I'll just bid farewell till we meet again

Hello.

You may have realised that I'm not writing here much anymore. This is because I can't find the time to, and after two or so years, I'm finding it harder to find any inspiration. Perhaps I have outgrown the blogging world? Who knows. Anyway, this will be my last post. I'll be retiring my blog from today.

I'll be cleaning up some of the links and stuff so the page will still be active. This means that if the world is obliterated by nuclear armageddon and this is all that remains of humanity then the aliens who eventually will visit this planet may well think that the human race was obsessed with Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen, that they enjoyed watching teams like Southampton FC and that they were obviously very simple people who got themselves locked into the toilet on a regular basis.

I'll still be writing for Rockbeatstone and I may well return to the world of blogging in the future with other projects, if I find the time. You can also come and see my gig nights at the Windmill in Brixton, London which will be continuing for the foreseeable future. In other long-term news I'll be visiting the USA in the Summer for a couple of weeks which will be fun.

So good luck to all and thanks for reading, I hope I entertained you with my frivolity. I'll leave you with some words of wisdom from the greats of the rock and roll world. Never forget these quotes, they're great to put into conversation at any point possible. These are two which will never leave me:

"They say the darkest hour, is right before the dawn" (Bob Dylan)

"It's a town full of losers and I'm pulling out of here to win" (Bruce Springsteen)

Restless Farewell

Backstreets III - Friday 5th October

I'm organising another gig night. Feel free to come down and bring as many freinds and/or family as you like. This will be another awesome night of musical carnage.

Friday October 5th at the Windmill in Brixton. Four english pounds on the door, doors are 8pm 'til late.

CAPTAIN BLACK (Camden)
This year they've toured the UK with the Holloways and received BBC Radio One airplay thanks to Colin Murray who is a fan. Mixing elements of country, skiffle, punk and pop they live outside any musical scene and their electric live shows have seen them build a large fan base. Perfect Friday night music to get drunk and shake your ass to.

RESTLESSLIST (Brighton)
Perhaps the most original band in yonks... The brain-child of Matt Thwaits (Electric Soft Parade) and Ben Elliot, the line-up was expanded to include Tom White (The Brakes, Electric Soft Parade) and the band Zettasaur. Their debut album, 'The Rise and Fall of the Curtain Club' was released in June on Life is Easy Records and they've toured with Battles and Mystery Jets. Sounds like a madman on crack at some horrific funfair. Has to be heard, and seen, to be believed.

IT HUGS BACK (Kent)
Kent's finest muscial export bring their country rock influenced tunes back to the Windmill. Mixing elements of Wilco and Sonic Youth, they flirt between country-punk rock and melancholia in a heart-beat. They've had a busy year playing a session for Rob DaBank on BBC Radio One, playing the Bestival and End of the Road festivals in September. They've recently released a new single 'Carefully' on Too Pure Records.

ALPHABET BACKWARDS (Oxford)
Windmill debut for this Oxford band who mix nu-folk, country and pop and craft intimate yet atmospheric tunes. One to keep an eye out for in the future.

Plus, as always, Rockbeatstone contributors Jamie & Will spinning tunes until the early hours of the morning!



More information:
Rockbeatstone
Backstreets MySpazz
Windmill website

Magic in a magical land

Well hello. I know I haven't been on here in ages. I spent most of last couple of weeks fuming at the indignity of not being able to get a ticket for Bruce Springsteen's O2 show. It looks like i'll be searching the internet fan sites for a while yet. Failing that there's the option of a tout. And it is close to Xmas so I guess that could be my present. But having said that fuck you to the touts who sold two tickets for £670 on ebay. Scum bags, I hope that you die, but not before you sell me one at below face value, two minutes before the band are onstage and you start to panic because you need to sell the tickets.

Otherwise, I should have some news about the third band-night that I'm organising. I'll post that here tomorrow.

