Diary of a Rock'n roll (late) star(ter)
Phil's version
Note: This publication, it turns out, is as much about relationships and life as it is about music. This post is the second piece in a two-parter about my 50-plus years musical relationship with my oldest friend, Phil.
It tells a bit of our story. This piece, Diary of a Rock’n Roll (late) Star(ter),1 is Phil’s version. The first part He is the Nazz (by me, Steve) is HERE. We hope you enjoy them. If you do, please subscribe (for free!), or better still, tell someone else about it!
Steve Thorp, May 2024
Friendship and loss
So Steve tells me a little while ago that he’s writing a music-based blog. Brilliant! He’s a good writer, he knows about music and I love music. And he’s going to talk about our joint musical journey, which has gone on for half a century. That’s cool cos who doesn’t like reading about themselves? We know some stuff, have probably forgotten even more stuff and have some amazing musical memories, so it’s going to be good.
Perhaps, one day, I’ll tell you how Steve almost wiped out Billy Bragg and two of his musicians! It’s still too soon, too painful and I still have flashbacks! (And I can confirm that I am not prone to any form of exaggeration.)2
I love the blog title, Ziggy’s Lament, and the first part of this two-parter (by Steve) was much more emotional than I expected. A potted history of how our lives are intertwined through music and people. Plus, he told you about my beautiful wife, Anne, who passed away in 2016.
Anne and I knew there was only one outcome when the diagnosis was Motor Neurone Disease (MND). There is no treatment, no effective medication and no sign of any on the horizon. It’s a bastard of a disease. Despite lots of national fundraising by so many amazing people, there is still no progress.
But Anne would regularly tell me that, after the inevitable outcome, I had to get on and live my life. Do stuff, meet people, have fun. And, Philip, don’t you dare sit around in the house being sad. She was quite fierce when she said that.
I’m a 65 year dad of twins and a granddad of three. I’m a runner, I play volleyball and beach volleyball, and I’ve learned how to thrash out the semblance of a tune on a guitar. So I think I’ve followed Anne’s instructions OK so far. Although I do occasionally ignore her and sit around feeling sad.
Last year, early 2023, my friend Kate messaged and asked if I fancied going for a beer at a busker’s night at the Left Luggage bar at Monkseaton Metro Station. It is very fine ale emporium within walking distance from my house, so of course I went. Kate has been my friend for 37 years. She has also seen me play four times and is yet to comment on my performance.
I love long term friendships, but 37 years is way short of my longest term friendship. The longest friendship I have is with a bloke who once nearly wiped Billy Bragg off the face of the earth. Have I mentioned that before? Remind me to tell you sometime. Anyway, if you don’t have any long term friendships, I highly recommend you start one today.
The Left Luggage
I digress. I went to the Left Luggage to meet Kate and immediately bumped into a former colleague, Andy, who turns out to be an amazing guitarist and who was playing that night. To cut a long story down, later that week I was at Andy’s house with my guitar, demonstrating my lack of musical skills.
Over the course of a few months, through Andy’s teaching, practising and watching other people play, I started to actually improve. I could play a couple of songs and sing them vaguely in tune. I played a song called ‘I Wish I Was Your Mother’ by Mott the Hoople. (weird title, so it gets referred to as ‘the Mott song’, see below). It sounded OK and Andy says, “that could be your debut song at the busker’s night”.
Bloody hell! Playing to a real audience had never actually occurred to me but it weirdly felt like something I’d like to try. After all, I’d once mimed to a heavy rock song whilst playing a cardboard guitar on stage at St Mary’s Church Hall, so I pretty much had the stage-craft side of things covered.
So I, together with Andy and Neil, who is a great guitar and bass player, practised a couple of songs, and I would then sit at home and play them over and over again. Then I’d play them some more. I knew I’d have to know the songs really well if I was going to stand up in front of real people and sing to them (and that still sounds nuts to me!)
I’m going to fast forward a couple of months. I’ve played the Left Luggage a few times now. I can barely remember the first occasion; it was quite simply terrifying. I’ve been in some scary situations in my work life, but singing to a room full of people has little to compare it with. But the other musicians are fantastic. They’re so supportive and they know what a scary place it can be.
I’ve learned lots of stuff. Johnny, the organiser (all round great bloke and fine musician), taught me how to sing using a microphone (not as easy as I thought) and Andy and Neil have my back every time I play. They never try to impose their superior musical skills. They play to support me, and cover my mistakes when they can and I really appreciate that.
The next act is… Phil!
Recently Kate brought my sister, Fiona, who has never seen me play, to the Left Luggage to see me do my bit. I knew they were coming so I’d managed some extra practice time with the guys. I decided to play it safe and stick with ‘Dreamy Skies’ by the Stones and the ‘Mott song’ (see below).
This is the most nervous I’ve felt. Somehow, being crap in front of my sister feels so much worse than being crap in front of people I don’t know so well. But I relax gradually due to the effects of a couple of glasses of red. I refuse a third glass before I play. Too much wine makes me think I can play like Eric Clapton, whilst actually making me play like Eric Morecambe. (“All the right notes, just not necessarily in the right order” as he famously told Andre Previn.)
Eventually Johnny announces that the next act is…. Phil!
He is very generous, telling the room that I am great and that they’ll enjoy my performance. I hope I don’t let him down. He also tells everyone that I have the coolest guitar of the night. He’s right: it’s a shiny black Tanglewood acoustic that Anne and I went to buy 12 years ago. It is very beautiful and very special. We chose it to match her piano.
