December 2000

Somebody rang today and said, 'bad news - George Harrison's died'. Somehow it didn't come as a surprise. Last night I was writing about Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band for my book. I explained that I hadn't got certain anorak information directly from a Beatle, that I've never actually met any Beatles, and that if I did I'd probably be too embarrassing to have a conversation with - anorak information would not change hands, or pass from mouth to ear or whatever it does. But as I wrote the words 'a Beatle' I thought of George. There goes another Beatle I won't be meeting. Not for a while anyway. I read a story about how an engineer asked George to turn down his amplifier. George said, 'one doesn't say that to a Beatle'.

I thought about my friend Andre Barreau - twenty years of pretending to be George Harrison as a job haven't turned him into a cynic. Andre is the lead guitarist in the Bootleg Beatles. He's one of my closest friends. Over the years I've watched him agonise about tribute bands, almost squirm with embarrassment the tackiness of it all, and all the while I've seen him do his George Harrison with utter and complete integrity.

I spoke to Andre on his mobile after I heard the news. He was driving a car round the M25 on his way to a Bootleg Beatles gig in Brentwood. (So it was very irresponsible of us, but sometimes real life transcends responsible.) He was very upset, and a little confused too. Well, he would be - one of our heroes dies and Andre has to go and pretend to be him in front of two thousand people. It seems a bit disrespectful. George Harrison once saw the Bootleg Beatles. Afterwards he went to meet them and asked 'which one's me?' I suggested to Andre that he just does what he always does and bears in mind that somewhere George Harrison might be having a good laugh at his discomfort. George liked Andre, he said, 'you've got my eyes.'

Andre and I are the same age - we grew up on the Beatles, we have incredibly similar memories - listening to the fade-outs with one ear pushed against the speaker, trying to figure out how they did it. The Beatles on Sunday Night At The London Palladium, the Royal Variety Performance, the triumphant return to Liverpool after the first American tour - they showed that on the telly on a Sunday night, way past my bedtime, but I refused to go to bed and my parents had to let me watch it.

I was OK until I had to go out. The evening edition of the local paper had just come out. I saw a placard that read BEATLE GEORGE IS DEAD. I nearly fell apart in the street. Beatle John, Beatle Paul, Beatle George and Beatle Ringo - that's who they were in the sixties, when the Beatles were four young gods, immortal, and we were young enough to feel everlasting. That's part of my youth that's dead on that placard.

Beatle bubblegum cards - George at the Cavern wearing a leather jacket and playing a Gretch Country Gentleman - Bigsby tremelo and all. The sound he got out of that thing shaped the course of my life. The Beatles were my first ever life changing experience. I wouldn't have done any of what I've done if it hadn't been for the Beatles. It was the sound of George's guitar - that weird, compressed twang on Twist And Shout, the blugga blugga sound of I Want To Hold Your Hand, the backward stuff on Revolver, and later on the tough, spitting lick before Paul sang 'it was twenty years ago today…' And then there's the Indian stuff. Most of us probably wouldn't know who Ravi Shankar was if it wasn't for George. There'd be no Indian Rope Man on the Skint Records label. There might not even be Skint Records.

But you could go on forever wondering what might not have been. I'm glad there was George Harrison and I'm glad of all the things I've done in my life as a result. Thank you George.

© Eric Goulden, December 1st, 2000

I've been following the egroup discussion with interest – normally I'd try and reply to individuals but I think everybody wants to know the same thing so…. I don't know where to start so I think I'll jump straight into the middle and work outwards.

The Len Bright Combo albums were both recorded in part at Upchurch Village Hall. Neither was recorded in a church. The twit with the "bad production" problem should understand that the sound of these records is quite deliberate and was not perceived as bad production by anybody who was at all hip at the time. Christ – where were you in the eighties – it was fucking awful – we had to do something!!! And we got a hell of a lot of airplay. As far as I'm concerned the first album is all great songs, for me the weak point is Lureland which was too personal to me to be included on a group record. I prefer the version on The Donovan Of Trash. The second album suffers greatly from the Medway Towns let's-put-out- an-album-every-two-weeks syndrome which is alright if you're Billy Childish writing totally derivitive twelve bar stuff that all sounds the same anyway, but that isn't what I do. I was a departure from the norm which was a bit of a shock to the reactionary Medway. So some of the songs were only half considered like Cut Off My Head written in the morning of the day we did it, Phasers On Stun which was a vague demo in the first place – I remember we couldn't figure out how to play it – that one's a real filler; and the final track which found us trying to get to grips with Russ Wilkins vision of the Combo as a contemporary urban hillbilly outfit or something aided by a Revox tape recorder.

I'm sure I've already written about recording the Combo – you have to click on the plastic pop group icon. But just in case – the only tracks on the first album which weren't recorded in the village hall are Someone Must've Nailed Us Together which was recorded in Bruce Brand's attic, and Lureland which we did in my bathroom and Bruce's attic. The only plaque in Upchurch Village Hall is in commemoration of an ex beauty queen – Miss Upchurch 1964 who met an untimely end.