Oh yes, I also went to see the Hold Steady at the Electric Ballroom. Read what I thought of the band when I first saw them a few months ago. My latitude review is also up. And I've written a review of the new Bruce album which leaked to me on Friday.

What have I got coming up? An unsigned concert at the Bull & Gate tomorrow, Eric Andersen on Saturday (which will be brilliant), then Manu Chao in October at Brixton Academy, finally for the month my gig night at the Windmill on Friday October 5th. Looking at November, I've got tickets for Wilco...again. In December I should be seeing Lucero and Okkervil River.

Mozambique

Can I blow a little smoke on you?

Sorry I've been on holiday at a mate's wedding and also at a music festival. Finally, on the last night of my break I saw the Rolling Stones at the O2 arena in London.

Long time readers of this blog will remember that I gave up smoking. I have since restarted and it is obviously something wrong and stupid, but what the heck.

The Rolling Stones don't give two shits about all the "smoking will kill you" argument. Indeed, at the very same concert both Keith Richards and Ron Wood were smoking on stage. The UK media has taken a lot of interest in this and portrayed them as the rock and roll rebels.

To me it is pathetic. They could argue that they are props for their stage show. I mean could you imagine Richards without a fag? I remember watching a video of the 1999 tour at some place in Germany and Richards was smoking a spliff on stage... And we all know the infamous drug busts and stories of him snorting his dad's ashes. And were now giving him shit for this?

But what kind of society do we live in where the media portray the Stones as rebelious for smoking a cigarette? It shows how illiberal we have become in this country.

Otherwise the concert was great, although I had vertigo from being too high in the stands (only a little relieved from drinking copious amounts of alcohol) and the music bounced off the roof of the arena. The O2 is a little souless, a bit like a massive shopping centre under canvas. And they have a pizza express there which is odd for a music venue - but I guess it is the future.

You can read somehting I penned during the holidays at Rockbeatstone. A review of the compilation of a relatively unknown singer-songwriter Eric Andersen. He's playing a pub in Walthamstow in September, go check him out. I've also heard the new Bruce Springsteen song. It rocks. Read what I think of that here.

Tough Mama

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship

I'm going on holiday, so I'm going to leave you with a short story by Kafka.

A Little Fable

"Alas," said the mouse, "the world is growing smaller every day. At the beginning it was so big that I was afraid, I kept running and running, and I was glad when at last I saw walls far away to the right and left, but these long walls have narrowed so quickly that I am in the last chamber already, and there in the corner stands the trap that I must run into,"

"You only need to change your direction," said the cat, and ate it up."

Mr Tambourine Man

The party's over, and there's less and less to say

There are some songs that you listen to and pass on almost without thinking. Then something happens which makes you listen to it again and reappraise that song. This happened to me today.

I've just come back from the Latitude Festival in Suffolk, which is probably the best festival I've ever been to: stages where we could easily get to the front when we wanted, large open spaces to lie down in the sun, beautiful setting in the woods surrounded by a lake, small stages 'hidden' in the middle of said woods, no aggro, and some great, great, and absolutely mesmerising music from some amazing musicians.

One of the bands we saw were the Hold Steady, probably my favourite band right now. They finished with 'Killer Parties' (as they did when I saw them at Shepherds Bush a few weeks ago), a beautiful end to the set it really made me realise what a great band they were and firmly cemented in my mind what a great set I had just witnessed.

A beautiful slow song, it builds with a repetitive bass line which oozes the feelings of the end of the night. It's truly amazing with Craig Finn's beat-poetry lyrics really encapsulating the spirit of a massive night: "I'm pretty sure we partied, I don't really remember". Which is how the best parties should always be, I guess.

Anyway, I've only listened to this song today - at lunch and commuting into work. I just can't get it out of my mind. I guess that this song fully encapsulates the weekend I've just had. It has just made me smile and smile. I love it when music does this kind of thing to you. It really is an absolute joy to be listening to that song and remembering the weekend I've just had. Music is sometimes a powerful thing.

