Rudie can't fail

I finished my last posting with the words 'strange days indeed', a phrase I often use when things get, for want of a better word, 'strange'. I've found myself using it a lot lately. It's unashamedly stolen from 'Nobody Told Me' by John Lennon (so far I've stopped short of saying 'most peculiar mama' but I guess that's just a matter of time) and was used last time to make a vaguely Fab Four-related attempt at referring to the frankly astonishing news that I was to visit Abbey Road Studios on Sunday afternoon. So what was a herbert like me doing on such hallowed turf? Simple - Dave Ruffy and Tom Edwards were participating in a recording session there, and the chance to drop in and see them was just too good to miss. As I came out of St. John's Wood tube station I became all too aware of the number of people intently looking at maps or mobile phones - I rounded the corner into Abbey

Hello from Studio 2!

Road itself to see 20 or so people either side of that zebra crossing (you know the one!) taking photos of each other and causing traffic chaos in the process; as I walked up the steps to the front door I thought of some of the people who would have walked up those same steps on their way to work. I buzzed the entry phone, mumbled something about visiting Studio 2 and opened the door into the reception area where the cheery but weary face of a security man invited me to sign the visitor's book. Next to it a handwritten envelope read 'F.A.O. PAUL McCARTNEY c/o ABBEY ROAD STUDIOS'. Here we go then... down the corridor, past the stairs, first door on the right - as I went to knock on said door Tom opened it and greeted me with a hug, I thought he'd been watching me on CCTV but no, he'd just been going out to get something. I walked into the control room to see Dave picking up his phone to see if I'd texted him to let him know that I'd arrived - I was supposed to but had forgotten. Nervous? Maybe... suddenly I'm walking down the stairs into what has to be the most famous recording studio in the World. And there it is, just like it is in all the photographs. Oo-er! 

I was only there for about 30 minutes - I didn't want to outstay my welcome, and anyway I had a gig to go to. But it was a great - make that great - 30 minutes. I can very easily get hopelessly over-romantic about things like this, and let's face it, I normally do - but that was a half an hour that a Beatles Bore such as myself will never forget. But there's been a few things lately that I'll never forget, not least Wednesday night's show at Koko. It was I suppose everything that we hoped that it would be, although it wasn't without it's problems. Last minute letdowns by various people (not mentioning any names...) meant some eleventh hour changes to proceedings, one of which resulted in me sitting in dressing room 4 with no lesser figure than Charlie Harper running through the arrangement of 'Tommy Gun' - now there's something that I never thought I'd do. Mind you I never thought I'd play 'Kick Out The Jams' with MC5 guitar hero Wayne Kramer but as this footage shows that really happened too. Everybody involved was on top form, with the short opening set from The Crunch getting things off to a splendid start before Chris Salewicz read a passage from his acclaimed Joe Strummer biography 'Redemption Song' then introduced the documentary film 'I Need A Dodge! Joe Strummer On The Run' - sadly I missed most of this as I was getting ready for the gig but the bits that I did see were very interesting, making it a must-buy when it comes out on DVD from Cadiz Music later this year. As the credits rolled we took our places ready to start playing as soon as the screen was raised - as we began 'London Calling' with Mr. Kramer joining Dave, Tim, Tom and myself in the band and Paul from The Urban Voodoo Machine tackling the vocals head on it became clear that we were in for a memorable night. Everybody - Chris Bailey from The Saints, Tymon Dogg, Segs from Ruts D.C., Tara from The Duel and the afore-mentioned U.K. Subs legend Charlie Harper - gave their all, and by the time Wayne Kramer re-appeared for 'Jail Guitar Doors' excitement was at fever pitch. He sang well, sounded great - the loudest guitarist that I've ever stood on stage with! - and the two MC5 classics 'Looking At You' and 'Kick Out The Jams' bought a truly monumental evening to a unforgettable close. It really was an extraordinary thing to be part of - great stuff all round.

Two night's after (ahem!) blowing the roof off Koko I played at The Black Horse in Eastcote with Big Al Reed and The Blistering Buicks. With Dave the drummer gigging elsewhere Rudi joined us for the first time (thereby giving me the chance to use the name of a Clash song as the hopefully all-encompassing title of this posting - I don't just throw this stuff together you know!) and made a great job of things. I often get asked how I play a (relatively) big gig one day and a small one the next - the truth is that when shows are as enjoyable as this one it doesn't matter if you're playing to a few people in a small pub or hundreds or even thousands in a bigger venue. It's all about the music, and if the music is good then the night is good too. And talking of good nights...

