The Ze Suicide Diaries - Part 9!

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Ze Suicide Diaries Part 8:
ROCKIN' WITH AC/DC - NOW THAT'S ENTERTAINMENT!

In the words of Marc Bolan… 'I drive a Rolls-Royce cos it’s good for my voice.'

I know exactly what Marc meant by that. As Johnny Ramone once put it: “Learn to stand good with a guitar, learn to look great, and then worry about learning to play it.” It's all about showmanship, you see.

Marc and Johnny are sadly no longer with us, however the sheer entertainment value of their legacies live on – even though ‘entertainment’ is at a premium these days and seldom practised by many of today’s bands, who look more like they should be working in a bank than on a stage.

For example, look at the fabulous shows Kiss put on, simply because they want to work hard and make the effort to entertain and please their audience, even to this day, while many new bands now don't even bother to take their coats of to go on stage. Well I know who I would rather spend money to go and see, how about you?

Now AC/DC are the driving force of live and recorded rock entertainment, and I've been lucky enough to have worked with them twice. Once was at Brixton Academy for the making of their Who Made Who video, directed by the great David Mallett.

So, on with the black nails and in with the old ear-rings, and I jump in a cab to Brixton. On the way, I recall once having this discussion with these university chicks in a UK Subs dressing room (Fulham Greyhound, actually). We all had loads of hairspray, and someone said: “You're destroying the planet, stop using so much hairspray, don't you know about the ozone layer?”

“What's an ozone?” I enquired, thinking that I may have read about this in Penthouse.

One of the chicks said: “It stops us all burning up and that stuff is making holes in it, if you stop using it we'll be okay.”

Our singer Charlie Harper jumped to my defence with a quote I'll never forget: “You might have an ozone layer, but everyone's gonna be walking around with crap hair.”

The girls smiled and agreed. “Yes, never thought of it that way,” they said, and happiness was restored.

Yes, you could always look to us for these wondrous philosophies and sensible, alcohol-induced guidance when needed. We never failed to deliver. I wonder if the Queen happens to be reading this, would you consider giving Charlie Harper a knighthood? Mick, Paul and Elton have got them. I think Charlie should have one.

Anyway, as I pull up round the back of the Brixton Academy, I see four or five blokes really struggling with a huge flightcase up a narrow stairway. “Excuse me, where's the dressing room?” I enquire. “At the top, down the corridor,” they reply. I squeeze past and, zoom, I'm off, before they ask me to help them.

Singer Brian Johnson arrives in a flat cap and rather expensive-looking overcoat, “why-aye, bonny lad,” he says in a friendly manner. We exchange hellos and I show him the dressing room. I tell him that I had bought a single years ago by his band Geordie and asked if he knew of a band called Brass Alle' from 70s Newcastle. He knows them and we have a beer and a good old natter about northeast rock bands. I wonder what Brass Alley are doing now, does anyone know?

(In fact I wonder what quite a lot of bands and ex-band members must be up to these days. I remember a band called Beckett, I saw them supporting Slade. It was a hard slot to fill, and they got a lot of stick from the audience, yet delivered a great set in the face of diversity. They were brilliant, I take my hat off to them for that. Does anybody know what they are doing now?)

Anyway, back to AC/DC. Down the corridor I bump into bass player Cliff Williams. Cliff is a smashing bloke, he looks like a very rich surfer who lives near a beach, with six or seven top models and a Ferrari. Clearly enjoying life, he is every inch a rockstar. “Is the dressing room up here?” he asks me very politely. “Yes, just there, matey,” I reply.

Cliff is awaiting the arrival of a new bass. It has a naked lady engraved into the fretwork, and as you hit certain notes her breasts light up. “Fantastic stuff,” he explains, “well, you gotta keep youself amused somehow on these long tours.” He beams a smile that lights up the room.

I wander down the corridor to the stage set, where I met Plug and Eric who seem to be the two main men among the (so I've heard) infamous AC/DC road crew. They seem always keen to have fun whenever possible, and I stand and chat to them for quite a while. Soon other crew members join us. I'm getting to know them all when two lovely young rock chicks come up and ask them to mind their cameras, keeping them safe while they watch the band filming out front. “No probs, my dears, they'll be safe with us,” is the enthusiastic reply, and the girls go away happy as sandpipers. Poor things, for as soon as they leave the cameras are whipped round the back for a special photo session, that the girls may or may not enjoy viewing when they get the films back from Boots.

“Should've shown them the hat,” says one of the crew. “What's the hat?” I enquire, “Or should I not ask?” “Oh, the hat's marvelous,” or so I'm told, and out of a flightcase emerges this contraption. “Been used all over the world, this has,” someone tells me proudly.

The contraption in question is an old fashioned crash helmet that fastens under the chin, with a pair of racing push-bike handlebars gaffer-taped on top of it, complete with bell, which can be rang at optimum moments of pleasure. This apparently has been worn by many rock chicks from all around the globe. But who would want to wear such a contraption? Well, many a young lady, apparently. In the words of Carry On's Leslie Phillips: “Ding dong, get it on.”

Filming gets under way as a couple of hundred extras arrive from the AC/DC fan club, all to be kitted out to look like Angus complete with cardboard guitars. A great time is being had by all; it’s lovely to see the kids enjoying seeing their heroes, and working alongside them, and the band are so great with them.

