In 1992 Son of a Cat split and shortly before that there had been another more painful split. The two loves that had kept me in Sheffield fluttered away and it eventually led to Simon and I sharing a house on City Road. He had completed his studies in Nottingham and I was in my second year of a disappointing Economics course (where 'free' market Economics was taught as dry, so dry, standard, acceptable fact, if only I'd discovered Chomsky a couple of years earlier!).
I was still intensively into my bass playing. I toyed with the idea of joining a proper band, even considered going to London, and spent my spare time trying to learn 'I was made to love her' by Stevie Wonder (perhaps James Jameson's finest musical 3 minutes). I was also jamming with a post-graduate Chemistry student (of all people). He introduced me to some new sounds and was a good bloke, but, to be honest, he couldn't really play very well. We both new it and it was one of those situations where you both forget to call each other to arrange any more sessions (unfortunately I had to sacrifice my copy of 'Uplift Mofo Party Plan' by the Red Hot Chili Peppers to avoid further contact though I got to keep his tape of Spartacus by the Farm which shows I was never a good deal maker. Hey! Stop picking on the Farm, 'Altogether Now' is an alright song.)
Though Simon and I were sharing a house, we never even bothered with a jam. We just weren't interested in playing music together at all after going through so much musical frustration in previous years. By then I was living a strange life, trying to subsist on veggie burgers and porridge made with water without any sugar. He was finding his feet, trying to adjust out of the student life (messy bedroom, in bed while 4pm, half his dinner round his mouth ). He's still trying to adjust now, 12 years later.
I bought some pop
There's a lot of rock
I paid my money
I said come on honey
You write some words and then can't remember what ever made you think you would be able to sing them. Let's look back again to 1981 when I was 10. The word 'honey' made me blush and I mumbled it every time we played. It took Mrs Butler all her reserves of teacher pressure to persuade me to sing that line in front of 200 other kids. Simon and I would repay her by writing our 'good little pupils who care about the world' song which opened with the line: 'When you eat your dinner and you waste your pies' and which our whole class sang for the school. We were there before you Geldof! Look upon my works ye mighty and despair!
Writing the words was one of the things I liked most of all about being in a band. Maybe that's why I had a stab at writing stories instead when, in 1993, I lost all confidence in (and enthusiasm for) my ability to write a song. The 'Debut' album by Bjork was a big factor in me jacking in the song-writing game. I loved that album and every attempt I made to match it seemed pointless and pathetic in comparison.
Playing the bass hardly entered my thoughts over the next few years from 1993 to 2001. My only real creative involvement in music, during those wilderness years, was when I was asked to translate some lyrics for a Lithuanian Death Metal band called Meressin. The rough translation was already done so I had to try and make it into a song. I ended up almost re-writing everything, keeping the main idea, but ensuring the words rhymed, scanned and told a sensible story. Merresin released a CD in their mother country though I don't think the Death Metal market was big in Lietuva at the time and the last I heard they were doing Rock 'n' Roll covers in bars. There but for the grace of God go I.
 |
From left to right: Zydrus (bare-chested guitarist for Merrisin), Paulius (my friend and former pupil), me, Mindaugus (Standing, 2nd guitarist for Merissin), Debesys (drummer for Merissin) and Darius (talented bass player for Merissin) |
The bass was put in the loft at one stage and around 1995 I started strumming along with an acoustic guitar. Unlike the bass, it made more sense to play songs on your own with it. Inspired by Oasis I embarked upon a more serious attempt at singing along with the simple chords. I don't care what anybody says about Oasis, they restored in me a love for music and I love them.
This process of trying to play and sing went on for a few more years. My ears began to pick up notes and chords and my fingertips began to harden again. One good memory was a sing-a-long version of 'Slide Away' with my friends in the back of a minibus as we ventured into a weekend of sharing our tents with a million and one midges in the shadow of Benn Nevis. However I had no real intention of ever being in a band again.
Having my own car (thanks dad) also helped develop any musical ability you feel you, the listener, can acknowledge in my direction. In that old Volvo 340 I could sing along at the top of my voice to whatever I liked. It was really good practise and I can tell you that singing gets a lot easier when you've spent most of the week trying to do 'Somebody to Love' in the same octave as Freddie. I'd often taped myself in the past when writing songs for other people to sing and the sound of my voice always made me shudder, there was always something uncomfortable about it, like it was someone trying to sing, but not actually singing. If I may be so bold to say so myself, I somehow got more confident and slowly began to improve. Continue»
