Living the dream

So there we were, sitting in a South London pub early yesterday evening. To my left is Dave Ruffy and to my right is John 'Segs' Jennings, respectively the drummer and bass player in popular hot-rocking beat combo Ruts D.C. - I'd been over at Dave's house for much of the day working on some new song ideas and now we're all discussing everything from our upcoming appearance at The Rebellion Festival to the shows we're playing with The Damned near the end of this year and lots more besides. It was a lovely day, the beer was tasting good and spirits were high - as we decided to have just one more drink before heading off back to our respective dwellings Dave remarked that 'Tuesday night is jam night' at a nearby pub, then mused on whether he might go down there later...

I woke up around 8.30am this morning on an inflatable mattress in Dave's spare room. My mouth was dry and I had a bit of a headache. I also had a rather peculiar recollection that Dave, Segs and myself (introduced as 'Ruffy's Troubadours') had played 'Whatever We Do' and 'Staring At The Rude Boys' to an audience of musicians and locals who had mostly looked on in amused astonishment. That lager really makes you have the oddest dreams sometimes doesn't it?

'I'm so mean I make medicine sick'

Muhammad Ali was 70 years old on Tuesday.

I'm too young to remember him as Cassius Clay but I remember Ali's omnipresence in the late '60s and throughout the '70s very well. My dad and my brother are both big boxing fans (and I often wonder if I would be if I hadn't been surrounded by it at home, or had to endure my would-be-World-champion brother offering me out every 5 minutes or so) which meant that his fights with the likes of Henry Cooper, Joe Frazier (The Fight Of The Century and The Thrilla In Manila) and George Foreman (The Rumble In The Jungle) assumed legendary status in our house almost before they had taken place. And not without reason - watch the amazing 'When We Were Kings' and you'll see Ali in his element, with everyone from the local kids to the World's media falling under his spell.

As a man he was a sports reporter's dream, being charming, witty and erudite with a quote for every occasion - but none of this would matter if he wasn't a great sportsman, a fearsome fighting machine who's outrageous predictions of which round he would knock his opponent out in earlier in his career only made his achievements in the ring seem all the more extraordinary.

Then there was his stance against the Vietnam War - his refusal to be drafted ('I ain't got no quarrel with the Vietcong. No Vietcong ever called me nigger') cost him over two years of his boxing career but made him a hero to anyone who shared his point of view. It's difficult to realise now what a powerful statement it made.

For what my opinion is worth - and as I said earlier I'm by no means the World's biggest boxing fan - he had a few fights too many (which may or may not have contributed to his ongoing Parkinson's Syndrome) but if you look at footage of his earlier bouts it's hard not to believe that he wasn't indeed 'the greatest'. And let's face it, anyone that can deliver a line like 'I'm so fast that last night I turned of the light switch in my hotel room and was in bed before the room was dark' is more than a little bit ahead of the game...

And Etta James died on Friday - I must admit that I knew her name but didn't know much about her until I saw her fabulous rendition of 'Rock And Roll Music' in the film 'Hail Hail Rock 'n' Roll' I soon realised that her Chess Records recordings were what her legend was based on. There was much more to her than 'I'd Rather Go Blind' and 'I Just Wanna Make Love To You', although if she'd only released those two recordings she'd still be one of the most important blues artists of them all. Another sad loss.

No gigs for your humble narrator this week (bah!) but I did see two great shows, the first of which featured the mighty Henry Rollins at The Academy in Oxford. I last saw him way back in August 2008 (doesn't time fly when you're having fun?!?) and if Wednesday's show is anything to go by he's showing no signs of slowing down, with his astonishing work schedule giving him even more subjects to comment upon. Bizarre tales of eating rats (urgh!) sat alongside hilarious stories of shopping in Costco with his scary-sounding assistant Heidi during a 2 1/2 hour show (imagine standing on a stage and talking for that length of time!) which had the capacity crowd enthralled throughout. I managed a few words with him afterwards and he was as courteous as ever - rather than get straight onto the tourbus after talking to me he stood out in the rain signing autographs and chatting to fans. Top man.