Many years ago I went to see my favourite band Slade at the Spa in Scarborough. The building is still there and I always think of that night whenever I see it… the huge truck standing outside which held their gear, and the band arriving. They drove along Scarborough front in a limo, drove right past us, and I could see them all in the back. Someone had scratched the word Slade on the bonnet and Don Powell waved at us. Fantastic times.

The anticipation of seeing them walk on stage was so exciting, you would be thinking what outrageous little number will Dave Hill be wearing tonight or will Nod burst your eardrums with the biggest voice you'll probably ever hear in your entire life? I hope this visual side of rock never fades completely from live music. Sometimes these days watching some bands can be like watching bloody paint dry… but that’s just me, maybe I just get bored too easily.

Anyway, back to Angus and company. Throughout the day, Brian is steadily enjoying a few cans of beer, when he accidentally spills some down the front of his trousers, and as fate often has it gives the appearance that he's wee'd himself.

“Just pop Brian up to hairdressing, Stevie boy, and get a hairdryer on that,” requests the director. So off we trot to hairdressing, Brian still with can in hand. Now, the two hairdressers provided are, to say the least, a trifle posh, and rather delicate when in the company of us common poeple.

“I've pee'd my panties, bonny lads,” chuckles Brian as we walk in, “lend us ya hairdryer.” “Oh my god,” one of them mutters in disbelief, as I think they really think Brian has wee'd himself.

Brian winked at me cheekily, it was so funny how he wound them up. There he stood tin in one hand, hairdryer in the other blow-waving his bits. The two hairdressers just stood and stared in horror and the pair raised their eyes to the ceiling as Brian informed them: “Better watch I don't burn my dick.”

‘Common as muck’ was the vibe from the hairdresser boys, but this millionaire rock star is one of the best blokes I've met in this business. Hilariously funny, he kept us all laughing all day.

It's a great atmosphere on this film set with their sense of humour, the whole band are good fun to be with (they like playing darts and often when Angus is doing his big guitar solo on stage, the rest of the band are behind the scenes at the band dartboard having a game).

While all this is going on, Angus is tucking into his fish and chips, sat on a flightcase, eating them out of the paper, a million dollars’ worth of guitarist.

“You wanna get that looked at” Angus said to me, observing that I'd bumped my hand quite badly and by now it was very swollen. “I'll be okay,” I said, “anyway I don't fancy four hours waiting around in casuality, I'll miss all this fun and action.” “Well, keep an eye on it,” Angus advised, “your hands are precious things.” I thought it nice of him to show such concern.

I am amazed at his metabolism to be able to eat so much before the highly energetic performance he was about to give. And give it he did as they shot take after take of tireless action. I've not seen many work as hard as these people. The Stones were the same, that’s why they deserve their colossal successes, it’s all well earned. All the giants of rock – Kiss, Aerosmith, et cetera – they are pioneers, living legends, simply hard-working rock gods.

The day goes well, the two young ladies pick up their cameras and thank everyone, not realising the biology lesson now contained within them, and everybody heads home. I'd like to thank Plug and Eric for a great day, and Angus, Brian, Cliff and the boys for decades of unforgettable live performances, played as they should be, very loud visual extravaganzas with a big pinch of of down-to-earth realism. That’s entertainment.

 

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Ze Suicide Diaries Part 7:
KEEF'S HAUNTED HOUSE!

Apologies for the delay in this month’s story of mayhem and intrigue, but I've been so busy playing, singing and getting me hair just right that I haven't had a min to spare.

Just one big event left now: the Rebellion Festival at the Blackpool Wintergarden from 9th -12th August. That's the big punk bash, y'know, and I'll be there with some old mates, cos also appearing will be The Damned, UK Subs, The Exploited, Stiff Little Fingers, Vice Squad and Slade. Yes, Slade are on this year! It'll be fantastic to see Slade with all the punk bands as they have been such an influence on everybody.

Album of the decade so far, if you don't mind me saying, is Vice Squad’s album Defiant. I can't stop playing it. Beki is at her very best, she's got a great band, and her lyrics are brilliant. If you're into blasting out some no-nonsense, in-your-face rock and roll then I recommend it. Beki Bondage always was more 'real' than most people and underestimated as the true rock and roll diva that she is. And on this record she bloody proves it. I look a bit like her ugly sister, which is slightly better than being described as Liz MacDonald's long-lost son, I suppose.

Now I remember doing an album once with a band called Moho Pack. It was a two-drummer thing, kind of like Adam & The Ants in that respect, but a bit arty-farty, with lots of opera singing and all that ‘aren't we clever’ nonsense, but it was just one album, and it's work, innit?!

Moho Pack had got themselves a deal with Music For Nations. The Subs weren't touring at the time, so they asked me if I'd do the album. It was the time when Metallica were breaking through and I remember being picked up and driven to Rockfiled Studios at Monmouth by the record company guy, Gem. Halfway there he says to me: "Have a listen to this..." and he stuck this tape on. It was Master Of Puppets, or what was to be Master of Puppets, with its acoustic beginning, and when the band came in I just thought: "Bloody great!" It blew my head off and I remember thinking, "Why am I doing an album with Moho Pack, I wanna join this lot!" I said to Gem: "Turn around, I wanna go back to Chelsea." But I had to do the album, even thought I really didn't like all the opera nonsense.

