The moon's a balloon

Fantastic news - Keith Moon has been approached to make an appearance with The Who at the opening ceremony of the 2012 Olympic Games. At last it's the reunion that we fans have been waiting for! I can only hope that doesn't prove to be a rather late April Fool joke, as The Who's manager Bill Curbishley doesn't appear to be taking it very seriously - either that or as this story shows he's trying to ruin everything by suggesting that Moonie has been a little difficult to contact for the last 30-odd years. Surely the Olympics committee concerned wouldn't have made the laughable, tragic, pathetic error of inviting a dead person to participate in their ghastly charade would they? Of course there is always a chance that it's actually an indication of spectacular incompetence on the part of the organisers - after all, it's hard to think that with someone like Jeremy Hunt on the team they could be anything less than excellent isn't it?

Mention of the man they (allegedly) call 'Corrible' remind me that it seems customary for an ill-informed politician or celebrity to put one or more of their feet squarely in their mouth around the anniversary of the Hillsborough disaster, and this year it's the turn of 'comedian' Alan Davies who clearly used every last iota of his intellect and wit when he observed that it 'gets on his tits' that Liverpool F.C. choose not to play on April 15th as a mark of respect to the 96 fans who died on that ill-fated day. He then went on to make several other similarly well-argued observations (click here to find out what they were and some of the reactions to them) and was then amazed when some people found them offensive. I don't know very much about him as a person but pretty much every time I've seen him on shows like 'Q.I.' I've thought him to be smug, self-obsessed and above all unfunny (not exactly a career move for somebody who appears to consider themselves to be a comedian) although I suppose that somebody must like him; I also believe that he's something of a football fan which to me make his comments all the more unfathomable. Anyone with even the remotest interest in the game is aware of the ongoing sensitivity of anything to do with Hillsborough; also surely the point here is that Liverpool F.C. choose not to play on that day i.e. it's their way of honouring the people who died and the others who were effected by the tragedy, and as such that should be respected. Apparently Davies has a show booked at The Liverpool Empire in September - now that should be a very interesting evening, and probably quite an easy one to get a ticket for...

In the meantime much evidence of last weekend's Department S show has surfaced by the magic of the Internet - click here for a YouTube interview with guitarist Mike followed by 'My Coo Ca Choo' (the interview explains why that song is in the set!) as well as these four more clips, while the evocatively named 'Peek-A-Boo' magazine features these photos taken at the show. All good stuff, although I might wear a different hat next time!

Time for another F.B.I. Band gig on Saturday night, at Harry and Clemmie's wedding reception at Boodles Club in Central London. With a membership that has included people like The Duke Of Wellington, Sir Winston Churchill and David Niven this is another of those 'they-don't-normally-let-people-like-me-into-places-like-this' gigs that your humble narrator participates in from time to time; these generally end with me uttering oaths and curses in these hallowed pages followed by me suggesting insurrection and class war at the earliest possible opportunity. To be honest as an evening this one went along similar lines to all the other ones (i.e. a bunch of toffs take virtually no notice of us until some of the more drunken among them accidentally start dancing recklessly and a bit too close to the band for comfort; suddenly loads of them start doing the same in case they were missing out on something and the show ends with scenes of general mayhem and them barking their demands for more in the general direction of the band before lurching off in the general direction of the bar) so I don't feel as though there's too much to say that I haven't said on similar occasions. However the band (Tony on vocals, Richard on keyboards, Mark on drums and Jon on bass - more about the horn players in a minute) did manage a drink in the nearby Red Lion before the show which was most enjoyable; at the club I braved a look in the 'Members Requirements' book (essentially suggestions and / or complaints) which regularly featured Henry Blofeld musing on subjects as diverse as digestive biscuits (he wanted McVitie's rather than the non-descript brand that he'd been served) and who he sat next to at breakfast (he wasn't too happy about being seated next to a stranger) among other similarly life-threatening incidents. But probably the oddest incident occurred shortly before 9 pm, the allotted time for our first set - Jim the trumpet player arrived with minutes to spare (as usual! How does he do that?!?) and asked where Ian the Sax man was; when Tony said that he wasn't doing this show and he believed a dep had been arranged Jim sat down with the words 'oh, is this the one that he can't do?', pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and began dialling. Within a few minutes he said 'Howard will be here around 10.30' than asked if there was any food... with no sign of any guest or indeed the bride or groom we were led down to the staff canteen where food was indeed available, before going back upstairs just as a chap wearing a saxophone strolled in, introduced himself as Howard ('I've been doing ''Singin' In The Rain'' around the corner') before blowing a few notes to check if his microphone was working correctly. We began 'Soul Man' a few minutes later to an empty room; it took 4 or 5 songs before the dangerous dancing started - and you know the rest...

