I love that dirty water.......

The Standells were a band from L.A in the early 60's, who'd had no success, when they were signed to a new contract by Capitol Records. They were put to work with Producer Ed Cobb. Cobb had recently been to Boston and been mugged on the Charles River Bridge. He wrote a song celebrating the famously polluted river and the City of Boston and presented it to The Standells. None of the group had ever been to Boston but they liked the song. The recording was exactly what Cobb wanted from the band. The Stonesish riff, the spoken intro and the lean, sinuous sound were more of the 'garage' tone he wanted, rather than the poppier sound they had been known for. Dirty Water reached no.11 in the Top 100 and was a huge radio hit. The Standells never troubled the charts again. The story might have ended there if it hadn't been for the sports-mad City of Boston. The Patriots football team started playing it over the p.a in the 80's, the Bruins ice-hockey team followd suit but it was when the Red Sox baseball team started using it after every home victory that Boston fans took the song as their own. With 81 home games in every season, there was plenty of chance for Red Sox Nation to sing the line that ends the chorus, "Boston, you're my home."
This week, after the terrible events at Monday's marathon, the City was waiting for the Sox to come home from a very successful road trip. They were due back at Fenway Park on Friday night but the curfew and lockdown of the entire City meant that the return was delayed until Saturday when, with the suspects caught or killed, Boston could relax a bit. Fenway Park became the focal point for an outpouring of emotion and remembrance that the Americans do so well. The hard fought Red Sox victory was met with a roar from 40,000 fans that said more about the City and the week's tragic events than any words could. Then, almost unnoticed, that guitar riff rang out over the p.a and fans hugged and sang and cried. When the little song got to the last line of that first chorus, 40,000 tired, emotional, happy voices yelled out "Boston, you're my home." And, for the first time in 5 days, It really did feel like home. Bostonians are a famously gritty, hard-working, hard-playing bunch. On several trips from the U.K we've spent many happy hours at Fenway and in the bars and restaurants along Boylston Street. We love the place, the people and the Red Sox. 5 weeks from today, we'll be back at Fenway. Can't wait. In a way, Boston feels like our home, too.

You know they say...

you should never meet your heroes? I have loved Steve Lukather for 35 years, since his band, Toto, burst onto the American charts with Hold The Line. My wife & I have seen the band umpteen times and followed the careers and lives of the various members, through tragedy, crippling illness and some wonderful music. Luke was the session player of choice for every producer going in the 80's. I guarantee you have an album that he is on. Thriller? It's all Toto. So 'Luke' is out on the road in Europe, where he and Toto are still a big draw, promoting his 6th solo album, Transition. There are only 2 UK dates so I splashed out on the VIP package for the 2nd one, at The Robin 2, Bilston. The package was for a meet & greet and the sound check. We arrived at the venue in plenty of time and were shown through to the stage area, given a laminate each, a t-shirt and poster. Within a few minutes, Luke arrived. He looks fit & healthy, after years of burning the candle at both ends, snorting it up his nose and writing the book on rock excess. We're almost the same age but he looks a WHOLE lot better than I do. He is instantly jokey and funny, putting all of our nerves at ease. There are 25 of these VIP tickets at each show so it is intimate enough. When it is our turn to have stuff signed he is lovely, engaged and interested. He carefully signs Jan's t-shirt that she's wearing, making sure I'm watching, then signs my rare Toto 25 shirt from their 25th anniversary tour. He comments that you don't see many of them. I get him to sign my poster to my brother, Phil. He lives in Perth, Oz and is a stunning guitarist himself. Luke is his hero and inspiration. We tell Luke that Phil missed the recent show in Perth by Ringo's All Starr Band, which Luke was in, because he was in South Africa on business. "Oh, bummer, man. Tell him I said 'hi.'" was the reply. We get our picture taken and he moves on to the next person. Everyone gets a hug, a firm handshake and questions about how far they've come. He is constantly thanking people for coming. Finally he gathers us round and answers questions for what seems like ages. Then it is sound check time. His band consists of Steve Weingart on keyboards, Mrs Weingart, Renee Jones on bass, and Eric Valentine on drums. They are tight, well drilled but relaxed. They are all unbelieveable musicians. Luke laughs and jokes his way through the whole thing, taking off other guitarists, Sammy Davis Jnr and generally acting the clown. After an hour and a half, he says farewell and thanks us all, again. The gig is stunning and he is genuinely stunned by the wall of noise that greets the end of the first song. The band are so good and he is really enjoying himself. Remember, this is the guy that Jeff Beck calls the Best On The Planet. After 2 hours, he's gone and we're hot, sweaty and happy. It has been a fantastic experience and we're both floating as we leave. So, they say you should never meet your heroes. Well, sometimes, 'they' have no idea what they're talking about. Apart from the photo with him, the other photos are by Jan, from our vantage point right at the front. Sound check

