15th February 2004
 

  
It was Friday 13th but I tried not to let it affect me but it was still there, somewhere in the back of my mind. Everything was fine until I got to somewhere near the Dartford Crossing on the M25 - some poor sod had met his Friday 13th head-on though I didn't know this at the time.   All I knew was a traffic jam that went on all the way over the bridge and didn't clear up after the bit where you pay.
  I got bored and turned on Radio 2 - lucky I did because I found out just in time that the M25 was shutting down and was able to get off and make a detour through what felt like most of Kent.
   And finally I arrived at the Cartoon in Croydon where Ed Tenpole was just finishing his soundcheck. I've never met him before although he once pushed me out of the way as he stormed out of the Stiff office. But that was back in 1980, to long ago to harbour a grudge, and anyway, he'd probably just had a meeting with Dave Robinson, the Stiff Records boss. So it's all quite understandable. I'd have done the same myself.

  Ed Tenpole is a likeable sort of person. The Cartoon people were very nice too. But the venue itself is horrible - it's got a tiled dancefloor, all the seating is round the edges and in hidden corners and there's a pillar in front of the stage. There weren't many people in for "three icons from the 80s on one stage" (can't say I blame people for staying away -myself I hated the eighties). Mostly it was punk throwbacks. Someone kept shouting about the Sex Pistols while I was on - as though the Sex Pistol are still a cool idea - as though I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here never existed - As Though Punk Never Happened (a very good book about the post-punk New Romantic time - I once met the author in a bar in Berlin). Most of the Cartoon audience seemed to have come along to have a Good Chat. They yattered away all through Knox from the Vibrators set. It was just as bad when I was on - all I could hear was talking - it was almost impossible to imagine that anybody was listening though I could see that a few people were. I hope my illustration explains what it feels like to play under conditions like that.
  I mean no disrespect to Brad and the gang at the Cartoon - they're doing the best they can I'm sure and I'd like to thank them for that, but that audience was the rudest most ignorant I've (I was going to say played to) played in front of for a very long time. I stayed for Ed's first number but left in disgust because I could hardly hear him above the chatter.
  The night before at the Halfmoon in Putney was completely different. The place used to be a dump but it isn't anymore. The PA system is really good, they've got sexy lighting, and the audience were totally receptive. I felt so at home I almost forgot I was doing a gig at times. The only drag is that Putney is on the opposite corner of London to where I come in on the M11. But it's got to be one of the best small venues in London.
  Back on the A11, in the middle of the night somewhere in Cambridgeshire, I stopped at the Red Lodge all-night transport cafe for a cup of tea. All the show-biz people stop there though I've never seen any - just the publicity photos on the wall. I'm the only popster I've ever seen in there and they don't even know I'm one - I think they think I'm a nutter. The other customers are all truck drivers loading up on nocturnal all-day breakfasts.

  Back at home I'm still working on the album - I've got Same finished and mixed and I'm in the middle of mixing Local. The album's going to be good - not always a foregone conclusion - it's going to be called Bungalow Hi. I'll have more news of that and everything else soon, but in the meantime I've got to get this website loaded. And I've got to say thanks again hugely to the adorable Karen Hibberd for helping me get it together.

 

 
23rd February 2004
That's right - my book A Dysfunctional Success popped up at number 10 in the best books of 2003 in the Mojo Readers Poll. Excuse me showing-off about it - the last accolade of this sort I had was in 1983 when the NME gave me a special Dead But Won't Lie Down award. Well. I feel like lying down now - I'm quite knackered with all the excitement - me being too old now to appear in the pages of a cutting edge (ha ha) and trendstting magazine like the NME. God bless Mojo - that's what I say. And thanks to all the readers who voted for me.
Er... is there some sort of trophy or is that it? I've spent years rehearsing this speech in the bath - it's a bit of an anti-climax really - but thanks very much.

It's been another busy week - not that I feel I've achieved that much. I've been mixing tracks for the album. I feel it should be more glamourous somehow but for the most part it's a slow and tedious job, fraught with insecurity - is it good enough? - will everybody hate it? Most of the time I can rise above that shit and occasionally I get to a point where I really don't give a damn at all. And that's when I start having a good time. And that's when it starts to sound great. My inspiration for mixing this record is Sly & The Family Stone's There's A Riot Goin' On - that's the one with Family Affair on it. Sometimes it's sounds as though it's going to fall to bits. Things jump out of the mix in a way that a conscientious producer or engineer just wouldn't allow - they'd go back and correct it. And correct it and correct it and correct it... until it get's boring.
In between trying not to be boring in the studio I've been trying to answer all the emails I've been getting about the new site. I'm glad everyone likes it after all that. If I don't answer anybody's email it's because I've lost it - one or two went missing thanks to some fuck-up with my email server. One of them was from Australia - can you send another please?

Some people have got a problem finding the Live Dates - just move the mouse about and it'll happen. Try it here:

 

Got that? Now just try it on the pink guitar icon on the front page (one page back) and you'll find I've got some dates supporting The Rutles, Rutland's answer to the Fab Four. I'm a bit thrilled about that, being a fan of the Bonzos and all. And enough time's elapsed that I don't get hideous flashbacks to dumb university students quoting bits of Monty Python at each other. I suppose they're all grown up now and they'll be at the gigs in force, pissed out of their heads and quoting Monty Python at each other. Re-living the good old days. Arrgh.
Never mind - the drummer's John Halsey from Patto, one of my fave groups from the seventies. He also played on Transformer, Lou Reed's second solo album which has got to be one of my favourite records ever. I'm going to be cool about this...

And finally, we went to see Wilko Johnson on Friday. He's still a hero. I watched the NME Awards the other night - Wilko pisses over the lot of them. He hasn't been trendy for years - they call it boring old pub rock but it isn't - him and his band, Norman on bass and Monti on drums transcend any such tag. He should win an award of some sort just for being Wilko.