'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. 

Double Trouble

A coupe of contrasting gigs for your humble narrator since the last posting :-

Saturday night it was time for The Uppercut to return to The Misty Moon in Bethnal Green. As Roger (drums) and myself pulled up outside we saw the two Terrys (vocals and bass) talking to a young man in a suit - Terry the bass greeted us with the words 'double booked' which are never good words to hear when you arrive at a venue. It turned out the young man was Ian March and it was indeed his name on the poster on the pillar which presumably holds the pub up; a quick conversation between Terry the voice and Gerry the guv'nor ended with the news that both acts could play 'on full money'. Oo-er! Oh well - this should be an interesting evening...

We set up in the alcove as we normally do then Ian set up his P.A. and MiniDisc player in front of our gear. The pub has a 1.30 a.m. licence so it was decided that Ian would do 45 minutes from 10 o'clock then we'd go on for the same length of time; he'd then do another set with us finishing the evening. As we got ourselves some drinks we noticed that there was a poster advertising future gigs - we're due back there on October 15th but, you've guessed it, it wasn't our name on the poster, it was Nataya... Terry came back from another conversation with Gerry saying 'he's not got his laptop with him, I've got to call him Monday'. Hmm... by now Ian had started - there are a few likely lads who look and indeed behave as though they've been drinking all day, dancing comically in front of Ian as he forces a weak smile in their general direction. His Buble - inspired act goes down well enough with the barflies although he looks as though he'd be happy to be virtually anywhere else in the World.

We start our first set with '(Sittin' On) The Dock Of The Bay' to general indifference - we sound good but somehow different to the other times that we've played there. I'm wondering if it's because I'm using my spare amp (a Fender Blues Deluxe) as Roger the amplifier repair man hasn't been able to look at my main amp yet, but it's the overall sound that's changed... eventually we realise why - there's a curtain around the alcove that wasn't there before (presumably to keep the sound in the building rather than it escaping and annoying the neighbours) and it's deadened the sound considerably, with Roger being particularly bemused by the 'new' drum sound. Still we're playing well although no one seems to be interested in our antics. Nights like this can be very hard work, although sometimes they improve for no apparent reason - sadly this wasn't to be one of those nights, and I reach the end of the show without breaking sweat. I don't like it when that happens, it feels like I've not tried as hard as I can and that's a bad feeling to have. Still, I guess you can't win 'em all.

Last night's show on the other hand couldn't have been more different, when the Chicago Blues Brothers visited The Queens Theatre in Hornchurch. A nearly-sold-out crowd saw a nearly-the-A-team band (Matt and Mike as Jake and Elwood, Squirrel and Marc on bass and drums, Tracy on vocals, Ian on keyboards and Dave on vocals with Ian depping on sax for Richard being the only interloper) deliver an energetic show which definitely made me sweat. That's more like it! And if that wasn't good enough I noticed when I walked along the High Street that the Hogshead pub was advertising ROCK 'N' ROLL BINGO - you can imagine the caller can't you? Well I can - U2, Alabama 3, Mega City 4... excellent!

Fantasy island

Last night myself and Big Andy journeyed to Southend to see Roger Daltrey perform 'Tommy' at The Cliffs Pavilion. As we neared Southend I saw a motorway sign that made me suddenly ask the big man the immortal question 'have you ever been to Canvey Island?' When he said that he hadn't we both realised that it was time to leave the script (and indeed the A127) for a while...

As we negotiated the magic roundabout that takes you to the road to the island I remembered one of the other times that I'd visited what is an almost mythical place for Dr. Feelgood fans like myself. We were playing a Blues Brothers show at, I think, a 50th birthday party (I can't remember where it was either; it's at moments like this that I'm reminded that one of the reasons why I started writing this blog was so that things like these wouldn't get forgotten!) and Squirrel and myself were outside the venue; as we stood talking a car came around the corner on the opposite (rather wide) pavement. This stuck me as a little odd and I was about to say as much, when another one followed it round. They weren't going slowly. Squirrel (a local lad) looked at me with a slight smile - 'things like that happen on the island'.

As we pulled up in the car park I was babbling on to Andy about the classic photos on the cover of 'Down By The Jetty', and that maybe he could take one of me for use on the Flying Squad website; as we walked up the slope to the sea wall a young man walked across our path. He was wheeling a bicycle and had a slightly scary-looking dog on a lead. He was wearing a vest and shorts, and it was therefore easy to see that he was tattooed pretty much from the top of his shaven head to his sandaled toes. He looked extraordinary, and Big Andy looked astonished. I was tempted to use Squirrel's line, but didn't.