Other bands I saw were: Wilco, Magic Numbers, Cake, Two Gallants, Herman Dune, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, The National, Arcade Fire, Jarvis Cocker (who played 'Eye of the Tiger' as set closer), The Good the Bad the Queen, Elvis Perkins, Cold War Kids, the Rapture and some others I've probably forgotten. Comes with a HeNotBusyBeingBornisBusyDying stamp of approval. I'll be reviewing this soon for Rockbeatstone.

Highlands

Dignity never been photographed
(for some reason, I can't edit my subject line!)

I've recently got the internet at home, so I can now update this blog with loads of photos that have been stuck on my hard drive for the last few months. Here is me meeting Southampton FC legend, Matthew Le Tissier. I went to see Saints v Derby (0-1) earlier in the year.



Another footie related one. This is Barnet v Stockport. Barnet has a quaint ground, vrey old-school. So far from the billions of pounds floating around the Premiership. Another great day out. I like the photo as it is an action shot. Wonder at the beauty of North London behind. What a shit-hole.

I imagine that I'll be updating with photos for a while yet, seeing as I've ran out of interesting things to say. Coming up will be: photos of Amsterdam, Milano and Metallica at Wembley.

Dignity

I'm locked in tight, I'm out of range

I am no McGyver

Yesterday I had the worst day of my life.

In the morning I have a routine as many people do. I get up, turn the radio on, lie in bed for about half-an-hour, get up, put my dressing gown on, gather my towel and head to the shower via the toilet.

Yesterday I did all of this as normal, except when I went to unlock the door, the key snapped and I was trapped inside my toilet. Four white walls, a small window with bars across, a toilet and a cork-tiled floor. I don't think I realised quite how difficult a position I was in for some time. My housemate had already gone to work for the day.

I tried and tried with the end of the shaft to unlock the door, when this failed I even tried to smash the door down, but it opens inwards so I couldn't and I was trapped. I had no watch, did not know what time it was. I sat on the toilet and pondered my situation: what was I going to do? I had nothing to read. There was no sink, bath or shower, just a solitary toilet.

I knew that there was a good chance that my flat-mate Jamie would be back in the evening, however there was even the possibility that he would stay round his girlfriend's for the night or even the entire weekend...this was something that I didn't even want to contemplate. I heard the door-bell go a few times (one of which was my colleague who was worried that work had had no news of my whereabouts), I heard my phone go off every half-hour or so. I was trapped and couldn't do anything.

I had a sudden MacGyver moment and tried to create a device which would help me, but you can't make much out of an empty loo roll and a broken key. And I always was crap with handiwork. Then I thought about using the electricity from the lightbulb wire to burn through the bars but realised that this was a dangerous and stupid thing to do. And it probably wouldn't have worked.

When you're in this situation weird things happen to you. You try to think about interesting things. You think about all the small details and you make an action plan. I was going to wait until my flatmate came home and if he didn't I was going to attract the attentions of my neighbours leaving in the next morning for work (for them to call the Fire Brigade or Police or something) by shouting and stamping at the top of my voice. This was my plan and I was sticking by it. If they didn't hear me then the water in the toilet would sustain me until my housemate was to show up.

Without a watch I could not work out what time it was so I spent lots of time listening to the what was going on outside - I heard the cheers of children - school was over, I heard the construction work stop (it must have been the end of the day, say 5.30pm). I heard the distant rumble of tube trains deep below get further and further apart (it must be towards the end of the tubes).

Finally at 12.30am, when I had lost all hope that my flatmate was not coming home, he returned and I shouted and shouted. He eventually handed me some pliers through the window and I managed to grab the end of the key shaft and turn the key. When I was out I was a trembling wreck and stumbled to the kitchen for a long drink of water and some food. I had spent over 16 hours trapped inside my toilet and my legs were shaking all over. But my ordeal was now finished. Never before have I been so happy to see Jamie come home, even if he was completely drunk. I checked my phone - 4 messages and 36 unanswered calls. Oops.