And yesterday saw an all-day Cool Britannia rehearsal at Ruff Rockers in Uxbridge. We'd all been a bit disappointed with last month's Southend session as we felt that we didn't sound as good as we might have, but fortunately it all went better this time with everyone playing well and pretty much all the songs sounding like they should. With not long to go before the opening night this can only be a good thing!

In the meantime I'm off to play 'Live At Leeds' (and indeed to watch the only footage of that incredible show) and to wish that I'd seen The Who with Keith Moon behind the kit. After all, that opening ceremony story surely must have been a not-particularly-good-taste joke - mustn't it?

'Excuse me, I said... Shrewsbury!'

The occasional / ongoing obituary column continues with the news that Captain Beefheart has died. His influence on the likes of Joe Strummer and John Lydon (and therefore most if not all of the British punk bands, if only by proxy) has been well documented, and this is surely one of the great OGWT clips of them all. A great artist and a true outsider.

Talking of outsiders (sort of!) Vince Cable has been found guilty of having an opinion (declaring war on Rupert Murdoch is guaranteed to get you in the news, although a lot of people will be buying him a gun as a result!) as the cracks in the coalition government begin to show. Let's see how they decide to paper over them, as it looks like our old friend Jeremy Hunt is about to get involved... and then there's the weather. I've heard a lot of people say things like 'I don't know, a bit of snow and the country grinds to a halt' which may well be a fair point under normal circumstances - but this wasn't a 'bit' of snow. Saturday should have been a very busy day in the shop followed by an Upper Cut gig at The Halfway House in Rickmansworth, and it certainly began that way - but sometime after 10 a.m. it started snowing. By midday Windsor Street was buried under 6 inches of the stuff, and by 1 o'clock our gig had been cancelled. Oh well. Once it stopped actually snowing a few customers braved the Arctic conditions to pay us a visit and the till total at the end of the day wasn't a complete disaster, but for the Saturday before Christmas it should have been so much more. Mind you at one point it was snowing so heavily that you couldn't read the signs on the shops on the other side of the road. Still from the band's point of view Terry the singer has been instructed to call the venue in January for a rescheduled date so at least all is not lost there.

Sunday and with chaos on the roads and absolute insanity at the airports (Pete and Tony played a duo gig in Switzerland last Friday - they finally got back to Heathrow Airport on Wednesday afternoon!) The Chicago Blues Brothers are playing at a wedding reception at The Rowton Castle Hotel near Shrewsbury. (Yes, another castle - none for ages then 2 come along at once...) We'd originally thought the gig was in Roydon (that's apparently where the enquiry came from) which would have been a simpler journey for most of the band; I was travelling up with Big Tel and Dave were D.J.'ing at the event. I spoke to Big Tel on the phone around midday and suggested that it was probably not a good idea for him to bring to van to our house to pick me up as we're at the bottom of a hill amid several abandoned cars which couldn't get back up again. Instead we agreed to meet up on the main road (he lent me his amp and I carried the rest of my stuff) and by 2.10 we were on our way. Within 40 minutes we pulled in to Oxford Services on the M40 as we were out of windscreen washer fluid - a large bottle of screen wash, 3 very expensive takeaway coffees and several Mars bars ('for the journey' - Dave) later we discovered that the washers themselves had frozen. Bah! Still it's interesting to note that in sub-zero temperatures the water fountains outside the main building were still working. Hmm... progress was steady until we passed Bicester where things slowed somewhat due to weight of traffic (strange to see a SKID RISK SLOW DOWN warning next to a sign for Silverstone) although by the time we got to the M42 things were moving well. It started to get foggy near the venue, but the trusty sat. nav. got us there for 7 o'clock where we made our way to (dressing) room 12 to meet up with the rest of the troops. Mike and Mike (just flown in from gigging in Belfast) were in the hats and glasses, Squirrel and Marc are on bass and drums, Dave and Ian on trumpet and saxophone and Steve is on keyboards for the first time in ages, with Phil manning the sound. There are sandwiches and chips (excellent!) with the promise of hog roast later (not too good for us vegetarians!) and it's good to see everyone again for the first time in what feels like ages.

