Wrecking Crewe, Crewe Cut, We Are The Road Crewe etc etc

Ruts D.C. return to show business this week (fank gawd!) with what we hope will be an annual event - Kirk Brandon has been doing Westworld weekenders for a few years now, they feature his various bands with guest artists (we played it one year) and are excellent gatherings so we thought it was high time we did one too. We'll be playing both electric and acoustic sets, and the Saturday night show will feature the Ruts classic debut album 'The Crack' in it's entirety for the first time since our '40 Years Of The Crack' tour and indeed for the last time this year. Joining us at Langtry's in Crewe will be the afore-mentioned Mr. Brandon along with Auntie Pus, Tara Rez, Dealing With Damage and Criminal Mind - if you're going I'll see you there, and we'll see you at the bar!

Stand and deliver

Well it's been a long week. I've been working in Balcony Shirts every day since Tuesday and somewhere along the line have hurt my back and picked up a bit of a cold. Or is it the dreaded ManFlu? And although it wasn't a particularly late night at The Three Wishes in Edgware where Big Al and The Blistering Buicks played a sweaty show to the general appreciation of all concerned last night I've been asleep for much of today. I'm back in the shop tomorrow. I could really do with a day off. 

Of course none of this illness, tiredness and no doubt some other words ending with 'ness' has anything with The Rebellion Festival in Blackpool last weekend, where I played electric and acoustic shows with Ruts D.C., joined T.V. Smith for much of his set, played several songs with The Crows (during which I somehow managed to make the up-until-that-point excellent-sounding PA system dissolve into a wall of feedback - oops!) and finished the festival by playing three songs with Department S. Oh and I worked every day on the Cadiz Music merchandise stall too, and wasn't exactly early to bed every night. So it goes.

The shows were great. Really great. The T.V. and electric R.D.C. gigs took place in The Opera House, which is without doubt one of the best venues I've ever been lucky enough to perform in, while the Ruts D.C. acoustic show ended with an actual standing ovation, which is something that you don't see every day. 
Well, I certainly don't anyway… but if you'd like to see it click here! 
Department S were as excellent as ever and The Crows survived their encounter with your humble narrator with aplomb. I didn't get to see many bands play which was a shame in some ways but only to be expected considering my (over) commitments elsewhere. Still it was a terrific few days, and I'm sure that I'm not the only person looking forward to next year's festival already.

In other news Ruts D.C. release our new single 'Music Must Destroy' on September 9th, with the album of the same name coming out one week later. The song was played live for the first time in The Opera House last Saturday - we should be recording a promo video for it in the next week or so (the track features the mighty Henry Rollins, and hopefully he's going to feature in the video too) but in the meantime you can click here for the live version. See what you think...

'You disturb my natural emotions...'

Have you ever fallen in love with somebody the moment you first saw them? I was walking through a shopping centre once when I bumped into - literally bumped into - a young lady. She was an acquaintance of mine, I didn't know her well and I hadn't seen here for ages - but at that moment, as we stood awkwardly apologising to each other, I suddenly and abruptly thought she was the most beautiful woman, maybe the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen. It was like being hit by the proverbial ton of bricks. I'm not sure that I've ever recovered. She doesn't know anything about it of course - unless she felt it too, although if she did then she hid it well… I sound shallow don't I? Maybe I am.
I was reminded of this moment last Friday evening when I was getting my guitar and amp set up for a gig with Big Al Reed and The Blistering Buicks at The Crock Of Gold in Ruislip. I'd been looking forward to the gig all day, as my old mate Johnny Squirrel was depping on bass and I hadn't seen him for ages. We hadn't played there before so we were working out how to position the various band members in the space allowed - I looked across to the bar where a woman was walking towards a table carrying two drinks. One was a pint of Guinness, the other a smaller glass of clear fizzy-looking liquid. She sat down at the table where her friend was waiting, they smiled cheerily and chatted - while doing so she picked up the pint of Guinness and drank a fair-sized gulp from it. 
'Al, Al!' I said excitedly to the big man, 'Al, that girl over there, she's got a pint of Guinness'. 
'Right' said Al half-interestedly. 
'I think I'm in love' I said, hardly believing that I'd just said it. 
Al laughed. I released how ridiculous it must have sounded. 
I carried on setting my gear up.

The next night The Upper Cut played at Dave's 70th birthday party at The Queen's Arms in Colnbrook. I managed to get through the evening with most if not all of my emotions intact, although I couldn't get the Guinness Girl out of my mind. Strange but true. Shallow but true.

It seems to me that it's time I had a holiday - which is just as well as it's The Rebellion Festival in Blackpool this week. Ruts D.C. are playing an electric set on Saturday night and are closing the acoustic stage the next evening; I'll also be playing a few songs on Thursday with the great T.V. Smith and joining Department S for a tune or two as well as working behind the Cadiz Music merchandise stall and attempting to catch as many bands as I can in the meantime. I'm all too aware that several days of punk rock doesn't sound like most people's idea of a holiday, but it'll do me just fine. If you're going I'll see you there, maybe even for a pint of Guinness. All together now - 'Ever Fallen In Love With Someone...'

'Where am I?' 'In the village...'

Have you ever seen 'The Prisoner'? Of course you have. You know the opening sequence where Patrick McGoohan / number 6 wakes up in what he thinks is his home but then looks out of the windows and discovers that he's somewhere that he doesn't recognise? Well I know how he feels...

As you may be aware Ruts D.C. are currently supporting The Damned on their U.K. tour. We've been travelling on two tour buses (us and the crew on one, The Damned and co. on the other) with 12 bunk beds on each. We generally leave the venue at 2 am and travel through the night - meaning that you wake up somewhere new each day. To begin with I found this rather disorientating, but it's amazing how quickly you adapt to it. Well, I've found that I've adapted quickly, to the extent that as I write this I'm wondering how I'm going to return to a 'normal' life. Mind you, I don't really have a normal life, so I think I'll stop wondering how I'm going to return to it... but a few people have asked me how this touring lark all works, so I thought I'd have a go at writing about it here. The day generally goes something like this :-

Wake up. That's a relief, as it means that we got there in one piece.

Clamber out of the bunk and attempt to find your clothes. They're exactly where you left them last night, but where was that? You could do with a bit more light sometimes; well I certainly could - either that or I need to get some glasses that I can actually see though instead of the ones that I've currently got.

Time for some breakfast. This generally involves stumbling into town (I've often teamed up with Captain Sensible's guitar tech Jon) and trying to find some food that you like the look of and, maybe more importantly, can afford. As a namby pamby poncey vegetarian this often means that I eat too many eggs (and we all know what that can cause now don't we children?) and / or beans on toast (and you know what that can cause too...) Hardly the end of the world, but you do find yourself wishing for something different sometimes. Still there's always the porridge at Yates's - which reminds me, have you ever noticed how many of the young ladies who work behind the bar in Yates's have tattoos on their hands? You haven't? Maybe it's just me.