On the plus side me and Paris Hilton now have something in common. I'll use this blog to send her a message. Come and talk to me baby, we've both been through solitary confinement and we both share a common bond: that of stupidity.

But what have I learnt? Never to lock the toilet when I'm the only person in the house. I'd laugh if it happened to anyone else. I'll gradually learn to laugh at this story, but what a day!

Things have Changed

Ya take what ya need and ya leave the rest

I'm sorry I haven't written anything here for a while. I've been very busy.

It was my second gig night on Friday. It went very well, as many, if not more, people than last time and some great bands. Some excellent DJing at the end from Will and Jamie as well. Thanks to all my friends who read this who turned up.

The final band of the night, The Mules, are f'in great. They finished with an encore performance of 'The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down' by the Band. Absolutely incredible. On their myspace the Mules state that they like both types of music, country and western. A great country based party band. Absolutel legends. Go and see them if you can.

Some of the artists I played inbetween the bands included: The Boss, the Hold Steady, Lucero, The Stones, Kenny Rogers, the Lovin' Spoonful, the Kingsmen, The Stone Roses, BRMC, Wilco. Surprisingly I didn't play any Dylan. Don't know why really, just didn't feel like it. I should have though.

The night ended with much drunkeness. I ended up enjoying the night to it's fullest and got properly drunk, once all of my duties were completed. Before I went home, I decided to go to the toilet and thought that it would be a good idea to go, although I didn't want to be a chav and saw a builders portaloo on a construction site across the road. In my drunken stupor I broke into the site and used the portaloo. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but I broke the law to not break another. It did make sense in a bizarre twisted way.

My review of the Great Escape festival is up at Rockbeatstone. Also I'm aware that many of you are reading this through facebook. That's cool, just wanted you to know that I have a proper blog and this updates automatically...I'm not a facebook junkie or anything.

The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down

Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down

Sometimes I wonder what the point of a blog is. I mean, I’m a nobody who is spouting a load of shite.

I’ve also been having difficulty recently in finding any inspiration of topics to write on. I mean, look at yesterday’s post, that was a bloody joke.

I’m not even inspired to rip-off some internet find and pretend that it is my discovery.

But then I thought, it’s alright, it’s OK, just write about how you’ve got no inspiration.

Boom, there goes another Internet milestone. However, having read many blogs over the last couple of years it appears that this is a subject that many like to write about. In fact it’s probably in the top five topics for blogging (number two to be precise):

1. George W. Bush.
2. “I’ve no inspiration” blog post.
3. Paris Hilton.
4. The Iraq War.
5. Google.

I made that list up, by the way.

Nick Cave has done much the same thing, although he did it in the medium he knows best, song. ‘There She Goes My Beautiful World’ is a song about his muse not providing any inspiration – paradoxically she does of course because he writes a song about it. However, I seem to be veering into a proper blog-post territory now so should abandon this train of thought.

Why is it that such brilliant books/songs/poems were written thanks to streams of consciousness, whereas all I can muster are a few piss-poor gags and ramblings about nothing when I try?

Long weekend in the UK. I’m going to get trollied tonight (and for three days after!). This should be fun. Let's hope it provides me with some inspiration.

Hurricane

I'm glad to see you're still alive, you're lookin' like a saint

This weekend sees my football team, Southampton FC take part in the playoffs. For those outside of the UK who are reading this blog it is a kind-of mini-tournament where the winner gains promotion to the Premier League. Our first match is tomorrow at St Mary's stadium, and I for one cannot wait. However, I am also a little nervous. In fact I'm nervous as hell. The rest of the season is now completely irrelevant. Our entire season now hinges on us getting through three matches.

There is a good omen however, our manager, George Burely was the last manager to win a playoff at the old Wembley Stadium, so here's to hoping that he can be the first at the new stadium. See the photo of him below shouting out orders.