We're booked to play for (gulp!) 2 hours (at least it makes the journey worthwhile!) so soundcheck includes a few 'what other songs do we know?' moments, with 'Superstition' and 'Unchain My Heart' both making an appearance. They both make an appearance in the show too, which begins with the happy couple dancing to 'Chasing Cars' by Snow Patrol (very appropriate!) then our epic performance being witnessed by at best the 20 or so guests that made it along, and at worst by Phil, Big Tel and Dave. Still we played well and did our job as best we could, which on a night such as this is the main thing.

And talking of epic performances Big Tel did a heroic job driving us home - we found ourselves back at Oxford Services over 13 hours after our first visit (the fountains were still working although it was even colder!) and I arrived home at 5.30 in the morning. Several people had told me that we were mad to go at all, and in many ways they were probably correct - but don't you think that it's ironic that I had a gig a few miles from home cancelled then did a 350+ mile round trip to play a gig the very next day?

Since then the shop picked up considerably as all the people who couldn't get in on Saturday found their way to us during the week; we finished for this year at 1 o'clock this afternoon (we're open again on Tuesday 4th January if you'd like to come along and spend all your Christmas money!) and then went down the pub. That's the way to do it... Happy Christmas y'all!

Looking through Charlie Gilmour's eyes

Another week, another riot (now there's something you never think you're ever going to type!) and what better image to be left with from the protest against the increase in tuition fees than Charlie 'son-of-David' Gilmour hanging from the Cenotaph? Well actually there are probably quite a few better images, not least the hilarious interview he gave on the London news programme when whilst carrying a false leg that one would imagine came from a shop window dummy (let's hope it didn't belong to a disabled person!) he slurred his way through a few sentences (given the amount of photographic evidence he could find himself slurring his way through a very different type of sentence fairly soon) before saying that he'd only 'borrowed' the leg and was intending to take it back, honest. Excellent! But of course there are any number of serious points to be made here, not least the irony that many of the M.P.'s voting for the increase went to university in the days before student loans and therefore received a full grant. How soon they forget - 'we don't need no education' as someone once sang... and of course the right wing media can have a field day at the 'troublemakers' as indeed can the Conservative and Liberal politicians, therefore obscuring the fact that many people will be put off from continuing their education simply because they can't afford it, and that many of the people who voted in favour of that happening signed a pledge to say that they opposed it. Does this mean that we can never believe anything that they say again - or does it mean that we never could in the first place? It looks as though we do need some education after all... and before we leave the glory of the Tories Jeremy Hunt has been in the news again after his name was mispronounced on the radio - apparently he was more amused than offended, 'though I'm sure he's heard the word on many occasions (and if you want to hear it click here!) not least because his nickname around the Ministry of Culture is apparently 'corrible'...

In the meantime Friday evening saw The Upper Cut return to The Bell in Ruislip for a show that got off to a less than ideal start - I walked in just as Watford scored their second of three goals against Queens Park Rangers amid scenes of great distress among the assembled multitude. The pub guv'nor appeared wearing a Q.P.R. shirt and a less-than-happy expression, and by the time we went on (after the match had finished at nearly 10 o'clock) there was very little interest in what we were doing. The pub is L-shaped, and we played down one end whilst a few people came around to watch us for the most part everyone stayed in the other part. Bah! Still we used the opportunity to play some of our newer material as well as bringing back a few songs that we'd not played for some time, and while it would be easy to moan or be cynical (oooh imagine that!) we had a good time even if nobody else did. As we were leaving the landlady told Terry that she'd be in touch as they'd like to have us play there again so I guess we must have done something right?

Saturday it was time to see a couple of bands in a couple of venues - Substance at The Crown and Treaty in Uxbridge and Sociology at The Bell in Ruislip. Yes that's right, The Bell in Ruislip again. Before our gig there the previous evening Terry the bass had noticed a poster advertising a gig on Saturday and observed that Sociology feature his mate Steve on guitar who has depped for me in The Upper Cut when I've been unable to make a gig. It seemed a good chance to catch them, although as I'd already intended to get along to see Substance for the first time in something like 15 years (I think one of the last Price gigs in our original incarnation was with them and we certainly played with both Need and Babapapa, the two bands that they'd all originally been part of) we hatched a plan to get along to both gatherings.