After taking a few photos looking out across the estuary and getting a bit of (very) fresh air we got back into the car and drove around a while. Andy loved it, and so did I. The Monico, The Oyster Fleet, The Pandora's Box Guest House, the sign saying TANK FOR HIRE - Canvey Island really is a one-off. Fantastic, and as good a reason as any to watch 'Oil City Confidential' again. Not that I, or indeed you, really need an excuse...

We made our way back to the mainland (now I am getting a bit over-romantic don't you think?!?) and found The Cliffs Pavilion reasonably easily, although it certainly helped having Squirrel on the end of a phone line. After getting a lucky parking space on the road near the venue we walked along the seafront into town - Andy hadn't been to Southend before and I hadn't been there for what seems like ages so it was good to have a bit of time to look around. Squirrel had reminded me that occasional Chicago Blues Brothers keyboard man Dave Dulake runs a pub in town - once again we needed a bit of moblie phone help but found The Railway Hotel without too much trouble. As we walked in Chuck Berry was blasting out from the record player on the bar (yes, you read that bit correctly) and a young lady with blue hair came over to serve us. I ordered a couple of drinks and then asked if Dave was about; she said he was busy but he'd be out shortly - when he did emerge he looked rather worried, came over for a few minutes then said words to the effect of 'we might not be here much longer'. This would be a shame as it's an extraordinary place. Let's hope it keeps going.

Back at the venue we meet up with Squirrel and his wife Lindsay (and bumped into Rick Dawson, another sometime CBB keyboard player; we really get through them!) before catching a bit of the support act. Accompanying himself on acoustic guitar Paul Freeman played a half hour or so of his own material with a cover of 'Handle With Care' thrown in a couple of songs from the end. He was a bit sweary, very Welsh and shouldn't have played the Traveling Wilburys song as it showed up how relatively ordinary his own songs were in comparison. That said he worked hard and got the audience on his side when he invited a young lady called Kelly up to join him on backing vocals, so I won't be too cruel about him here.

At 8.30 Mr. Daltrey and co. walked on stage to a warm if not over-enthusiastic reception; as the band readied themselves the man himself explained how that after the show at the Royal Albert Hall earlier this year he'd realised that 'there isn't any other music like 'Tommy'' and so he'd decided to carry on singing it. A simple enough sentiment, and one which over the next 70-odd minutes was pretty much proved to be true. The band sounded much more familiar with the songs, the back projections worked well and Daltrey was in fine voice. The audience stayed fairly subdued throughout, politely applauding until the end of 'Listening To You' when they all stood up together and went crazy. Even Daltery seemed a bit taken aback. The next hour-and-a-quarter saw rarely heard gems from the Who back catalogue (an excellent version of 'Going Mobile' with Simon Townshend on lead vocals was a real standout) alongside Daltery solo songs, a Johnny Cash medley and songs from the likes of Taj Mahal. It got a bit chaotic in places - some songs sounded more rehearsed than others, the backing track for 'Baba O'Riley' played too fast and 'The Kids Are Alright' went completely wrong in the middle when the guitarist broke a string - but both Daltery and the band seemed to be really enjoying themselves and that feeling certainly translated across to the audience who gave them a great reception. The show ended with Daltery playing 'Blue Red And Grey' on a ukulele, and somewhere during the show I decided that the afore-mentioned guitarist looked a bit like Mickey Dolenz. I also decided that this wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Well, it's not is it?

Let it bleed

Did you want to be old when you were young? I don't mean 'old' old, like your nan or grandad or the people who lived a few doors down, I mean old as in 'grown up' so that you could do the things that the grown ups do, like stay up late. I certainly wanted to stay up late when I was a kid, although thinking back I don't know why I thought that would make things better or more exciting. Strange... maybe one of the differences between being old and young is that when you're young you want to be older and when you're old you want to be younger? Anyway when I was about 8 or 9 I had a nosebleed. It was a Saturday evening and I had really bad hay fever (still have!) I blew my nose rather a lot before I went to bed, and I woke up a little after going to sleep thinking that my nose was running. When I looked down there was blood everywhere. Everywhere. It literally felt like it was pouring out of my face, which I suppose it was if you think about it. My mum screamed when she saw me. She and my dad tried to stop it with all the usual methods - cold flannels, holding the bridge of your nose etc - but to no avail. After about an hour things were getting serious, and mum called the doctor out. He was an old (and therefore allowed to stay up late) chap called Dr. Fenton - when he examined me he said that I'd burst a blood vessel in my nose and that it would eventually stop and that I'd be 'ok in the morning'. I think it finally stopped after just over 2 hours. I still get nosebleeds today, in fact I had one earlier this week. Horrible things.