So many memories.....

I grew up in Guildford. We moved out of Twickenham when I was 6 years old and I left home at 22, so all of my early memories are in the comfortable, middle class, Surrey town. The Civic Hall was, by the time I was 14, the Holy Grail. It was where I saw my first live band (Peace, with Paul Rodgers, supporting Mott The Hoople, 1970.) It was where I spent so many happy, sad, fantastic, memorable and funny nights. We went to anything and everything. I saw big acts, bands I'd never heard of, bands I didn't like, bands I have now loved for over 40 years and bands, so many bands, I don't remember. Last weekend, I went to my first gig at the new venue, built on the site of The Civic. It was lovely. Great sound, intimate, much more leg-room, loads of bar staff, friendly, wonderful. I have absolutely no problem with G Live (except the name). But it ain't The Civic. The windows above the entrance, on the right of the picture below were in the upstairs bar. Famously, a couple of us created a diversion one night while a mate was let in through those windows. How he'd climbed up, I have no clue. I can't ask him as he was killed in a mugging in South Africa, a few years ago. He was the bass player in our band in the early 70's and, somehow, I stole his girlfriend. See? It was that kind of world, and The Civic was the centre of it. I threw up in The Civic. I kissed in The Civic. I cried laughing in The Civic and I fell head over heels, arse over tit in love with the best music I've ever heard in The Civic. I will probably never do any of these things in G Live. That's okay. I will probably never be 17 again. So, I raised a glass to The Guildford Civic Hall. I love you, like an old, old friend.

Keep your friends close...*

40 years ago I taught myself to play drums and joined my brother's band. For 4 or 5 years we rehearsed, played some local gigs, changed a few members and had the time of our lives. Over the years we've spread to the 4 corners but have kept in touch, with a couple of reunions for a long, drunken meal and much laughter. My brother is still an incredibly talented guitarist and lives in Perth, Oz. Chris, the second guitarist, lives in California, collects guitars and has sons who are both semi-pro players. His brother, bassist Steve, was killed in a mugging in South Africa and my keyboard-playing other brother, Marty, is a professional composer and songwriter. He has had multiple number one records here and in Europe, as well as a top ten single in the U.S. Last week, Chris got in touch, saying that he and his wife would be in the U.K for a 3 day flying visit and could I organise a beer. So, at almost no notice last night, a hotel in Sussex played host to dinner for 8 of us, including wives. 7 of us had met up over the years but the 8th, the wife of our good friend Mark Bader, a fantastic pro-photographer, was a bit overwhelmed by the speed and volume of the stories and tales from the 70's. My wife marvels at how it appears that conversations from 40 years ago just get picked up where they left off. I have no voice left from laughing. I got to bed around 2 this morning. Phil couldn't make it from Perth and he was gutted that he was missing out. Likewise, guitarist Des was double-booked but was there in spirit. Greetings and goodbyes were bound together by huge hugs and genuine claims of how much we miss each other. The point of the story is that I am as guilty as most of not paying enough attention to good friendships. Hold your friends close to you. You might be surprised at how much they value your friendship. *Bollocks to the second half of the quote. Here is the evidence. It was 1.30am.

