Glastonbury revisited

It’s Thursday mid-day and we’re making calls and loading gear from the lads club and everything has that last minute feel to it, we should make it OK, sure we will. Andy, Ben and Mike went down last night and have spent the day blissing out and about as is the festival way. We’re on at 9.30 on the CROWN stage. The billing has been organised by Aziz so we’re in good Mancunian company alongside the likes of Bez and other notable local lads and ladies. Craigs partner Karen is driving and we arrive pretty much without delay. On site we get directions from Ben stylishly attired in French Foreign Legion hat and meet up and greet in the hospitality tent. It all feels a bit privileged as we check into our caravans. Last time I was here I was camping behind the Acoustic Stage when I was working as a compere, talking jibberish between sets and doing my bit to make the artists feel at home. This feels like a very different gig. Lots of people here I’ve not seen in ages. It feels like an old school reunion; even though I still feel a bit of a gate crasher. Steve and Mark from The Fab Café are backstage and we talk about Gerry Anderson again as the Bud flows. The tent is rammed and the gig goes well. Nothing breaks down. People down the front are throwing things at the stage, hats and T Shirts to be precise, they land on our effects pedals and in Bens case on his head. He looks pretty fetching in Panama and wears it throughout the gig. Then it’s back to hospitality and more Bud. Later Karen, Craig and me spend an hour looking for Leah who is working on a food stall but fail to find her due to signal problems and a spontaneous visit to the Cider tent where we enjoy a pint of scrumpy and enjoy the atmospherics, the place is apparently 50,000 strong already. Giving up the search I head back to meet up with Helene and Tim who have a gallon of pear cider to share. All this drinking is not my usual style but it really is a wonderful thing to be catching up with friends around a campfire in a hazy heady way, I get the giggles and feel like a hippy in a time warp. Tim did the artwork on the retrospective Whatever Happened to record…and very fine it is too. We talk about the look of the artwork for the new record and of Helene’s new record and of the joys of Archway’s greasy spoon cafes. I really should get to see them more often. Tim is like my imaginary lunch buddy. I feel like his long lost older uncle. After more cider I hug some emotional goodbyes and head back to the CROWN stage. Andy and Mike are DJing and it’s now 1.45 am, the tent is buzzed up and the tunes are kickin, wicked even [just like they say in dance-world]. People love it. I think I love it too. Then I’m off to bed down in the caravan as I can’t really stand up as well as I should. I ask Ben for a piggy back but he’s having none of it. At five thirty am the others all pile in, Ben is sleeping next to me and as he climbs over me the entire bed collapses, luckily Ben’s the practical type and manages to fix it much to my amazement and gratitude. Then the count is truly out until we are all awoken by the loudest thunder I’ve ever heard and the rain comes a battering on the roof like a man with a big hammer [as my Mom always used to say]. Next day we breakfast in the mud and loiter in hospitality, we can’t get off the site cause there’s a restriction on vehicles. We finally blag a golf buggy courtesy of stage manager Rich and he drives the gear plus Craig [who’s somewhat worse for wear] across the site to the car park. The rest of us follow in the mud. On route the devastation is every bit as complete as you’ve no doubt seen on the news. Then we’re away up north to watch the rest of the festival on the telly. VPx .............................................

Buttermarketeers

The running joke about the Shrewsbury gig concerns Ben and a mix up with the promoters who are convinced he was once in a band called The Beanstalkers. He does come from Shrewsbury but the only beans he has ever stalked are currently planted on his allotment. This amuses us no end in a sad in-band-joke kind of way and sure he’s bound to know the way to the venue having played there with the Stalkers on numerous occasions…right then. It’s sunny day and Craig and I are driving to the said metropolis, we get lost but arrive first. Hospitality is with Colin and we make tea at his house which is some five minutes from the venue. It all feels pretty civilised. Colin has a label and is about to release old Nightingales stuff. I remember them from Brum years ago and we talk about The Prefects and Selly Oak and The Bournbrook Hotel in that small world mindset that befits the margins of the independent music sector. I wish him well with his label. The Buttermarket venue is Cellar styled and slightly cavernous and the others have arrived and we’re soundchecking in the proverbial audio fog. Perhaps we’re just too loud on stage…I’ve given up trying to work out exactly what the problem is but …when people are here we’ll cross our fingers. The dressing rooms have been cordoned off by a material door, like festival dressing rooms. We have beer and then we’re off for food. There is no support tonight so we don’t have to shift all the gear around to make room which is nice. My daughter Leah, her boyfriend Joe and other friends have turned up so naturally I do my utmost to embarrass her with stories from her childhood. The venue is filling up nicely. The gig starts well but after 5 songs Craig’s amp dies so I elongate the spoken introduction to Jesus Stole my Girlfriend, I mean, I really rabbit on, so if you were there no I don’t usually talk that much…I was just waiting for the signal. Despite Ben’s furious attempts at re-fusing it’s no good; the amp is dead so Craig will have to share mine. This of course makes our soundlife even muddier and we’re back in fog once again. Despite the technical mishaps the gig seems well received. Leah guests for the encore on Confessions of a Sperm Donor and it all seems a bit surreal [she thought she was doing Jesus and the Angel]. Later I’m selling CDs to anyone and everyone so thanks to all of you for supporting the band. It really is appreciated. We leave with a pleasant taste in our hearts in search of the beloved Costa Coffee, VPx .................Ben Knott,Beanstalker................................