We made a quick visit to the C & T to check when they were on (11 o'clock) then headed for Ruislip. As we arrived at The Bell it was clear that there was no one on the stage yet we could hear live music - yes, you've guessed it, they'd set up in the end where all the people are. 'You lot should have played down this end' said a cheery chap who struck up a conversation with Terry. Well, yes we should, and no doubt we will next time... I'd not met Steve before but he seemed a very nice chap, and his band played a good mix of material, even gamely responding to a request for a Roy Orbison song. Good stuff.

Meanwhile back at The Crown and Treaty Substance were storming through their set - well I think it was them, it was difficult to tell as there were no lights on the stage at all while they were playing. Still it was good to hear (if not see) them again, and if anything they sounded even better than they did back in those dim and distant days. They finished at midnight and I'd intended not to be out too late, but as both Terry and myself bumped into several people that we'd not seen for a while we were still there nearly 2 hours later. What a way to carry on eh?

Having spent much of Sunday stumbling around thinking 'I really should go back to sleep for a while' I eventually admitted defeat and went back to sleep for a while, and woke up feeling a whole lot better for it. I'm sure hangovers didn't used to last as long as they do these days? But it was good to be feeling better as the evening saw this year's last 'Acts Less Ordinary' gig at The Load of Hay, and what better way to end the year than with the legend that is John Otway. I'd spoken to him about a possible Uxbridge show back in September when T.V Smith and myself played at Attila The Stockbroker's anniversary gig in Shoreham, and was well pleased when he came up with a gig date for us as well as being more than a little intrigued when he announced his intention to do 'John Otway's Christmas Lecture' rather than a normal gig, although 'normal' is the last word that you can use when Otway is involved... myself and East arrived at 7 o'clock to find Grant the landlord lighting the fire in anticipation of a busy evening; Otway himself arrived shortly afterwards to set up his laptop and projector (!) and opted to use the pub's T.V. screen rather than his own. He then sat down to sew the buttons back on his white shirt (in case you're wondering why he'd do such an apparently odd thing before a gig, have a look at the 'Bunsen Burner' promotional film - around 50 seconds in you'll get your answer!) telling me that his mum used to do it for him right up until when she died last year aged 89, 'a button sewer until the end'. I took the opportunity to ask him about Pete Townshend's involvement in the early part of his career - he recalled 'standing as far away as I am from you' (i.e. about a yard) from Townshend as he recorded the guitar part for 'Louisa On A Horse' and thinking 'he's good'; he also told of recording the vocals for 'Misty Mountain' at Olympic Studios - he was on his way back into the control room from the recording area when 'a little man' stopped him and told him that it sounded good, and when he got to the control room the engineer asked him what Mick had thought of it...

9 o'clock and with a good crowd in it's time for the lecture to begin. Unsurprisingly given Otway's self-deprecating sense of humour the subject was his failure in the music industry, and very funny it was too with plenty of graphs and charts on the screen as well as live and interview clips and much more besides. I won't give any more away in case you go to see it (I wouldn't want to ruin the surprises!) but it left me with the thought that he isn't a failure at all - after all you don't accidentally get a 35 year career do you? An absolutely brilliant evening, and a fine end to a year of Sunday night gigs at the venue. I'm not sure how I'm going to top this one - maybe Charlie Gilmour would like to do something for us? Well, it's a thought.

Communication breakdown

So - what have I done with myself since the last gigs?

Well one if the things I managed to do was to lose my mobile phone. I definitely had it first thing on Saturday morning as I used it as an alarm clock (a very expensive alarm clock as we shall see) but somewhere between waking up and arriving at the shop I managed to misplace it. Or it was stolen. Or something. Bugger! I assumed that I'd left it at home and spent the day alternating between thinking things like 'oh this is nice, no one can bother me, it's actually quite liberating' and 'oh no - Paul McCartney's probably calling me at this very moment to ask if I'd like to be his rhythm guitarist at his Hyde Park gig and leaving messages like ''can you let me know in the next half-an-hour or I'll have to give it to someone else'' and I can't even get the message let alone call him back'. Anyway I got home to discover that it was nowhere to be seen - after the obligatory 'I'll re-trace my steps' scenario that we all try when we've lost something (well, we do don't we? And it never works does it?) I went back into Uxbridge to tell my tale of woe to the young chap at the O2 shop. He was very helpful, gave me a new SIM card then called customer services for me who blocked my old SIM and activated the new one for me. All was going well until I asked what I should do next. 'Is the phone insured?' the young chap asked me cheerily. 'Yes, I pay it on direct debit' I answered with all the misplaced confidence that someone who's about to be proved wrong always seems to have. 'Well there's nothing on our system' said the young chap, slightly less cheerily. 'Oh - well who am I paying that money to every month then?' 'I don't know sir but it's not us!' he replied, looking as though he wanted to change the subject. Time for a visit to the bank then... it then transpired that I'm not due for an upgrade until next July and so now have two choices :- use an old handset, or buy (buy! Shouldn't they give me one, the amount that bloody iPhone costs me? Bah!) a new one to use as a pay-as-you-go phone until then. Or of course I could buy a new iPhone for (gulp!) £449. Hmm... I'm sure I've got an old handset somewhere... it's annoying but, let's face it, I've only lost a phone, not an arm.