I’m ready to start. I actually love this moment - it feels amazing! I can feel the adrenaline. I’m aware that my sister, Kate and another friend, Michelle, are just off to my right so I turn away from them so I can’t see their faces. They might look horrified and I don’t want to know. I turn around to Neil and ask if he’s ready. He just nods. Of course he’s ready. He’s cool AF. Andy’s beside me and I steal a glance at his left hand to make sure I’m on the right chord. I am. It’s a reassuringly safe D major.
In true rock n’ roll style, I count us in, 1,2,3,4 and we’re off. Neil and I get into the Dreamy Skies rhythm and, as soon as we do, Andy’s left hand shoots off up the fret board and some glorious, beautiful bluesy slide tones take over. Two bars of this, it feels amazing, until I suddenly have a blank. WTF are the first words? My stomach does that flip thing we all have in moments of fear. I can’t remember the words. The more I try, the further they are away from me.
Andy sees I haven’t moved to the mic and probably spots terror writ large on my face. Like the consummate pro he is, he goes round again playing those beautiful notes. The crowd haven’t noticed because they love Andy’s playing, and just in time the words pop into my head. I step up to the mic and I’m pleased the right words in roughly the right key come out of my mouth.
There is a harmonica solo half way through and it’s the part of the song that I love. It’s when I close my eyes, play the well rehearsed chord sequence and have my rock star fantasy. I’m at the Left Luggage, but I could be anywhere in that amazing moment.
The next song, ‘the Mott song’ goes well. I love singing it and I know we play it quite well. I’m feeling positive tonight so I give it my happy line. Then it’s over. There’s decent applause. The regulars are great and support everyone.
Neil pats me on the back which is a good sign and Andy’s smiling. My sister looks emotional and gives me a hug. She says it was amazing, but she’s my big sister and is always kind to me. Kate says my voice was strong tonight. That’s as close to a compliment as she ever gets, so I’ll take it. And now I can have another glass of wine, and I know just how the next singer feels.
This is living
It’s a funny thing because busker’s night is just a few people singing songs in a disused railway station waiting room on a Sunday evening. It has had an enormous effect on me in so many ways, but on a Monday, I’m back to being Grandad.
Ada wants to watch Bluey and she wants to go on her scooter then doesn’t want to go on her scooter but would like a biscuit and are we going to the coffee shop for ice cream? (Of course we are). Then Gus needs his nappy changing. This is what life is really all about. This is living.
But there you go. I’m 65 years old, I’m happily retired, I’m a proud Dad, a proud Granddad and, just for a short while on a Sunday evening, I play in a rock n’ roll band.
But I miss Anne and I wish she could come to see me play.
I think she’d be proud of me.
Epilogue: the songs
Deciding what to play for me depends on three things. First and most important, do I love the song. Then is it in my ability to play it or learn to play it and then will I be able to sing it. So many songs have been started and discarded into the “too difficult” category. Then there are quite a few that are fun to play in the kitchen but will never get a public airing. (I absolutely love playing Tom Wait’s Downtown Train but my version is perhaps best left for the “connoisseurs”)
1. The Mott song
I’ve got a handful of songs now that I know well enough to play, along with Andy and Neil, at the Busker’s nights. The two songs that Steve mentioned in his previous post my two favourite songs to play.
I don’t think I fully understand what Ian Hunter wanted to say and I think it has a weird title, but I Wish I Was Your Mother is just a fantastic song. It was on the Mott album, released in 1973, and that album is still one of my favourites.
Incidentally, Mott the Hoople were the first band I went to see play at Newcastle City Hall. They were supported by a little known band called Queen. I often wonder what happened to them.
A bit of on-line searching comes up with the chord structure for IWIWYM and after quite a few false starts I start to think I might be able to play this one. The problem is the opening section with a mandolin but when I play the song for Andy he reckons he can do that part on the harmonica. He can, he does and it sounds amazing. Neil puts a lovely bass line on and when we play it together it makes me feel so happy.
I still don’t think I understand the song. What it means to me depends on how I feel at the time. Sometimes I sing it like a break up song (Is there a happy ending? I don’t think so!) then other times I feel like it’s a “wish I was with you” song and I change the words slightly (Is there a happy ending? I hope so!) and try to make it feel more optimistic.
I think that’s the thing about music. It is an intensely personal thing, so what it means to you is all that matters. I don’t think any of us really like the title though so we only ever refer to it as ‘the Mott song’!
2. Michael Philip Jagger
On Instagram I follow a bloke called Michael Philip Jagger and I came across a clip of him sitting on a compost heap in India (see previous post or HERE on YouTube) playing an acoustic guitar, singing about dancing on diamonds and getting away from it all! I had never heard the song, but loved the sound of it and had to Google the lyrics to see what the song was.
Turns out he was singing a song called Dreamy Skies, from their new album, Hackney Diamonds, which according to one journalist sounds more like a London Speedway team than a Rolling Stones album. Dreamy Skies is a gorgeous, slow bluesy tune with slide guitar and harmonica. When we play it, it feels like we should be in a smoke filled saloon bar where everyone is drinking whisky.
There is a beautiful pause after the second chorus/bridge. The band stop playing and I then have my total rock n roll moment! Hold the pause, don’t go too soon, then count the band back in; 1, 2, 3, 4 and Andy’s harmonica comes in for a 4 bar solo, Neil and I play a gentle three chord repeated rhythm and I am just loving this moment. What a song to play!
Notes
Ian Hunter’s diary/book, Diary of a Rock’n Roll Star, about his life in Mott the Hoople was published in 1974. A new expanded version was published in 2008. Phil loved that book back when he was in the imaginary Spiders: https://ianhunter.com/diary/
‘How I nearly wiped out Billy Bragg’ will probably have to be the subject of a future post. Phil’s version is way more dramatic than mine, and Billy’s still alive, so read into that what you will…
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