Tuesday, 26 October 2010

The Thrill Is Gone

Back in the early 80's ("regular" readers will be getting used to me saying that) when my fanzine What A Nice Way To Turn Seventeen was in it's first flush of youth, I met, for the first time, Mike Scott. The Waterboys were new, their first album just released, and his music fitted nicely into my world at the time. As an aside, and to his credit, it seems to have stood the test of time far better than that of others I was into at the time, in that it gets played still to this day while those other records and CDs stay in their racks.

I'd been aware of his first band, Another Pretty Face who'd released a couple of singles including "All The Boys Love Carrie",


and had recorded songs for a Virgin Records album that was never to see the light of day and I had featured Funhouse, his previous incarnation, in an earlier fanzine, on the release of their only single "Out Of Control"

but I was interested in meeting up and talking to him about the nascent Waterboys project. So I did, meeting him at his basement flat in Notting Hill - I remember the street, Aldridge Road Villas, though I forget the number.

I'll spare you the full interview (I remember it was a bugger to transcribe as it had only recorded (quietly) on one channel) but it took place on a morning where he was taking calls from a Musicians Wanted ad he'd placed in the NME "The Waterboys require lead/rhythm guitar player, 18-24. Ability, own style and appreciation of Patti Smith essential. No pop fans or Jacks of all Trades" the advert ran, and we were interrupted on a couple of occasions for Mike to listen to the case for the latest gunslinger**. The first guy who called knew the Patti Smith "Horses" LP


but Mike worried that the word "essential" wasn't strong enough as he was after someone who shared the values he held which discovery of Patti Smith had confirmed when he was younger (he was 24 at the time of our meeting) not just someone who liked her. This was the first time I'd spoken at length to someone with such an all encompassing connection with a single artist.

"I don't actually listen to Patti Smith all that much. I mean you must have records that hit you so much you don't listen to them very often? The most important ones? Like "Easter" by Patti Smith, which is just about my favourite record. I listen to that about once every two years when I really feel it's right to listen to it." To which I replied that I, of course, listened to my favourite records constantly - but I was a mere youth of 21 and it needed the wiser older head to advise me that by the time I hit the magical age of 24, I'd come to understand what he meant. Quite how old I actually was when it finally hit home I don't recall, but suffice to say that he did not lie.

Inevitably, through his association with Nikki Sudden whose first solo album "The Bible Belt" Mike played on and part co-produced (this was when he'd first come into contact with Anthony Thistlethwaite who played sax on Nikki's album, and with whom Mike formed the briefly surviving The Red And The Black before adding him to the Waterboys roster)

Anto and Mike (from http://www.mikescottwaterboys.com/)

I kept up a loose kind of contact with Mike that continues to this day. I reminded him a few months back that he'd played piano and produced a song called "Sparrows" by the Rag Dolls that appeared on the very first record I put out with the What A Nice Way.... fanzine. Understandably perhaps, he'd long since forgotten this.

He's pretty active on Twitter these days - @MickPuck - and next year sees the Waterboys bring their much lauded "An Appointment With Mr Yeats" show to the Glasgow, Liverpool, Coventry and London in January and February.

**From what I recall, I believe Mike eventually settled for taking on guitar duties single handedly (no other Patti Smth visionaries to be found?) and it was another NME advert that saw the arrival of keyboardist Karl Wallinger. That is another story entirely of course.

Here's a tale I've told a time or two of a profitable weekend back in more innocent times than these. I guess though that as it did involve a form of theft, reference to innocence seems less than valid.
Back in the mid 1980's - alas (minimal) research has not thrown up the actual year - I was down in the capital city, Hackney to be precise, visiting my friend Epic Soundtracks for the weekend. This fairly frequent if irregular two day stay would invariably revolve around the haunting of the many wonderful record stores then in existence - remembering of course that even Virgin was worth a visit in those days - so as usual, I'd spent a couple of months saving up for the traditional spending extravaganza. This particular weekend was to be a little different though.

On arrival, after ce again onmarvelling at the ever increasing and quite breathtaking record collection Epic was accruing (some years later after his sad and early demise, it was rumoured that Noel Gallagher had written out a cheque for £250,000 to buy the lot, only for Meg to put the kibosh on that - might explain their subsequent separation I guess) it was suggested we took the tube out to Kensington Park Road, and the original Rough Trade Record store, which was in the process of closing down as it relocated to the Portobello Road - rumour was there might be some bits and pieces going spare (ie free). Epic (as had his brother Nikki) had worked there of sorts in the past and had obviously (I say obviously but then I'm old and I'd know anyway) been in Swell Maps, one of the label's first acts. I knew the store from occasional visits down south to ask them to shift copies of several fanzines I'd produced over the years.

