29th August

As the day begins I send the various quick time files of the commercial and the brand film to the various interested parties having had them all ok’d by Phil prior to his disappearance on holiday.
Quite frankly the importance of this work has faded. As they say so eloquently during the scene at Elvis’s grave side in ‘Spinal Tap’

‘Too much fxxxxxx perspective’.

I continue with the music for the Sphere and begin to get a fuller picture of the surrounding politics.

Amanda is not feeling so hot today. I make dinner once the kids are in bed, then head out to the studio again. I’ve been reading some of the comments on various prog sites with regard to Pip’s death.

I feel the need to call Dave again, I just want to talk and we chat for over an hour. We reminisce. The good the bad, the warts and all of Pip.

The anecdotes will live on after his departure for the Big Rotters Club in the sky. Dave tells me one that I hadn’t heard before about Pip in a phone box somewhere, calling his wife to ask her if she knows where he is.

In return I tell Dave about the story of Pip going out to drink on his own in Tokyo.

Having fallen out with his other band members, not for the first time, Pip heads off to get drunk on his own. He finds a strange collection of really small bars in a nearby district of Tokyo. He starts in one and walks the down the small streets to the next. Eventually he’s see’s one in the distance that has neon sign out side that says ‘Pip’s Bar’.

Obviously he makes a bee line for the place. He tells the proprietor that ‘This is my bar’ the owner, no doubt no stranger to drunks, humours him, but remains wary. Pip continues to call it ‘His bar’ to the continuing annoyance of the landlord. Eventually Pip gets his passport out and says ‘That’s me, my names Pip.’

To his astonishment the bar owner looks at the picture and ask’s ‘You Pip Pyle? You Pip Pyle!’ His face begins to light up.

Pip rather warily says ‘Err yes.’

The owner, unable to believe what’s happened says, with increasing excitement ‘this is your bar; I name it after you’ and proceeds to bring out various pieces of Hatfield and the North memorabilia.

I asked Pip what happened next. He told me he had absolutely no idea. The next thing he remembers was waking up in his hotel room at about 4 the following afternoon naked but for his trousers round his ankles.

How could you not miss someone who tells you stories like that?

August 28th

The phone rings again. It’s Dave Stewart, who I’ve been trying to track down for the past week. I can tell immediately that something is not quite right. Just from the way he says ‘Jakko, it’s Dave’.

This is followed by ‘I’ve got some really bad news’

My mind raced and then, like some car crash, every thing seemed to turn into slow motion.
‘Pip died last night’

In the vast distance of the slow motion silence that followed, my head started to think that there was surely some other Pip that Dave and I knew. A former road crew member or engineer that we liked, but hadn’t seen in a while.

But there was no other Pip.

We only knew one.

Involuntarily I let out a weird noise made from an intake of breath and disbelief. I was stunned. I couldn’t take this in.

‘When, how, why?’

Dave said that the Hatfields had played a show in Holland on Saturday and that on Sunday they said their goodbyes and Pip made his way back to Paris. For some inexplicable reason Pip got a hotel room at the Gare de Nord instead of going to his nearby home. It appeared he had some kind of haemorrhage in the night and choked on the blood.

I can’t believe that the phone won’t ring and Pip will be on the line. Trying to persuade me to do something I don’t want to do or go somewhere I don’t want to go. I can’t believe I can’t e-mail him about some nonsense I’ve just read. Or that we wont get drunk and laugh like idiot’s anymore.

If you never met Pip you’ll not know how full of life he was. He burst into a room, started chatting it up and then invited it out for a drink.

I start to cry, which sets Dave off. I tell Dave that I thought Pip was one of those guys that would go on for ever, like Keith Richard.

Dave reminds me that Pip had lived about 100 lives to everyone else one.
A little later Doug Boyle also calls in tears.

My thoughts, and the rest of the day, are filled with the loss and the memories. On one of the last occasions I saw Pip, I drove up to see him at his old house near Bishops Stortford, where we used to rehearse with Dave back in the early 80’s. His new wife, some 20 odd years his junior, had left him. He was in England with his young son of about 3 years old. No doubt distressed by the absence of his mother, he was very clingy and hated it when Pip left the room without him.
I just can’t get that bloody image out of my head.

August 27th

Take the kids to the padded indoor adventure park, snakes and ladders, in the grounds of Syon park. The phone rings just after we can back home for lunch. It’s Chris Porter. Can I spare an hour or so this afternoon?

Regular readers will know that I recently contributed some multi tracked backing vocals to Sir Cliff Richards’s new album. I did all this here at Silesia Sound of course and just took the finished overdubs down to the studio. Sir Cliff wanted some more vocals on one of the verses. So I drive down and am greeted by a very, pleasant and affable Cliff. He suggests that we sing these new parts together.

Now whilst I’m not a fan of his particular oeuvre, the fact is that at the age of 5 or so, I did mime along in front of the mirror to Cliff and the Shadows. Here I am, all these years later, in a small vocal booth standing next to, and singing with, his Cliffness. Words cannot not express just how surreal an experience this was.

During a gap, due to computer rebooting, Cliff chats away. When they called me earlier I was in the middle of watching ’Charlie and the chocolate factory’ with Django for the 150th time since we bought it. Cliff asks about the kids and we get on the subject of the forthcoming holiday. In response to the question ‘where are you going?’ I tell him that we are going to stay at Mel Collin’s Villa in Minorca. He immediately remembers Mel and says what a great solo he played on ‘Carrie Doesn’t Live Here Anymore’.

Whilst recounting this tale to Danny Thompson later, he reminds me that he himself played bass on ‘Congratulations’. Suddenly the whole of the holiday trip has a bizarre Cliff Richard/King Crimson synergy.