With load-in due at one o'clock most afternoons you then (depending on what time you got up of course) have a choice. I generally try to have a look a round town (is there a guitar shop? There go the wages!) as it's nice to get an idea about where you are, and then see if the venue is open; there's no shower on the bus but there's usually one somewhere backstage. I generally try to have one as soon as I can - there are a lot of people in the buses, and most if not all of them will want to use it at some point. In the meantime you can read, go back to sleep, make phone calls, catch up on emails, try to write a song, have some more food, hurry up and wait...

The Damned soundcheck usually starts at 4pm. I tend to check my guitar and equipment around this time, and if necessary change the strings (perhaps it would be better to do that earlier in the day Leigh, it might stay in tune better during the show?) as well as checking that all the leads on my pedal board are plugged in and in good shape. Our soundcheck is at half past five so I've got a fair bit of time to check things over, which is good as you don't want things going wrong during the show. We've been going on between 7.45 and 8pm each night, so after the soundcheck is over there's time to get changed for the show (if you're getting changed for the show) and work a set out, unless we're using the same one as the previous show. I'm pleased to say that the gigs have been going really well for us, and after in-ear monitor problems somewhat scuppered their first show of the tour in Bristol The Damned have been on top form with their shows getting better and better. I've always been a big fan, and this tour has done nothing to change that. Nice chaps too.

After their set I generally find myself behind the merchandise stall; Dave, Segs and Molara have been joining me to sign stuff and talk to people, and sometimes Captain Sensible shows up too. Good fun. Meanwhile the crew (Martin, Jon, Alex and Todd) put the gear away and into the respective tour buses and trailer, then if there's a local hostelry open it's time for a drink or two. And why not?

2 am and the buses leave for the next venue. Time for some sleep before the theme from 'The Prisoner' plays again... 

And don't forget that Dave and Segs have been writing a daily tour diary for Louder Than War; it's also on the band's Facebook page which you can find here...

Ruts D.C. and T.V. Smith at The 2013 Rebellion Festival

What follows is an attempt to write a piece about my four days at The Rebellion Festival last weekend. Most of it was written while I was there (or has been taken from notes made at the time) and while it's a bit disjointed here and there it does reflect the general feel of the weekend complete with a very unexpected incident along the way. Enjoy.

Thursday - a good journey up to Blackpool with Andy Peart and 'Fast' Tony Clarke saw your humble narrator arrive at Grampian House bed and breakfast establishment around 7.15pm. 'Oooh you've got wi-fi, we haven't got wi-fi' said Fast Tony ruefully. Yes, but you've no doubt got a jacuzzi - mind you, wi-fi is probably more useful... room 5 looks good to me so I sort my stuff out then walk along the seafront to The Winter Gardens to collect my AAA wristband then join Andy and Tony for veggie burgers at Nando's. Rock 'n' roll eh? By the time we've eaten it's nearer to 10 o'clock than 9; at the venue we meet up with Esso, John King, Phil from Bug and his wife Annette and more in the Spanish Bar, all of which means that the first act the I actually see is Walter Lure whose set in The Arena starts at midnight with 'One Track Mind'. I last saw him play nearly 30 years ago with Johnny Thunders And The Heartbreakers, and I'm pleased to say that the ensuing years haven't dulled his Les Paul swagger one bit. From there is was off to The Bizarre Bazaar for a few songs from The Ramonas (who played 'Chinese Rocks' just a few minutes after Walter Lure - weird!) before heading to The Empress Ballroom for a brilliant set from New Model Army with Justin Sullivan as intense as ever and the band sounding superb. A good start to proceedings.

Friday - I made it down to The Winter Gardens in time to catch around half the set from Taurus Trakker and very good they were too, although it was impossible not to be distracted by The Good-Fer-Nothing Circus who were to one side of the stage inviting people to have their photos taken standing on top of a chap laying on a bed of nails. Scary! In the meantime I had to find Stuart the head of merchandising to find out if I could store the two boxes of t-shirts and CDs that I'd bought with me somewhere in the venue ready for Saturday's gig; if that proved to be possible I then had to work out how to get them to the venue as I couldn't carry them all on my own. Sounds simple doesn't it? Well the first part certainly was, and Stuart turned out to be a very nice chap who couldn't have been more helpful and who offered to store the shirts in a room where he kept all the event merchandise. So far so good. So now all I had to do was collect the shirts and take them to the venue. Simple eh?
Have you ever been to Blackpool? I used to go there with my family when I was a lad and so have a lot of good memories about the place, but that was before the words 'one way system' meant anything to me. Myself and the afore-mentioned Phil and Annette (who had rather wildly volunteered to help) spent the best part of an hour attempting to find the back doors of The Winter Gardens - well, that's not strictly true as we knew where it was, we just couldn't work out how to get to it thanks to the psycho drama that is the Blackpool one way system. Several people offered directions, but they always said things like 'well it depends on whether (insert road name here) is open today or not' - many of the roads have those bollards that can be raised or lowered according to which way they're running the roads that day, which means that no one really knows how to get anywhere on any given day. It's mad! Still we got there in the end after a predictably huge amount of swearing and general insanity. After that it was time to see some bands so I did, catching all or part of sets by Eastfield, Charred Hearts, Long Tall Texans, Attila The Stockbroker, Hazel O'Connor, Wob, The Beatlesons, The Crows, The Duel, Peter And The Test Tube Babies, The Guitar Gangsters, Eddie And The Hot Rods, The Damned, Ed Banger And The Nosebleeds (no sign of Morrissey or Billy Duffy sadly) The Vibrators, Neck, The Buzzcocks, Justin Sullivan And Dean White, Space and probably some others. During this time any number of bars were open selling any number of beers - you can work the rest out for yourself...

Saturday - ok, here we go then. All this drinking and cavorting is all very well (and it must be said, tremendous fun!) but the real reason that I'm here is that tonight Ruts D.C. headline The Bizarre Bazaar stage. After spending a lazy morning running through a few of the songs on guitar I arrived at the venue around half past twelve to be told that our merchandise table would be available at 2pm so I got some lunch and saw a couple of numbers from Texas Terri Bomb before retrieving the shirts and discs and setting up our stall. Our slot was next to The Bizarre Bazaar which meant that I managed to see at least a couple of songs from most of the bands playing there that afternoon (all of whom have released material on All The Madmen Records) and met a lot of very nice people, many of whom made comments that confirmed what had become more and more evident since I first arrived at the festival - that a lot of people were really looking forward to our show. No pressure then...
The rest of the band arrived around half past five - after they'd bought our equipment in Segs heroically offered to take over the stall (I say 'heroically' as he was immediately besieged with people wanting autographs and to have their photo taken with him) while I went to get some food and to collect my guitar from my room. Upon my return we formulated a plan - Mark the driver would take over on the stall and we'd all meet in our dressing room at 10 o'clock to warm up for the show. This gave me chance to see a couple of songs from Chas And Dave and to catch up with a few people before climbing the four flights of stairs (!) to our dressing room at the allotted time. Myself and Segs had ran through quite a few songs or bits of songs before Dave joined us; Molara and Seamus arrived soon after that and it was suddenly half past eleven and time to get ready for the gig. And what a gig it was - the place was packed (and I mean packed) and with people dancing from the word go the next 75 minutes passed by in what felt like seconds. An extraordinary show, followed by an equally extraordinary time back out on the merch stall, where hands were shaken, CDs and records were signed and we all agreed that the gig had been everything we hoped it would be. Oh yes!