He's back!

Ruts D.C. played at Koko back in October 2013 - the headline act that night was a certain Wilko Johnson, who at that stage of the game was, as the saying goes, living on borrowed time. He'd been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer at the start of the year and given just a few months to live, but against all the odds was still playing live. Now a year-and-a-half later he's back in more ways than one, having had treatment for what was previously thought to have been an inoperable condition. I like many thought that the show we played with him would be his last, but having just seen the great man on Thursday night at The Albert Hall I can confirm that he's playing better than ever - with the familiar figures of Norman Watt-Roy on bass and Dylan Howe on drums he stormed through a 30 minute set that got an audience reaction that many headline bands would have been proud of. He was supporting The Who, meaning that I got to see probably my two favourite guitarists ever on the same evening. I'd already seen The 'Orrible 'Oo at The O2 Arena on Sunday and Monday (that's where I was going after visiting Abbey Road Studios) playing two shows rescheduled from before Christmas, and while none of the shows were bad I think the R.A.H. gig just beat the other two in the 'best gig of the three' stakes. But not by much - it was great to hear 'Slip Kid' on Sunday, and the Monday show included a particularly good 'Eminence Front' among the usual highlights. 50 years on from their first record release they sound better than ever - you've got to love 'em haven't you? 

So there you have it, a memorable week in mad-guitar-land. And this week is looking pretty good too, with Ruts D.C.playing in Paris on Friday followed by two London shows the next night for your humble narrator - The London Sewage Company support The Men They Couldn't Hang at The Shepherd's Bush Empire (oh yes!) early in the evening while Neck play The Water Rats in King's Cross later in the day. Happy Easter y'all!

Carry that weight

When I was a lad - and believe it or not, I was once a lad - pop music was a lot more exciting than it is now. I sound really old don't I? Well - I am! But I genuinely think that it was - in my early teens the likes of T.Rex, Slade and The Sweet were topping the charts on a regular basis, and leaving aside the fact that I have absolutely no idea who is at number one as I type this (there's nothing like shouting your mouth off without knowing the facts now is there?) I very much doubt that it would sound anywhere near as exciting as any of these three tracks, all of which made it to the top of the pile. But here's a record (I still call them records, don't you?) that definitely deserves to be this year's Christmas number one - released this coming Monday 17th December 'He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother' by The Justice Collective aims to raise money for The Hillsborough Justice Campaign which does stirling work for the victims of The Hillsborough Disaster. I'll spare you my usual ranting on the subject and just say that if that isn't a worthwhile cause then I for one don't know what is. Here's the story courtesy of The Liverpool Echo (which my Dad used to deliver when he was a lad, as he never tires of reminding me!) where you'll also find the promo video and links for downloading the single from iTunes and Amazon. The recording features the likes of Mick Jones and Shane MacGowan alongside Liverpool artists like Paul McCartney, Gerry Marsden and Melanie C.; at the very least it's a great song (here is the classic version by The Hollies just in case you've forgotten it) and let's face it, it's got to be better than the X Factor winner getting the Christmas number one spot hasn't it?

God only knows

Well I certainly wasn't expecting the comment that the last posting received - is that religious spam? I actually thought someone might have a go at me - reading it again I'm not sure that they didn't! And yeah, I know it's a cheap shot to have a go at the Royal Wedding, but just because something's an easy target it doesn't mean that it shouldn't be hit. Which reminds me, Lord Young has become the latest top Tory (a bit of a contradiction in terms?) who's had to resign after his remarks regarding the 'so-called recession'. Remind me again why any working class person thought that it would be a good idea to vote Conservative?

