A night out ..

What do Dan Treacy, Edward Ball, Martin Carr, Alan McGee and
Courtney Love have in common?

When Domino Records recently released Television Personalities, ‘My
Dark Places’, they not only ressurected one cult hero but another cult
hero in the form of Edward Ball.  Though, never hearing much of
Television Personalities, I grew up listening to the Times on Creation
and Revola Records.

So yeah, when Edward told me about the Times show that was going to be
taking at the Dirty Water Club, I had to go—I rounded up Martin Carr
of the Boo Radleys and Bravecaptain and probably the most underrated
psychedelic electronic super furry wonder placed in the UK..  plans
were hatched, haphazardly, weirdly, that left me, standing at the pub
for 45 minutes, watching the local pound shop at Archway burn to the
ground from an explosion that happened mid-afternoon.  The police
barricaded the area, when I asked them why—they told me that they
were investigating ... ‘investigating what?  Its a fire!’.  But Martin
still hadn’t been found and so I walked down to the venue expecting,
logically, that he would be there, the venue was shut and the only
people that I saw were a litany of sharply dressed mods waiting outside
discussing the return of the Times.

I walked back to the pub waiting on Mr Carr ... he was there at the
time but without his glasses.  ‘I’ve lost my glasses’
‘How could you have lost your glasses’
‘I took them off in the cab whilst talking to my friend on the phone,
I needed to impart wisdom so I talk off my glasses to do so...’
‘But if you were on the phone, why did you have to take off your
glasses?’
‘I know ...!’

With the venue being opened, we skipped the drink beforehand and
decided to walk to the bar where Ed would be playing.  Mr Edward Ball
was standing outside the venue looking sharp talking to the kids
outside of the venue.  Martin went through the ‘having lost his
glasses’ story whilst I appreciated the irony of the large ‘Give to the
Blind’ billboard that was flanking both Ed and Martin as Martin
screamed ‘I’m blind ... I’m blind...’ Ed took Martin and myself into
the Boston where Dan Treacy and others were drinking .. and of course
the nerves kicked in—‘What if I didn’t recognise Dan ...’?  ‘What if
I was asked about the songs?’ ‘Should I tell him that I don’t know the
Television Personalities at all...’—the usual lapsed catholic
thoughts that drift in and out of my head when faced with a social
situation.  But it didn’t matter—a man came up and said ‘You are
bloody tall can I give you a hug’ ... which he did ... ‘How are you
doing Dan...’
‘I’m not Dan Traecy, that’s Dan Traecy’
‘Oh fuck..’

Will the real Dan Treacy stand up?  He did and looked at me like I was
a piece of shit.  With introductions fully blown, I felt relieved out
of the small talk that usually came with such encounters and sat down
with Martin to discuss the details of a top secret project we are both
working on (and as Martin mentioned its not signing with Poptones) ...I
talked, Martin talked about missing his glasses and being blind, I
talked and Martin phoned people and told them that he was missing his
glasses, I talked and then realised that I had to do the merchandise
for the Times.  My mission then turned to finding Edward Ball.  I
scanned the venue and the pub twice.  Where is Edward?  Edward?  After
scanning twice, I got a text from Pat Long who told me that he wasn’t
showing up.  Then my battery died.  I went up to talk to Martin
...’where’s Ed?  Have you spoken to Ed?’ .... nobody had, when we rang,
it went straight to answerphone so we both shouted incoherently ‘ED! 
ED!’ (which seemed like a good idea at the time)... finally, having
brought Martin down to the venue and ordering another pint Martin
started to quickly exclaim ‘That’s Ed!’ ... and pointing at people who
weren’t Edward.  You shouldn’t get spotting advice from people who are
blind without their glasses.  I didn’t learn that lesson after the
fifth spot of Ed.  Finally Martin said ‘He’s got to be in his dressing
room...’ so after scanning for a dressing room and with Martin with me
as Dutch courage, we walked in ... Ed was there, looking like a star, I
grabbed the merchandise and went up to the back of the venue and began
the selling of Ed’s latest compilation (and something that’s not been
off the Poptones.co.uk stereo for a long time).