In the evening I start work again and finish at 3:00 in the morning once more. The lack of sleep is giving all these events a strange dream like quality. This week end can’t get any odder surely?

August 26th

Slip out into the studio whenever possible. In between get updates from Danny Thompson on the football. Watford are up against Man Utd and, in spite of moments where we could have gone ahead, lose 2-1.

Work proper starts in the evening at about 8:30. I get to bed at 3:00.

August 25th

Managed a couple of hours in the studio before heading off to the west end. I would normally drive in. In spite of the cost, congestion charge and parking, it’s quicker to drive. I can get in to the west end in 10-15 minutes. The walk to the station is that alone. When time is tight, as indeed it often is, the car is the better option. Today I take it easy. I arrive in a sunny Oxford street and head for a post production house in Beak Street and the end of Carnaby Street. I am due to meet my pal Phil Walsh. He’s a director that I’ve worked with on a number of occasions. We get on well and he’s always on top if the projects that he works on. We are working on a job for Astra. The satellite people. There’s a brand Film and a commercial. It’s all beautifully shot and the music brief and unusually experimental. Trouble is its all way behind. We should have been at this stage weeks ago. It’s now something of a panic. Phil goes away on Monday and I leave on Friday. It’s going to be a grim and tiring weekend.

Half way though the day, which includes a very nice lunch with the client, I get dragged in to supply music for another part of the job. A big moving sphere for a trade show. The client, who’s a drummer and well informed musically, suggest a solo piano piece and mentions Keith Jarret as a reference point. This is a corporate job. This never happens. Usually if any known music is used to describe what they are after, it’s normally pretty obvious or crass. And the same tunes get brought out again and again. This is extraordinary.

In the evening we get a baby sitter and go out. That’s twice in one month!!!!
We go to a comedy club in Chiswick and watch an excellent bill of Miles Jupp Otis Cannelloni and the brilliant Mike Gunn. They were all very good actually. I cried with laughter on several occasions, which is just about the best therapy I can think of right now.

August 24th

Felt very 3rd party after just a couple of hours sleep. Spoke to Gavin in the morning. He’s just back from Italy where he’s been recording a new album for Italian super star Claudio Baglioni. The rhythm section are from blighty, being made up of Gavin and JohnGiblin. Now there’s a dream rhythm section.

We caught up and I told him of the nightmare I’ve had with the MacBook and Logic. PT were about to buy one to drive some midi and sync films for their forthcoming tour. Gav told me that Dave Stewart and Barbara had spent the night and that Dave was going to London to master a new Hatfield CD, following the success of ‘Hatwise Choice’. I’d been trying to track Dave down these past few days, but with no luck, Answer phone not on and mobile switched off. As he was heading to A Major, a studio just up the road in Shepherds Bush, I thought I’d just turn up. I haven’t seen Dave since he emigrated to the wilds of Cornwall. By the time I turned up at the studio, he’d already gone.

August 23rd

I was just thinking how quiet the ad agency had been the past few weeks. Not that it’s a worry. Summer is normally a quieter time. Today Ben Darlow was coming down to Master Tony Hawk’s Charity CD. About 3 minutes before he appeared at the front door the agency rang. Can I do some music for a Playstation ad. They need it by tomorrow morning 9:00. Of course they do.
Luckily the mastering is fairly straight forward. This leaves me with a couple of hours to listen to a guide track and watch the pictures for the Playstation Ad. I start a piece, which I have to stop to get the kids.

Tonight the Barbieri’s, Richard and Suzanne, are coming over. It would make sense to cancel them, but we’ve been trying to get together for months now and I’ve been looking forward to spending time with them.

Unsurprisingly I found myself driving, yet again, to the brilliant 5 Chillies for a take away.

Rich tells me about the forthcoming Porcupine Tree tour and album and we finish off a lovely evening watching the mid week edition of Match of the Day. They eventually leave at about midnight and I head off to the studio to finish the ad. I eventually leave the studio at about 2:45. It’s raining torrentially. I’m just about to get to bed when I remember it’s bin day in the morning (how bleedin rock and roll is this?) So I have to drag my sorry arse downstairs and get soaked putting the rubbish out. It’s gone 3:00 when I hit the hay. Amanda wakes me inadvertently at 5:30 when she realises that the big windows in the loft room are open and the new carpet is soaked.

August 22nd

Spent most of today getting to grips with the I-movie facility on the laptop. I edited all the extra’s on the Schizoid DVD, so I have used it before. It was sometime back now, however. I really enjoyed the process of editing film. It did make me want to question every documentary I’ve see since, though. I somehow managed to make a 10 minute film of a band recording and enjoying themselves, from 2 hours worth of footage depicting a band barely able to conceal their discomfort at the events of the previous weeks and days.

I record a piece to camera for the new Members club on the site. Then I edit it together with stills from the album and fragments of the tacks I’m talking about. The first Glee Club section will feature my version of 2 covers that didn’t make CD 2. A version of George Martin’s ‘Theme One’ and a song called ‘London Bridge’ by Bread. That’s right Bread, as in David Gates. Odd but true. On camera I explain the reason behind this seemingly unlikely choice and why it then goes off to a weird place at the end of the song.

August 21st

Spent the morning locating various bits and pieces. Unused tracks, unfinished tracks alternate mixes. Quite surprised myself with some of the finds. I end up with over 50 minutes of material, all of which is pretty good and, I hope at least, of interest.

Mel arrives in the afternoon. We are recording some stuff for the forthcoming Crimson Jazz Trio CD. He plays soprano on a version of ‘Frame by Frame’. This is treated like a Jazz standard with the tune (head) stated and solo’s on sax, piano and bass. Mel, of course, plays beautifully throughout. Being Mel though, he’s unhappy with a lot of it. I find myself deleting takes that any other player would deem the best. That’s one of the reasons why he’s a good as he his, I guess. We move on and Mel plays tenor of a very free version of Formentara Lady/Sailors Tale. Again there’s some great stuff here. As always it’s a pleasure just to sit and listen to Mel in full flow.