Ok, more moaning - I tuned into one of the music channels that we all seem to have on the T.V. on the other day to be confronted by the sight of the excellent - maybe that should be formerly excellent? - Roy Wood in seasonal mode. Could the man who wrote all those great songs with The Move and Wizzard really do a medley of 'I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday' and 'Wombling Merry Christmas' with those rock gods The Wombles? Sadly he could, and even more sadly he did. Awful. Awful. But not as awful as the next song, 'Firework' by Katy Perry. The combination of intelligence-insulting lyrics and banal half-finished sounding music might actually be the worst recording I've ever heard. It makes 'Mull Of Kintyre' sound like 'My Generation', and Keane sound like The Clash. I would have switched channels or left the room but it was so terrible that I felt as though it was something I needed to endure as some sort of bizarre rite of passage before I could listen to something decent. Even the bit in the video where her chest emits sparks couldn't rescue it. Totally and utterly appalling.

Then again, what do I know? I'm supposed to be a musician but I'm only playing a grand total of 2 - count 'em, 2! - gigs this month, and one of them was a short notice 'can-you-lot-fill-in-for-a-band-that's-cancelled?' show with The Upper Cut on Saturday at After Office Hours in Barnet. Our first set saw dancing in the first song and a fair amount from then on in - a guy out of the audience kept asking us if he could sing 'Brown Eyed Girl' with us - Terry the singer let him have a go and he made a reasonable job of the bits he knew; sadly for the rest of the time he was reduced to roaring 'I DUNNO THE FARKING WORDS TO VIS BIT' which his mates found hilarious. Maybe it was? I'll never know why people like him do this sort of thing to themselves. Mind you I'm not entirely sure why people like us let them. Still, a good gig overall and we were offered a return date next month which I sadly can't do as I'm gigging with T.V. Smith that night. It's always the same isn't it? - none for ages and then 2 come along at once...

Sunday it was time for a return visit to The Load of Hay for the ever-excellent Kris Dollimore. Since his last visit he's been spending a fair bit of time playing out in France (click here for a clip of him on French T.V) as well as recording a new album which judging by the new songs played at last night's performance will be his best yet. In a new departure he used a looper pedal to create drone effects during some of the songs, which he'd been apprehensive about before the gig but I thought sounded terrific particularly on 'The Mercy Man'. I've never seen him do a bad show but when he pronounced himself happy with his performance I knew that this one had been outstanding. Wonderful stuff - I think he could have made even 'Firework' sound like a classic. Well maybe not, but you get the idea.

Right, time to stop moaning (for once!) and to get practicing some guitar. When there are not too many gigs about it's important to stay match fit for when the phone rings. Assuming it does of course...

The National Trust disco

Sorry about all that ranting last time - it was the heat I tell you, the heat... but you can click here for the last word (in these hallowed pages at least) on England's calamitous World Cup campaign courtesy of the excellent Monkey Picks blog. I couldn't have put it better myself, as they say...

Funnily enough my phone came back on a couple of hours after I finished the afore-mentioned cyber-rant; I'm not sure it's working properly (a NETWORK LOST message keeps appearing which is a bit of a worry) but at least I could see if Macca or E.C. had left me a message. They hadn't. Oh well - maybe next time?

Meanwhile back in the land of the gigging The CBB roadshow rolled in to Surrey on Friday for an outdoor show at Polesden Lacey. Bev's in for Richard on sax, and with Ian away with Ray Davies Chris is on keyboards; the voice on the entryphone on the outskirts of the property sounds suspiciously like Stephen Hawking, and when the long-suffering Shirley and myself arrived at the stage ('just drive up to it' said Pete - so we did!) everything was set up and ready for soundchecking. Quite how we managed to attempt versions of 'All Right Now' (I made a right mess of the solo!) and 'Brown Sugar' with Pete on bass (Squirrel was due along later) and Matt on drums is a bit beyond me (thinking about it how '2-4-6-8 Motorway' made an appearance is a bit of a mystery too) but we eventually got back to the script with 'Sweet Home Chicago'. It sounded good to me but since I've still got the hearing problems that I mentioned last time I'm probably not the best person to judge things - monitor problems for Tracy and Pete (both on backing vocals) persisted all the way through the gig so sadly it wasn't all good news. Backstage before the gig Matt got a bit confused as to whether he is a member of The National Trust or The National Front (definitely the former!) and some very helpful staff bought in copious amounts of sandwichs and organic lager - excellent! The show itself was a bit of an odd one - we played well but it all seemed a bit, for want of a better word, 'muted' although the fact that there was a large dip in the ground (which would have made a good mosh pit although the only people I saw in it all night were bored-looking security men) between us and the audience could well have contributed to this. Not a bad show by any means but there was a bit of an odd feeling at the end, if you know what I mean.