On arrival, the place had been pretty much stripped, but along with a few Metal Urbain singles and green vinyl Sire promotional LPs (with unreleased Ramones track, as I recall), we found a box, about to be chucked (honest guv), of used record tokens - staff had obviously exchanged these for vinyl and not known what to do with these odd bits of paper oftimes attached to greetings cards. Some were pristine, some a little bashed up, but none had been crossed out, so it occurred to us we might be able to re-use them....

We weren't sure mind you and bravely though hesitantly sallied forth to test things out. It fell on me as an unknown face to go first, and I remember to this day going into WH Smith on Notting Hill Gate, picking up a 12" single of Rod Stewart's "Baby Jane" - (1983?) - and nervously approaching the cashier with the least obviously used token, half expecting an alarm to go off and certain arrest to follow. Of course nothing of the sort happened, I was given a few pence in change, handed the bagged up record and hastily departed the premises. We spent the rest of the weekend blowing this treasure trove (see note) on all sorts of stuff in all manner of chain store record emporia (hello Virgin and HMV ).

(note - treasure trove may broadly be defined as an amount of gold, silver, gemstones, money, jewellery, or any valuable collection found hidden underground or in places such as cellars or attics, where the treasure seems old enough for it to be presumed that the true owner is dead and the heirs undiscoverable- well, close enough....)

Memory is that we split something like £550 worth of tokens between us which back in those pre-CD days bought a fair bit of vinyl. Engorged with spending power I inevitably went on to buy a whole load of stuff just for the sake of it, much of it since given away or sold on, but as a fond (well fond-ish) memento of my luckiest day, I've still got that Rod single.

Do not worry though record stores of London (especially Plastic Passion, Minus Zero and, yes, Rough Trade) you more than got your real money's worth out of me in the years that followed.
Okay then, and I may be slightly misquoting Zach Galifianakis, let's revive this here motherfucker!

I should first of all say I've spent most of the last two weeks listening to edgy American comedians, so please excuse the occasional obscenity. I am, after all, nothing if not a stylistic magpie. There is just a chance too that I may be funnier second time around. May be.

Tuesday, 28 July 2009

Almost An Apology

Well folks, I feel I gotta say I'm just a little sorry for that last really rather dull Big Star/Alex Chilton post. Facts and references aplenty but not really much of a story to the actual Alex meeting itself was there? Clutching at straws a tad methinks - keen to let y'all know "Hey, I met Alex Chilton" - but little more to it than that and I'd like to think HOTTC can provide a little more glitz and glamour (or even grime).

After all you come to this blog for tales of edgy encounters with eccentric individuals, and not for repeated namedropping and transcripts of mundane meetings.

So eventually, we do realise we've got to give them what they want.....


Too Much Junkie Business with the late great Johnny Thunders.

Tuesday, 21 July 2009

Here's A Little Thing That's Gonna Please Ya.....

To a generation of 20 and 30 somethings, the name Alex Chilton probably attaches itself more to The Replacements than to the man himself, from their song "Alex Chilton" :

"If he was from Venus, would he feed us with a spoon? If he was from Mars, wouldn't that be cool? Standing right on campus, would he stamp us in a file? Hangin' down in Memphis all the while. (chorus:) Children by the million sing for Alex Chilton when he comes 'round They sing "I'm in love. What's that song? I'm in love with that song. "Cerebral rape and pillage in a village of his choice. Invisible man who can sing in a visible voice. Feeling like a hundred bucks, exchanging good lucks face to face. Checkin' his stash by the trash at St. Mark's place. (chorus) I never travel far, without a little Big Star. Runnin' 'round the house, Mickey Mouse and the Tarot cards. Falling asleep with a flop pop video on. If he was from Venus, would he meet us on the moon? If he died in Memphis, then that'd be cool, babe.(chorus)"

I am pretty sure that most folk who hear that song investigate a little further and have the joy of discovering the wonders of Big Star. There was though, in the late 80's and early 90's, a period of a couple of years when Big Star was the band to namecheck. Be you Primal Scream, REM, Teenage Fanclub or any number of music writers, "Radio City" was an album of great influence and a useful reference point for anything loosely resembling (hate the term, love the genre) powerpop. Trendsetters as ever, me and my friends were listening to them many years before that, having re-diecovered the early 70's albums in the early 90's. To this day, Alex Chilton and Big Star are constantly on rotation round these parts and I reckon it's about time I did my bit to spread the word a little further afield.

