October 12th

Rehearsed with Mel at an old haunt that is not too for from Mel’s boat. Mel is convinced that this will work. I guess he’s right. There’s just something daunting about doing this almost on my own. Mels playing is, of course a wonder. It’s distracting to try and play when the guy next to you makes such great music on his own. We have a chat about the possible set list. Stuff form the new album, obviously. A couple from Mustard Gas and a handful of Crimson tunes. An opportunity to play something that we never managed to get past the Schizoid committee stage previously is exciting, as indeed is the very different approach to something we did used to play. Get very excited about the whole thing driving home. The antidote to all the corporate and advertising work no doubt. Making music for its own sake rather than for cash or profile. Write an e-mail to the promoter confirming our appearance in Venice at the end of November.

October 11th

Spent the day preparing a few tunes for my rehearsal with Mel tomorrow. Some backing tracks, some tunes just the two of us and a combination.

October 10th

Ben drove over and had a look at Lyndon’s new album. Lyndon had dropped the files off on Sunday and I had already loaded it all into the computer for Mastering today. Lyndon and his partner in his band, ’Three Blind Mice’, Alex came by later in the afternoon to check and guide our progress. Some of this record is extraordinary. I remember when Mark King called me some years ago and said that he was thinking of using Lyndon in his band and what did I think? My response was ‘You know, Lyndon is one of the most talented people I have ever met. But he hides it really, really well’. I stand by this statement. Some people that you meet and work with exude a confidence that belies there lack of ability. Others scare the crap out of you, but are in fact close to genius. This record is immaculately produced, his singing incredible and his playing exemplary. You’d never guess to look at him. No offence, my admiration for his abilities is boundless.

October 9th

For years I’ve used the same mechanic. My old pal Eamon trained under him and has always said he would never make any money because he’s too honest. That’s why I still use him and drive out to Hertfordshire for the privilege. So I leave the smoke this morning and drive to his new premises but a stone throw away from Mel’s house boat. They change the break lights and check the breaks as they’re making a funny sound. All sorted and his new apprentice put the car back together and I set off with a view to popping into Rickmansworth and maybe seeing Mel for a cup of tea and a chat about our potential gigs as a duo. I’m just a minute or so out of the workshop and travelling down the hill when several things happen at once. When moments like this occur the memory remembers it all in a kind of cinematic slow motion. It happens in a flash and yet there’s lots to take in.

What happened was this. The car lurched over to the left, there was a horrible loud screeching sound, I lost control of the car and just in the corner of my eye I saw a wheel go bouncing off over a fence and into the undergrowth. It took a while for me to realise it was my wheel. The new boy hadn’t tightened the off side front wheel after checking the breaks. Somewhat shaken I walked back to the garage. I tried calling them on the mobile, but couldn’t get it together as I was shaking a bit. They were rather shocked. So was I. I drove away in a Range Rover, given as a loaner till my car is fixed.

October 6th

Mel calls and tells me about Boz’s funeral. A cheery time had at a desperately sad occasion. It sounds like it has many parallel with Pip’s funeral.

In the evening I drive up to St Albans. Danny is plying there with Eric Bibb. I think its gig 2 or 3 of a tour that will take Danny around the world for the next few months. We have to schedule the TV thing in the gaps and I will work on it when Dan’s not around. Meet up with the great Phil Smee at the venue, it being a local haunt. As it indeed has been for me over the years. I saw Genesis there with Khan supporting in the early 70’s. I played there my self with Dave Stewart (who was playing in Steve Hillages Khan when I saw them) back in the 80’s. We were part of a Psychedelic festival that Phil put on. Some of the punk element went a bit bonkers toward the end and began to smash the place up. We actually locked ourselves in the dressing room till the police came to calm things down. Phil has officially been banned form the place ever since! No one seemed to notice and we sat quietly at the back.

October 5th

Towards the end of the day the agency phones. Not to tell me about Playstation, they still haven’t made up their minds! No this concerns an advert for a particular brand of Irish Butter, Turns out that a recording artist (I’d never heard of him and it would be indiscreet to mention him even if I had) had been approached about one of his tunes from his current CD for use in this commercial. He and his label had agreed a price for a buy out. About 4 days later he changes his mind because ‘He is a vegan’ Which begs the question, had he forgotten that he was a vegan when he agreed a price for his music? Or maybe he didn’t realise exactly where butter comes from. The record company call a day later to suggest that if they were offered twice the amount originally agreed then maybe some of his ethical concerns could be overcome. You couldn’t make it up could you?