And last night myself and the long-suffering Shirley made our way over to Sutton to see The Kast Off Kinks at The Boom Boom Club. Chicago Blues Brothers keyboard maestro Ian Gibbons is a member of said combo, and it was great to see him play from the audience perspective rather than from a couple of yards away on stage. He's very good you know!

The first person we saw as we walked in was Steve Simpson, a very welcome sight since the last conversation I had with him was when he phoned to cancel his appearance at the Load Of Hay back in November due to ill health- he's still not 100% fit but is back playing again which is good news. And The Kast Off Kinks were terrific - I last saw them in Ruislip back in July 2009 when I thought they were excellent, but they've got even better in the interim period. Mick Avory prefaced his vocal performance of 'Dedicated Follower Of Fashion' by holding up a pint of beer which he proclaimed to be 'vocal petrol' (I'm definitely stealing that line!) and much audience dancing and merriment ensued throughout. A fine evening.

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...

The morning after the night before

It's Monday morning, and it's far too early for me to be awake. But I am, because I'm working in the shop today. This could be a mistake.

I was a great night last night. I'll write about it here when I can remember what happened, or indeed when somebody tells me what happened.

I fear that it's going to be a very long day.

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?

Coming In To Land at The 100 Club

Behold this photo of your humble narrator, taken in the dressing room at The 100 Club last night - as you can see, it's all glamour in the wild 'n' wacky world of showbusiness... my brother Terry took the picture 10 minutes or so after myself and T.V. Smith had finished soundchecking. I don't remember the last time I'd been so nervous before doing something as routine as that, but I suppose it's an indication of how important - maybe how over-important? - the evening was to me. Put simply, I've seen many brilliant shows at the venue, but had never played there myself; I was also aware that there were people coming down to see T.V. play songs from his new album 'Coming In To Land' which was available for the first time at the gig. This had to be - make that had to be - a good gig, and I'm pleased to say that it was...

Terry and myself arrived at the club around 6.40 p.m. to find Kid Vicious (Nigel) and Paul Crook (Dave) of The Sex Pistols Experience cheerily munching their way through some takeaway food. I hadn't seen them since I depped with them back in 2008 and it was good to catch up - while we were talking a text message arrived from T.V. to say that we'd been asked to go on last at 11 o'clock rather than last-but-one at 10 o'clock as the Experience were filming the show for DVD release and it would save them money if the film crew could go home early; co-incidentally I was talking to them about that very subject... I meet T.V. and we both say something like 'it's nice to be nice isn't it?' and so agree to move our slot to later in the evening. Meanwhile it's impossible not to notice how different the club looks when the lights are on and there's no one home, although that's the same for most venues... I'm introduced to Ray the soundman and with the stage clear we do the afore-mentioned soundcheck before Terry and myself head off down Oxford Street in search of some food. When we return we say hello to Vince who used to run Released Emotions Records back in the '80's and '90's and released a single and a mini-album by The Price all those years ago. Pretty soon it's time for the opening act of the evening Shag Nasty to take to the stage, they sound ok although I'm not sure I'd have attempted a cover version of 'Bodies' on a night such as this.

When they finish Terry, T.V. and myself walk down to Hanway Street when T'V. is meeting up with Gaye Advert and some of their friends at Bradley's Spanish bar; the road is very narrow and with people drinking outside on the pavement there are more than a few near-misses with uncompromising taxi drivers. When we return to the club L.A.M.F. UK are blasting their way through a set of Johnny Thunders songs, they're led by Mark who will transform himself into Steve Clones later in the evening, T.V. and myself agree that it all sounds a bit 'English' to have the Thunders swagger but the songs sound as great as ever.