What spurred me into action was Alan Yentob's "Imagine" documentary on the BBC a week or so ago on the Memphis born photographer William Eggleston, whose famous "Red Ceiling" picture adorned the "Radio City" album and whose "Dolls On A Cadillac Hood" was on the cover of Alex's solo album "Like Flies On Sherbert".

"Red Ceiling" by William Eggleston

"Dolls On A Cadillac Hood" by William Eggleston

It was Alec Chilton's 1978 solo single"Bangkok" that I first heard in 1980, and 'twas through the auspices of Mr Epic Soundtracks that I (as were many others - Bobby Gillespie and Alan McGee amongst them) was introduced to the wonder of Big Star. Firstly "Radio City", then "#1 Record" and eventually "Third" - as fine and varied (have you heard "Third"?) a trio of albums you could hope to hear.

Weirdly, it was through Tav Falco's Panther Burns, specifically the 1980 "She's The One To Blame" EP (and a still treasured copy of the first release of only 250 copies with 8" silk screened sleeve on Frenzi Records) that I came back upon Alex's solo work. As did much of Tav's considerable output, this featured one LX Chilton on guitar.......but let's talk about the charismatic Tav Falco some other time.

Possibly recognising he'd peaked as a song writer in the late 70's, the larger part of his recordings these past 25 years or so have been covers, and since the mid 90's, aside from the odd Box Tops reunion (did I mention that it was a 16 year old Alex Chilton singing lead

on million seller "The Letter" back in 1967?) it's been the new version of Big Star that's been his main focus. With original drummer Jody Stephens, Alex teamed up with the Posies' Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow to tour as Big Star. Great excitement preceded their London dates in August 1993, not least for myself. I certainly remember seeing Bobby Gillespie in attendance, and the word was that pretty much all the great and good of indie rock at that time gathered at the Clapham Grand. Of course it wasn't Big Star 1973, but there was magic in the air that night, as the Zoo Records release of the live "Columbia" album confirmed.

Anyway, we're hear to reminisce about my encounters with rock's elite, so, when Chris met Alex....it was just the one time, and it was (gulp) nearly 24 years ago. Alex and his band played a (slightly disinterested) show at London's Mean Fiddler on 16th October 1985, we were there and after the show Epic and I approached Alex for Epic to undertake part one of a planned interview which was completed a few days later at the house in Brixton where Alex was staying. A wide-ranging chat, it was the centre-piece of (and cover story - great picture by Bleddyn Butcher - for) issue 6 of my What A Nice Way To Turn Seventeen magazine which was published in 1986 (and came with a 17 track compilation (vinyl) album.....copies still available folks).

Notoriously diffident, verging on awkward ("ornery" may be appropriate) he was both these that evening but to be fair, as an interviewee, pretty damned co-operative, and Epic got some mighty fine stuff out of him. I played my usual starstruck role and observed rather than involved, took a couple of photos of him and Epic, got him to sign a couple of original vinyl Big Star albums, my copy of the "Bangkok" single and various solo singles, and wallowed in listening to his lazy southern drawl. The cliche is that you should never meet your heroes lest they disappoint - Alex did nothing but live up to his reputation as rock's outsider, did not in any way disappoint and I loved him all the more for it.

For a fine, thorough telling of the Big Star story, get hold of a copy of Rob Jovanovic's "Big Star - The Story Of Rock's Forgotten Band".

Pleased to have played a small role in it's creation, having met up with and lent Rob my and Epic's collection of press cuttings, rare discs and photos (by the way Rob, still waiting for you to return the Jim Dickinson "Dixie Fried" album cover and one or two other bits and pieces....) it's somehow supposed to be being made into a film - the mind boggles.

More certainly, and I for one cannot wait, mid September this year sees the release of a box set by Rhino (God bless this label....) called "Keep An Eye On The Sky", 4 CDs including, of course, unreleased stuff as well as classics from the three original albums.


