It's been a while since I have done a historical blog, and I usually do what I want to, but with an abundance of material floating in my head what the hell, this one will be a bloody good one.............I hope!
June 8th 1982 I was in St Austell in a crappy studio called Delgado, actually it wasn't even a studio it was a rehearsal studio with an eight track desk, I was working with a band called Indian Summer demoing stuff, basically rock guys who had missed the boat and were trying to grab the coat tails of any fad going, they weren't bad just a tad directionless every song was a different style and not in a good way, they were all competent musicians, and they had a singer called Frank who was funny because you could tell he just wanted to screech his tits off and he wasn't happy writing pap! that's why I got a call because at times pap was what I wrote for a living.
I had four days at £60 a day I wasn't bothered if anything was written, I still got paid plus per diems so I was happy, as it happens we worked on eight originals and one new one which Frank liked but we kept getting distracted, the first three days were just rewrites, funk, rock and pop stuff all pretty listless, I understood Frank's disillusionment, it was good work they tried bless them, but it wasn't terribly inspired, they had wandered down a track and were lost they were looking for a crossroads to sell their collective souls, unfortunately for them they had missed it, we worked through the day and on a night time we went for drinks and like I said they were ok, I had the distinct impression the keyboard player didn't like me, simply because of the way I dissected their songs, there wasn't much for me to do, I was on a set fee so I didn't get credit and I wouldn't make any money if it took off, it was the work that was paying the bills and I quite enjoyed it..
On the last day me and Frank worked on the new track it had a dance vibe and it went ok, Frank wrote the bulk of it and I came up with the catchy bit (the chorus) I didn't want to hang around as I had a train to catch from St Austell back home as I was on the guest list for Uriah Heep in my hometown and in those days it was a twelve hour train journey (with way too many stops) the journey was way too tedious fighting squaddies, and at Birmingham the salvation Army got on, now that was surreal. I got into my hometown at just after seven in the evening thankfully met by a friend who had a car parked up so I could throw my bag into the back of it, we jumped into a few bars on the way, I then had to do the walk of shame, saying my name for my pass ...........erm your not on mate! feck tell them the correct spelling ...ah yes here you go ...praise the lord.
Once downstairs into the Mayfair we met up with more peeps and enjoyed the gig, more drink silly dancing and a great band. at silly o'clock in the morning we all got thrown out of the venue not before chatting to the band especially Pete Goalby who was fab and offered me some great advice (which was good because I wrote some stuff with him a few years later) we left and five of us headed to the car we were driving up to Edinburgh for a mates gig the next night (the driver) as I was shattered I opted to jump into the luggage space at the back (it was a range rover) so I could sleep the sleep of the dead, I was asleep before we pulled away, as it happens it was the best thing I ever did because as we drove past the central station a Pakistani gentleman driving a VW camper van shot out of the parking area and rammed us in the rear at full speed, well the upshot was everybody in the car suffered some kind of injury and I didn't, I was roiled over the top of the roof and awoke on the dash board wondering what the hell had happened, once the police had turned we all got breathalysed and I was the only one with drink in me it was funny mind I was stinking like a brewery, it was funny as the Pakistani man made a break for it (as he was pissed) and he was rugby tackled by a police woman the size of a small car and it was even funnier as she dragged him back to the scene of the crime by his ankle!
We all ended up at a friends and ended up on the train to Edinburgh the next day...........I think, hells bells it was over thirty two years ago! what has all this got to do with the price of custard creams I hear several people bellowing, well this morning I came across a track on YouTube.......by a band called Indian Summer doing a song called just like lovers and it wasn't that bad, Frank wasn't the singer they had found someone who could sing poppy stuff and not pretend to be Ian Gillan (although he did have a horrific haircut and suit on) it was live on French TV but it was ok, it probably sold three copies or something and I probably made more than the entire band as I took a fee hahahahaha oh the good old days ......and no I don't miss them (well apart from being skinny) until the next time Toodles!
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