I got on really well with the other drummer in the band, called Icen (pronounced Ice- N). He was a bit of a rebel I suppose, and he would often set up the odd squat, avoiding rent while maintaining a well-polished anarchic status. I had this flat in Chelsea at the time. Anyway, he turns up at my place one time says: "Hiya, Steve. I've got a new squat! Just round the corner from you. We're neighbours now!" He was really excited. "Whereabouts?" I asked. "No.3 Cheyne Row," he said.

I've got a book about that place somewhere… and if I was right, well, yes, that's only Keith Richards old house, innit! Where he lived in the 60s and early 70s when he was in town! In the 60s that house was a notorious hangout for just about every rock star around. John Lennon was a regular visitor and there was a famous story of Mick Ronson climbing out of the back kitchen window to escape the law during a raid.

But the best story of all is the legendary aircraft seat…

The story has it that on a long flight from America after a tour, Keith was really tired and had given instructions not, under any circumstaces, to be disturbed. He fell into a deep sleep, and on landing at Heathrow Airport nobody wanted the responsibility of waking him up and facing the wrath of a tired Keith. So as a kind of joke the crew unscrewed this bloody aircraft seat, complete with sleeping Keith and took him, still in the seat, home in it. Not to Redlands, his country home, but to No.3 Cheyne Row.

"Come on then, Icen, show me this squat!" I insisted. Now also in the book was the story that sometime in the early 70s, Keith was picked up from the house to start a tour, never to return. The place was boarded up and abondoned, just left exactly as he'd left it on that day. I'd always found this story a little far-fetched, so obviously was madly curious to see for myself.

Icen and his mates had got in round the back. As I entered I was surprised at how unspoilt it was for a house abandoned for so long. The walls were Elizabethan wood and it had lovely thick old-fashioned shagpile carpets. It was like entering a time warp. There were bottles of assorted spirits in and around the bar, which no one dared drink as they had been left there for so long. Surprisingly it was in great shape, not lots of dust and cobwebs, although it was eerie and dark, as all the windows were boarded up and it han't seen daylight for years.

As I sat down I wondered who had been in here and sat on that very suite. The Beatles probably? I don't know, but it was fascinating. I went upstairs for a wee. The water was still on, and the bathroom was all black tiles with gold taps. This is all well rock and roll, I thought, although I felt I maybe shouldn't be in there, and really must apologise to Keith for being such a nosy bastard. However steeped in rock and roll history as it was, it was a chance I couldn't resist.

Mick Jagger’s house was just a few doors down the same street, next to a pub called The Kings Head And Eight Bells, where the Stones would sometimes meet. This pub can be seen in the film The Stones In The Park, when they did their free Hyde Park concert, three days after Brian Jones died. Mick and Marianne Faithfull can be seen in the film leaving the house in a limo.

Back at Keith's old gaff I remembered the stories I read and how Keith Richards had been drinking with a friend while waiting to be picked up by the crew, before leaving that final time, and when I entered the lounge there were three empty glasses and a bottle of red wine, untouched for two and a half decades, as if trapped in time. Were these the drinks? Could it have been true, what I'd read?

Finally, we ventured into the cellar. No electric, so the candles made everything look very, very eerie and scary. It was quite un-nerving, and at this point I wanted to leave, but curiosity had the better of me. "Not much down here," shouted Icen, " just a few assorted jackets and coats, and an ironing board…"

And in the corner, an aircraft seat!

"I wonder how that got here?" somebody said. But I knew. That was it for me. By this point knew I was in the genuinely abandoned 1970s house of Keith Richards. What an exciting experience. Although I know I shouldn't have been in there, I have to ask you all… Wouldn't you have gone? Could you have resisted?

If only those walls could speak. What tales of rock and roll excess they could tell, of visits from Beatles, Mick popping in for a cup of sugar, and I've no doubt Jimi Hendrix may well have put in an appearance at some point in time. A truly living rock museum, a place full of rock and roll ghosts. This is well and truly Keith's haunted house.

When I was in UK Subs we always gave the audience just what they expected. Charlie Harper always gave the audience his very best, just how they liked it, so consequently the set-list remained the same for many years. As far as I know, it’s still the same today. CID, Tomorrows Girl, I Wouldn't Be You, Live In A Car, etc etc, and as an encore we ALWAYS did a cover of the Velvet Underground's Waiting For My Man, which includes the famous line: "Got 15 dollars in my hand, I'm waiting for my man, got 16 dollars in my hand." Now somewhere in the late 80s I noticed that Charlie had changed the lyric from 15, 16 dollars to 27 dollars, so I asked him one night after a show: "How come its twenty seven dollars now, Charlie?"

He shrugged his shoulders and replied: "Well, it’s inflation, innit? You can't get drugs that cheap now, fackin’ 'ell!"

Charlie taught me everything I ever needed to know about rock and roll… then I learned to move on stage by watching cheap strippers at the Working Men’s Club. That’s it, you learn your trade and use what you can. As Miles Davis said: "It takes a lifetime to be as good as yourself."

So looking forward so much to the Rebellion festival, even if it's just to see Slade in all their glory. I remember going to see Slade, who were my favourite band as a kid, at the Spa in Scarborough. The Spa is still there and I always think of that night whenever I see it, and the band arriving, driving down Scarborough seafront in a limo. They drove right past me and I could see them all in the back. Jimmy Lee waved at us. That made our night. They were fantastic times. Come On Feel The Noize was the single in the charts and I was about to see them live on stage for the first time. It was electric, and a truly life-changing experience.

Well, thanks for reading this and once again, hope you're all okay.