A Roomful Of Monkeys
I thought the Captains Of Industry album was a real shame but nowhere near as bad as I've made out elsewhere. I wrote the songs while I was living in Chatham and they're about Chatham and Britain under Thatcher. It's just the production that gets to me – there was a lot of interference, and my drink problem didn't help. I think we should make it available through the site.

Apples must be the rarest record I've ever been on. I've never seen a copy. I remember doing it – I only went to the studio at Ian's invitation because I was over from France. When I got there he said right I've got something for you to sing and suddenly I was PC Honey. I think we recorded it slow and sped it up to make me sound younger. A week later they sent a cheque for five hundred quid which was incredibly kind of them and completely unexpected, but I never got the record. As I remember the tune in the verse was very similar to Raining In My Heart.

You Must've Seen Parties Of Blockheads…
It's been a great week for music – on Monday The Blockheads at Dingwalls. Their backline roadie and guitar tech let them down so I stepped in at the last minute. I told them I was unhappy about it – twenty four years ago I had equal billing, two years ago I was in the support band, and now I'm in the crew. Yes said Norman, but only because we couldn't get anyone else…..
I've never seen them so nervous before a gig and the stage was full of cue cards and crib sheets where they hadn't quite learned the lyrics. It was a great night though. They played loads of new stuff and Johnny did a lot of the lead vocals – he's got a great voice. After that night I'm sure they've got a future without Ian. In answer to another email by the way, yes I am doing Clevor Trever on the Brand New Boots And Panties Album. I recorded it in the summer.

Last nigh we saw Gilad Atzmon's Orient House Ensemble at the Brighton Jazz Club. Gilad plays saxes with the Blockheads for those who don't know. The Brighton Jazz Club is weird – or perhaps the trouble is that weird is exactly what it isn't. It's all terylene trousers, receding hairlines and large spectacles. I don't think a lot of the patrons actually like the stuff they're listening too, it's just that they like jazz….. Gilad's outfit were excellent.

So too were The Lo Fidelity Allstars at the Concorde in Brighton last month. Sadly they couldn't use the remix I did for them (which I talked about the other month) because of copyright problems. The track was Battleflag which contained a Pigeonhed sample. Sub Pop wanted too much money. I'd started to think that my track wasn't good enough and this was just their way of letting me down gently (but let's not get into a discussion about low self esteem!). It seems this wasn't the case – they all loved the track and want me to do something else for them soon. Tony heard them being very complimentary about me on xfm the other day. I can't tell you how thrilled I am.

New Product!!! I'm mastering some tracks this week for another CDR – Eight Track Mosque – Hotels & Shagging, which will be available through The Turkey Zone next week. There are three numbers – Eight Track Mosque, 2**Hotel, and Searching With A Naked Flame. All three are songs with me singing on them. I've got another collection of tracks ready to go soon which is more along the lines of The Sound Of Your Living Room. I'm afraid I don't really feel like trotting out verses, middle eights and chorae (which is a word I just made up as the plural of "chorus" – for the plural of "breakfast" I must refer you to the Butlins article in the soon to be re-instated Eric Land section). Tell me what you think about my output and I'll be rude back!!!

This week I'm going to Wales to see John Brown (famed bass player from the good old days – sorry the Stiff Records era). But before I go I'm meeting the Union Square people to finalise the odd detail about the planned re-release of the Stiff stuff. I'm unconvinced that they won't call it The Best Of Wreckless Eric even though I've pointed out to them that I've made a lot of records since I left Stiff. Record companies generally make me despair – I sometimes think Napster is the best thing that could happen – maybe it'll put this stupid industry out of its misery. I really don't mind if anybody downloads my stuff from one of those sites though I'd prefer it if they bought it directly from me through the site. To that end I've decided to make some stuff available – watch this space for further details.

Some of the biggest arseholes I've ever met work in the music business. Some of the poorest people I know are musicians. I've never met a poor record company person – oh yes I have, in the early days of Stiff when they told me to "hang on in there" and "we're all in this together". Well, I suddenly realised while I was hanging on in there (having had a couple of fairly massive indie chart hits with Whole Wide World and Reconnez Cherie – like number one for weeks massive) that some of us were buying apartments and cars and these were people who'd started working for the company after I'd helped to put it on the map. These people acted as though they were doing me a favour by letting me stay on their fast putrifying label. After twenty five years of "hanging on in there" I find it hard to forgive them, not that they'd care because they're all seasoned executives now and I'm sure none of them ever lie awake at night wondering how they're going to pay the gas bill. Oh dear, did that sound bitter? I'm afraid it was probably meant to though I'd hate anyone to take it personally.

I should keep my mouth shut really – I'd hate to get a reputation for being difficult or something. To be fair most of the companies I have dealings with now are fine – I just wish some of them were a bit more into music then maybe they could be a little less obsessed with marketing. The results would probably be the same but perhaps we'd all have a bit more fun.