We have a cup of tea and catch up. Mel’s been slowly writing a solo record which he’s asked me to help produce. I look forward to it. The two things he’s played me so far sound really exciting and unusual. As if to maintain the Crimson nature of the day Pete Sinfield calls. He’s been on a trip to the Canaries to help his recovery from the major heart surgery that he had just after Christmas. He sounds in fine fettle though. Our conversation was truncated somewhat by the kids going nuts. It was their bedtime. Never a good moment to chat on the phone. I’ll call at a more convenient moment later this week.

August 20th

Danny calls shortly after the repeat broadcast of last nights Match Of The Day to commiserate at Watford’s terrible luck at being awarded a penalty against them when no such offence had even occurred. Django wants to chat with Danny about the forthcoming holiday. In the course of the conversation Danny asks Django if he is bringing his water wings, to which Django says’ Are you being ironic?’

He only turned 4 two and a half months ago.

Thing is, at this age he ask’s questions with a relentless tenacity. Cute though it seems at first, this soon dissolves into just one question ‘Why?’
It doesn’t seem cute for long, trust me. After a while, when you have used up all the simple responses and tried the ‘because I say so’ route, you find yourself giving him complicated answers using words and concepts he couldn’t possibly understand. This leaves him confused. Amazingly, sometimes weeks later, he’ll bring one of these moments up. Seemingly out of no where. Hence his current obsession with irony.

In the evening Amanda is very stressed with the final, and late, proof reading of her latest magazine. There is one piece about various religious festivals coming up in the autumn. In order to check spelling and meanings we call Danny. Danny converted to Islam about 20 years ago. I ask about Ramadan and the festival of Id. Danny responds accordingly and then says, in his cockney twang.

‘Oi, you thinking of converting?’

‘Yeah’ I said ‘Get me one of those funny hats and a prayer mat, and I’ll be away’

To which Dan says ‘Tell ya what, I’ll slaughter a lamb in the back garden and we’ll be right over!’

August 19th

The weekends have become a work free zone, mostly. It’s the one thing about having children that I find the most difficult. Kids need structure and routine. I have always tried to avoid it. Get an e-mail telling me I’m number one in a chart in Jazzwise magazine. Turns out the very nice Dick Heath who interviewed me for his Loughborough University radio show is responsible. Flattered though I am by this accolade for the new album (and believe me I am), seeing my name ahead of the likes of John McLaughlin in a Jazz chart, is frankly ludicrous.

Today is the first day of the premiership season and Watford are about to embark on an adventure in these dizzy heights. I speak to Danny Thompson most days. However, with the advent of the new season this will increase to several calls per day. Today is no exception. Result updates and the like.

August 18th

On the way back home last night, stuck in traffic on the A40 just before midnight, I started to feel some unpleasant pains developing in my lower abdomen. By the time I reached the house I had to make a dash for the smallest room in the house. Actually the smallest room in the house is the utility room, but you know what I mean.

I awoke early Friday morning feeling nauseous with a nagging headache.
Through out the day I kept convincing myself that I felt better and went out to the studio. Each time, however, I began to feel terrible again and went back to bed.

Something of a lost day.

17th August

Again more computer gazing. More editing and polishing. By the time Amanda ask’s me if I could drive to Hemel and pick up the proofs of issue 3 of her new magazine. I decided that any excuse to get out into the day light is a good idea. Plus I take the camera to take some pictures for the site and this blog.

Having picked up the proofs I head toward the villages of my childhood and backdrop more most of the songs on CD 1. The mobile rings. It’s the girl at the passport office in the west end. Ludicrous though it seems to me, Amber has to have her own passport, in spite of her tender age of 20 months. The passport form is a nightmare. When we went through this process with Django we had to fill the damn thing in 3 times before they accepted it.

When I picked up some forms last week the accompanying guide called ‘How to fill in your passport form’ fell out on to the floor. It is twice the size of the bloody passport form itself! There is also a 4 page booklet about the photo alone.

After 3 goes Tania managed to get Amber to sit for a photo that, just about, fit in with the regulations. I drive straight to the west end and pick the new passport up. Whilst I realise that most parents think that their children are gorgeous, in spite of blatant evidence to the contrary.

The fact is that Amber already has the beauty of her mother. I can only hope that as she reaches her teens she goes through a plain phase, or develops a weight problem. The thought of some smartarse kid turning up at the front door asking for my daughter fills me with horror.

Trouble is I know I’ll recognise him. It’ll be me and I’ll know what he’s thinking. Danny Thompson says that I will live to fear these 5 words: ‘but Dad I love him’. I, myself, am all ready dreading these 7 words: ‘You’ll like him Dad, he’s a musician’.

In the evening I drive back into the west end to meet up with Tony Hawks. We go for a pint and then a bite to eat at an Italian. We catch up. Mostly it’s the complicated private life that Tony’s been leading. Unlike a lot of comedians Tony is a very up and not morose at all. He tells these stories with a little glint in his eye. He refuses to let anything get him down. He’s currently trying to raise enough money to buy a property in the capital of Moldova.

He has become very attached to the country since he wrote his book ‘Playing the Moldovans at Tennis’. A ridiculous tale of a bet with Arthur Smith that ends up with Tony tracking down the Moldovan Football team that played England in a World Cup qualifier, challenging them to a game of tennis and having to beat everyone of them. Whilst there he met and stayed with a family who now keeps in regular touch with. He set up a small clinic in the capital for whom the mother of the family (a doctor herself) now runs under Tony’s patronage. Here they look after disabled kids and offer the kind of service that is no longer available free in Moldova since the collapse of communism. This clinic has proved so popular that they need to move into bigger premises. Hence Tony’s current fund raising activities.

