This is page five of the diary
11th July 06
Well the World cups over, the fourth best team won, and "proll" English millianaire footballers are sunning themselves on yachts off Saint Tropez with their beautiful Model girlfriends after 4 or 5 weeks kicking the ball at the corner flag. The Bastards.
In the words of lyric genius Morrissey "Oh well enough said".
Just got to tell you about a real musician. Mr John Morrell from the Highlands of Scoatland (sic.*). Played with him at the Hofgarten Kaberett in Aschaffenburg on Wednesday together with Oli and Frank. The theme of the evening was "Scotish songs" and Frank and I could manage the pop side with Franz Ferdinand, Simple minds, Frankie Miller and Astec Kamera, but it was John who turned up with a bunch of beautiful traditional Ballads from North of the Border.
With his mental Godin Acoustic (my dream guitar that I should be able to afford when I come back in the next life as an ugly footballer), he transfixed the audience and myself back to a time when melody and lyric were more important than haircuts.
Here is a pic of yours truely and John looking as if I`ve just let off wind as I`m hitting the high notes.
Picture thanks to Anja and Uwe at www.rockpictures.de
2th August 06
Yes I finally splashed out on a new guitar. A beautiful nylon stringed Godin similar to the one John is holding above.
Normally you`d name a guitar a girls name but I`m calling mine Gordon after my best childhood friend who died a few years back. The first gig I play will be for me (sic) old mate.
13th August 06
Back to the "My History" lesson part 2.
Just doing it for me really to see how many things I can remember. If you remember I was still doing covers and anything written was done by Jim or Nick. We played a few gigs but the real fun started when me, Nick, Weegee (drums) and Duncan Stobo (git. -that means he played guitar not that he was a git) got together and formed..ehem...Style.
Nick wrote the songs and we played funk rock to the beer swilling audiences of 20-30 people all over Newcastle city center. It was late seventies and we had a healthy rock scene in Newcastle with 21 Strangers (Nicks brothers band), Rythym `n Blues Spitfires (breakneck speed R `n B with very funny dancing and jokes, the singer comparing nose length of the guitarist during solos) and a band that became the biggest influence on me and Nick, The amazing Southbound. They used to play every Tuesday at the Gosforth Hotel (Where Sting used to play with Last Exit). Their set was 99% own stuff, a bit like the Eagles only faster, poppier and harder. God how we hero worshiped them with songs like Branded, Real Fire, When the river runs deep, High time, Joanne and (much later), the mental love song -Baby dont you deny me (which I jammed two days ago at rehearsal 25 years later). We couldnt understand why they were not huge. But the year was 1979 and music taste was changing and "Rock" just was nt cool. That was our dream though, to be as good as Southbound, so we learned every song and Southbound wrote.
Then Nick left for Uni to study Music and I left for Bretton Hall University for the next three years to study Art and Drama. It was there that I partied and had the time of my life doing Art, Drama and a little bit of music. So it was Sex, Drugs with not so much Rock and Roll. I turned into an Art School Punk and kept in touch with Nick who was studying not far away.
It was 1985ish with my Bachelor of Arts degree in the hand when Nick told me of his new group...ehem...Torpedo the Arc -with a dynamic singer called Kirk Field. I went to see them and got very drunk but loved their Rockabilly/Gothic image and dream of going to London (where their Manager produced videos for The Cure, Talk Talk, Soft Cell and so on).
So being a better bassist than their Rockabilly meathead bassist and lets face it a damn sight better looking, Kirk realised that I should join the band and head off down the motorway to the big smoke where the first gig was arranged for the newly named Delicious Poison.
It was 1985, we were young, gifted and broke but what the hell?. Yee haa off to London where all the big nobs hang out!
*always wanted to write sic. after something. It means "dont write to me and say I`ve spelled it incorrectly El Twato -I did it on purpuse (sic.)"