Signpost Days.

There are days in your life that you mark as important events. Some are weddings, some are funerals. Some are first dates, some are divorces. And some come out of left field and whack you around the head. Such was a day in the Summer of 2002. We were having a weekend in London and had had a long, convivial lunch before getting into separate taxis. Mrs B, to shop, me, to mooch round HMV Oxford Street. Having done the Ground Floor I made my way down the escalator to the World, Folk & Country section. As my slightly wine-addled brain registered the music playing, I began to stalk the racks. My methodical search was constantly distracted by the music drifting trough the speakers. I couldn't place the voice, or the music, which means....I'm fucked. Finally, I give in. I do the unthinkable and approach the counter to admit my stupidity, my lack of study, my ignorance. "What's this?" The black-shirted beardy-bloke hands me a black CD cover, the none more black cover peppered with stars. The title is "Under Cold Blue Stars." The artist is Josh Rouse. I spin the memory-wheels in the music section of my brain (by far the biggest of the brain sections as you can prob...sod it, it's the ONLY section that works properly,)but, no, I've never heard of him. All 3 of the tracks I've heard so far have been wonderful. So wonderful that I hand over the £12 asking price without question. So begins a decade of discovery. I now own everything Josh Rouse has ever recorded, the 10 albums, 5 mini-albums and various downloads. I've never seen him live but, for now, that doesn't matter. The point of this, the whole point is that Josh Rouse's songs have given me so much joy and pleasure. I adore his sense of a good melody, his musicality, his various bands of musicians and his slightly mournful voice. But, most of all, I adore the fact that I didn't get in the cab with my wife but went off for 'a mooch' and discovered the musical love of the last 10 years of my life, completely by accident. He's not well known, he's not on mainstream radio so there is a good chance I might never had heard him. My life would be all the poorer. This is "My Love Has Gone."

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When good things happen to nice people.

Our best friends live half an hour from us. We see each other a lot, holiday together and we make each other laugh. A lot. Tony & I have been mates for 23 years and, when my wife came into my life, 17 years ago, they embraced her completely (whilst being initially careful that I wasn't going to get hurt.) You see, something happened to me in '94 that nearly derailed my whole life. These 2 people almost adopted me, taking me under their wing and cooking me Sunday meals in their warm old house. Over the last couple of years they have retired from their Care business and decided to transform their house. It has taken almost a year, through the wettest Summer, and the builder has done a great job. We've not seen the progress because they didn't want people round while it was such a mess. Yesterday, we went for lunch. Lunch turned into the rugby, 2 films and a bed for the night. Their 2 grandchildren helped cook breakfast and pancakes and we left around midday. The house? Stunning. Wooden floors, minimal, clean lines, just gorgeous. I have always said that, after what happened to me, I 'got better' in that house. A tiny part of me was dreading seeing it changed. I should have had more faith in our two wonderful friends. Their hard work and dedication over many years has allowed them to reward themselves with a house and garden that will give them true happiness for the rest of their days.

Thank feck that's over.

So, the calendar finally says February. Is it just me or was that January longer than normal? What with the snow and the unrelenting cold, my normal January blues were much worse than usual. So it was lovely to end the month with a few days away for Janet's birthday. I won't go into too much detail about the trip. We are very lucky that JB works in the travel business and has friends in nice hotels, so our traditional birthday jaunt is an excuse to live like people that have more money than sense, when we don't have much of either! All I'll say is that, at 5pm on her birthday, we sat on a bench, effectively on the roof of our hotel. Bundled up in coats and scarves, the last of the day's sunshine was fast disappearing behind a mountain. Medical history means we can't be in the sun for long so the feel of a warm, Mediterranean sun on our faces, on January 28th, is a rare victory. We hugged, knowing that this fleeting pleasure brings both of us so much joy.