Suffice to say I was asked to come up with a similar piece.

October 4th

Drive to Maida Vale were I meet Alan Robinson who has a PR agency called Indiscreet. We’ve spoken on the phone and I sent him a copy of the album. I like Alan. Were of the same vintage and he gets all the reference points. Whilst I realise he’s after my business, he does seem to ‘Get It’ in a way that I think most other agency’s wouldn’t. I speak to Paul Crockford who says he’s a good worker. So I commit and employ them for Press and Radio.

Wait to hear from the ad agency. I hear from them at around 4:30 in the afternoon. They now want a completely new approach. This time a Django Reinhardt type thing. I’m sent a guide. They NEED it in the morning. Another late night.

October 3rd

I have been dealing with an Italian promoter on and off for the last few months. We’re trying to work out a way that I can pay a small festival in Venice in November. The goal posts keep changing a little. We now have an offer and I speak to Mel about the possibility of doing it as a duo. Mel seems very up for it. I am excited and petrified in equal measure.

Just as I send all the files off to the agency I get an e-mail from them telling me that the client has changed tack. I’m sent another brief and an old 50’s track. I record a sound-alike. Due to time constraints and the amount of real brass on the guide track that they sent me, I find myself getting my alto sax out of its case for the first time in years. I have that buskers tone, which kind of works for this.

I send this off by the end of play and get a call a little later with some very specific changes. They need this by the morning. So it’s a late night. In bed by 2:30.

October 2nd

Dave from the agency calls. The conversation goes like this:

Dave: Hi Jakko. I’ve got some good news and some bad news
Me: Don’t tell me. The bad news is that Morrisons have decided to go with the music from the previous commercial.
D: Err…yes
J: and the good news is that there going to pay me for working on 3 alternatives.
D: In a nutshell

Spend the rest of the morning with Danny Thompson . Danny has been asked by our mutual fiend Jim, to supply music for his next series of ‘Monkey Business’. Jim owns and runs a large and very remarkable Monkey sanctuary in Dorset. The series, which follows the lives of the primates and Jim and his wife’s exploits rescuing apes from around the world, has been a huge success. Jim has now taken over the production and wants brand new music. We discuss approaches and recording options and check our diaries.

When I get home I hear that Play Station need music for their new Eye Toy. They can’t seem to make up their minds and the ad is being broadcast at the weekend. I’m sent a brief and sent some guides. I spend the next day coming up with a couple of new pieces. I then trawl my files for unused pieces supplied to the agency in the past year that might be appropriate.

October 1st

Spent the afternoon at the residence of Django’s current main squeeze.
An older woman (she’s nearly 5) her parents and family are always a pleasure to spend time with. Her uncle is a prosecuting barrister. He deals with fraud and sexual offences. His latest case, which finished a day before, was particularly disturbing and his mood was coloured by it. A school teacher and father of 3 had over 5000 images of child pornography on his computers hard drive.

This lead on to a conversation about a recent arrest that I'd read about. Turns out that his firm have been approached to prosecute. I express my surprise at this story. He looks at me with an arched eyebrow and begins to list the alleged evidence against him. Blimey the things you get to hear at a children's party!

September 28th

Took the train to Tottenham Court Rd and walked down Charing Cross Road. At the corner of Denmark Street someone grabbed me. I thought for one minute that I was being mugged, but it was Bengi. Having not seen him in an age I then see him twice in a week. He was trying to find a couple of music stands for his current employee American singer Anastasia. Just prior to a European trip.

I arrive at an editing suit just off Cambridge Circus and meet Dave from the agency outside. We enter together and climb the many stairs. At the top there are 4 of the creative team and an editor. They play me a commercial for Morrisons supermarket that they want me to compose some music for. They explain what they want it to do and some of the stylistic options they have considered and or rejected. They also explain that the music that is currently on the ad is just a guide and is, in fact, the music form a previous Morrisons ad. They are insistent, however, that they want to stamp their own identity on this campaign which s why I have been brought in.

Meeting finished I walk with Dave back to the station. I say to Dave that my guess is that the client will want to use the guide music. He’s sure that they will not let this happen.

Take the train straight back as I really don’t feel to good.

Monday 25th

Spent lunch time with Karen Attenbourgh. She’s writing a book about fans and how the objects of their desire react and perceive them. She already has an impressive list of A list celebs either interviewed of agreed to be. Her request to interview me is for a sideways look at rock and roll fandom having dealt exclusively with the luvvie community so far. Its always lovely to see her and so infrequent these days.