This season our young team has done bloody well. We are well respected by football commentators and the other managers for playing flowing, passing football (which to be honest is a rarity in the Championship) and we've by far got the best talent. The only thing that has let us down is our defence which has leaked too many goals for my liking. Players of the season for me have been George Rasiak and Gareth Bale. (See photos below).

In other news, when I went out at lunchtime, there were a multitude of TV cameras and journalists outside a building. Apparently, Gordon Brown had just launched his campaign to be elected leader of Labour and thus Prime Minister. It took place in a building next to a building-site, which I guess could hold some relevance and symbolism, although I'm struggling to think what that could be. Anyway, I'm getting to the age where I believe that politics has lost any relevance to my life and almost always fails to change anything for the better. As the Kaiser Chiefs sing, "Everything is average Nowadays".

Also if you thought my review of Wilco's Sky Blue Sky was good then read this one from the Guardian. They do a minute-by-minute look at one album every week which makes for a very particular and comedic review. Here is the concluding paragraph on Sky Blue Sky. (PS: It's out on Monday so go and buy it).

Imagine a lazy, if devilishly handsome and talented boyfriend, moping around the house, making excuses for his lameness, only to allow occasional flashes of his former loveliness to break through his listlessness. And then, when you're almost to the end of your tether, he only bloody goes and gives you the greatest kiss of your life. Wilco, you're maddening!

And landed in Brussels

I'm going to Belgium this weekend to see my family who live out there. There is a game that people play which involves trying to think of five famous Belgians. Wikipedia has a list of famous Belgians, unfortunately I've not heard of most of them so it doesn't work very well and seems to confirm the point/joke. However the inventor of the Saxophone was Belgian (a Mr Sax) and Tintin was also Belgian (and fictional). Perhaps of more interest to you is the article on Belgian beers.

Before I go, it would be great if you read my review of Wilco's new album, Sky Blue Sky.

Finally, here's a photo of the Belgian countryside. Exciting isn't it?

When I Paint My Masterpiece

I wouldn't marry the president, Uh-huh

Well my other country had elections at the weekend and France chose to elect Nicolas Sarkozy as President, known as “Sarko”. Before I start my rant, I’d like to say that I do have the right to vote in France but choose not too – not because of political apathy, but because I feel it is a bit rich for myself living in the UK having a say on what happens in a country where I no longer live.

He’s been touted as a Thatcherite by the UK press, but he is more like Berlusconi to be honest. In France there was no mention of his marital problems, critics claim that his close links to the French media have allowed him to suppress this news which I believe is of importance when choosing a person to lead the country. His wife also had her book, detailing the issues in her marriage, scrapped by the publishers days before release thanks to political pressure from “Sarko” (this was when they were “on a break”). So he’s got the media on his side at the moment.

What interests me the most is this article from the Independent that claims that had the election excluded those over 55, then Segolene Royal would have won. Easily. So we can see a divided France. The young and urban voted for Royal, the older, rural and pensioned voted for Sarko. Many would have been attracted to his authoritarian stance rather than his plans for economic reform. The young on the otherhand seem a little angry, like this blogger's post-election playlist seems to indicate.

Unfortunately, I fear for France. I feel, like Royal did, that he will prove to be devisive. The fact that there are now clearly observable lines across French society is not new to me – these certainly existed when I lived there. But they are now more violent than in the past – many on the wrong side of the line (i.e. the poor) are severely angry at a society that no longer speaks for them or to them. “Sarko”, if he chooses to be as ruthless as he was at the time of the violence last year when he was Interior Minister, will only enflame the situation even more (calling the protestors “racaille” or “Scum” in English doesn’t help). Two nights of rioting across Paris, and other regional cities have greeted the news that “Sarko” is going to be president. This comes as no surprise to me.

But what many British commentators have forgotten is that a French President has less power than a British Prime Minister. In many respects he is a figure-head who prances around the world claiming independence of Anglo-US foreign policy and pisses people off – it’s just what the French President is supposed to do. We’ll have to wait until the elections for the parliament to see whether he has the majority and political force necessary for his reforms to go through.