Keep rockin’ and see you next time when we will be spending a day with the great AC/DC!

 

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Ze Suicide Diaries part 6:
Whilst designing a new coffin-shaped logo for my registered trademark, it sprang to mind a story that Paul Stanley of Kiss told me about the Kiss logo, and how he had designed and drawn out the original lettering with a pen and ruler on his knee whilst watching TV at home with his parents. As a result, to this day, one of the 'S's in the word Kiss is still slightly out of line with the other, where he had drawn it without measuring all those years ago.

 

This is a great story as it means the logo is 'real' and not too perfectly drawn. The same can be said of music in my estimation. If something is far too over-produced, or way too rehearsed to the point of agony, it loses its original energy and excitement. There is a famous tale of the Stones wanting to get into a particular studio in the seventies. Led Zeppelin were in there, and Mick Jagger rang Jimmy Page to ask how long they'd be. Page said it would be just a day or two as he hadn't started mixing yet.
Jagger was amazed. "Surely you'll need longer if you haven't started mixing?"
"No," said Jimmy Page "It's okay, a couple of days will do – it's only mixing!"
By all accounts from that moment on, the Stones ceased to agonise so much over mixes.

I remember at the age of 17 playing in Singapore. It was my first 'pro' job. We played four or five hours a night, seven nights a week on a six month contract. One night this bloke ran in with a gun, throws himself over the staircase and runs across the club. The police burst in after him, one of them kneeled down, took aim, and shot him in the head. He collapsed and slid across the dancefloor. Some people were dancing and all stopped. The lights went on and I remember seeing this pool of blood coming from his head, like someone pouring a tin of red paint, it just seeped across the dancefloor. The people who had been dancing simply moved away from it.

The manager of the club, a Chinese guy, ran up to us. ""Play! Play!" he shouted. "You keep playing!" So we did! It was so surreal. We carried on playing A Whiter Shade Of Pale, with this dead body stretched out on the dance floor right in from of me, and there's this sea of red blood seeping across the floor. And the people didn't leave, they just moved away and waited for it to be cleaned up so they could get on with their evening.

This team of people appeared from behind the bar, cleared a table and used the tablecloth to cover the body. The lights went down again, people started eating and Michael Tan the manager came up again "Make them dance! Please! Please make them dance"
We were sent a tray of free drinks from a scantily clad waitress as thanks from the management from playing on throughout. We did a great version of A Whiter Shade Of Pale as well!

It was a great apprenticeship for later years, being able to cope with punk audiences or anyone really, and to this day I look at people like Iggy Pop and I know exactly where they've come from. They've come from rough clubs, ones like the Candlelight Club, Huntriss Row in Scarborough.... where they used to pour beer over your head from the balcony as you played cos they were bored. These days, you've only got to swear at a DJ, or wear the wrong top, and he'll start crying, but in those days it was just survival. Huntriss Row doesn't exist anymore, and all these theatres are closing down so there's nowhere for people to learn to deal with audiences. That's why a lot of modern bands are really tame, there is no threat, and they don't have to be threatening, cos they've never had to live through a battle just to get your money at the end of the night (if you were lucky), and that's the difference between then and now. It was a fabulous blueprint for dealing with absolutely anything, and I'm grateful I had those years

To this day you can still always tell where Ze Suicide is performing – there's usually a big bloke on the door throwing the drunks in!

Nope, rock and roll isn't quite the same these days. I'm quite surprised there isn't a telly that throws itself out of windows as everything else is so automated, singers dropping in for a single word at a time, instruments that play themselves. Where did reality go? You can't learn rock and roll in a bloody classroom. I mean, a nice pencil isn't going to help you in front of a few thousand people is it? There was someone being interviewed on radio this morning, and he was saying that he once saw Jimi Hendrix perform, and Hendrix threw his Flying V into one of the speakers at the end of the show, and it just sat there and quivered. He fuckin’ meant it. It wasn't 'showbusiness', he threw that Flying V because he fuckin’ meant it, and that's what's missing. Jimi Hendrix had to struggle. He had to pawn guitars just to get a gig, then try and buy them back again. That is reality.

And speaking of guitar legends...
When I was at Pinewood studios doing Barcelona with Freddie Mercury (see installment 2 of the Ze Suicide diaries) I got invited back the following month to a party being held for Island Records 25th Anniversary. It was midsummer and MGMM were organizing the filming, so I asked if I could help out, as I'd be there anyway. I got there early and the main guests hadn't arrived yet and I was putting some chairs in a room upstairs. I bumped into an older gentleman sitting on the stairs. "Are you okay?" I asked, as he appeared in pain. "Yes, its my back," he replied, so I ran down to get him a comfortable soft chair.
He thanked me, said his name was Roger and we began to chat.

"Are you with a band?" he asked
"Yes the UK Subs," I replied, "but I'm helping my friends out today with organising chairs and stuff for the party. I've just set up a camp bed for Alexei Sayle, who's completely knackered with travelling and he needed a lie down."
"That's good of you," he said
I asked if he was waiting for someone or something.
"Yes, I'm a manager" he said. "I'm waiting for Eric."
Like a numbskull I replied, "That's nice – Eric who?"
"Eric Clapton. I'm his manager."