Sunday - first things first, and it's back to the venue to load up the van and wish the rest of the band a safe journey home. As I walked back through the venue I saw T.V. Smith behind his merchandise stall and decided to go over to say hello; when I got there here was taping a piece of cardboard to the front of the table - it said that his show was being bought forward a half an hour to 9 o'clock and would feature your humble narrator as 'special guest'. Oo-er! It turned out that Pascal Briggs should have been on before T.V. but hadn't made it to the festival so a longer set was now required - 'I've been trying to call you but couldn't get through - do you know anyone who could lend you an acoustic guitar?'
I went back to base camp, had a shower and got my (electric) guitar out. I hadn't played a show with the mighty Mr. Smith since back in March but fortunately I had all the songs that I play with him on my mobile phone for just such an emergency (if only it worked as a telephone as well!) and so set about revising some songs. I also managed to get an hour and a bit of sleep - well, it was going to be a long evening...
As I walked back to the venue The Red Arrows were displaying over the sea - Blackpool appeared to be at a standstill with people parked up on street corners and all the pavements crammed with onlookers. I wended my weary way through them and went straight to the venue office where I arranged to borrow a guitar; there was was time for some food before catching a few songs from The Riffs, I, Ludicrous and Lene Lovich. I'd arranged to meet T.V. at The Almost Acoustic stage at half past eight, where the very helpful soundman Huggy produced a guitar that had been left there for me by Jennie from The Crows. (Thanks Jennie - that's another drink I owe you! Oh and thanks to Billy Liar for lending me a capo too.) After a (very) quick soundcheck T.V. took to the stage for 30-odd minutes of excellence before beginning 'Immortal Rich' which was my cue to start getting ready to go on. I knew he'd be doing two more songs after that -  plenty of time to go to the toilet (even guitar heroes need to have a pee before the show you know!) and get a drink. Or so I thought - I met several people who had enjoyed the Ruts D.C. show and who wanted to tell me all about it. Well I don't want to be rude but I'm on in five minutes...
I just - just! - made it to the stage as my name was announced. Phew! I just made through the set too, with T.V. calling a couple of songs that I hadn't revised - I didn't know that I had quite so much skin on my teeth! By the end of our set we were treated to the unusual sight of massed poging at an acoustic gig, an amazing end to a great show. 
Afterwards it's handshakes and photos all round before heading to the Empress Ballroom to see Sham 69. I was never their biggest fan but I must admit that I thoroughly enjoyed their show - and no one is more surprised than me to be typing that sentence.
Only one thing could follow that - the after show party upstairs in The Spanish Bar. Now it's at this point that details get sketchy. Very sketchy. I definitely spent a fair bit of time talking to Gaye Advert, and Richard from Cadiz Music, and Arturo Bassick, Eugene from Vive Le Rock and no doubt quite a few other people too; when that ended at 4am I went to The Orbiston Hotel with various members of The Duel where incredibly the bar was still open. Details are even more sketchy after that... but what a weekend it had been my friends, what a weekend it had been. Same time next year? Let's hope so.

Music ruined my life - it's official!

Now here's a funny thing - the always-excellent Music Ruined My Life blog has posted a piece on the first single from me and my old buddies The Price - I must admit it's a bit of an inside job as I sent him the information when he requested it but it's still amazing to see it there all of (gulp!) 25 years since it was released. Have a look and indeed a listen here and see what you think.

On Wednesdays your humble narrator journeyed across London to Back To Zero Headquarters (hereinafter referred to as 'BTZ HQ') to spray some hot guitar (oooh I wish I'd thought of that line! Sadly I didn't - but there's 10 points for you if you know who did! I'll give you the answer at the end of this posting...) new album. Yes that's right, our new album. It's been the best part of ten years since songwriting wizard Sam and erstwhile singer Brian put together 'It's All Relative', and it has been decided that a tenth anniversary re-recording by the band is in order. Sam and Andy have already recorded their guitar and drum parts respectively so it's time for myself and Squirrel to add our guitar and bass contributions. With optimism in the air we got off to a flying start and progress was swift, until my trusty (well it had been trusty up until this point!) Fender Telecaster cut out when I changed from the bridge to the neck pick up. It came back on, cut out again... after attempting an emergency repair (hitting it then swearing rather a lot - well, it usually works!) it came back on, and was fine as long as I only wanted to use the bridge pick up, which, somewhat fortuitously, was the one that I wanted to use for much of proceedings. I just got it working again when Squirrel's bass started making some rather odd crackling noises - he changed the battery (it's got active pick ups) but to no avail, and so used Andy's bass for the rest of the day. Somehow despite these setbacks we got a remarkable amount of work done, and have resolved to get back together in the next couple of weeks (after we've got our instruments repaired perhaps!?!) to complete our parts. More news as and when I have it, but I for one think that the album is going to sound great. Oh yes!

And last night I saw The Good Old Boys at The Eel Pie Club in Twickenham. I hadn't been to the club for quite some time (it's at The Cabbage Patch public house) but if the audience for this show was anything to go by it's a thriving venue which is always a good thing to see in these troubled times. And the GOBs (another abbreviated band name eh?) were absolutely excellent - mind you, they usually are.

Better go - I have a gig with Utter Madness tomorrow at no lesser venue than Cliveden House (you know, the Profumo Affair and all that) and I've got songs to revise. After that,  it's time for the return of Ruts D.C. - but more about that next time.

And the answer to the 'hot guitar' question - it is of course the great Robert Fripp, who has variously referred to spraying 'hot' and 'burning' guitar several times over the years. Good man!

Careful with that axe Eugene!

Before I leave for tonight's gig with The Atlantic Soul Machine at The Bulls Head in Barnes there's just - just! - time to post this splendid image of Santa Claus doing what all of us guitarist types have felt like doing at some time or other... it was sent to me by my mate Adrian who writes the excellent Aural Sculptors blog; this is usually devoted to live performances by The Stranglers, but his latest posting is a very enthusiastic (I wouldn't be putting it here if it wasn't!) review of the Ruts D.C. show at The 100 Club the night before last which you can read here. I'll be ranting and raving about that and all the other shows that I'm in the middle of playing at the moment sometime in the next few days, but in the meantime I hope you have a very Merry Christmas. 

500 not out

This is my 500th blog posting!

As I've said elsewhere in these hallowed pages that I actually started this blogging lark to learn to type and to get better at using a computer, rather than to just wallow in egotism and self-publicity and to scream on and on about myself in cyberspace; I'm still only using two fingers to type most of the time, and I still don't know my way around a computer as I well as I would like, but I'm miles ahead of where I was all this years ago as I typed the words 'please allow me to introduce myself' (that took me about a minute-and-a-half, or it certainly felt as thought it did) to begin my first posting. I suppose you could argue that it would be a bit of a shame if I'd make no progress in the interim period, but the other thing to say is that I thoroughly enjoy writing it, and as long as I feel that way I'll continue to do so even though I often wonder if anybody is actually reading it...