An intro tape of patriotic music topped off with the unmistakable tones of Rotten and Vicious heralded the appearance of The Sex Pistols Experience - Johnny Rotter (Nathan) is uncannily like the real Rotten and although the crowd take a while to get going the atmosphere hots up as anthem after anthem roars out. The set finishes with 'God Save The Queen' and 'Anarchy In The U.K.' before Kid Vicious takes over - there are many like me that would argue that they should stick with the recordings made by the 'real' band but judging by the audience reaction the likes of 'My Way' and 'Something Else' certainly have their fans. Then it's announced that a 'legend' would be joining them on stage - T.V. fails to recognise Steve Dior who played with Sid in the post-Pistols bands but his version of 'Chinese Rocks' is arguably more convincing than the L.A.M.F. UK version earlier in the evening. Nathan appears to be ready to return but suddenly there's music over the P.A. and the show's over - which means it's our turn...

As we're setting up we both agree that it's been a long evening - some of the audience are leaving in search of their train home, although thankfully most stick around for our set. Those who are still there see a 13 song set that features 5 songs from the new album alongside 4 Adverts songs with the rest coming from T.V.'s solo career. From my point of view the nerves have all but gone although me until the end of the opening song 'No Time To Be 21' to get used to the sound - it's always different when there's an audience than when the venue's empty! - fortunately by the time we get into the new songs it's all more-or-less making sense to me. The new album is uniformly excellent, and despite the songs being unfamiliar to most of them the audience are appreciative, although you can feel the anticipation as the older songs grow ever nearer. Suddenly it's the 'Adverts Trilogy' ending of 'Gary Gilmore's Eyes', 'Bored Teenagers' and 'One Chord Wonders' and the crowd have got their reward for being good - our show ends with tumultuous applause and a shower of beer from the punks at the front. Clearly at £4 a pint they've all got enough money to literally throw it away.

Back in the bar it's just gone midnight and the bar's still open - Rikki from Red Flag 77 says hello with the somewhat insane news that when he first saw me earlier in the evening he'd thought I was Dave Ruffy! Strange but true... it being Record Store Day it was good to see the merchandise going well, and the evening ends with photo opportunities galore, most of which proved that I don't know how to work Gaye's or Nigel's cameras. But it had been a great evening, which ended for me with me back at home around 2 a.m. cleaning beer off my guitar- as I say, it's all glamour in the wild 'n' wacky world of showbusiness...

For what we are about to receive...

The other evening I went to the Load of Hay with East for a few beers (nothing too unusual there) and a tactical discussion (that's what we call it anyway) regarding the upcoming Price gig at said venue. The evening went on a little longer than we were expecting it to, and we ended up having rather more than a 'few' beers (nothing too unusual there either) meaning that the next day dawned rather earlier than I would have liked it to. I managed to get myself together in time to get a lift into Uxbridge from the long-suffering Shirley ('don't breathe on anyone, you still smell of beer') and stumbled into Balcony Shirts to find Scott (he baked the loaf in the above picture, and very nice it was too!) enthusiastically setting up a video camera. 'Here you are' he said as he cheerily handed me a 'Real Man Bake Bread' t-shirt then explained that we were going to shoot some footage for the video to go with the song he'd written and that I'd recorded some guitar for in the shop several Saturdays ago. Around an hour later we'd recorded everything that he needed; we'd also seriously worried several passers-by who'd innocently looked through the shop window during filming, received some free coffee from Scoffs cafe opposite the shop (you can see Geno from the cafe around 2.15 into the film) and sent Dave out into the street dressed as a well-known biblical character. The video is on YouTube now, and if you'd like to see it then click here. It's worth it. No, really, it is. Oh and in case you were wondering, The Price play what is likely to be our last ever show with the (ahem) classic line-up of Malcolm, Huggy, Paul and myself at 8.30 p.m. on Sunday 20th March at The Load of Hay in Uxbridge. It's East's birthday, so it'll be time for a few beers... and Kris Dollmore is there this Sunday (13th) which should be a good night, and they'll no doubt be serving beer there that night too... perhaps I should stick with bread?