All I can say is that I am glad that I no longer live in France and have to deal with this shit. Here’s a message of support from Tony Blair, British PM. I guess that says it all. The last thing anyone needs is encouragement from the guy who history will judge as being the idiot who got the UK into an illegal and immoral war. So click on the play button below to see Tony blabbering on in French.



Froggie Went a Courtin'

They all play on penny whistles

On Friday I went to Milan. It was a great trip to a city I’ve never been to before. I went to see Dylan (as most of my recent trips seem to involve him, I thought I’d bring it up early) at the Datchtforum in Assagio, on the outskirts of town.

A small review of the concert. Italian fans are absolutely mental. There was loads of cheering, the fans were really digging it – applauding every guitar solo, hand-clapping, I’m pretty sure there was some moshing down in the front. It makes a change from the gig-weary, cool Londonite crowd that I’m more used to seeing.

Bob-wise his performance was again excellent as it has been on every show I’ve seen in 2007. His diction/singing was again better than anything I witnessed in 2004/5/6. Highlights on that Friday were ‘Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues’ and a brilliant carnivalesque ‘Desolation Row’ which even had Bob dancing! A great performance of this song.

Another surprising highlight was ‘Like a Rolling Stone’ where the crowd sang along and it had a lot more power than the other versions I saw in Amsterdam, London or Birmingham.

The rest of the trip was taken with sightseeing around Milan’s famous landmarks, and also a wonderful chance encounter with Eric Andersen. Such a nice man.

If you want to see what I thought of Bob Dylan in Birmingham then click on this link here for a proper review. In other news, I've recently moved. More on that later this week.

Desolation Row.

Do you remember where you been?

In case people are wondering what i've been upto... I am still alive.

Firstly I assulted a grandmother who was close to getting the last £3 primark T-shirt in the new shop on Oxford Street. I was arrested and thrown in prison for a while. When I was released I went to County Durham to attend an unofficial Skins party I saw on MySpace. In case you're wondering, I was the one who urinated on the wedding dress.

No really, I went to Amsterdam to see Bob Dylan. I had a wicked time, met lots of Dylan friends and spent most of my time in pubs and other local establishments. I've drank so much over the last few days, I think my body will soon give up on me.

Then I returned to the UK to celebrate my birthday with friends in my local. I got some cool presents like some model Meerkats, the Extras DVD boxset and the Big Lebowski on DVD (I only previously had it on video, but my copy is worn out, so that's nice).

Tonight I'm going to see the Arctic Monkeys at the Astoria. Bring it on. I've also finally had my review of the best gig of the year, Arcade Fire, published over at Rockbeatstone.

Rita May

Is to say I've been hittin' some hard travelin' too

As you may remember, my youngest brother has decided to go travelling. He’s just finished his stint at a farm/factory farm in Mildura, Victoria, close to the border with New South Wales. It’s basically a remote Australian town. On their website they helpfully list all of the town’s facilites such as petrol stations and banks. As you’d expect from an Australian Town, the section on Arts, Heritage and Culture is particularly weak…

I haven’t heard/spoken to him in months. But he did find the time to send me a link to his travelblog. So this is basically a photo montage of all the exciting things he’s been doing in Australia for the last six months.

And it only has three photos, one of him on a forklift truck, one of a kangaroo road sign and one of him in a pub drinking with his mates.

What a complete and utter tosser – he’s not even bothered to send me any real news or real photos. I hope that he’s done more than that in his six months! Idiot.

[note: do you see my jealous streak coming out?]

Song to Woody

Dignity never been photographed

One of my best friends from school is a Canadian bird called Bree (yes, she is named after a cheese). She's been living out in East Timor, the youngest nation on the planet, doing amazing stuff out there with the UN while a civil war rages. She is a true kind soul with not a bad bone in her body. Yes, she is often hyperactive and unable to stop speaking, but apart from that she's cool and I love her to bits (as a friend, before you start mocking me like you probably did at primary school).