In the meantime the egotism and shameless self-publicity is about to take on new heights, as I've now got my own website. Oh yes! Of course I couldn't even begin to do something like this without the help of people younger than myself, and it's at this point I must thank Dave from Balcony Shirts, his good friend Greg and Ace! DJ chap Simon for their assistance in the creation of something that gives me even more chance to scream on and on about myself in cyberspace. Well, no one else is going to do it are they? If you'd like to have a look then click here - it's work in progress as all of these things inevitably are, but it's been good fun to put together and I'm looking forward to seeing where it all goes in the future.

In the meantime the second 500 blog postings start here...

I was in the middle of a Skype conversation with the Cool Britannia crew on Friday afternoon (lots to talk about with the first show only three weeks away, but more about that another time) when my phone rang - it was my Dad, telling me that Bert Weedon had died. Often considered to be 'the first British guitar hero' thanks to singles like 'Guitar Boogie Shuffle' and his work backing everyone from Tommy Steele to Frank Sinatra, his tuition books 'Play In A Day' and 'Play Every Day' were read and studied by a generation of guitarists. It was all a bit before my time ('Play In A Day' was first published in 1957, 'Guitar Boogie Shuffle' was a hit in 1959 - I'm old, but not that old!) but his influence cannot and indeed should not be denied, as tributes from the likes of Eric Clapton and Brian May show. And Levon Helm has died - like most people I'm more familiar with his work with Bob Dylan and The Band than any of his subsequent projects, but for that alone he is guaranteed a place in music history. And away from music Jack Ashley died at the weekend - I met him once, when The Price played at The Middlesex Show in aid of The Royal National Institute for Deaf people (do your own punchline!) and he seemed to be a very nice chap, very committed to the cause of disability rights (I talked to him about my mum who had MND) and of improving the lives of deaf people. We could do with a few more MPs like him don't you think?

Saturday night it was time to return to The Feathers in Staines for a show with Big Al Reed. We began to an audience of around 10 people including the bar staff (or as Al put it - 'I could have invited you all round and done the gig in my front room') but by a few songs into the first set people were pulling up chairs and enjoying a show that could perhaps politely be described as 'loose in places'. Al had obtained some new backing tracks which we sadly hadn't had chance to practise with, but although a couple of the songs went a bit wrong it just seemed to make people warm to him (he comes over very well on stage) and by the end of the show people were dancing and demanding encore after encore. A good gig, but maybe not one to over-analyse, not least since the evening ended with a young lady in perilously tight red trousers taking severe exception to the barman refusing to serve her after closing time - if there is a World record for swearing I think we all saw a new champion.

And much of today was spent at Jamm in Brixton with Segs running through potential new additions to the Ruts D.C. live arsenal - with new album 'Rhythm Collision Volume 2' nearing completion and 'Animal Now' about to be re-issued there were plenty of songs to consider, and we came away with around a dozen of ifs, buts and maybes to start working on at next week's band rehearsal. Now there's something to look forward to!

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some work to do on my new website. Now there's something I'd never thought I'd be ever be typing, especially in my 500th blog posting. Strange days indeed.

Marshall arts

Jim Marshall, 'The Father Of Loud' (well, of Marshall amplifiers anyway) has died aged 88. I met him once, at a trade show - he could regularly be seen at such events, sitting behind a table with a mountain of soon-to-be autographed posters, shaking hands and exchanging a few words with people like me; I got an autographed poster, shook hands and exchanged a few words. He seemed like a nice enough chap, if somewhat detached from the event although he'd obviously seen it all before on any number of occasions. The contribution made by Marshall to the sound of the electric guitar (and therefore the sound of rock music in general) is almost impossible to quantify; it's hard to imagine the average or indeed above-average heavy rock guitarist without a wall of Marshall amps and cabinets behind them. And would Jimi Hendrix have got that sound without them? Probably not. And then there's the 'Bluesbreakers With Eric Clapton' album - the images of E.C. with a Les Paul on his lap and a Marshall combo in the background have become so iconic that the combo is now simply known as a 'Bluesbreaker' in honour of the monumental sound created by Clapton on the album. And that's only a couple of examples, and there are many many more. Thanks for doing it all Dr. Jim - it really wouldn't have been the same without you.

I wrote the above paragraph and indeed am writing these very words on the 5.10 am Metropolitan Line train going into London. Have you ever tried to write anything while you're on a tube train? It's not easy is it? Reading the Marshall stuff back it's a peculiar mixture of seemingly random hieroglyphics (I guess that'll be where the train was moving) and my usual handwriting (from the oasis of calm where we were stopped at a station) which is pretty rough at the best of times. It all just about makes sense although the words 'just about' are very important in this sentence - maybe writing on trains isn't such a good idea after all... but it's been a while since I've been up this early to travel to a gig, and I'd all but forgotten how nice (for want of a better word) it is when you're out and about at this time of day. As I stumbled towards the ticket hall at Uxbridge Station it was dark (obviously!) cold-ish and quiet. The Plough could be clearly seen overhead (I can never quite work out where The North Star is, can you?) and despite the early hour it's very hard not to feel good about things.

I'm on my way to the Eurostar terminal at Kings Cross St. Pancras where I'm due to meet up with Sam and Eddie from Department S; from there we're off to Belgium (meeting Mike on the way and Stuart at the other end) for an appearance at The Rewind Festival in Ghent. In the interim period since the previous weekend's rehearsal I'd had precious little time to review and run through the material, aside from playing along with it all on Wednesday and treating the shop customers to regular airings of it on an iPod. I was a little concerned that I hadn't done enough work, although there was obviously no point in worrying about that now. Instead I find myself musing on the unlikeliness of the situation; I bought their singles all those years ago, have a dim recollection of playing 'Is Vic There?' in a band once (maybe at a gig, maybe at a rehearsal?) and I now find myself on my way to playing a gig with them. And if that wasn't a strange enough thought, I'm playing bass guitar. Curiouser and curiouser.

The band's changed a bit since I bought those singles - original members Mike and Stuart are still there on guitar and drums respectively but Vaughn Toulouse (original vocalist and owner of one of the great stage names of all time!) is sadly no longer with us so his place is taken by Eddie the original keyboard player; his replacement Mark now plays bass (I'm depping for him - keep up at the back there!) and former Back to Zero and Rubella Ballet guitarist Sam Burnett is the newest member of the band. I occasionally muse in these hallowed pages about how lucky I feel to be doing what I do with the likes of Ruts DC and TV Smith, but playing bass for Department S - now there's something that I'd never have never have predicted in a million years.

'Well I'd never have predicted this in a million years' I thought to myself as the lights of Northwick Park Hospital went by in the middle distance and the chap in the seat in front of me ate what I think was a biscuit. What had began as an all-but-empty train when it left Uxbridge had been gradually filling up as I scribbled, as I suppose the first train of the day always does. I wonder where all these people are going at this time on Good Friday morning?

After meeting up with Sam and Eddie we made our way to Eurostar security - much like an airport - before moving through to the chaos of passport control. I'm not sure what was causing the problem but there were clearly too many people trying to get through, with members of staff shouting things like 'any more for the 6.50 to Brussels' inciting near panic among the assembled multitude. We made it to our seats with less that two minutes to spare - I wonder how many others weren't as lucky.