Many folks have covered Big Star tunes but there was one in particular I was keen to get hold of, and a few years ago I bought through eBay a copy of an album called "Love's Melody" to get a version of "September Gurls" by The Searchers (as in "Needles & Pins" etc.), recorded towards the end of the 70's. Of course it's now on CD ("Sire Sessions: The Rockfield Recordings") but here's my rip from the vinyl.....

Wednesday, 15 July 2009

Music In Memoriam

It was a relatively new album to me at the time, but Laura Barton's review in the Guardian last year of Bon Iver's “For Emma Forever Ago” for some reason struck a chord.

I guess it was primarily her observation that time spent doing things other than listening to that album felt like time wasted. As is the wont of proper journalists, this is inevitably an overstatement, but not by very much. I know what she meant. This is an album I have grown to love in the last year or so, and one I've yet to tire of.

It's 18 month long part in my life has coincided with high levels of emotion for me and my family, losing my mother, my uncle, my uncle's partner, one of the family dogs and my boss in that time. Almost inevitably in such circumstances, and coinciding I guess with a modest advancement in years, I've found myself increasingly inclined to listen to music that might be best described as morose, maudlin even, prone on occasion to inducing tears.

Furthermore my mind has turned to selecting the music I want played at my funeral.

I guess I've always felt it was important to have the right music for the right occasion. To a degree it's about being in control – it used to be that I knew that I knew best – you were very much mistaken if your musical likes differed from mine. Eventually I descended from such high self regard, and grew to accept that I was not actually the sole arbiter of taste (though I still knew better than most....) and am now able to embrace (even) the fact that some people like modern so-called r'n'b, heavy though it maketh mine heart.

For me, this focus on getting it right started with mix (we used to call them compilation) tapes for teenage holidays, moved on to CDs for wooing the ladies (well, lady...my wife...) and then working out DJ sets for my brother-in-laws band's gigs. For some years now, as an extra, very personal (and admittedly low cost) Christmas present, I've been putting together a “Best Of The Year” CD (some years, a double CD) for family and friends. Like I say, I've always enjoyed foisting my musical taste on others – the rare party held at our house invariably ends with me plugging the iPod into the stereo and regaling all those present with a wide variety of sounds – not that there's much chance of more than a minute of any one song as there's always another great piece of music I want everyone to hear....and so little time.

As much as this though, it's the planning process itself I enjoy. Any collection of songs has to flow just right and/or be appropriate for the occasion for which it is compiled. My wife Wendy would no doubt confirm that before our wedding back in 1999, I was (perhaps a little to her frustration) more concerned with selecting the right music for, firstly, our wedding ceremony (if you're interested I went with “La Cavelleria Rusticana” by Mascagni,

“The Lonely 1” by Wilco and Semisonic's “This Could Be My Year”) and for the reception (for which I created four CDs worth of music) than any other marriage related issue. Though I'm sure that getting this right played no small role in making the ninth of the ninth ninety-nine the very best day of my life.

Whilst the beautifully crafted eulogies bring a tear to my eye
It's the music that's played that really makes me cry

So to the emotionally charged surroundings of a memorial service and the selection of appropriate music. As I say above, I've had more opportunity in the last year to consider this than anyone would choose.

For my mother, whose interest in music had never been especially specific, the family chose a selection of popular classical pieces to accompany the one especially relevant choice of “Jerusalem”, the hymn of my mother's beloved Women's Institute. Words and tune I have always loved and as ever, it extracted a powerful and stirring rendition from the many friends and family gathered to remember her.

At my uncle's magnificent memorial service, alongside Fairport Convention's elegiac “Meet On The Ledge” (Excuse me, I've a little dust in my eyes....)

and a traditional Irish drinking song, once again “Jerusalem” was played, this time as the old school hymn, and of course a tune I will now forever associate exclusively with my mother. Tears flowed freely – not least because the date of the service coincided with the anniversary of mum's passing.

At my uncle's partner Marie's funeral it was Sandy Denny singing the exquisite “Who Knows Where The Time Goes” that brought us all to tears.