One of the people who'd been trying to contact me in the earlier part of the week (actually he was pretty much the only person trying to contact me, but obviously I'm not going to admit that here) was Pete Kerr, guitarist with local heroes The Cane Toads and all round good bloke. He'd had a call from Caithriona at The Half Moon in Harrow who needed a band for the coming Saturday evening, and, confirming his 'all round good bloke' status, Pete suggested The Upper Cut (and yes, we're definitely called that now!) After a quick (landline) ring-round everyone - Terry on vocals, Terry on bass and Roger on drums - confirmed their availability, and the gig was on. We all turned up at the venue in the midst of the Spain vs. Paraguay game (everyone seemed to be missing penalties in the bit that I saw!) and attempted to set up as unobtrusively as possible. Terry the bass was on fine if rather surreal form - his opening comment of 'I think I've had flu all week - well I haven't had all the symptoms but it did take me 4 hours to put my socks on' will stay with me for quite some time... since Pete depped for me at a recent show we invited him along to join us for a few songs, and he ended up doing 5 or 6 with us all of which sounded good to my admittedly still-ailing ears. There was the inevitable exodus at the end of the game but those who were there saw the clock above the stage fall off the wall and nearly land on Terry the singer's head just a few moments after Caithriona had asked us to turn down a bit as they'd recently had complaints about volume levels from the neighbours. We weren't that loud! Terry the bass uttered the immortal words 'I was playing all the right notes but not necessarily in the right order' at the end of 'Layla' (he was right, he was!) and there were a few, shall we say, unusual arrangements here and there but overall we were pretty good even though I say so myself, and we've been asked to play there again next month (on Friday 13th!) so we must have done something right. It's good when that happens - I'll be cheering up if I'm not careful...

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.

Gibson Martin Fender - Mick Green

I've just heard that Mick Green died on Monday. He was 65 years old.

Mick is probably best known (and now to be remembered- how sad is that?) as the guitarist with Johnny Kidd and the Pirates back in the 1960's when he and the band influenced countless soon-to-be rock gods (The Who adopted a 4 piece line-up after seeing them perform) with their no nonsense approach to rock'n'roll. Green himself was particularly influential due to his ability to play rhythm and lead guitar simultaneously- a young Wilko Johnson was famously 'stopped in his tracks' when he first heard the solo on 'I'll Never Get Over You'. After leaving the band he played with artists as diverse as Engelbert Humperdink and Billy J. Kramer and The Dakotas before forming Shanghai in the 1970's. Just prior to the advent of punk rock in the mid-70's The Pirates reformed as a trio (the classic line-up of Mick with Johnny Spence on bass and Frank Farley on drums) when their blitzkrieg rhythm and blues fitted in perfectly with the times, not least because of their well documented association with Dr. Feelgood. When they finished in 1983 he went on to play with Bryan Ferry, Paul McCartney (notably on his excellent 'Run Devil Run' album) and Van Morrison among others as well as teaching guitar and occasionally reuniting with various Pirates line-ups.

For what my opinion is worth Mick Green is the greatest British rock'n'roll guitarist of them all. I first saw The Pirates on their 'Skull Wars' tour in 1978 and they were astonishing, as powerful and energetic as any band I'd seen before or indeed have seen since. And Green's guitar work was AMAZING, blisteringly loud yet incredibly precise and considered. I'd put him in my top 10 guitarists of all time for that gig alone but I was lucky enough to see him on many occasions after that, the last time a few years ago at The 100 Club when he'd clearly lost little if any of his fire and passion.

There's a live recording of The Pirates playing 'Don't Munchen It' at London's Hope and Anchor that includes one of the most outrageous solos I've ever heard- it sounds like about 3 people playing, I'm going to listen to it in a minute, it'll sound a bit different now but it's still one of the solos that I have in my mind ever time I start a solo and think 'now what do I play?' It never lets me down- it's one of my very favourite bits of electric guitar playing ever and as such means more to me than I'll ever be able to write down here.

Thanks for doing it all Mick- we will not see your like again.