He has made a CD which I will master here and sort out the art work. A good pal has already offered to pay for the pressings. On my way back to the car the theatres were dispensing their audiences back on to the street. It was a warm, pleasant evening. Amid the bustle of the crowds, lights and restaurants I felt a feeling of comfort about being in, and living in London. In light of the heightened tension of the terror alerts in our own back yard, I hope this feeling lasts.

August 16th


Spoke to Neil Mullarky. Neil is a founder member of the comedy store players and can be found improvising there Sundays and Wednesdays, just off Leicester Square in the company of Paul Merton, Josie Lawrence, Andy Smart, Steve Frost, Lee Simpson and others. My favourite performer of the team, however, has always been Jim Sweeny. http://www.jimsweeney.co.uk/

I’ve known Jim, on and off, for years. It was only comparatively recently though, that I discovered that his uncle played in the Jack Rounne band with my mother back in the 50’s in Ballina. Jim has been struck down with MS and I haven’t seen him in a while. Neil tells me that he still performs at the Comedy Store. They have built ramps to accommodate his wheel chair. Whilst his limbs have started to give up the ghost, his comedic brain is as sharp as ever. Even better than ever, is how Neil puts it. It was only a couple of years ago that Jim called to interview me for background of a play he was writing. It was about a band influenced by Crimson, destroyed by Punk and re-formed with a new young guitar player (does this sound familiar?). The play was called ‘Sick Transit’ and featured ‘Schizoid Man’ as it’s playout music. His recent play, ‘My MS and Me’, has also received rave reviews. He’s brilliant. Check him out

Anyway back to Neil. Neil also has a motivational Guru character called L Vaughn Spencer http://www.thesucceeder.com/

I have helped Neil creating some of the music in his shows. This is includes a version of the Hallelujah chorus. I achieved this by telling Neil to invite some friend who can sing a bit round to his house. I then recorded them singing each part whilst I recorded then onto DAT machine. I listened to a pre-recorded Backing track on a walkman and conducted them. Once they had recorded all the parts a few times I loaded all the stuff from the Dat onto my system in the studio and voila a chorus of a 100 or people singing some nonsense to the tune of the Hallelujah chorus. He wants to know if I can help create some more stuff for his comedy alter ego. Of course I can.

Spend the rest of the day editing more interviews for the site and collating all of the out takes, alternate mixes etc for the forthcoming member’s area.

In the evening Alan and Martha come round. I nip up to the brilliant 5 hot Chillies for a take away and we keep our eye on England beating Greece 4-0

August 15th

Speak to Danny. He’s been at the Cropredy Festival that Fairport Convention hold in Oxfordshire every year. He was Compere for all of Sunday but didn’t play this year. We discuss his grand-daughter's appearance in front of the huge festival crowd. She played violin with great confidence. A version of ‘Is this the way to Amarillo’. She’s only 7. Talk about the holiday. He went to see Mel yesterday. And is now considering buying a barge!!!! Dan is going to tour the world with Eric Bibb, when we come back from Menorca. Exactly when he’d have time to travel on any barge, let alone his own, is beyond me.

Mel Comes over. We are to record a couple of solo’s on the forthcoming Crimson Jazz Trio record. Mel’s had a hard time with it, as the guide CD that I made him are out of tune and don’t make much sense with the parts that he’s been given. Ian had sent over some mixes via ‘Sendit.com’ but Mel had problems downloading it. So I just took the stems that Ian had given me mixed them and burned a CD for him to practise with. It was only after Mel had got here that I realised what an idiot I had been. All the files that Ian had sent me where at 48k and I’d made the CD from these. As a consequence, when played back through Mel’s Hi Fi the music appeared to be around a tone and a quarter out. Having established this error I make proper copies and Mel drives home for practise in the right key!!!

We’ll reconvene in a few days.

Speak to Paul Crockfords office about my pal Alan renting out part of their space. He is currently at Town House studio’, but they are soon closing for good!

The Mac book still keeps crashing or losing audio. Wonder when my G5 will be back. Hmpff.
Get a lovely e-mail from Roj Lewis. He was a mentor and of great help to me when I was about 14-15. He let me go round to his house and jam and play. He was a multi instrumentalist who actually had a proper band, that did proper gig’s, in London, no less. He even went to my parents to ask if I could accompany him, his wife and his band at an all nighter event at the notorious Kings Cross cinema in about 1973.

My mother agreed, because Roger was a teacher in the day time. I remember as we arrived at the gig they were showing an explicit documentary film about the infamous plaster casters on a huge screen. Not sure my parents would have approved of me witnessing these young women creating their art with just a bucket of plaster of Paris, some plastic sheeting and an erect penis. I vividly remember the grimness of the back stage area and seeing a rat run from under the sofa shortly after we sat down on it. It was all very exciting though. This was the life for me. I owe Roj a great deal. I had already given him a thank you on the booklet of the Double CD and was planning on going round to see him with a copy, so his mail was rather timely. It’s been donkey's years since we met.

August 14th

Drove to Pinner to meet up with director and colleague Markus. We discuss the possibility of a video for ‘When we go home’ from the double album. He seems into it and the whole thing seems possible. Accurately visualising the end product is always tricky, not least because we may be visualising different things, regardless of the agreements. We discuss the idea of an actress to play my mother. I have a sudden brain wave which, if it comes off, would be a hell of a coup.

Spend the rest of the day struggling to get the new laptop to behave in a stable fashion. Edit more interviews and go on search for CD out takes, tracks and mix alternate mixes for the new section of the site.