With Mike joining the train at Ebbsfleet the rest of the journey went smoothly if a little blearily from my point of view. At Brussels we caught the train for Ghent (a bewildering amount of bicycles parked outside the station!) where we met up with Kika (who's worked with the band in Belgium before) who took us to the Hotel Ibis where we met up with Stuart, checked in and then set out in search of food. After walking around town for a while (and a very nice town it is too) we settled on the Ankara Turkish restaurant - as our meals arrived my phone rang meaning that I found myself saying 'well you won't believe this but I'm in a Turkish restaurant in Belgium' much to the amusement of all concerned.

With the venue just a few minutes walk from our hotel it was time for a shower and to catch up with a bit of sleep. At around 4.50 I set out for The Concertzall; within five minutes I was back in my room picking up some plectrums (I'm not sure I was as awake as I might have been!) meaning I arrived at the venue a few minutes late for our 5 o'clock meeting. Our expected soundcheck didn't materialise, but we did get to look over the gear - a new looking drumkit for Stu, Vox AC30's for Mike and Sam and an Ampeg SVT stack (oh yes!) for me - and were told that we would have a soundcheck prior to our performance. Unfortunately this meant playing 'Monte Carlo Or Bust' to the audience that would be watching us a few minutes later; even more unfortunately Sam's guitar sounded crackly, like a lead was going wrong. He and a couple of the sound crew attempted to solve the problem with limited success, and suddenly we were starting our show with a somewhat chaotic 'Clap Now'. By 'Lucifer Sam' (there's one for you Syd Barrett fans!) things were sounding better and the audience were starting to get into it - or were they? It was all feeling a bit too much like hard work, and when I lost my way a bit in 'Cause' I was starting to get a bit annoyed with myself. Then with three songs left on the setlist we're told that there's only time for one more, and 'Is Vic There?' finally gets a reaction from the crowd. We're off the stage almost as soon as we've finished the song, everyone in the band is a bit disappointed with the show but we're told that we sounded good so perhaps we're just being over-critical. Ah well. After a couple of drinks backstage Kika takes Stuart to the airport (he flew out to meet us and is flying straight home to go to a wedding the next morning) and we take our guitars back to the hotel before walking back to the venue to watch some bands, have a few drinks, talk to other band members, talk to each other, have a drink or two, wonder what to do next... eventually Sam and myself head back to the hotel where I sit in the bar scribbling yet more blog notes, half-listening to a chap from Chesham trying to chat up the Russian barmaid and having a text message conversation with Stuart the guitar repairman who's watching The Uppercut at The Half Moon in Harrow - judging by his comments Pete is doing a good job in my place!

Saturday began around 8.45am with a shower and breakfast with Sam, Eddie and Kika with Mike yet to make it back to the hotel - this lead to much speculation as to where he was (I'll leave you to guess what it was about!) although when he arrived back the story was somewhat unexpected. He'd come back to the hotel but had been unable to get his doorkey to work and so had gone back to the venue and had ended up sleeping on someone's sofa. The strangest part of the story was not that he hadn't gone to reception and got a new key (although that is a bit strange if you think about it) but that he was sharing a room with Eddie who was adamant that no one had tried to open the door. So - who's door had Mike been trying to open?

We weren't due to leave for the train to Brussels for a couple of hours so there was time for a very enjoyable wander around town before collecting all our gear and setting out towards the station. 'It's only 10 minutes walk' said the cheery receptionist, who I've since decided likely to be representing Belgium in the 20Km walk at the upcoming Olympics. Our train journey was enlivened by Mike producing a copy of 'The Chap' magazine which is always a good read - by the end of our journey the views from the train windows had let us to propose 'The Pylon' magazine - 'for the electrical enthusiast in us all'. Well, you had to be there.

The Eurostar train journey took longer than it should have, with a long stay at Lille station being the main culprit. I walked through passport control at St. Pancras around 4.20pm which meant that I had around an hour-and-a-half until my next adventure...

On Thursday afternoon I'd had a phone call from Mike Hyde; he's Elwood in the Chicago Blues Brothers and he'd called to see if I was available for a just-come-in-at-short-notice playback gig on Saturday evening. Well, I would just about be back in time, although I'd be tired... oh, alright then!

I was home for long enough to get changed and for the long-suffering Shirley to hand me some crisps and sandwiches before the doorbell went - it was my new friend Luke, and within a couple of minutes we were on our way to The Slug And Lettuce in Solihull. Neil is joining Mike in the hat and glasses, and Luke is joining myself on guitar, meaning that it's the first time I can remember playing a Blues Brothers show with another guitarist. Our journey saw much guitar talk (the lad really knows his stuff!) as well as a few thoughts on how we were going to approach the show. When we arrived Mike and Neil were more-or-less set up and ready to go; Luke was using a Line6 amp and Bognor cabinet with a Fender Road Worn Stratocaster, I stuck with my Telecaster and Fender combo (not least because I haven't got any other types of amplifier!) and we soundchecked with 'Soul Man' before getting some drinks and talking through the set.

As we go on at 9.30 the place is full and people are still arriving - we play two sets to scenes of general mayhem with gangs of lads circling gangs of lasses and few if any of them being particularly bothered whether we were there or not. It was more fun than that description makes it sound (you might argue that it couldn't have been much less fun than I've just made it sound, but it wasn't that bad, honest!) and it was great to have a short notice gig rather than to not have been working. No, really it was, although Mike's comment as we were getting changed after the show ('right, we've been off 15 minutes, they'll have forgotten about us now so we can go and pack the gear away') more-or-less tells you all that you need to know.

And last night I had an absolutely splendid time on Music Scene Investigation - definitely the best show of the three that I've been involved with, and the music was of such a high standard that it was very hard to decide on the winning song. I'm back on the show on July 15th, and there's talk of there being a one hour special on your humble narrator in the meantime. A whole hour about me - that's about as likely as, well, me playing bass for Department S isn't it? Oh, hang on a minute...

Senses working overtime

So - I just manage to shake off the nasties in my stomach, and then I wake up on Friday morning unable to hear out of my right ear. Not a good situation at the best of times, and definitely not good for somebody attempting to make a living playing music. I know what the problem is - it's earwax, and rather a lot of it. Urgh! Given the abuse I've subjected my hearing to over the years I suppose it's all but inevitable that I get periodic problems of this nature, and this is certainly one of those times. I've bought some of that stuff from the chemist that's supposed to get rid of it, and at the moment it's one of those things that gets worse before it gets better, meaning that I had bad hearing yesterday and I've got really bad hearing today. Rather ironic don't you think?