Liverpool

I remember Quiggins pretty well having lived in The Pool for what feels like only the briefest moment in time [it was actually four years]. I once got my hair cut here in a retro 50’s salon and the barber caked me in so much brylcream it set off a good three weeks worth of acne to the forehead. I never quite recovered. In those days I was sporting a Terry Hall miniature hair do and clobbered up in Café Society black. Bold Street was a shambles and Trading Places was a rehearsal room. Twas in another lifetime for sure; now here we are again, in the City of Corporate Culture, playing in Quiggins esteemed boho-centric café bar which is about to relocate to the old George Henry Lee Building [it’ll never be the same of course]. The Eighth day Café in Manchester lost it’s soul in a similar way. It’s Craigs first gig and some of my oldest friends have come along, many of whom have shared a stage with me, or the corner of a pub in times gone by. Later on they request songs I’d forgotten I’ve ever written. It’s good to catch up but rushed in a pre gig confusion kind of way. Several people who work alongside me in my other life, my mental health life, are also here so it’s best behaviour time all round [apart from Jenny who’s been at the red wine since three in the afternoon…not that you could tell of course]. First on tonight is Mark Wilson, a Liverpool based singer songwriter who’s playing is incredibly rhythmic and infectious in that John Martin percussive right hand style; when he started his set I was convinced it was some tribal fusion CD such was enormity of the sound scape. Next up are The Late Developers, from the rock n psychedelic roll school, they sounded not unlike The Grateful Dead in their wig-out and jam free era. Then we’re on and living with the sound. Always the sound…the more you play the more you obsess about it. So I’m not going to here. Towards the end of the set a girl limbo dances across the monitors in that girl abandoned at free festival kind of way. Attractive yet a little unhinged, we keep our cool and so does she. She did seem pretty chuffed with the stuff, which is always nice. Later on I’m reminded of the girl who took her clothes off at The Zanzibar gig Tim and I did in ‘98 or something. People remember stuff like that; I do too but I won’t go there just now. After the gig we catch up and call it a day later than we planned to swapping stories with the Liverpool’s esteemed raconteur Jenny the Confessor. Terry the Turnip also shows up in his big leather coat. I can’t quite work out why I feel so drunk, I swear I’ve only had 3 pints of lager shandy. VPx........................Jenny the Confessor tells it like it is...................