Speak to Phil about some logo’s etc for the sites artwork.

Tony Hawks phone about a CD he’s putting together for his Charity in Moldova. Can I get a competitive pressing quote and could I make dinner on Thursday. Yes and Yes.

My pal, who I ask about the pressing, says that he’ll pay for the whole thing himself, as long as he can remain anonymous. I already told Tony who it was before I approached him. Tony offers free signed copies of all his books and a trip to Moldova next time he goes.

August 12th

Had a very late last night. It was great fun, however we are paying for it now. Amanda accused me of behaving like an 18 year old. I told her I was having a mid life crisis but at least I was having it with her. It felt like we were going out and didn’t actually have any children. Much as I love them, it was nice to feel that for a while, at least.
At approximately 6:16 in the morning, after about 4 hours sleep, I was awoken by the sight of Django’s face barely 4 inches way from my own.

‘Dad, I’ve done a poo!’
Welcome back to reality.

Just before we left yesterday the phone rang with genuinely concerning and shocking news. Its reaction continues to pervade my mind and mood as one more pal faces the big fight.

August 11th

Last night I met up with Alan Cowderoy. The BBC have made a documentary about Stiff records. There was an invited screening at the plush surroundings of a small film theatre in Wardour Street in London’s west end.

As we arrived and descended into the bar area I saw a sea of familiar faces. Some people I hadn’t seen in years and years. Fred Row, who is now in his 70’s, looked tanned, healthy and 20 years younger than his actually age. Fred was, amongst other things, Ian Drury’s minder back in the heady days of Stiff’s glory years. Indeed the opening shot of the movie that we had come to see, featured Fred and Ian walking down a Camden street. Fred also used to be partly in control of the poster cartel back in the 80’s.

This was illegal, of course. It didn’t stop record companies paying vast sums to have large bill posters of their featured artist’s plastered all over London. The operations were run by very colourful individuals. North of the river was the domain of the wonderfully named ‘Terry the Pill’. South of the river belonged to Fred. Woe betide anyone who tried to muscle in on their patch. To say that Fred was something of a character would be supreme understatement.

Various ex employees and the odd Stiff artist were also in attendance. A blockhead or two and Jonah Lewie. I last saw Jonah a couple of years back at the Festival Hall where he was in the company of Sir Paul MaCartney and his soon to be ex wife. Much to my amazement we had all gone to see Magma!! Maybe being forced to listen to all that intense, operatic, French, prog epic’s was the last straw for Heather and when their relationship began to break down.

Alison, who had been Dave Robinson’s secretary and assistant, just could not believe that I had married Amanda. In her words ‘The very sexy Mandi. Who all the girls envied and all the men fancied’ She then paraded me around to all former Stiff employees’ as ‘the man who got Mandi !’ Not a single mention of any musical achievement I may have accomplished in those intervening years you understand, but as the winner of the top totty competition.

We all settled down to watch. There was a murmur of excitement as the producer, Mark Cooper, gave an introductory speech. Then introduced the director, who thanked a number of people. Eventually the lights dimmed and the image of a needle being placed onto vinyl cross fades into the aforementioned shot of Fred and Ian. It became apparent, however, that there was no sound. So they stopped the film and started it again. Still no sound. The lights came up. The director apologised with visible embarrassment. A minute or two later most people were standing up and a lot were moving out. I joined them at the bar. We exchanged anecdotes and I was called upon to reprise my famed Dave Robinson impression. It became all to clear that this wasn’t going to work and people started to drift off. I heard the reason for the failure was that the projectionist was out of his head and slumped over the console in the projection box. It seemed somehow appropriate for a Stiff event.

Eventually six of us left to go for a curry. At the table were drummer and journalist Will Birch, Alan, John Wyton, Paul Conroy (who until a year or so ago was MD of Virgin) and to my left Nigel Dick. Nigel used to work in the press office and moved into Video in the very early days of that art form. 20 Years ago he moved to L.A and has become on of the biggest promo directors in the world. He has directed over 280 videos for the biggest acts in the world. ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’ being one his most notorious.
We chatted, laughed and drowned in an anecdote filled sea of nostalgia. But that’s what old blokes do sometimes. I enjoyed it enormously.

Today is Amanda’s birthday. I get up early and get Django to write and sign his card and wrap her present. We went out to buy this last weekend. As we arrived back from our trip Django announced
‘Mum we’ve just bought you some shoes’
To which I quickly said
‘No, it’s a secret Django’
He thought for a second and replied
‘Sorry Dad’
Then, in his quietest whisper, he said
‘Psst… Mum we just bought you some shoes’

Dropped the kids off and went to buy a dozen roses. Tonight I’m taking her to the Oxo Tower restaurant on the southbank that over looks a stretch of the Thames from Parliament to St Paul’s.
There are moments when life is good and need to be recognised and savoured. Today is such a day.

August 10th


Wrote a number of notes throughout the week in order to make the blog an easier task to tackle. Decided to finish off all the weeks bloging this morning. The computer crashed (the PC, Not the mac, which is still being repaired) and I can’t retrieve all the stuff I wrote in the past couple of days.

So here’s what I can remember of the past week. In no particular order.


Spoke to Neil about how we would move the site on. This includes a members club which will allow access to video stuff, album outtakes (Of which, despite it being a double, there are many) alternate mixes, various curious etc.

Danny called last week to suggest that we go and watch Watford FC’s friendly against Inter Milan on Tuesday. He was about to meet up with both Richard Thompson and Loudan Wainwright III to record the music for a movie sound track the following day. Danny and I travelled to Italy to see Watford play Inter at a pre season friendly at the beginning of the ill fated rein of Luca Vialli, so of course we have to attend the return leg.