I've managed to stumble my way through two gigs in this disadvantaged state this weekend, the first of which was depping with The Briefcase Blues Brothers at The Seacombe Theatre in Sutton. As soon as the show began I realised that my ear was making me feel as though I had a bell jar in my head - not that I've spent much time with a bell jar on my head, but you know what I mean. Not only was it was hard for me to hear what I myself was playing (a recipe for breaking strings if ever there was one, as you start hitting them harder than you should) but I could only hear the band as a muffled, rather distant whole as opposed to being able to hear the instruments individually. I was just getting used to watching rather than listening to what people were playing when all the stage lights went out during 'In The Midnight Hour' - at first I wondered if it was an attempt on the part of the lighting man to reflect the idea of it being dark at midnight (I spoke to him afterwards - it wasn't!) but fairly soon realised that not being able to hear or see the band was a particularly perilous situation and one which I was only able to get through by mostly using open chords which can be found by feel. After what felt like ages (but was probably only a few seconds) the lights came back on again to the collective relief of all concerned, and the rest of the show proceeded without to much incident. I hadn't played with The B.B.B.'s since before Christmas, and it was good to catch up with them all again - I had a good chat with keyboard maestro Wayne 'son-of-Albert' Lee afterwards who told me that his dad is doing some shows with James Burton later this year which could be well worth catching for a blitz of country rock guitar.

Sunday night The Rikardo Brothers returned to Uxbridge for a gig at The Load of Hay. As we started our first set there were a grand total of four (count 'em, four) people watching us; by the second set that had risen to eight which I suppose if you look on the bright side means that our audience had increased by 100% during our performance but realistically is at best disappointing and at worst utterly depressing - as Alan put it, it was 'a bit like playing to a furniture exhibition'. Still we played well and I for one thoroughly enjoyed myself although I sadly can't see shows continuing at The Load of Hay if audience numbers don't improve. Shame... but if they do stop and people then moan at me about there being no music on there Sunday evenings then I may not be responsible for what I say next.

Talking of saying things I've just spent the last two days in Balcony Shirts turning my left ear towards customers and asking them to repeat what they'd just said. Incredibly some people still bought things. Good! Now if you excuse me I'm just off to put some more of that stuff in my ear...

'Adios to the Manchester Cowboy'

I used to love the Monkees television show when I was a kid. Well I think I did - I was about 5 when it started so maybe I remember it more from later repeats? In any case, I loved it. Maybe you did too? Along with the Beatles films 'A Hard Day's Night' and 'Help!' they showed your (young) humble narrator what fantastic fun it was to be in a pop group. Well, they just muck around all day in cool clothes don't they? No arguing, unlimited money and the odd bit of singing - now that would be a job worth having wouldn't it?

Years later I realised that their records were some of the greatest examples of 1960s pop music. Detractors said that they were just manufactured by a television production company and called them 'The Pre-Fab Four' as they were originally intended to be an American rival to The Beatles; they also derided them for not playing on their early records. The same detractors no doubt hail 'Good Vibrations' and 'Pet Sounds' as works of genius - but they also featured session musicians and was recorded while the 'real' Beach Boys were away on tour. The Phil Spector productions of the time also are held up as works of art, yet again they are pure products of the studio rather than being a group performance - but of course Wilson and Spector were to cool to be criticised, while The Monkees were 'just' actors playing the part of a pop group. Well they may have started out as that, but they became one of the most iconic examples of '60's pop culture (you could of course argue that their 'manufactured' status also contributes to that title) and, I say again, made some of the greatest records of the era. Davy Jones's death means the end of The Monkees - I for one are very saddened by that news, and I happen to think that any pop music fan should be sad too.

And Ronnie Montrose has died - hardly a household name to many (although I guess that depends upon your house!) but a great guitarist none the less. I first heard of him when my older cousins Steve and Gary played me 'Bad Motor Scooter' by Montrose way back in the mid-'70s (it was on 'The Warner Bros Music Show' sampler album) which for me remains one of the great American rock recordings of the time. Here is an OGWT clip of the band from 1974 playing said song, featuring a young Sammy Hagar on vocals who of course went on to bigger but not necessarily better things. Great stuff. No really, it is. Ronnie himself went on to play for all sorts of people and remained an excellent and well-regarded musician who was still out gigging until recently. He is a sad loss to the guitar-playing World.

When last we spoke your writer wasn't exactly at the top of his game; fortunately things have improved and I'm more-or-less back to (ahem!) normal. I still haven't worked out if my sickness was caused by something that I ate or one of these bugs that we all hear about - I suppose it doesn't really matter although it would be nice to know if a weird way. Anyway I still felt a bit shaky several days after the incident last Saturday in Ascot so for once it was probably a good thing that I didn't have any gigs over the weekend. I did however see Chicken Legs Weaver at The Load Of Hay on Sunday evening - it was the first gig for Andy with a new band line-up and overall went very well, with excellent versions of 'The Israelites' (slower and heavier than the Desmond Dekker original, with barely a hint of ska) and 'When The Levee Breaks' (similar to the Led Zeppelin version, maybe a bit bluesier) standing out. I'm playing there with The Rikardo Brothers this Sunday, then Kris Dollimore returns on Sunday 25th March. Now that's something to look forward too!

In the meantime I'm off to listen to The Monkees and, er, Montrose. 'Here we come, walking down the street...' 'you get on your bad motor scooter and ride...' Hmm... I wonder how many other people are playing those two songs back-to-back?

'And oh I don't know why...'

No gigs for your humble narrator this week, which is not a good situation for someone who's attempting to make a living out of playing the guitar. Bah! I can't remember a December that was this quiet... anyway here are a few YouTube clips that I've seen lately - after all, who wants to play the guitar when you can watch other people doing it? (Well, actually, I do... which reminds me, The Uppercut play an 'it's-nearly-Christmas' gig at The Load of Hay this coming Sunday - if you're in the area why not come along?)

When I was a lad there was a band called The Clash. They were very good. Very good indeed. In fact I've been known to say that one of the best things about being old is that you were able to see The Clash play. (On bad days I've been known to say that one of the ONLY good things about being old is that you were able to see The Clash, but that's another story...) Some amazing film of the band at The New York Palladium in 1979 has recently surfaced - originally silent, it has been painstakingly synced up with a bootleg audio recording of the show, the full story of which can be found on The Clash Blog along with the footage which is also on YouTube here. It's a famous show in the history of the band as it's the night that Paul Simonon smashed up his bass guitar, as immortalised on the cover of their 'London Calling' album. While it's not the greatest quality it captures the fearsome power of the band at their brilliant best, and I for one wish there was more of it, not least for the rare sight of Mick Jones playing 'English Civil War' on acoustic rather than electric guitar.

(Incidentally if you've never seen the electric version then here is - I told you they were very good...)

If you've ever been mad enough to attempt to learn to play a musical instrument then you'll know that it can be a very rewarding experience; you'll also know that it can be extremely frustrating, not least when you know what you're supposed to be playing but can't quite manage to get the sound out of the instrument. My good friend and Awaken guitarist Pete sent me a link for a clip of 'The Angriest Guitarist in the World' - it seems as though he's known as The Treeman and has been getting quite a lot of attention on YouTube. I of course have never heard of him before and therefore can heartily recommend this clip of the man himself in action - the moment at 2 min 18 sec where an edit cuts to our man holding an acoustic guitar that's being held together with what looks like masking tape is well worth savouring. There's a second clip here, and various other links to actual songs (as opposed to violent sweary rants) including the one that he's attempting to get right in the first clip can also be found - I'm not sure that it's not all a little bit contrived here and there, but it's certainly very entertaining.