And, as it turned out, I hadn't lost a phone either. When I got to the shop on Monday morning I found it under the counter where I usually leave it. But I'm sure I didn't take it in with me, and it definitely wasn't there at closing time on Saturday. No, it definitely wasn't. Honest. Of course when I saw it I became even more convinced that Macca had been calling all weekend, and if that wasn't bad enough the new SIM card wasn't working yet and Eric Clapton's probably been trying to get through as well... it's still not back on as I type this, and I've now spent a fortune calling customer services on our landline, as well as no doubt missing out on every decent guitar-playing job in the known Western World. Argh!

What else? Oh yes, I've developed hay fever. Well, no massive shock there as I get it every summer but it had held off this year not least because the weather's been so lousy, and I think I'd got all optimistic in a 'perhaps-I'm-not-going-to-get-it-or-if-I-do-it-won't-be-too-bad' sort of way. No such luck - I'm sneezing, spluttering and coughing as well as having itchy eyes along with blocked sinuses which as well as giving me a headache have resulted in me not being able to hear out of my right ear due to wax build-up. That's what I get for that jibe about global warming at the last CBB gig then. Still at least the weather's better.

Oh and before I forget to mention it, England got knocked out of The World Cup by Germany. But you knew that already didn't you? I watched the game with my Dad, who's analysis of England's attempts at professional football wasn't quite as funny as this one, but was just as accurate. Will people PLEASE stop thinking that the English football team are to be taken seriously as anything other than Keystone Kops impersonators and let them get on with their cossetted little lives as celebrity time wasters. They'll thank you for it (or at least their spokesperson will) and you won't have to go through what you went through on Sunday afternoon again. Simple eh?

Except of course it isn't that simple is it? I'm not in the least bit patriotic but it's still good to see our national sports teams doing well, and therefore it's hard not to feel let down by the appalling performances of the last couple of weeks. Oh well, there's always Wimbledon... actually forget I said that because we've got no chance there either, although if by some miracle Andy Murray does do well in the tournament it'll be interesting to see if the media hail him as a 'British champion' rather than a 'Scottish failure', as well as saying that he's actually a paragon of jollity rather than the miserable sour-faced git that they've led us to believe him to be. And anyway I bet I'm not the only person that thinks that it's just a load of Top Gear-loving Tories getting sunstroke whilst watching a couple of characterless nonentities attempting to return each other's rocket-powered serves - in other words it's about as uninteresting as an uninteresting thing being uninteresting, which I think you'll agree is very uninteresting indeed. Still at least the audience could be World champions at this... and talking of Tories and football Jeremy Hunt is the latest intellectual dwarf to make some ill-advised comments regarding the Hillsborough disaster by linking it to hooliganism. Quite how someone who many people (not me of course, libel fans) might now see as an arrogant, blinkered, pig ignorant little shithead ended up with the job of (wait for it!) Secretary Of State for Culture, Olympics, Media and Sport (really!) is a subject that's perhaps is best not debated here - that said Iain Duncan Smith could perhaps suggest somewhere that he could move to in the pursuit of a more appropriate job - but the incident bought to my mind Jeffery Archer, a man who has the rare distinction of having had his name adopted by the criminal fraternity as slang for a sum of money, an Archer being £2,000. Perhaps it's time to start a campaign to have 'Jeremy Hunt' replace 'Berkeley Hunt' in rhyming slang? Well, it's a thought. And not a bad one at that.

I've got some gigs this weekend. I'll try to cheer up a bit then.