything fell into place straight away, and our 30-odd minute show went by in no time with (as this clip shows) the audience in the packed tent going crazy throughout. The only downside was that a lady was injured when some clown decided that it would be a good idea to crowd surf - she was taken away in an ambulance but was apparently well enough to leave hospital the next day. The Urban Voodoo Machine were up next, I hadn't seen them play for a while but they were as entertaining as ever although their last number didn't quite go according to plan. A scantily-clad young lady came on fire-eating - it was part of the act but clearly nobody had told the security man who ran past me and attempted to manhandle her from the stage. Singer Paul tried to stop him and things descended into chaos... by now things were over-running, and headline act The Buzzcocks were obliged to cut their set down, but with Pete Shelley sporting a beard and Steve Diggle as crazy as ever they didn't disappoint. Well, they certainly didn't disappoint me.

Big Andy and Dave Ruffy
 - sharp dressed men.

Big Andy and myself arrived back on site at five o'clock the next afternoon. I'd spoken to Dave earlier in the day when among other things we agreed that surely they wouldn't allow things to run late again - would they? Surely not? Oh well, we'd all know soon enough... I saw three-and-a-bit songs from Electric River (and very good they were too) before the rest of our band arrived and much jollity ensued. With The Ramonas roaring through their set we all agreed that the scene was set for a classic show. The Skints were on before us and the place was packed - this was indeed going to be a classic - and it was (including this version of 'Love In Vain' which I'd say is among the best versions that we've ever played) right up until the moment that Richard informed us that he'd been asked to tell us that we only had 8 minutes left. What?!? But we've still got 4 songs left to play... what followed was one of the strangest incidents that I've ever been part of on a stage, where we played a verse each from 'Staring At The Rude Boys' and 'West One (Shine On Me)' before finishing with a crazed 'Babylon's Burning' which ended with all the lights being switched off. Big Andy filmed it, and here it all is as it happened - strange but true. Afterwards there is much anger - why was this allowed to happen? Was nothing learned from the previous evening? Apparently not. But it had been a great weekend - and in case you were wondering which song I quoted in my scribbly spleen-vent scrawl when I got home this morning it was this one. Can you guess which line it was? Of course you can...

Enough of this wilfully obscure nonsense - it's my birthday this week and those loveable funsters The Upper Cut are playing at The Dolphin in Uxbridge on Friday so why not come along and see if I can still play guitar after that frankly unwise amount of lager. And if that wasn't enough Big Al Reed and The Blistering Buicks are playing at The Sunningdale Lounge in Sunningdale on Thursday (my 'actual' birthday) and The Swan in Iver on Saturday - see you at the bar!

'Time is a train, makes the future the past...'

'Oi you know 'oo you look like? Vat bloke, oh wattsis name... ver bloke in "Bottom", not ver dead one, ve uvver one...'

The two young ladies that have just sat opposite me are cheery enough but they are a bit, shall we say, rough around the edges. It had clearly been a good Friday night. 'You might want to move' said the taller of the two, smiling as she produced a bottle of vodka, some lime cordial and two cardboard Costa coffee cups. No, no, I'm fine where I am thank you. In fact, I'm rather looking forward to the rest of my journey.
We're on a train travelling from Liverpool Street to Southend. I'm on my way to meet Austin who I'm playing a gig with that evening and up until this point I've only had the latest edition of 'Vive Le Rock' magazine for company. They - well, they're going wherever the action takes them.

'Wassat? Vat fing in the seat next to ya? Are you a musician? I bet you're a right show off aintcha?'