Following the entirely sensible decision by my wife, that we should not even entertain the idea of holidaying with the kids till they are 5 and 7 respectively, we decide to go on holiday. Mel Collins has a lovely Villa that he rents out in Minorca. It is free for the first week in September. One look at the pictures on the web site and she’s sold and looking for some cheap flights. Added to this is the fact that the adjoining mini villa, which is part of the same bigger property, is also free. We mention this to Danny Thompson. A few days later and we are all booked to go. Another weird moment when I think of how the 13 year old in me would have dealt with the fact that one day I’d go on holiday with a wife (daughter of Michael Giles) and our 2 kids in the company of DT and his wife staying at Mel Collins Villa.

Life is indeed strange. Or is it just mine.

Last Thursday morning, as I put on the kettle in the early morning and opened the back door to let the cats in, I looked down to see our long haired poser of a cat Highgate, chomping away at the cat food bowl. Nothing odd in that, one might imagine, except that she’s been missing for the past 3 weeks. Indeed I was convinced that the neighbours from hell had something to do with her disappearance. Under the thick fur she felt thin and boney. She must have been locked in somewhere.

The agency called asking for a track for a new Galaxy commercial. The events company I work for also wanted some music for a new HP event.

Still struggling with the Mac Book. Turns out, after days of grief, that there is a bug with the new operating system.

Well of course there is.

Having now got on top of the new systems faults I re schedule my session with Mel for the recording for Ian Wallace’s new Crimson Jazz trio’s album.

We are now set for next Tuesday.

Much of what little free time that we have is currently consumed with the fallout following Jonathon’s death. The options, the secrecy and the intrigue.

Spoke to my pal Phil who was just out of the door on his way to Spain to begin filming for the Astra satellite commercial and film that we will both be working on.

Arranged with Marcus to discuss a video for ‘When We Go Home’. I’ll travel to his new place in Pinner on Monday.


Spent Friday evening in the company of Barry Moorhouse, he of the Bass Centre, and his college lecturer brother. Most enjoyable.

Further discussions with Lyndon and Tam about a new 64 Spoons release.

August 1st

OK. I’m up and running, well kind of. Okay is the day for all those jobs that I have let slip I the past week or so. Like paying bills etc. Also a journalist from Record Collector has been in touch asking if I could answer some questions about Stiff records for a feature that he’s writing. The phone rings, however, and the agency want to know if I can do a job for Galaxy (the chocolate manufacturer) they need a sound-alike demo for a meeting tomorrow. There’s a small demo fee, but the job is well paid. If I get it that is. Bang goes my catching up day.

July 31st

Another dull day trying to get the new computer back up to speed. Had to make a couple of changes to Cliff’s final track and drove down to Chris’s studio to deliver it. He’s of on holiday to his house in France in a couple of days and has invited Amanda, the kids and myself down.

It’s hard to see how we can. There’s stuff in the diary here and Amanda has another magazine to produce.

Drive to Mice in Hounslow for a meeting about another job for Hewlet Packard
Speak to Alan Cowderoy. He’s about to be thrown out of his office. It’s at the top of London’s Town House studios. They have all been informed that Town House has been sold and will be closing down. Another major London studio bites the dust.

July 29th / 30th

Drove down to Bournemouth again, but with the kids this time. Spent the weekend with their grand parents and had a barbeque with Tina and her kids on Sunday afternoon.

July 27th

Finally I manage to get the truth about the twins who lived next door and were arrested about 8 weeks ago by around 18 police officers. The have been on remand since then and had a preliminary hearing on Monday. They have been charged with rape and the case begins at crown court at the end of November. Until the remainder of the family were evicted last week their mother was telling anyone who was prepared to listen that they had gone on holiday.

Ian Wallace called to say he was on his way. When he didn’t turn up I called his mobile only to find that he was lost. I talked him down. He hit something arrived a few minutes later with a flat tyre. We spent the afternoon chatting and catching up. In the evening we met his bass player Tim at the local train station and then headed for 5 Hot Chillies. It was a meal they won’t forget and I expect a thorough and glowing review in Ian’s diary in the not too distant future.

July 26th

A combination of Jonathon’s death, the stifling heat, the pressure of the magazine deadline and the re arrival of Amanda’s menstrual migraine has left her bedridden and exhausted.

I enter the sweat box that it my studio to finish the final files for Chris Porter. I’m on the phone when there is a small bang and the smell of electrical burning. As there is no natural light it is also pitch black. I feel and fumble my way out. I try to turn on the mains to the studio, but it just trips again. I turn everything in the studio off and gingerly turn things off one by one. I keep my fingers crossed hoping that any piece of equipment is reasonable apart from the Mac G5.

It’s the Mac G5.

I take the thing to my good pals at FX audio up the road. The power supply has blown. No doubt due to the heat. Luckily the hard drive, containing my musical life, remains unharmed.

What to do now? FX don’t have any Mac’s for hire, they would be costly even if they had. Whilst the G5 is under warranty there is no telling how long they will take to fix it. The nature of what I do dictates that I can’t be without a means to work for 2 weeks. I chat to Gavin and Pat at FX. I decide to get a Mac Book and try to clone the system from the working hard drive before sending off my failed computer. Quite frankly this saga goes on and, of course, nothing is simple in the world of computers. Suffice to say that it’s not till the following Wednesday that I’m actually up and running. Even then it’s without a number of features.

July 25th

We get the kids to childminder and nursery early and drive down to Bournemouth. It’s a beautiful sunny July day. The traffic has been kind.