My concern in making sure the music suited the magnitude and mood of the occasion of a memorial service probably began a few years ago when as well as being asked to deliver the eulogy (the proudest and at that time most moving experience of my life) I was amongst those asked to suggest a piece of music to play at my friend Kevin Godfrey's (Epic Soundtracks) funeral service – his own song, the gorgeous “There's A Light Up In The Sky” was the consensus choice, and never more fitting. Some years later, I suggested for his brother Nikki Sudden's funeral a song from his last album, “Green Shield Stamps”, a paean to more innocent and childish times, but was, thankfully, over-ruled as the wondrous “Stay Bruised” (from the “Treasure Island” album) prevailed and resulted in truly one of the most moving five minutes you could ever imagine.

So I know what song I want played at my funeral.

“Re:Stacks” by Bon Iver.

It's a song about gambling. Cards in particular. I have rarely gambled and certainly never played cards for money so it's lyrics have no relevance to my life. But it is the most beautiful song I have ever heard and invariably sends a shiver through me if it hasn't already reduced me to tears. Really. It is a hypnotic sparingly constructed tune beautifully played and hauntingly sung by Justin Vernon, and you must listen to it. It cannot fail to move.

There may be other songs yet to be heard to add to the list of preferred funeral music, but I know that "re:Stacks" will remain a constant.

Tuesday, 14 July 2009

More Self-Abasing Bollocks

For an hour or two, generally just one evening a week, I trawl my way through the world of blogs, mostly music oriented, partly with a mind to keeping up with what's new and what's happening – a desperate last hurrah for someone nearing 50 perhaps, but there you go – and partly to see what I'm up against. Oftimes not a lot, though one or two provide inspiration - check some of the links in the sidebar. But I'm wearying of what I've seen a fair bit recently – bloggers moaning that noone is leaving comments – all those hours spent lovingly crafting another epic post and nothing coming back from their readers - bloggers threatening to pack it all in if such disinterest persists. Pitiful really. Bless.

From my perspective though, whilst it'd be cool to think someone might be reading this, truth be told I'm doing it, when suficiently inspired, for myself and nobody else – writing this all down with a view to creating a reasonably professional looking record of me wittering on about some of the more interesting things I've been involved with over the years, interspersed with the odd clip or piece of memorabilia to provide some perspective and, dare I believe, a touch of gravitas. That's not to say that interaction wouldn't be unwelcome, but given my own reluctance to comment on other folks' blogs, and it has to be a pretty special piece for that to happen, I can hardly expect it myself. Dig the humility, huh?

This is my baby, it's probably only me checking it out every day, and I'm certainly not living in expectation of feedback. We'd all like to be loved and appreciated, but that's not really what these postings are all about and I can't believe I'm the only blogger who thinks this way. I'm sure to be one of many who will talk about but probably never get round to writing a book, so poor substitute though it may be, this will more than likely have to do. It will be as good as I can make it and I'll enjoy every minute I spend writing it even if it ends up being for an audience of one.

So I guess this makes “HOTTC” little more than a vanity project – no surprises there as you are reading the words of someone who compiled his own “Vanity CD” of clips of me and my magazines and records being mentioned on the radio, me being interviewed on the radio, me interviewing rock stars and them saying nice things about me – yes, I've previous in this field. One of life's more harmless vices I'd say, and best just leave me be.

So, and I'm probably just talking to myself, the blog continues. Let (intermittent) service resume.

(Anyone out there though?)

Saturday, 27 June 2009

Michael Eavis & Halitosis

Hell, it's Glastonbury 2009 all over the BBC, so felt I should share my Michael Eavis tale. It's a few years ago, and I went to Birmingham's NEC Arena to see Chuck Berry, Little Richard and Fats Domino. Alas, Fats was too ill to perform, but Chuck duckwalked, Little Richard queened, and I sat next to Michael Eavis. He was there, he told us, to check out Chuck for the traditional "what the fuck are they doing at Glastonbury" spot peopled by the likes of Tom Jones, Neil Diamond and Rolf Harris. Believing we could play a part in the line-up decision for that year's festival, we did our best to encourage him to book Berry - wouldn't you rather hear the original "Roll Over Beethoven" than some derivative indie act aportioning sections of it for their hot contemporary sound?

Obviously Mr Eavis failed to agree as Chuck was never to appear, and ever since all I've ever told people is that nice chap though Michael Eavis obviously is, that night he had breath that could strip a car bonnet from a yard away.

Hence halitosis.

Thursday, 25 June 2009

Breaking The Silence

"Where have you been?" cries no-one.....