At this point I should say that despite the shorter girl operating at a volume that probably ensured that everybody else in the train could hear her, I was having trouble working out what she was saying. Hay fever has given me bunged up sinuses and ears full of wax, a situation that had conspired against me the previous evening when The Upper Cut had played a short notice gig at The Admiral Nelson in Twickenham. I didn't particularly enjoy the show - nothing to do with the band, it's just that I had real problems hearing what was going on and so missed a few cues. I also couldn't gauge how loud I was playing - from what I'm told I was a bit too loud at the start, too quiet in the middle and more-or-less at the right volume by the end - and it was hard to pitch my vocals. Still people were dancing and everyone that I spoke to after the show said that it had been a good gig so I guess we must have been doing something right. Sadly my ears hadn't improved the next day (they're still bad as I type this, perhaps I'll get some Otex tomorrow) which meant a potentially fraught Saturday night gig in prospect, depping with The Essex Blues Brothers at a 40th birthday party in Maldon. Having spent a fair few years playing in The Chicago Blues Brothers band I was reasonably familiar with the material, but whereas that was generally a full band here the drums, bass and keyboards were on backing tracks with the guitar, horns and vocals being performed live. Austin had sent me the tracks to practice with (I worked with him in his duo Liquid a few years ago, and both he and his fellow Blues Brother Chris both depped with the CBBs) which were a great help, to such an extent that I dread to think what sort of a mess I would have been in if I hadn't heard them first. That said I don't mind admitting that it all gave me the rather odd feeling that I was going back in time. Sort of. A bit. Maybe.
I'd not met Graham (trumpet) or Anita (saxophone) before but they were both very friendly and helpful, going through the music to answer any enquiries that I had, and I hadn't seen Chris (a.k.a. C.J.) for ages so it was good to catch up with him. The gig was in a marquee in a field - we got there to be told that they'd just finished building the stage (!) and that they were ready for us to set up. I was using a Pod rather than an amplifier and so was concerned that I wouldn't be able to hear what I was playing (and given my current plight, whether I would be able to hear anything at all) but by the time we'd run through a couple of songs it all sounded pretty good, even to me. With guests already arriving we retired to our dressing room / portacabin to get changed and to plan the evening - there's a hog roast at 8.15 (there's no vegetarian option so it's a bread roll and some coleslaw for me!) followed by our first set from 9.15 - 10 o'clock and our second from 11 until midnight. I was feeling a bit rough (having hay fever in the middle of a bloody great load of grass is definitely not to be recommended!) so I cowered in Austin's van until showtime, and barring the odd mad moment on guitar our two sets went very well, although how we managed to wind up ending the evening with 'Weather With You' is frankly a bit beyond me. Mind you, it had been that kind of day...  

Ade Edmondson,
earlier today.

Back on the train, the shorter of the two girls won't stop talking. To me.
'You do look like 'im, you really do... so wot sorta music d'you play? We're from Stevenage, it's my birfday, firty five, we're going to Sarfend, d'you know it? 'Ere if 'ee's a musician, 'ee might know where we can get some gear from - 'ere d'you know where we can get some gear from? We done all ours last night...'
No I didn't know where they could get some gear for the weekend, which was a bit of a shame as I was beginning to feel like taking some myself. That said they've now forgotten about me and started on the young lad across the aisle from us, telling him he's got eyes 'like marbles' and that he must 'drive the birds mad' - at which point a burly chap in high-visibility clothing walked through to use the toilet at the end of our carriage. They like him. They like him a lot. He seems to like them too. There are smiles all round, including from me. They're alright really, just out for a good time - and what could be wrong with that? Oh hang on, they've spotted me again...
'You oright vere? Wot? You talk quiet dontcha? Oh yeah you carn't 'ear can ya? Wot you reading? Never 'eard ov it, what's it abaht?'
Well I still couldn't hear her too well but I could certainly hear the shouting and crashing coming from behind the toilet door. 'I'm farking locked in!' roared Mr. Hi-Viz from within, 'I can't farking git aht!' Before anyone else could move the two girls had leapt into action, attempting to open said door by shouting and swearing at it (let's face it, we've all tried that option in this sort of situation haven't we?!?) before kicking at it with all their collective might. 'Oi farking watch it!' bellowed Mr. Hi-Viz - 'we're only tryin' 'oo open it' shrieked the taller girl as a ticket inspector arrived with the words 'Sir? Sir, are you in there sir?'
'Course I'm in 'ere, I'm farking stuck!'
He quietly suggested how the door might be opened - something to do with using the handle correctly if I remember rightly - and a few seconds later Mr. Hi-Viz emerged triumphantly. His phone rang as the shorter girl offered to, shall we say, pleasure him if he could get them some gear for the weekend; meanwhile the inspector and myself smiled at each other as he asked to see my ticket, and normal service was resumed on the 14.35 service from London Liverpool Street to Southend Victoria.