Emma, one of Amanda’s sister Tina’s kids, has written a poem to her uncle. She’s 11. She would like to read it out at the funeral as long as she can go up with me. Just the thought of this is heartbreaking. We arrive at Amanda’s mother’s house. It is filled with cards of sympathy and the atmosphere is stilted and surreal. We change and I take my printed sheets of eulogies and practise on my own at the bottom of the garden. The funeral cars arrive and little Emma travels with me at the back of the cortege. We arrive at the rural setting of Bournemouth’s crematorium and it is packed with waiting friends and family. Jonathon was only 31. It is standing room only and is hard to imagine the chapel ever being this full. After the introductory piece by the Vicar I take Emma up with me to the lectern and introduce her. She reads her poem calmly. I find myself turning away and breathing deeply and flicking my face in an attempt to avoid falling to pieces. There isn’t a dry eye in the house. I steel myself and read all the eulogies. One line of my wife’s makes me stop in my tracks. I have to collect myself to carry on. It wasn’t a profound or heavy comment just something that touched me. Jonathon had been a voracious consumer of comedy. When ever he came to stay with us in London, which he often did, we would always visit a comedy club or 2. Amanda commented that as a result she would always remember him smiling and laughing and pointed out that ‘I will miss all the laughing we still had to do’

Amanda’s mother is so wracked with grief that she can barely stand up. I’ve been no stranger to funerals these past few years, but this was another thing altogether.

We meet up with family members that we only ever seem to see at tragic events like this and make a promise to organise a special event free of grief soon.

Soon there is only Amanda, her mother, John and myself left.

Tonight will be difficult. The evening after a funeral always is. This will be harder than most. Losing a child is something you never truly get over.

We drive back to London.

July 24th

Get a text from the director at about 8:30 it tells me how thrilled he is with what I did and how well it works with the ad, which is being broadcast tonight.

I’m about to leave the house when the phone rings. It’s the agency. The client doesn’t like it. It sounds to dark. I explain that I had brought this up as a possibility when I first heard it on Friday. The producer wants to know if I can just put some major chords under the tune. I try to explain why this won’t work by singing the tune whilst playing major chords on the piano over the phone. They ask if I can change the chords and then change the tune accordingly. I give it a go. I explain that the tune will now not be the same. I then get ready to leave the house again, now somewhat late. The phone rings. Apparently changing the chords and the tune doesn’t work. I am asked if I can somehow brighten up the version that I did last night. I re-voice the strings and play the slide guitar an octave up. I turn off the phone and leave the house. I drive to Milton Keynes to pick up a piano for Jonathon’s dad. I gingerly turn the phone on as I drive back to London. Apparently the client, who didn’t like what everyone else did, has listened to it again. He quite likes it now. They put the music that I did last night to the pictures for the first broadcast tonight.

I get a further call later that evening. They have managed to get clearance on ‘Mack the Knife’. What a joy it all is!

July 22nd / 23rd

Spend the weekend with the kids and work in the evening. The Director asks for a couple of changes. I do my best. Get to bed very late Sunday night/Monday morning.

July 21st

Get a call from the director in the morning telling me that it all worked perfectly and thanks me profusely for my work.

Drive out to see JohnThirkle. John is a terrific bloke and a brilliant trumpet player that I got to know well whilst on tour with Level 42 back in 1990. John now owns the label that has released the recent Schizoid record and is putting out ‘The Bruised Romantic Glee Club’.

We finish our highly enjoyable and successful meeting and I get in the car to drive back down the M40 to London.

Suzanne Barbieri, Richards’s wife, calls me on the mobile to tell me she’s just arrived at the station. She’s 45 minutes early and I’m 40 minutes away from London.

Chris Porter asked if I could find a singer for one of Cliff’s tracks that I also sing on. I ask Suzzane as she’s very good, very quick and great fun. She agrees as long as she can do it anonymously. I agree, but fail to mention that I may write about it in my diary.

The weather, as anyone in England reading this will testify, has been unbearably hot. Recording in the studio with shoddy air conditioning has been, at times, absolutely horrific. Recording with 2 people!!! Not good. Suzanne, being the great pro that she is, deals with effortlessly.

The phone rings at 6:30. It’s the agency. They can’t get publishing clearance. They have, however, come up with a suitable alternative tune that is no longer in copy write. They send me some mp3’s of ‘Dark Eyes’. I don’t know this one. I listen to the version by Django Reinhardt. He steams right into improvising to the point where I can’t hear what the tune is. Manage to track a version down played on an accordion. They want me to retain the vibe and arrangement of the Hawaiian guitar version of ‘Mack the Knife’ and apply it to ‘Dark Eyes’. The new tune is much darker. Lots of minor chords. It’s also about twice the tempo. Still I give it a go and do my best.

July 20th

The fallout following Jonathan’s death seems to be making its presence known. There is tension and confusion in the air. His parents have asked if I will read out a eulogy on their behalf at the funeral next Tuesday. I, of course, agree. This is then followed by similar requests from Amanda and Jonathans best friend.

Get a call from the director of the advert. He wants a couple of changes to the version that I sent to him this morning. I tell him that the agency have told me that there still hasn’t been any clearance from the publishers. He tells me it’s not a problem. I talk to the agency. They tell me there is and that I shouldn’t do any more changes.

July 19th

Get a call from the agency asking if I can record a sound-alike for a commercial for Irish TV by Monday. They have used a version of ‘Mack the Knife’ by Johnny and Santos. It sounds like it was recorded in the 50’s and is played on Hawaiian guitars. It’s sloppy and out of tune, but has a vibe like a David Lynch movie.

I call Gav to see if he can copy the drums for me before he heads off to Japan with Porcupine Tree next week.

Speak to Lyndon about 64 Spoons, the band we were both in from ‘76-‘81. The current compilation is about to be out of print. I suggest that we re examine it and add some tracks that we have discovered since it’s original release. I also suggest that we record a few new tracks, or record tracks that we played but never recorded.