Despite earlier protestations to the contrary, I became horribly conscious of how this blog might be coming across - all "did I tell you about the time I met....?". Okay, so the blog title itself drives me in this direction to a degree, but I'm planning to break the pattern of virtual self-aggrandisement if only to spark a fresh interest in this thing for me.

Just in case anyone was wondering......

In the meantime, here's a song for you.


Wednesday, 20 May 2009

How Do You Say I'm Lonely To An Answering Machine?

Jim Walsh's "biography" of the Replacements, "All Over But The Shouting"

Lest any of you think this blog is my first foray into the "Did I ever tell you about the time I met...." style ramblings of which, you'll by now have gathered, it comprises, well, you'd be wrong. I have previous in this field. Back in 2001, I posted the following on The Skyway http://www.theskyway.com/ If you read on, and please do, remember this was aimed at those more than a little familiar with the Replacements, though I've added a couple of notes and references for (shame on you) the uninitiated.

"Way way back, we're talking mid 1980's here, I dabbled in the world of fanzines, released a couple of compilation albums, and basically, as I had no musical talent, got my kicks by association with a number of "leading" members of the alternative rock revolution.

Some of you guys may know that at one time Paul was a big fan of a band called the Jacobites, especially of Dave Kusworth, and in particular their album "Robespierre's Velvet Basement" and name checked them regularly in interviews etc. They were at this time signed to Glass Records, run then by good friend and guiding influence Dave "Elvis" Barker. Nikki Sudden and Dave Kusworth were and are to this day The Jacobites and I'd known Nikki since 1980 when he rang me as a local-to-him saddo fanzine editor in the heart of England.

Nikki's brother, the late Epic Soundtracks, and I reckoned ourselves to be the only fans of the Replacements in the whole of the United Kingdom, but Nikki, despite knowing Paul's fondness for his music, did not reciprocate, and just couldn't get the Mats. So as Epic and I trumpeted the magic of the Mats to anyone who'd listen, I made contact with those very generous folk at Twin/Tone who furnished me with all manner of Replacements goodies (including THAT TAPE)


and other bits and pieces that Twin/Tone released. Inevitably I eventually confessed to the folk at Twin/Tone that I knew Nikki and Dave, and I was asked to act as some kind of unofficial representative in approaching them on behalf of Twin/Tone who were keen to release what eventually became "The Ragged School" by The Jacobites on Twin/Tone.


Now, and no disrespect to my good buddy to this day Mr. Nikki Sudden, (who sadly passed away in March 2006) the real thrill of this for me was the reciprocal step taken kind of on my recommendation for Glass Records to release the very first UK edition of a record by The Mats, namely "Boink" which came out in 1986, and included the then unreleased "Nowhere Is My Home" produced by that other hero of mine, L X Chilton (but that's another very long story).

Now where is this leading us other than to universal recognition of the importance of my role in the career of Paul Westerberg...?? (I jest, of course.....). Well, leading up to all this, I was in fairly regular contact (by post and phone) with Lori Bizer at Twin/Tone (later for a period Mrs Paul Westerberg) in the hope that I could get a solo track, "Pour Little Kim", (which I never got to hear) from Paul for one of my albums, though this was proving a little difficult as the band had just signed to Sire......and so it came to pass one night somewhere in Minneapolis that Paul Westerberg was getting merrily plastered, and decided to make a transatlantic phone call. I was living with my parents at the time, and 6.30 am one morning, I'm dead to the world when my mother wakes me up with the news that someone called Paul is on the phone....still half-dead I pick up the phone to hear this distant echo of a voice announcing himself as Paul Westerberg calling to say Hi and to find out more about that man Kusworth....

I've always been a little in awe of musical heroes when I've met or spoken to them and this was no exception. 16 or 17 years later, the details of the call are no longer recalled, but suffice to say, I dined on the tale a coupla times over the years. Anyway, "The Ragged School" did okay in the States, "Boink" very well over here, Dave Barker of Glass Records

no doubt getting the better side of the deal, and no doubt failing to pay money (lovable rogue that he is) owed to Twin/Tone before he eventually joined up with Alan McGee at Creation.

I'll happily write more Mats related stuff, but in conclusion just say that I will always love them, and whenever I listen to their stuff, I will always think of my great friend, much missed, Mr. Epic Soundtracks.

Play it for Epic.

Chris 17"

I never did write any more about 'em, still listen to and love 'em, and never travel far without a little Replacements.....