'We're a garage band, we come from garageland...'

In a week that saw the extraordinary news that Wilko Johnson is 'free of cancer' the music world lost reggae singer extraordinaire John Holt, glam rock hero Alvin Stardust, Chas & Dave drummer Mick Burt, 'Baker Street' sax man Raphael Ravenscroft and Cream bass legend Jack Bruce. Talk about not getting something for nothing eh?

On Saturday night Ruts D.C. headlined The Garage in Islington. We gathered at The Music Complex in Deptford on Friday to rehearse for the show - our time together began in the cafe opposite for what Segs dubbed a 'bonding breakfast' and a tactical discussion. Sometime in the next few hours we also found time to visit a secondhand clothing shop (I bought a black jacket which I wore next night at the show) and a Vietnamese restaurant (sweet and sour tofu - excellent!) as well as putting together a 75 minute set which included 'Different View' for the first time since 1982. I remember seeing them play the song several times and have always thought it to be one of the band's best songs so it was great to see it on the setlist at last. Needless to say we then repaired to The Little Crown for a couple of pints of their always - wonderful Guinness, during which Segs and myself suddenly remembered that we'd had a conversation with U.K. Subs guitarist Jet a few weeks earlier when we'd discussed the idea of him playing with us at the gig; text messages were sent, phone calls were made and a plan came together...

4.30pm the next day and we've just soundchecked with the afore - mentioned 'Different View', it's sounding great and spirits are high. We've got Bob behind the mixing desk, Owen is stage managing the evening and we've finished well within our allotted time. But surely we've forgotten something... as if by magic another guitarist appears, plugs into my spare amplifier (a Fender Blues Junior in case you were wondering; I'm using my 'usual' Blues Deluxe) and within seconds we're blasting through 'In A Rut' and sounding, well, like we usually do but with Jet joining us on guitar - in other words, pretty good!  
After meeting up with various people at The Wig And Gown (an excellent punky pub just along the Holloway Road) it was back in time to catch most of the set from opening act The Duel, who sounded the best that I'd seen them for quite a while. Evil Blizzard were up next - with only 30 minutes to work with (I'm sure that they've got songs longer than that!) they got straight into things and left many - an audience member looking bewildered by the end of their first song. Surreal moment followed surreal moment - at one point they even had someone mopping up on the stage! - and I'm sure they had five bass players instead of the usual four at one point. Great stuff, and not an easy act to follow. We'd better get on with it then... and get on with it we did. Even though I say so myself we started well and got better as the show went on, with the only hiccup being a fault with Segs's bass during 'SUS' (Dave stated 'I bet you never thought you'd hear a drum solo at a Ruts show' then proceeded to play one!) Once that was fixed we carried on where we left off, with 'Different View' going down particularly well. In no time at all we're at the end of the set, and Jet joins us for a thunderous 'In A Rut' that brings the proverbial house down. We're on a curfew (there was a club night after our gig) but there's still time for an encore of 'Something That I Said' and 'Society' to finish a truly memorable show. Afterwards there time for a few drinks and to chat to quite a few people, after which we return to The Wig And Gown for, er, a few drinks and, er, to chat to quite a few people - which explains why I didn't get this written up yesterday. Well, I wasn't feeling too good...

But I felt better after reading this review from the always - excellent Elvis In The Clouds blog. Thank you Mr. Presley!

T.V. on TV

I don't know about you (obviously!) but I've been really enjoying the BBC re-broadcasts of 'Top Of The Pops' from way back in 1976. I'm surprised at how well I remember some of the shows - I used to watch them every week in the increasingly vain hope of seeing something interesting, a rather rare sight since the glory days of glam rock a few years earlier. Easily the best clip so far has been Eddie And The Hot Rods playing 'Get Out Of Denver' live in the studio - but all of that is about to change as the shows now move into 1977, a landmark year for rock music as punk rock reared it's spiky head. On BBC4 this Friday at 9 pm 'Top Of The Pops : The Story Of 1977' focuses on the year that the likes of The Jam and The Stranglers made their first appearances on the show, and when people like The Tom Robinson Band and The Saints made people like me go 'ARGH!' (or words to that effect). I particularly remember a blistering live version of 'Lights Out' by Dr. Feelgood (not exactly punk I know, but it was my first sighting of then-new guitarist Gypie Mayo) all but blowing the roof off the studio. The documentary also features interviews with the likes of Paul Cook and John Otway as well as T.V. Smith and Gaye Advert, which means we should hopefully see 'Gary Gilmore's Eyes' and / or 'No Time To Be 21' by The Adverts; then again if we don't see them in this show we should see them sometime in the not-too-distant future when the 1977 shows are repeated.