July 17th

I feel very nervous this morning. It is the day of the supposed eviction of the next-door neighbours. They have been moving stuff out of the house for the past couple of weeks, yet they are still here. It’s all been very tense. Eventually the Agent, Bailiffs and Police turn up and they are removed at 11:10 this morning. The feeling of relief and euphoria is, of course, somewhat muted in the light of yesterdays news.

July 16th

Drive to the Richmond theatre in the morning. This is Django’s 6th trip to the theatre and he seems to love it. Today we are watching a touring production of Stuart Little. Django wants to leave quite early on. I make him wait till the interval. He hasn’t done this before. His complaint was that he couldn’t understand what people where saying or indeed what was going on.

The cast transported us to New York in the 50’s. They spoke with, largely, Brooklyn accents. It was this that confused Django. To be fair to him I think anyone from Brooklyn in the audience would have had a hard time understanding what they where saying too.

It was yet another hot summer’s day. After lunch in an Italian Pizza parlour we headed home. The kids feel asleep in the car almost immediately. I suggest to Amanda that this would be a perfect time for her to do some shopping for her self. On me. So I park up under a tree for shade. Amanda calls and her shopping trip is abandoned. She has just received a call from her sister. Her brother Jonathon had died in the previous hour. We drive home. Django sensing that something has happened tells his mother right out of the blue that he loves. This makes Amanda cry harder.

July 15th

Today is the 35th anniversary of the first time that I saw King Crimson at Watford Town Hall. Amazingly Mel calls. I tell him this fact. An hour or so later Amanda tells me that my mobile flashed. I take a look and see that I have a message. I listen to it. It’s Robert. He tells me about the latest press interest in Mr Carruthers and then goes on to compliment my solo record in the most effusive terms. I’m thrilled and flattered. In the evening Ian Wallace calls as he’s coming to stay on his way back from shows in Europe, and asks if I will record Mel’s contribution to the next Crimson Jazz Trio album.
If you’d told me that this would happen 35 years ago…………
Incredible.

July12th.

Meet up with Larry at his hotel in Clerkenwell in the morning. It’s lovely to see him and catch up. Bump into Nathan East in the lobby. Lyndon, who was meant to meet us for breakfast, arrives an hour late. Larry leaved for the next shows in Holland and I chat with Lyndon for a good while.

July 11th

Receive an e-mail from my old pal Larry Williams. Larry is a brilliant saxophone and key board player. I first met him back in the 80’s when I was recording my then solo record in LA. Larry was tenor sax player for Jerry Hayes Sea wind horns. The section that played on virtually every record with a horn section back then and a staple of all the Quincy Jones productions of the time. He’s in France at the moment and arriving in the UK tomorrow. He’s touring with Al Jarreau and Larry Carlton and performing an open air show at the Tower of London. I’ve seen the Jarraeu gigs a few times and it’s just not my thing, so I’ll try to meet up with him on Thursday morning before they travel on.

Decide to start recording a vocal for the The Musical Guide to Pawn Hearts. Following the version of ‘In the wake of Poseidon’ that I did for the Musical guide of the same name, Mark Graham asked if I would sing lead vocal in their version of ‘Man Erg’ For many years this Van Der Graaf classic was one of my favourite albums, so of course I said yes. Spent the afternoon sorting out the midi file that Mark sent me, so I have something solid to sing to.

Amanda’s still not well, so did some shopping and picked the kids and put them to bed.

In the evening we watched the BBC documentary about the first UK suicide bombers. Following the life of a second generation Asian man brought up in Derby in a middle class family. Well educated and bright, this did not paint a picture a hopeless youth in a run down city ghetto with no options left for his life. Indeed his radicalisation began in the halls of Kings College London. How someone with his potential ended up with a bomb strapped to his body reading out a speech about the joy of his impeding martyrdom and automatic entry to paradise was chilling beyond words. There is no way of stopping this.

July 10th

Amanda’s sore throat has turned into a full blown, flu like, lurgy of grimness. I make her stay in bed.

Danny Thompson phones. He’s feeling knackered having jut spent a few days in Belgium playing at a festival in honour of the 60’s horror flick ‘The Wicker Man’. He was on stage for hour’s sight reading sheet music from the original score. He drove there and back himself. He didn’t get back to the hotel till about 3 in the morning and then arose early the next day so he could get home in time to watch the world cup final. We discuss the Zidane incident, for whom Dan has no sympathy.

All deadlines are complete for the moment, and I wonder what to do next from the jobs and possibilities that lurk in my subconscious. Roberts’s suggestion that I write a book is a constant niggle. It just seems such a daunting prospect.

Talk to Tony Hawks. Haven’t spoken to him in a while, but have been meaning to. Tony was best man/master of ceremonies at my wedding. Some of you reading may know him from his successful books. ‘Round Ireland with a Fridge’ ‘Playing the Moldovan at Tennis’. One of his recent publications was ‘One hit Wonderland’ the opening chapter of which takes place in my kitchen. Sadly I have to inform you that it’s all a fabrication. This dinner party never happened. We catch up a bit and agree to meet up in a week or so.

My pal Phil calls about a job for Astra satellites. An Advert and corporate film to be completed in August.

Chris Porter calls looking for Sam Browns phone number. I haven’t spoken to her in years. Eventually speak to her Dad Joe who updates me. Chris wants to know if I can complete some more backing vocals for the Sir Cliff’s album by the end of the week.

Get the kids and get them to bed. Make Amanda some dinner and settle down to watch ‘Saxondale’ Steve Coogans latest creation. A former roadie to the stars now living in Stevenage and running a pest control company. I’ve really warmed to this series and laughed out loud at his explanation of his ex wife throwing a Mellotron given to him by 10CC off the Clifton suspension bridge.