We chatted for a while but eventually I had to go and find my mate Rocky, who I was supposed to be helping.
Later on, when all the guests had arrived Rocky asked me to take a magnum of champagne to Dressing Room 4 for him. I grabbed some plastic cups and ran upstairs once again. I think this had been planned actually, cos Rocky knew what a big Beatles fan I was. What happened next I wasn't prepared for at all, and would be one of the most memorable moments of my entire life.
I knocked on the door. "Come in."

I entered to find myself in the company of three men. One was Roger , the gentleman I'd helped out earlier with the bad back, the others were Eric Clapton and Ringo Starr. "Ahh come in and have some champagne," said Eric's manager, enthusiastically. "This is Steve, he's in the UK Subs". They both said hello and Ringo asked if I was any good at opening champagne. Well, after working with Freddie I'd become quite an expert! So I poured out three cups, but I don't think Eric was drinking, I can't really remember.

"Aren't you having one yourself?" someone said. I wanted to leave because I felt so self-conscious in the company of such legends, but they'd asked me to stay so I did! We chatted about who was playing down stairs. There was Robert Palmer, Ziggy Marley, all sorts of artists were performing.
I only had one glass of champage, as this was one night I wanted to remember.
I wandered back downstairs. I'd hoped maybe some remaining members of Free might attend, but their message was sent in on videotape, and Paul Rogers was interviewed on the big screen. Sly Dunbar was there with his band, John Lydon, and many others. It was a great evening.

I decided to leave early as it had been such a great experience. Rocky asked if I'd drive his car back into town, which I gladly agreed to as it was an open-topped sports, but I'd left my coat in Dressing Room 4. I ran back upstairs. I knocked and entered. By now the room was full of people, all talking to Ringo and his wife Barbara at one end of the room. At the other end of the room and sat alone was Eric Clapton playing acoustic guitar quite happily. My coat was hung up behind him "Excuse me," I said and leaned over to reach it. He just carried on playing, I paused for a second and realised that for that moment in time Eric Clapton was playing guitar and only I was listening.

"Are you leaving?" he asked "Yes, I want to get home so I can have a drink," I explained. "Goodnight then," he said.
Even with all he'd been through he was still a very lovely down-to-earth man. I grabbed a couple of bottles of champagne and as I drove out of Pinewood I looked across at the Bond stage, all lit up on that hot summer night, and I thought to myself, "You jammy devil. It don't get better than this!"

Not only that, but my hair was on top form too. I'd have put my shades on, but wouldn't be able to see to drive.
As I drove through the Pinewood gates, the security man who must have met every body famous in the whole world saluted me. "Goodnight, sir," he said. Just imagine that – me, Sir Suicide.
This indeed was one evening I wanted to remember for all time – and I will.

 

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Ze Suicide Diaries Part 5:
Stevie remembers Rockfield – and guards Elton John's specs!

First of all I'd like to say thank you to everyone who has emailed me a response to these diaries. I'm so glad you've enjoyed them and find them a good read and a bit of a laugh. Many thanks to you all, especially Mazz from Battlewitch who got in touch with his suggestions for classic tracks almost as soon as last month’s diary went online, and Ash from Dressed To Kill. Ash... here's hoping the planned get-together happens during the summer. I'd love to appear on stage with you at some point, mate.

Now, a few weeks ago I found out about a brilliant book that's due out in August/September by writer Jeff Collins. It's all about the history of one of the finest recording studios in the UK... well, the title of the book says it all – Rock Legends at Rockfield!

Looking through Jeff’s MySpace page here, and the selection of teasers for the book, got me thinking of my own experiences there, and the time I was recording an album at the great Rockfield Studios at Monmouth, South Wales. The owner, Kingsley Ward, became a good friend. He's a genuinely really nice guy and he made sure there was always a generous supply of alcoholic beverages whenever we were up there working. Not only that, but he also has a gold Rolls-Royce, which was about as rock and roll as it gets. The trick was to get up early enough to catch a lift off him when he went up to the village of a morning, thus achieving maximum posing-off value by turning up at the local newsagent for your morning paper in a Roller, complete with spiky hair, shades and a snow-white tan. Very "fur coat, no knickers". Sorry, very "fake fur, no knickers". And dont forget the glass of vino.... or in our case a bottle of cider. All great fun but a bit mental. One morning I turned up with my old mate Icen, fellow drummer, keyboard player and all-round good egg, to pick up the usual magazines and papers etc. And stood in the queue of morning office commuters and assorted schoolgirls was no other than bass player Geezer Butler of Black Sabbath.
"Look! Bloody Geezer Butler, there! Look! Do you think he heard me?" That was an understatement, as I expect half of friggin’ Wales heard him. Geezer looked round at us two and smiled.
"Hello matey," I said.
He nodded in a polite friendly way. "Awright," he said.
"Quick," I urged Icen, "what bloody paper has he bought?"
It was The Observer, so it was decided that that would be the paper that we would buy. If Geezer reads it, then we'll read it! Thus dumping our two copies of The Sun and Daily Star in favour of some stupid paper that we'd never read. Anyway, there's no pictures in The Observer, but it's amazing isn't it what you do in an excited moment of hero worship, when you're still young and the last time you saw this guy was from the front row at Hammersmith Odeon, tenth anniversary concert with Ozzy, Tony Iommi and the great Bill Ward on drums. (Check out ‘Symptom Of The Universe’. If you read this Bill, Mr Ward, Sir, "Nice one". A favourite all-time drum track, sheer power.)