Good news all round then!

Who'll love Aladdin Sane?

Hmm... I don't remember this photo being taken. And who's that guy on the far left?

Ladies and gentlemen, behold the Balcony Shirts Christmas card. And why not?

It's been very - make that very - busy in the shop, not least on Saturday when your humble narrator found himself to be more than a little worse for wear after a night at the General Elliot watching The Good Old Boys. My condition had little to do with the band (who gave a typically excellent performance) but was more to do with the oceanic quantity of lager consumed by myself and East - perhaps his one word text message to me the next morning said all that needs to be said... and we've continued to be busy all week, which is good news in these troubled times.

The Upper Cut played at The Load Of Hay on Sunday for the first time since my birthday back in July. From my point of view we took a while to get going, with our first set feeling a little bit too much like hard work although the audience reaction suggested otherwise. Pete from Awaken joined us on guitar for several numbers, and with us being called back for several encores even I had cheered up (a bit) by the end of the show. We're playing again on Boxing Night at a secret regulars / invite only show in Uxbridge - it's like being in the Pistols!

And following on from the last posting's YouTube-fest a momentous televisual event occurred during a Top Of The Pops Christmas special broadcast on Wednesday evening, when footage of David Bowie performing 'The Jean Jenie' was shown for the first time since 1973. It was thought to have been lost forever thanks to the BBC's ridiculous policy of wiping recordings, but cameraman John Henshall kept a copy so that he could show how a camera lens that he'd developed was working. The story even made the evening news, and you can see why here - it features Bowie and The Spiders From Mars playing live, with the band in their glam rock finery and the mighty Mick Ronson at his magnificent best. Boy could he play guitar. It doesn't get much better than this - but I wonder what else Mr. Henshall has in his loft?

Well that clip is enough to give me a happy Christmas! I hope that you have one too.

Funeral for a friend

The Uppercut played at The Dolphin in Uxbridge last night. It was a great gig - hot, sweaty and noisy, just like gigs are supposed to be. We went on late as there was football on the television, meaning that we didn't finish until gone midnight; halfway through the second set we all sang 'Happy Birthday' to our drummer Roger (it was also his wedding anniversary!) and there was much dancing and merriment all round. Like I say, it was great. It was also EASY. Easy easy easy. As easy as an easy thing being easy. Well, it certainly felt easy, compared to playing acoustic guitar at Dave Haynes's funeral the day before....

I'd been up since 5.30 a.m., having gone to bed sometime after midnight. I couldn't sleep. Obviously. At pretty much every opportunity over the proceeding few days I'd picked up a guitar and played through some Who riffs, attempting to put them into a medley. I knew from many conversations with Dave what some of his favourites were - 'Pictures Of Lily' always got a mention, as did 'Happy Jack', 'Dogs', 'Substitute', all of them pre - 'Tommy', all of them classics. The more I thought about it, the more songs suggested themselves, after all he loved 'Tattoo', and 'I Can See For Miles' has to be in there - 'I know these' I thought to myself, 'I can do this'... sometime on Wednesday night 'Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere' suddenly made an appearance, as did 'I'm A Boy', making it all too long, too unwieldy, adding to the nerves that I didn't realise that I had. Each time I played the medley it came out in a slightly different way, in a different order - I eventually decided to keep the same tempo throughout rather than vary it from song to song, which helped with the overall flow of things although it still wasn't quite working. Was 'Dogs' the problem? How could I fit 'Tattoo' in without it sounding a bit 'forced'? Should I ditch everything and start again? And then there was 'Waterloo Sunset' - easily one of the greatest pop songs of them all, but how was I going to play it on solo guitar? I changed the key from E to G which let me use some different chord shapes that I felt were more suited to solo performance then, as I'd done with the Who songs, worked out the best way to pick out the melody line among the chords. Eventually I'd done all that I could - time to go to work...