I found this extraordinary clip of an English language class at The Sullivan School Kindergarten in South Korea on the ever-excellent Monkey Picks blog; I wish this sort have thing had gone on at our school, although of course when I was their age The Ramones were still several years in the future. I guess we could have had a teacher with an electric guitar leading us all in Beatles songs? Anyway it's a brilliant clip, especially the bit where the kids at the front can't wait to sing 'third verse, different from the first' and get back to the pogoing... and here are Da Brudders themselves playing the same song 'Judy Is A Punk' on The Don Kirshner's Rock Concert TV show in 1977. Analysis is futile my friends, other than to say something along the lines of 'that's rock 'n' roll'...

Sittin' on top of the world

I've just found out that the great Hubert Sumlin died on December 4th. It's his funeral today.

If you don't know the name then buy yourself any compilation album of recordings Howlin' Wolf made for Chess Records in the 1950s and '60s. That's him on lead guitar. Put simply it's some of the best electric blues guitar playing of all time. He also worked with Muddy Waters, but it's the Wolf's recordings that have won him a place in history - and rightly so. They are fabulous.

In latter years he's been a regular contributor to the Crossroads Guitar Festivals organised by Eric Clapton, who has made no secret of his fervant admiration of Sumlin's playing. (Here is a great clip from last year's festival - note E.C. singing along!) And the fact that Mick Jagger and Keith Richards paid for his funeral speaks volumes for his influence on them and therefore subsequent generations of musicians.

I met him once. I never tire of retelling the story, as is evidenced by the fact that I told it here as early as October 2006, just after I started blogging. You can read it here if you like - I hope my writing has improved since then... but the profound nature of his comments have never left me, and in times of self doubt (of which there are many) they come back to me along with his enthusiasm for music and the kindness and encouragement that he showed to me, a total stranger among the many that someone like him must have met. My brief encounter with him showed him to be a absolute gentleman, and I've not heard or read anything anywhere that contradicts that.

His importance in the story of the electric guitar cannot and must not be underestimated.

Thanks Hubert.

Tools of the trade

I take a lot of things with me when I play a gig. Well, I think I do. If I'm using an electric guitar I take a guitar (or two) along with an amplifier (obviously!) and several leads (you've got to have some spares haven't you?) along with effect pedals if needed; I also take some tools (screwdrivers, pliers, wire cutters etc) along with things like spare fuses and valves. I've only got one acoustic guitar so as there's no spare for that I always make sure that I've got plenty of strings with me - mind you I take plenty of strings with me even when I've got a spare guitar. Part of this neurotic attention to detail is probably that I'm neurotic (!) while the rest is the ever-popular 'if I take it, I won't need it' syndrome - a bit like thinking that if you take an umbrella with you it won't rain... and normally that line of thinking seems to work, as I rarely need to use any of the myriad spares that I take with me. I'd like to think that I look after my equipment, and generally I try keep everything in good working order - which is why when something does go wrong it comes as something of a shock...

I was halfway through my solo in 'Maggie May' (the first song of The Uppercut's second set at The Halfway House in Rickmansworth) on Friday night when a very strange sound came from my amplifier - a kind of spitting, crackling noise which lasted a few seconds then stopped. On the one hand I was pleased that it had stopped, on the other hand I was somewhat dismayed to find that everything had stopped and no sound whatsoever was forthcoming. Not good. Worse still, the little red light on the top on my amplifier (a Fender Blues Deville in case you were wondering) had gone off. Not good at all. I took my guitar off as the rest of the band ground to a halt; I made a quick 'erm, my amplifier's gone wrong' announcement, and then made myself concentrate on the optimistic thought that 'it must be the fuse' - which was 'optimistic' because that was pretty much the only thing that I knew how to fix...

As I undid the screw on the plug I wondered what I would do if changing the fuse didn't solve the problem; when it didn't solve the problem I swore a bit. Quite a bit if I remember rightly. When that didn't make the amplifier work it was time for another approach. In one of the compartments in the top part of my toolbox (which is so unfeasibly large that I can also keep all the leads and pedals in it) were some other, smaller fuses. I remembered buying them from Maplin in Uxbridge, ooh, 15 years ago, maybe more, they're for the fuse that's inside the back of the amplifier where the valves are. I'd better try that one then.

I took the fuse out of the amplifier and held it up to the light. It's one of these little glass ones that you can see through, and even through the tinted glasses that I wear when I'm gigging I could see that the wire in the fuse had broken - in other words it had blown. Great. I'll replace it and then we're back in business - provided of course that there isn't a fault somewhere in the amplifier and it blows the replacement fuse. If that happens then we're in trouble.

As I went to switch the amp back on I looked around to the rest of the band, all of whom were looking at me with what I took to be a mixture of apprehension and optimism; I said something like 'as Dave Allen would probably have said, if you have a God then hope that he is with you now' and switched the amp back on. The red light lit up, a beautiful sight. I waited a few seconds... it was still on. Now the moment of truth - try the guitar... I thought it crackled a bit, but maybe that was just me. The red light was still on. Good.

We debated what to do next, eventually reaching the slightly bizarre decision that we should restart the song from the guitar solo rather than from the beginning. So we did. The guitar sounded great, better than before. Surely a fuse can't make any difference to the sound? Of course it can't.

'That was a good fuse that you put in there' said Roger cheerily. We'd finished a fine show and were feeling great. He went on to say that he thought the guitar had sounded better than before the fuse had blown. I told him that I thought it sounded good too. Strange. I looked at the control panel on the top of the amplifier. The volume was higher than I'd had it earlier in the evening. A lot higher. I must have knocked it when I was leaning over it to change the fuse. So that's why it sounded better!

I was in the shop all day yesterday and didn't feel too well when I got home; I woke up today with what feels like a bit of a cold. Bah! Still I thought I'd plug my amp in this afternoon to see how it was sounding - it made a horrible high pitched screaming noise, and that was before I'd even plugged a guitar in! Looks like I'd better ring Roger the amplifier repair man in the morning...

In the meantime a splendid time was had at The Crown And Sceptre in Uxbridge (now that's something that I never thought that I'd ever write!) on Wednesday evening when Darren and Simon hosted their first Good For Nothing club evening. I met Esso from The Lurkers there just after 9.30; sometime after 10 o'clock Colour Me Wednesday played an excellent acoustic set to an increasingly appreciative audience. The rest of the evening saw slightly bewildered pub regulars recoiling in confusion as their requests for tracks from the likes of Pink were met with replies along the lines of 'sorry we haven't got anything by them'; Esso and myself were approached by a less-than-sober chap who asked us to feel his biceps (I'm not making this up, honest) and when the music was over the pub guv'nor seemed optimistic about upcoming Wednesday gatherings, which should hopefully bode well for the future. This week Scott from Balcony Shirts is playing an acoustic set, aided and abetted by at least one other member of the shop staff. It should be fun.

'I've been dead a long time'

Jimi Hendrix died 40 years ago today. He was 27 years old.

'Once you're dead you're made for life.'