While she was out in Timor, she met a Scottish guy called Robin who was a photographer. He sadly and unexpectedly passed away. In order to honour him and his work, Bree has set up a website with his photos. It would be great if you could take a peek. He really was an amazing photographer and they will move you. She's got some slideshows and stuff sorted on there as well.

Check out the website here.

Dignity

The Lone Wolf went out drinking

Hello world.

I am tired. I spent all day drinking on Saturday. Not recommended. Started with a Liverpool v Arsenal football match and finally eneded at 4.30am on Sunday morning.

More worringly is the fact that I woke up six hours later and didn't have a hangover.

You may remember that I went to see Gwar. You can read my review of the gig here.

Tough Mama

Well, it can't be no guitar player

At the weekend I went to the Gibson Guitar photo exhibition at Blink Gallery in Poland Street, Soho. It was great, but as usual I wanted to buy lots of the photos on display, but again I didn’t have the required £1,000 to £2,000 spare. This exhibition is to celebrate one of the greatest guitar manufacturers in the world.

Essentially, loads of rock stars with their Gibson guitars. There were photos of Slash, the Beatles, the Stones, Jimi, the Who, Dylan, Jack White, BB King and U2 and even the Travelling Willburys (which was a bargain at £650! Four stars for the price of less than one!). But what most perplexed me was the inclusion of a recent Madonna playing a guitar. What the fuck is all that about? And she was more expensive than some of the other photos on display. Her photo should have cost about 80p. She now looks like some old tranny-whore.

See some of the photos below. For more photos and details, see their website here. It is definitely worth visiting if you have a spare moment.

Call Letter Blues

Turning children into punks and slaves

It's not everyday that a random trip to the pub results in meeting a former Sex Pistol.

The weird evening started like this. A phone call from my friend Steve who really wants to go to Filthy McNasty’s, probably London’s greatest pub. So I call a few friends who also turn up and we all meet at the pub. There are posters all over the wall from the punk era. Concert and album posters for the Clash, the Sex Pistols, Ian Dury, etc.. Which is cool and very interesting. And we find out that they are being exhibited there as part of a celebration of punk music. Then a guy in a very expensive Italian jacket walks in and I swear that I know the guy but I can’t place him. And this starts to bug me for a while.

Then a bloke goes to the stage section of the pub and introduces himself, he’s David Nolan and he’s written a book called The Gig that Changed the World about the Sex Pistols’ Lesser Free Trade Hall concert that about 7 million people say they were there. What is for sure is that Morrissey, Peter Hook of Joy Division and members of Buzzcocks and Simply Red (urgh!) were. As well as Tony Wilson of Factory Records. The concert is recreated in the film 24 hour Party People. It could well be one of the most influential concerts of all time. Interestingly enough, the Lesser Free Trade Hall is above the real Free Trade Hall where the infamous "Judas!" shout at Dylan in 1966 happens. There is so much musical history in that building. Sadly, it is now a hotel.

After his presentation, we go up to the guy and start talking to him about the book, about the creation of musical legends and we ask him to sign our books which we’ve now bought. And he says, you should get Glenn Matlock over there to sign it and it all clicks into place in my mind.

We all went over, had a chat with him and he was a friendly guy. He is playing a gig at the pub, but he can’t remember which night (punk rock!). A nice chat, got him to autograph my book and got a photo with him.

My friend Steve’s fiancé doesn’t know who he is and starts asking him whether “he’s followed his dream”. “Not yet”, comes the rather bemused reply. Funny as hell, but I'm sure that it is different to the usual questions he gets.

Here’s a photo of Glenn getting pissed with Sid and Nancy. Couldn't find any on-stage photos on the net. This maybe because he was thrown out of the band for allegedly "liking the Beatles" in 1977. Glenn's on the left with a pint in his hand. This must have been taken after he left the band.



Band of the Hand (It's Hell Time Man!)