But Rockfield is a funny place like that. You don't know who you're going to bump into. On one occasion we went down the pub in the village for a quiet night of posing and a few bevs, thinking we would be the only band around for miles. Wrong! The place was bloody full of celebs. In one corner there was Dave Edmunds’ drummer, complete with milk stout and wellies! And a bloke called Paul Martinez, bass player with Robert Plant. He lived next door to the pub! And next door to him was his brother Ray, out of Showaddywaddy! Apparently old Planty would often pop in for the quiz night, and Pete Way of UFO was busily emptying the fruit machine. It was so bizarre. I said to Icen, fellow drinking matey: "If Elvis walks in now, I'm going tee-total, mate!"

I would get up early in the mornings and practice piano in the studio. There was a beautiful black piano and I would go in and play it before there was anyone else around. Later, however, I found out that Freddie Mercury had used that same piano on several classic Queen tracks. I believe ‘Sheer Heart Attack’ was recorded there, and on that piano, amongst others.

Yes, Rockfield Studios was a very special place to be. I loved it there, the people were lovely, there's a nice chippy, and it's a great atmosphere in which to do an album.

I once asked Kingsley Ward if there were any major incidents or interesting stories he could tell me regarding Rockfield’s history. He said: "Only Ozzy Osborne, when he was here...". Apparently they'd all been telling ghost stories and the band told Ozzy that his cottage was haunted by a terrifying ghost. Later that night they played a trick on him, which freaked him out completely. He shot out of the window of his room, and he ran off across the field, completely naked apart from the pink duvet off his bed. He just kept running and ended up in the local pub, where he had a few drinks with the locals, then got a lift back from a very bewildered farmer. Imagine that, walking into the pub and there's one of the biggest names in rock and roll, sat drinking with all the farmers wearing absolutely nothing but a pink duvet. And nobody seems to bat a bloody eyelid there. Perhaps they're just used to it.

Y'know, I once went to an interview for Melody Maker with Gillan's bass player, big John McCoy, who had produced The UK Subs’ first album, ‘Another Kind Of Blues’. We were driven there and back by our manager, so had quite a hefty afternoon of drinking. On the way back to the car to be picked up we crossed the concrete multi-storey car park, which was above a Tescos supermarket. John was bustin’ for a wee, and said: "Watch that nobody comes out of that bloody lift, will ya?" Well, halfway through poor John's wee, the lift doors opened. There was nobody there, but I just couldn't resist.
"Hiya ladies!" I said, convincingly.
"Oh shit!" shouts John, in mid-piss, and darts round the corner out of sight, only to bump straight into some lady shoppers and their trolleys. Imagine seeing him coming round the corner, all panicked and still wee-ing, straight into your trolley full of shopping. If he'd stayed where he was he'd have been okay. I don’t think he ever forgave me for that, but it was so bloody funny! Sorry John.

I drew a cartoon of John McCoy and Gillan's band on a wall in the studio once and had to have it repainted. I also drew the cartoons on a dressing-room wall in France where Gillan was to perform the next night. I hope they saw them. I used to love Gillan's band, especially with Bernie Tormé on guitar.

There have been quite a few hilarious events during the course of my UK Subs-ism. It was probably the best time of my life.... then and the MGMM years. The first video I did for MGMM ever was Elton John's. I forget the song, but he was using a stunt double for a dance routine, who had to use his blue glasses, which were his 'everyday specs' at the time. It was my job solely to look after these glases as they were clearly a favourite pair. Nice work if you can get it. What a great job, minding Elton's specs for a few hours! A bit like the time I was working on Freddie's Barcelona.... they all presumed I must be in total agony when my tooth fell out, and they told me to grab a beer and sit out the rest of the shoot. Actually it was only a crown that had fell out, but all I had to do was play the sufferer .... I do a great sufferer when required. Anyway, the first thing I had to do ever for MGMM was to knock on Elton’s dressing room door and say: "I've been sent to guard your blue specs." He was such a nice bloke. I'll never forget the experience, and I guarded those bloody specs with my life all day, and when I gave them back he thanked me and gave me a bottle of wine, which I kept for ages. Well, until the next time I was skint, anyway.

See you all soon.

Stevie Ze Suicide

 

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Ze Suicide Diaries Part 4:
Stevie sweeps up with Kiss!

This is the story of nine bass drums, a rose tattoo, a date with The Damned – and one of the biggest-selling bands on the planet.

As I walked through the gates of Jacob Street Film Studios, Tower Bridge, I wondered who I would be working with today. I had taken the call for another video shoot, but in my excitement had forgotten to ask who the client was. A huge truck was unloading gear, so I presumed it must be a band. It was 6am and I was obviously much too early.

I watched them unloading, and out came a bass drum. "It IS a band!" I thought.

Then out came another bass drum. "It's a HEAVY band!"

Then another bass drum. "It's a VERY HEAVY band!"

Then out came yet another bass drum!

Now I'm puzzled, so off to the production office for a cup of tea. No-one in the production office. "Strange." I thought, "it's usual to start at dawn." But I'd been in the wrong room, hadn't I.

I wandered back onto the film set, found where I was meant to be, and gazed in sheer amazement at the incredible set-up that was stood before me. On an enormous, brightly lit drum riser was the most colossal-sized drum kit I have ever seen in my life, sporting nine bass drums! No, that's not a spelling error… no fewer than NINE bass drums. Above this, to my ultimate delight, hung a great neon-lit backdrop consisting of four letters that spelt out K....I....S....S!