Millions of words have been written about him and his effect on the music world (an indeed the world in general) and in many ways his presence is even greater today than when he was alive and making music. These are odd times for the electric guitar, as players are churned out on conveyor belts from nebulous 'institutes' which claim to teach the would-be guitar hero all that they'll ever need to know to play any type of music that they're ever likely to encounter - many would say that players who learn in this way are soulless and unoriginal, two words that could never be associated with Jimi Hendrix. To some he's the greatest ever exponent of the instrument, to others he's the most overrated player of them all, but few if any will deny his impact. Ask people who saw him perform about him and you can watch them being all-too-briefly transported back to a time when anything seemed to be possible, and when maybe, just maybe, music could change the World.

'My goal is to be at one with the music. I just dedicate my whole life to this art.'

His life story has been documented in almost Biblical detail, and as such doesn't need re-telling here; when he crash-landed on a swinging but nevertheless unsuspecting London in the Autumn of 1966 it's fair to say that no one had ever looked, acted or sounded like him. And I don't just mean musically - listen to recordings of him speaking and you hear a polite, almost impossibly gentle voice that redefines the word 'cool' and almost sounds as though he knew something that we (the rest of the population of the World) didn't but that maybe, just maybe, we could find out if we all listened closely enough. By all accounts he was a shy, intoverted person whose desire to please people is often seen as a contributory factor in his untimely demise - it seems the word 'no' wasn't in his vocabulary! - and as such his, shall we say, adventures with drink, drugs and women are all well-known. However the one thing it seems everybody agrees on is that above all else he lived for the music. Everything else just came along as well.

'A musician, if he's a messenger, is like a child who hasn't been handled too many times by man, hasn't had too many fingerprints across his brain. That's why music is so much heavier than anything you've ever felt.'

His first single 'Hey Joe' sounds almost tame compared to what was to follow but put in context of the music of the time sounds nothing short of revolutionary; the next two singles 'Purple Haze' and 'The Wind Cries Mary' pushed the boundaries even further both in terms of composition and sound. By the time you get to the first album 'Are You Experienced?' you're hearing a guitarist of unparalleled ability playing music that seemed to include elements of every style of popular music that had been heard up until that point in time but that somehow sounded nothing like any of it. The second album 'Axis : Bold As Love' came out only a few months later and was no less extraordinary, focusing more on his songwriting skills although it still contained some amazing guitar playing, and the third album 'Electric Ladyland' remains a sprawling masterpiece of monumental proportions that would still sound radical if it was released today. And the fourth album - well, the fourth album didn't come out, at least as far as Hendrix was concerned. The 'Band Of Gypsys' live album (featuring Billy Cox on bass and Buddy Miles on drums) released in 1970 was a contractual obligation not considered an official release by the man himself although it does include the incredible 'Machine Gun' which contains what for many people is some of his most inventive and astonishing soloing. His projected fourth album was to be 'First Rays Of The New Rising Sun', which he'd been working on for at least a year at the time of his death. Posthumous releases of some of the material appeared on albums like 'The Cry Of Love' and 'Rainbow Bridge', and a version of the album was eventually 'officially' compiled (by recording engineer Eddie Kramer among others) and released in 1997; although it's highly unlikely that it would have emerged in this form had Hendrix have lived to see it's completion it's a good indication of his musical direction at the time of his death. It contains some truly remarkable recordings, with many featuring multi-layered interlocking guitar parts of extraordinary inventiveness and complexity. It could be argued that without Chas Chandler's production and editing skills that were with hindsight so evident on the first two albums he was heading too far down the path of self-indulgence (something that can certainly be said about parts of 'Electric Ladyland') but he certainly wasn't running out of ideas, as further releases like 'South Saturn Delta' and 'Valleys Of Neptune' show. They're still finding recordings from the seemingly never-ending studio sessions that all but dominated the last year or so of his life today - they're not all good, but they're not all bad either.

' You have to go crazy. Craziness is like heaven.'

As a live act The Jimi Hendrix Experience (featuring Noel Redding on bass and John 'Mitch' Mitchell on drums) hit the ground running with a series of early club gigs in around London. Manager Chas Chandler invited the great and the good from the music industry including virtually every name guitarist in the country, all of whom witnessed a live performer who had paid more than enough dues in more than enough backing bands and was not about to let his chance to take the spotlight pass him by. His showmanship quickly became the stuff of legend, and again we all know the story - playing the guitar with his teeth, behind his head, using tricks picked up over years on the so-called 'chitlin circuit'. To me the most remarkable thing is not just what he did, but how he did it - watch this version of 'Hey Joe' and see if you agree with me that none of it ever looks any effort to him, as if it's all just part of how he plays. He apparently grew to hate it, but it rarely if ever looks like it to me. There are several live DVD's available if you've not seen it for yourself - the Monterey set established him in The U.S.A. and is high on pyrotechnics (it's a bit of a shame that 'Wild Thing' is probably the best known number as he really could do so much more than set fire to a guitar!) while the Woodstock footage has less showmanship but some of his most celebrated playing including the infamous rendition of 'The Star Spangled Banner'. Great stuff.

'I've been imitated so well I've heard people copy my mistakes.'

In the 1960's the electric guitar was still a comparatively new instrument, and there were people around that were extending the sonic possibilities - Jeff Beck and Pete Townshend were both using distortion and feedback, The Beatles were recording backward guitars and Eric Clapton had stunned British guitarists with his work on the seminal 'Bluesbreakers' album. Hendrix did all of these things and more, armed only with what today would be seen as simple, even primitive equipment - a Marshall stack, a Fender Stratocaster turned upside down to accommodate his left handed playing (different than anybody else again) and the few effect pedals that were on the market at the time. Electronics genius Roger Mayer certainly contributed to the story by modifying his pedals and building a few exclusive devices for him, but that on it's own wouldn't have given him his sound. That came from him and him alone, and remains to this day a sound that many strive for but few ever approach. And then there's the playing itself, with elements of blues, pop, soul, jazz, rock'n'roll, even country picking, but sounding nothing like any of them but somehow sounding like all of them at the same time. Again, watch the footage - it always looks to me as though the music comes straight out from within him through the guitar, to such an extent that it's sometimes hard to tell where the instrument ends and the man begins. Does that sound pretentious? Watch and see if you agree. And here's something to ponder - next time you see a picture or a bit of film of him, have a close look at his hands. They're big. Very big. He could literally wrap his right hand around the guitar neck. If ever a man was built to play the guitar, it was Jimi Hendrix.

'If I'm free it's because I'm always running.'

So, 40 years after he left the building what are we left with? Recordings that still sound futuristic today, live performances that have literally become the stuff of legend, and a body of work that continues to captivate old fans and win over new converts with ease. It has been analysed so closely that it's almost devoid of any mystery, although of course the one great mystery remains - how did he do it? We all try to get the sound, but nobody ever really does. We all try to play the notes, but they never come out quite how he played them. And no one - no one - can get the feel of his best playing, where it sounds as though he's striving for notes that only he can play with a sound that only he can hear, making music that sounds like nothing else before or since. To me he was the man that the electric guitar was invented for, and it doesn't get any better than that.

'The story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye
The story of love is hello and goodbye
Until we meet again...'