With the service scheduled at midday I arrived at Balcony Shirts at 9 a.m. suited and booted and carrying my trusty acoustic guitar (I'd changed the strings sometime in the previous 24 hours 'though I'm not exactly sure when!) along with a pink heart-shaped foldaway stool. Yes, you read that bit correctly - I'd looked around the house for something that I could take with me to sit on, and with Dave being a big fan of glam rock generally and The New York Dolls in particular it seemed to me to be a appropriate choice. As always is the case when you've got other things on your mind the morning in the shop was a busy one, which maybe wasn't a bad thing as there wasn't time to dwell on what was to come. Sometime around 11 o'clock I got my guitar out of the case, tuned it and played a few chords and scales in an attempt to warm up a a bit before walking around to George Street at 11.30 to meet my Dad who was parked there. With traffic on our side we were at Breakspear Crematorium in Ruislip by 11.40 where familiar faces were already amassing. As we walked around the corner to the East Chapel the vicar came over, introduced himself as Ken and then explained that we could get into the chapel when the current service had finished - we'd then have 'a few seconds' to get set up and sorted before the doors would be opened and Dave's friends and family would enter. I became aware of a sudden increase in tension - I don't normally get nervous before playing in public (well I don't think I do!) but this was a very different situation to the kind of thing I'm used to. As we walked into the chapel I saw the previous coffin disappear into the distance as we walked towards it; I set up the stool on the left as you looked at it, with Ken assembling his notes opposite at the pulpit. I played a chord and the reverb went on for what felt like forever - an amazing sound. 'That'll change when there's a few people in' smiled Ken. Well, he should know. Then it was back outside just in time to see Dave arrive, before we all filed into the chapel to the sound of 'All The Young Dudes' by Mott The Hoople. I knew Dave had good taste! I had a chair at the front at right angles to the rest of the congregation, just a yard or two from my guitar - Pete a.k.a. Plug the original Lurkers roadie and one of Dave's oldest friends sat nearest to me, we shook hands as the song finished. 'Play it again' mumbled Plug as silence hung in the air - it came back on just as Dave's journey along the aisle began. I looked across at Esso and his family in the front row on the opposite side of the chapel, he nodded at me with a blank expression which turned to a weak smile just as Dave's coffin obscured him from view. I felt even edgier as the pallbearers stopped a couple of yards in front of me - this wasn't a gig, this was different, bigger, more important. I could feel my heart beating as I loosened my tie and sat down. As the hymn (don't ask me what it was!) was being sung I could feel my neck beating in time with my heart as I mimed the words, all the time trying to keep my fingers moving to stay warmed up. Ken spoke of Dave's humour, his love of music especially the bands of the 1960's, how he attended a Who rehearsal when he was a lad, and then I heard him say my name. It was time.

I sat on the pink stool, picked up my guitar and looked out into the chapel. It was standing room only, and they were all looking at me. Some faces were tearful, others stoic, others for want of a better word intrigued by what was about to occur - I felt the most nervous that I've ever felt in my life. Sitting here typing now I'm actually feeling shaky just thinking about it. I said something awkward like 'here's a selection of Who music for Dave', considered beginning with the intro to 'Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere' but instead started with 'Substitute'; after a verse and chorus it was into 'Happy Jack', a bit more awkward to play and I fumbled the melody line a bit, I'd played it fine so many times so that's really annoying but it's all going ok, it's 'Dogs' next which is probably the hardest one but suddenly I'm playing the chords from 'Tattoo' and I'm the only person who knows that I've now missed two songs out but it doesn't matter because 'I'm A Boy' sounds good as does 'Pictures Of Lily', perhaps I should play 'Dogs' now although that would make it too long, no it's time to end with 'I Can See For Miles', the chorus chord sequence seems to climb up the guitar neck for ever, and I play the last E chord as Esso drums on the bench in front of him. The end. Total silence, then applause. Are they supposed to do that?

I put my guitar down, turned towards Dave's coffin and nodded - I hadn't planned to do that but it seemed appropriate - and then sat down. Ken said something but I've no idea what it was. Then it was serious. Prayers. Curtains. Tears. Poor old Dave.

'And now Leigh will play us out with 'Waterloo Sunset' Oh, it's me again. The melody sounded beautiful, I ran through the verse and chorus a couple of times, then the middle section as people were leaving, then the verse and chorus again, my nerves had gone and so had most of the congregation, I looked up to see Plug still standing a yard or so in front of me listening intently, smiling slightly as I finished playing. Over near the exit the pallbearers seemed to have been listening too. I put my guitar away, folded up the stool and followed Plug outside. I shook hands with Ken, he asked where I play, told me that he has a Stratocaster, he enjoys playing but he can't play like I can. I told that I couldn't do his job. We both laughed. My Dad told him I was playing at The Dolphin the next night and that he should come down. My Dad's like that. I saw Esso just before we left, as we shook hands I thanked him for asking me to play then told him that I'd been the most nervous that I've ever been in my life. He told me that I'd 'made the whole thing' and was I coming for a drink? No, I've got to get back to the shop but I'll see him for a few beers in the next few days. And I will. You should never be lazy with your friends should you? As I left he said that he should get me something for playing, I went to say that I didn't want anything when my Dad interjected - 'you don't have to get him anything, you two have been friends for 30-odd years, you can't give each other anything better than that'. Like I say, my Dad's like that. And like I say, you should never be lazy with your friends. Well you shouldn't - should you?