The Times fans came and went—all discussing the return of the Times
on the London live scene.  ‘Where is the new Ed Ball album?’ ... ‘When
is the reissue of ‘This is London’ coming on?  ‘Where is the new Times
album?’ All good for Edward Ball.

But conversation ended when the Times took the stage all conversation
had stopped.  The venue was packed with old time mods and new time mods
and people just makin’ time.  Edward strolled onto the stage and owned
it lock, stock and Guy Ritchie’s barrell.  Having started with a cover
of The Creation’s Biff Bang Pow!, he quickly previewed selections from
his solo album ‘The Mill Hill Self Hate Club’ with its title track, a
self-lacerating piece of art that bleeds from the lost power-pop tapes
of Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks to the T-Rex Cribbing ‘Love is
Blue’, all delivered in a powerful style when backed by the band which
included the original members who had worked on Ed Ball’s iconic Times
album ‘This Is London’ and ‘Cloud Over Liverpool’ which included a
rousing sing-song from the crowd.  Yes.  The crowd loved the Times. 
They were dancing.  In London.  Yeah—I was taken aback.  And though
its been days since the gig I’ve still got Mill Hill Self Hate Club and
This Is London stuck in my head as I wonder around North London.  That
is the mark of genius and its streaked through melody-addicted Edward
Ball.

After the gig, I mention to Martn that we should go down to Rehab,
Alan’s North London club ... as Courtney Love was showing up and it
would be funny.  After an hour and a half argument over the correct
pronouncation of the word ‘Garage’, we set outside, tried to avoid
being hit by traffic, then tried to get hit by traffic and was avoided
when suddenly a cab pulled upside us and took us to the GEERIDGE.

We walked in and Courtney Love was to the right and leaving ... I
spotted her, looking healthy and happy with a scarf wrapped around her
head for heightened 50s glamour sensability and went up and said ‘HI!’
... she responded by a shrugged-hi and then looked at me like a piece
of shit.  Which was amazing—why?  Because I went to see Hole during
‘I Was A Teenage Whore’ tour, nobody was there, maybe thirty people in
some shithole in the middle of Northern Canada and I told her ‘Hi’...
after the show, which she gave me a shrugged ‘hi’ and looked me like I
was a piece of shit.  Gotta say—once a star, always a star… its
all about CONSISTENCY!  I was going to mention to her that Alan had
played me a song from the demo sessions and it was genius, a classic
redemption high hitting the giddy highs of Fleetwood Mac, Rumours, but
hell, even I knew that it would sound weirdly assholish.  And I like
consistency.

I joined Martin and Alan at the DJ Decks.  And then it was a tumble
of bluemondaythebeatlesjoydivisionroyaltruxtherollingstones and many
more.  Martin had gone back to the bar wanting to leave and I was ok
until I realised that I had a pint left.  After a pleading look and the
mouthing of the words ‘Beercrime’, he let me finish my drink whilst he
left the DJ booth and went to the bar.  I was talking to Alan when a
reporter elbowed me in the gut and starting shouting something about
Primal Scream’s Country Girl.  After yelling back ‘Rude ignorant
motherfucker’, I left quickly and righteously, wandering the streets of
London with Martin Carr looking for another cab.  We found a cab
station manned by a rastafarian smoking the biggest spliff imaginable. 
I talked alot of rubbish and suddenly we found ourselves on a weird
contact high as the cab office burst into stoned laughter from the
rasta and his mates.  We made the cab.  Got out.  And walked home
listening to John Phillips on my walkman.  So what do Dan Treacy,
Edward Ball, Martin Carr, Alan McGee and Courtney Love have in common? 
Fuck knows.  Don’t ask me.  I’m just the piano player.

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