My heart missed a beat with excitement and I felt quite tearful. The first time on one of these jobbies I felt a little nervous. Now where's my bloody make-up bag? We would soon be in the company of legends.

I remember the first time I saw Kiss was on their album cover in Woolies. I just thought, "Wow, that looks brilliant" and I had to buy it. Anyway, by now people were starting to arrive, so I ran to the canteen to get a cuppa. I remember it well, because it was full of actors. The late, great Paul Eddington (he was that posh bird's husband in The Good Life) was having some breakfast and he smiled and said hello. What a nice bloke. On the way out with my cuppa the door opened, and it was Gene Simmons. He moved aside and held the door open for me.

"Thanks, matey," I said.

He smiled and said, "You're welcome" in a dark rumbling voice.

There is one thing that I must say, and that is that Kiss are the most genuinely nice, down-to-earth blokes I have ever met in rock and roll. Back on the film set I got talking to drummer Eric. I asked him about the nine bass drums. He just laughed and said: "That's rock and roll!" This was going to be a great day.

At first the prospect of meeting Kiss was a bit scary and daunting, but my fears were unfounded as they are really nice people. Gene Simmons is very calm and reassuring. He is kind, considerate, quietly spoken but with a razor-sharp sense of humour. He doesn't drink(!), but I think it's only because he doesn't like the taste of it. You can talk to him really easily, yet he's done the whole gig – sex, rock and roll and general good living.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Paul Stanley, the lead singer, he was pointing to the small rose tattoo on his right shoulder, which happens to be identical to the one on my right shoulder. "Oh God, perhaps we have the same tattooist!" he quipped. I doubt it Paul, as he got his done In LA and mine was done in Scarborough! Well, at least we have something in common – rock and roll chaos, make-up and a rose tattoo.

A little later on I knocked on their dressing-room door to offer them breakfast. As I entered they were all getting ready, but unfortunately it was obvious at this point that they were not going to be wearing THE make-up. I sensed there were many things going on at this point in their careers. I didn't like to ask, but original members Peter Criss and Ace Frehley were not with the band at this time. Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley were there, and the atmosphere was fabulous, very relaxed and friendly. Can you believe I actually had more make-up on than they did at this point?! I couldn't wait for them to get started but was a little disappointed that they weren't getting made up as they used to. I ended up working a spotlight up on the roof, so I had a great view. I was in my element that day, and they were brilliant.

The performance was filmed over and over for about four hours. It was a successful, lovely day.

Drummer Eric Carr (now sadly departed) was in a hurry to get to the airport to catch a Concorde flight to get to a friend’s party in time. It's a tough life being a rock star! At the end they brought several crates of champagne in, Dom Perignon at that, for the camera crew and catering. I was sweeping up and Paul came over and thanked me personally for my small part in it all.

"Aren't you having any champagne?" he asked.

"I have to finish this..." I explained, like some demented Cinderella.

Jokingly, he took the broom off me and said, "I'll do this. Go get some champagne." Everybody laughed. It was a nice gesture, although he only swept a bit.

We all stood around and had a drink, the band and crew, except Gene of course, he don't drink, but he was there with his orange juice. He was one of those people you could listen to for hours and has some great stories to tell. I was talking to him for quite a while before going back to my sweeping up, and then heading off home with another memory. All thanks to Kiss for just being great!

I’ve never considered having a kit with nine bass drums, but sometimes I felt like I had nine different jobs. Whilst touring with The UK Subs I also worked with other bands as a drummer . I remember I was doing an album with The Exploited, their ‘Troops Of Tomorrow’ album actually. We'd just finished a massive 63-date tour with the Subs to promote our ‘Diminished Responsibility’ album, which was in the charts at No.18 and things were going well. I was asked to record with The Exploited as their usual drummer had broken his ankle or something, and I was excited to be doing it. The Exploited were real high energy and I'd always got on with them. They had Big John on guitar with his Flying-V, Gary on bass, and of course Wattie was always a great frontman. All great lads to work with.

Whilst recording I got a phone call from Captain Sensible – guitarist with the Damned for anyone who doesn't know. They had been touring non-stop, so I wondered what he wanted.

"Stevie, you old git! We're starting a British tour and Rat Scabies [The Damned’s drummer) has walked out. Will you do it, just till he gets back?"

"Yes, of course I will, matey." I replied, "but I'm just in the middle of doing this Exploited album. When does the tour start?"

"Tonight," Captain said. "We're in Manchester."

I tried to explain that I had this album to do, but all in vain, he didn't seem to be listening.
"Great," he said, "we'll pick you up now!"

Oh heck, I thought, as I put the phone down. What would I say to Wattie and co? As it happened they were okay about it as I had recorded most of the drumming anyway, and I could just go in during the day and do the other bits. I really worked out good for all of us.

This was at Matrix Studios in West London. Soon after the door opened and in walked The Damned. We all had a couple of drinks and set off for Manchester. Rat's drums would be there, so all I needed to take was my stick bag and a change of T-shirt. We climbed onto the bus and set off. A bottle of Glenfiddich whisky was being passed around and the atmosphere was electric. For me it was an amazing feeling... here I was on a tour bus with one of my favourite bands, at the same time halfway through an album with the Exploited, an amazing 63-date tour with the UK Subs under my belt, and a Top 20 albu – and about a year before I had been on the dole and had nothing.