So - why am I telling you this? Well, by the time the nosebleed had stopped, 'Match Of The Day' was about to start on the television. This was a mythical programme to me as some of my school mates were allowed to stay up late enough to watch it, and they said that it was better than 'The Big Match' which was the Sunday afternoon football programme that I used to watch with great enthusiasm. Anyway because I was still awake (and feeling rather weird as I recall) I was allowed to watch 'Match Of The Day'. It was good, but not worth losing half of the blood in your body for.

I had another nosebleed on Friday morning. It was nearly 6 a.m. and once again I'd woken up thinking that my nose was running; it wasn't anywhere near as bad as the one I've described above but it was still pretty unpleasant. By the time it had stopped I realised I wasn't going to get back to sleep and so decided to go downstairs for a cup of coffee. After I'd made it I decided to put the telly on, which caused a moment of mild panic as the volume was quite high and I had to turn it down quickly so as not to wake anybody up. When the picture came on 'Columbo' was playing - strange, why is that on at this time of day? It's normally shown in the afternoon on one of those weird channels that never seem to work properly. You know the ones. When I was a lad I remember avidly watching 'Columbo' on television, where the scruffy little chap in the raincoat would outwit the bad guy every time. I loved the way that he'd zero in on the murderer, seeming to be naive or even stupid then wearing them down with his peculiar mannerisms and stories of his wife, or his cousin, or his wife's cousin, or Burt who serves him chili, then leaving the murderer (who therefore thought they'd got away with it) before reappearing with the words 'just one more thing...' when they thought they'd seen the last of him. Great stuff. I even enjoyed the later episodes although the '60s and '70s ones are still the best for me. It was and remains one of the best television series ever created, and as such it was sad to turn on Breakfast Television on Friday morning to see a clip of it being played, because that could only mean that Peter Falk had died. Shame.

Last night I depped in The Repertoire Dogs. I'd been looking forward to this gig since I got a call a while back from Good Old Boys / Ali Mac Band guitarist Simon Bishop, who asked me if I'd be interested in playing with said band. Well of course I would, not least because their regular guitarist is none other than Mick Ralphs. Yes, that Mick Ralphs, the bloke out of Mott The Hoople and Bad Company. Strange but true. Anyway not long after this I got a call from Nick the singer who explained the situation - Hud's on drums, Nigel's on bass, Freya and Ann are on vocals and it's a 50th birthday party somewhere near Harlow. 'Simon will go through the set with you as I'm not in the least bit musical' he said cheerily, before going on to be very disparaging about his own vocal abilities. He then revealed that he'd 'started the band for a bet' after going to a Bryan Adams concert with a friend - 'and here we are, 11 years later'. Like I say, I was looking forward to this one...

As we arrived in Hastingwood I realised that this was a rather different area to the one that The Price visited on numerous occasions when we used to play at The Square in Harlow. We're playing in a marquee in the garden - maybe that should be 'grounds' - of a rather large house, and the first thing we notice is that there's a generator humming rather noisily nearby. 'I bet that's a note that's just out of tune with us' says Nigel as we're setting up; we decide that if we play loudly enough then it won't matter. I'd only met Nigel briefly a couple of times before, he's just finished a tour with comedian Rich Hall (where he was known as Horst Furst II - excellent!) and plays regularly with Half A Meal Ticket among others. We run through a few beginnings, middles and ends before the guests start arriving, it's all sounding good and a fine evening is in prospect. There's an acoustic duo on before us, they've both seen us 'playing in local pubs' and really like our version of 'Don't Stop Believing'. No one in the band reacts although I expect they were all thinking roughly the same as me - 'perhaps there's another band with the same name around here then. And they must look like us as well...'

After a search for an appropriate lead Freya's iPod provides some background music as food and drink starts to appear; we're all sitting around a table near the marquee when a loud POP comes from with general direction of the marquee; the music stops, the lights go out and quite a few people make a noise along the lines of 'OOOOH!' Investigation reveals that someone behind the (makeshift) bar had plugged a fridge in, causing a current surge large enough to melt the extention cable. With people complaining that were no lights on in the portaloos things are unplugged, the generator turned back on and everything returns to normal.

We start 'Jumpin Jack Flash' at 9.15 to what might best be described as 'polite indifference' from all concerned - a shame as I thought we were sounding good. When someone comes up to me in the interval as says words to the effect of 'everyone's enjoying it, they're just not dancing' it makes me feel a bit better, and our second set gets a bit more of a reaction although there are no demands for an encore at the end. As we turn our amps off Nigel said 'well played that man' which means a lot to me coming from a player as good as he is; I think I did ok but a few of the songs were in unusual keys which threw me a bit - if I get chance to play with them again I'll make a better job of it. No really, I will. And it was a shame that the audience were a bit subdued as I really had been looking forward to the show. Oh well. You can't win 'em all. Unless you're Columbo of course. 'Oh sir, just one more thing...'