September 21st

The phone rings. It’s Pete Sinfield telling me that Boz has died.

September 20th

The remainder of the week is something of a blur. Like wading through treacle. I just can’t get my head around Pip not being here. This is just the 4th funeral I’ve been to in just over a year, but it’s the one that had made the biggest impression.

September 19th

It’s a beautiful bright and crisp morning in London.

I drop Django off for his last day at nursery before his first day at school tomorrow. I drive to Shepherds Bush to pick up Peter Blegvad, and then we drive round the north Circular till we pick up the M11 and head for Harlow. Peter is, as ever, superb company. I can think of no better way to spend a journey of an hour and a half just listening to him talk. Even if it is a day like today.

When we get to the Cemetery rather early and we are surprised to see as many people as there were, already beginning to assemble. There are some faces I haven’t seen for a while and some I haven’t seen in 20 odd years. Amanda Parsons being one. Dave arrives from Cornwall with Barbara. There are long hugs and already the tears are beginning to well up inside. Bengi (made famous in Matching Moles song ‘Brandy as in Benge’) arrives with a car containing Phil Miller and Pip’s girl friend and he gives me a big bear hug.

We mingle and catch up and everyone express’s their continued sense of disbelief.
Eventually we congregate near the chapel and the hearse and cars with family pull up. Pip’s coffin is covered in stickers, like his drum flight cases. Hatfield tours, National Health albums, Gong after show passes etc. His children and their mother Pam get out of the following car. A couple of the kids recognise me. This seemed weird and inappropriate. I haven’t seen them for over 20 years. They were just small children then. Jojo comes over and gives me a big hug. Much to my amazement I was somehow a significant character in their lives, something I was oblivious to till this moment. This in itself makes the next hour all the more emotional.

The service, such as it is, is run almost entirely by Pip’s kids. They tell stories that are laugh out loud funny and then struggle to speak through their tears in the next moment. A few of Pips colleagues and friends come up to say a few words, then Sam (Pips eldest) invites anyone up who would like to speak. Again the words spoken are heartfelt, funny, long, brief and on occasion, surreal. Throughout all this there are moments where a piece of music is played and we are invited to chat to each other about Pip. There’s Seven sisters with Richard Sinclair singing, a National Health Piece with John Greaves singing and ‘The Canyons of My Mind’ by the Bonzo’s.

We are then invited to place and other stickers onto Pips coffin that we may have brought. There are blank stickers available to write you own message too. A number of people wander up to do just this. The atmosphere is like a party.

The kids then come back en masse to say their final goodbyes. Standing either side of the coffin all 5 of them bend down and kiss it. As they stand away the curtains begin to close and the strains of ‘Shipwrecked’ from Pip’s solo record fills the chapel. The sound of my own voice singing one of Pip’s songs as a final farewell is the most strange, upsetting and deeply moving things that I will ever experience. As the curtains slowly meet each other the whole congregation stand up and applaud. The applause is joined by cheering, shouting, whooping and calls of ‘More’. I give up pointlessly trying to hold the tears back and sob openly.

We exit into bright sunlight and I speak to Sam, Jojo and Kissy.The warmth and love that they show to each other is tangible and deeply effecting. It’s hard to think of a more appropriate tribute to Pip than this.

We drive to Sawbidgeworth Cricket Club for the wake. Here we chat and remember. I finally get to hear the details of Pips final hours. At first I’m comforted by the tale. It’s classic Rock and Roll and very Pip. In the following days, however, I start to feel a deal of anger at his needless death.

Phil Miller, Fred Baker and others play in the corner. It’s all very laid back, as the Indian summer sunshine streams through the windows. John Greaves chats to me about putting on a proper show in memory of Pip. Not jut an ad hoc get together of various musicians, but a proper show with some reformed bands in a nice venue, with rehearsals. Lets film it and record it for posterity and maybe help benefit Pips youngest tomtom, who only 3 or so.

We eventually leave at around 5 and I give a lift to John Greaves, his wife, Pete Blegvad and Jonathon Coe. The mood lifts as we tell Pip anecdotes, of which there are many, and John regales us with a tale of his recent impromptu performance in Paris with Faust.

I drop them all off at their different stops and race home in time to see the kids before they get to bed. It seemed important today.

I don’t sleep that night. I replay the day and bask in the warmth of Pip’s incredibly family and am thankful that this reconnection, at least, will be an enduring positive thing to come out of all this.