Purity

I've just collected the new fresh off the pressing plant copies of the Whatever Happened to Vinny Peculiar CDs from PURE music here in the heart of Manchester. They look fantastic which is down to Tim Metcalf's wonderful design work. So thanks Tim again for that, really appreciated. In case you haven't heard the album is now available via the store with full release planned later in the year and features twelve out-takes from recent sessions [last 3years] plus a couple of older tunes. I just listened to it for the first in ages and it sounds better than I remembered, Rob Ferrier who produced most of the stuff said likewise and he's always brutally honest, a good omen. Will and Kev who run PURE have been in the musical repro business for some tears now and have somehow managed to sustain a healthy passion for music, though this does not extend to them actually going out to gigs. They prefer the entertainment flat screen satellite in the living room approach together with the pipe and slippers; so they won't be coming to the Manchester gig on the 17th June. I mention to them my contemplating the purchase of a new music software system, Logic to be exact, but they've never heard of it. Theirs is a quaint nostalgia for the days of the Atari Cubase and the two inch tape machine [as is mine if I'm honest but I'm having a bit of a blag here] so I'm none the wiser with my enquiries. I think I need to get back to MIDI school for a few basics to help me decide what to buy. Later on I meet up with Ben Cooke [Ben designed the Two Fats sleeve] in the Knot Fringe [where else] for chips and cheese. Here we meet entrepreneur named Rob and talk about eBay and how it's changed our worlds. He's just bought the new single as have a few people, so thanks for that, and for mailing me with complements. It's always great to get feedback especially when it's positive. Not all the reviews have been great, got a couple of duds out there but mostly it's been well received. I don't mind bad reviews; some of them I actually agree with, it's just the angry juvenile approach that pisses me off; all that swearing, it's not funny and it's not clever. Andy is back from the US this weekend just in time for us to rehearse for forthcoming gigs in Liverpool [10th June] Shrewsbury [14th June] and Manchester [17th June] just as Chris [my partner] flies out for a naked yoga retreat in North Carolina. This means I'll be spending huge amounts of time at home eating pizza and smoking fags and watching Will and Grace. I miss her like crazy when she's away and work extra hard at things to take my mind off missing her'so I'm always worn out when she returns. Her parting words to me in the departure lounge this morning were 'keep the toilet clean'. And then she kissed me. Last night we watched 'Sideways' which is truly one of the cleverest funniest films I've seen in ages, totally inspiring, two middle aged men [I nearly said 'guys' but I'm trying to avoid Americanisms in my language..there's far too much of it out there and John Hirst will be policing these pages and fining me if I stray ] in search of themselves on the wine trails of California. Naturally I cried then turned around to share the moment with Chris who was asleep. That's the way it usually is here. We've never made it to the end of 'Paris Texas' either and I don't suppose we ever will........Fridays radio interview with Clint Boon on revolution 96.2 fm went off really well. Mike, Craig and I got to recollect as well as pitch and put up our stall; Clint played the single and we chose some of our favourite records. Craig picked John Barry [he's big into film scores], Mike's choices included Roxy Music and Julian Cope and I chose Simon and Garfunkel and Talking Heads, all in all an eclectic old chin wag was had by all. It was great to see Clint again who is blossoming in the role as director of music at the station. Clint and I once shared a manager but I won't into all that now, best of wishes, VPx Kev and Will @ PURE MUSIC............................................................

Souped Up

John rings to remind me not to go to Yorkshire; there are two Shipley’s apparently so I thank him for that and reconfirm the address. We have a Soup night with Bill Drummond this evening and speak of the possible traffic chaos to come on this bank holiday Friday. I’ve just arrived in Blackburn for lunch to meet up with Jamie Holman, [tompaulin songster and good friend of mine], to collect some DVDs the band recorded the other week with the students at Blackburn College [where Jamie lectures]. We’re enthused and excited because all has turned out as well as if not better than expected. I watch the performance in the media centre basement studio whilst Jamie dashes back and forth into the classroom to extend a somewhat heated Goddard debate. It’s always a bit odd watching yourself like that up close warts n all fashion [which in my case is true as I have a bit of a lump on my nose which the lights keep hitting on, or perhaps that’s just my vanity monitor feeding back?]. The students we met whilst filming were perfectly decent and charming and sweet so thanks be to them from all of us for their efforts. They deserve the best of passes. I leave mid afternoon and get stuck on the M1 arriving at the pretty little hamlet of Shipley around six o’clock. John and Chris are playing football in the garden and Bill has started cooking already. Early evening is spent meeting people and partaking in the perfectly wonderful hospitality. A little later on and Bill speaks on the history of the Soup Line to the gathering in the garden then the soup is served. Then I play a 40 minute acoustic living room set to around 25 people. It all goes off pretty well if not exactly riotously. We say our goodbyes. John and I debate the differences between the Soup gigs, the different strokes for the different folks as I drive him back to Derby where we meet up with Chris the tree surgeon once again. Bill is knackered and has left already and Gimpo is camping close by with partner Mo. Once again we recorded the show with Gimpo’s camera and a mini disc player. It sounds pretty good all things considered. Also to the people who bought Cds I thank you most kindly for that; feel free to notify me on your thoughts and reactions once you’ve had a chance to listen. On the way home I get flap jack and costa coffee at Keele Services and consume them in the shadowy stillness of the forecourt. They had a fox in the shop here not so long ago according to the guy on the till. VPx