Anyway, back on the road, halfway up the M62, the band's singer Dave Vanian turned to me and said, almost as an after-thought, "By the way.... do you know any of our songs?!"

"Yes, I've got the Black Album and Machine Gun Etiquette," I replied.

So he did a set-list of tracks off those albums!

In typically chaotic fashion, when we arrived we were too late for a soundcheck, but the gear was all up and ready to go, and as usual for The Damned the gig was packed, absolutely heaving. Of course, we'd never even played together before this moment, we were just going to go on stage and do it! I hopped up and adjusted Rat Scabies’ drums to my height, popped on a fresh T-shirt and off we went into it, no probs. The bass player was Paul Gray, who later joined UFO, and he was brilliant to work with. We started off with ‘Wait For The Blackout’, then ‘Just Can't Be Happy Today’, ‘Neat Neat Neat’, ‘New Rose’ etc. All went well, and it was a night I'll remember for as long as I live.

Now, does anybody out there have a track that you consider to be your all time absolute favourite? Well, I've agonised over this question for bloomin' years. Has anyone heard Jimi Hendrix do ‘Johnny B. Goode’ live from the album ‘Hendrix in the West’? He must have been walking with the devil that night because the excitement and sheer energy in that track reaches fantastic levels. Have a listen if you can, and if you have a favourite all-time rock track, please let me know what it is. I love discovering mega tracks!

 

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Ze Suicide Diaries Part 3:
Stevie meets da Stones!

Well, its 2006 and nearly Christmas again, and "No snow, no show." may mean no presents if Santa can't get his sleigh started up, but don't panic, it also has another meaning, generally associated with the greatest rock and roll band in the world, and of all time, the Rolling Stones. It's the eighties again, and for this little story we're are going to go back to Shepperton Studios to work on their new video for the song One Hit To The Body.

While we're on the subject of snow, of the sort you get every year on in the Top Of The Pops studio, I recently interviewed Slade for my first DVD, which you can see in the New Year. Dave Hill was telling me about the recording of Merry Christmas Everybody and he told me it was actually recorded in New York City in the middle of summer. No-one thought at that time it would be the annual institution it has become. I told him I used to be a frog in a previous life. He said "What, .... French..?" I said "No, a frog." And he said "Yeah, I'd heard that...."
It's bloody amazing, isn't it, what gets said when you run out of conversation. This can happen when you meet your heroes. Anyway, more about that story next time, but you'll be able to see the whole interview with Slade when the DVD comes out. I've also just recorded the first Ze Suicide single for release in the new year. Its an absolute sixties classic and I'm doing the video next week

I get to Shepperton in a taxi at about 5.30 am. There was an excitement in the air that morning like I'd never felt before. Here I was going to spend the day with these five blokes, who, although I'd never met before, I felt I knew so well, because they had been part of my life and everyone elses for all time, like some estranged uncles who you'd never actually met but you know all about. As I wandered around the deserted film sets that were steeped in TV and film history, I wondered what they'd be like. How would they speak? What would I say? What would they say, and do they really exist!

The first songs I ever heard were sixties hits out of my dad's record collection. I learned to play guitar to rolling Stones B-sides for some reason- Spider To The Fly, Play With Fire etc. There was a feel to these records that captured the moment. They were not over-produced or mixed to agony, they were just 'real' and I bet they went down in the first take or two. Brilliant reality, real music.... Not like all the overproduced records around today that sound like some kind of invisible formal dinner party with knobs on. Did you know that they've stopped doing panstick make-up now? It might not mean much to you, but its a bloody disaster to me!

Finally I made my way to the Stone's stage to find the director, Russel Mulcahy, busily placing a camera inside a huge polystyrene beach ball, all wrapped up in gaffer tape. The idea he had was that the band could kick the ball around whilst filming. Oddly enough this was to work a treat and can be picked up in the video when you see it. Russel Mulcahy of course did all of those Duran Duran videos and the famous Highlander films. The set was like a maze of corridors leading up to the actual stage, and there on the stage was Charlie's famous Gretch drum-kit. There was a courtyard complete with catering wagon and not one, but five trailers, one each with the band member's name on it. This was the Mighty Stones!

9.25 am. "The band have arrived" someone said. I looked across the courtyard and saw Keith walking over to his trailer, and I remember he looked really healthy and sun-tanned, despite what the papers of the day led us to expect. He'd just flown in from Jamaica. I had to ask if they wanted any breakfast and nervously walked over to Keith, now stood in the doorway of his trailer, holding a lager. "Hi, I'm Stevie" I said "Do you want any breakfast?" He put his hand on my shoulder and smiled "No, I've just flown in Stevie, thanks anyway" and holding the glass of lager in the air, he pointed with it to the gates "but lose the BBC, if you would...."
I looked over to see none other than the Old Grey Whistle test crew making their way to the trailers with a big furry microphone. I recognised that Paul McCartney-looking bloke that used to present it, with a crew of two or three.

"I'll sort it out" said Russel, and they were told to wait outside the gates. This was a kind of poetic justice in a way. These people make it so hard for new bands to get on their show and be seen on TV, now they couldn't get in on this show. However .... I went across to them. "Would you like a cuppa?" I asked. I couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for them. There they were, looking through the railings from the wrong side. It was like visiting the dogs home, poor chaps! But they were to get in eventually and get one of the greatest quotes in rock and roll ever.

When I got on set, Ron Wood just came over and stood next to me. He said "Hiya matey, what's going on?", as if he had known me all his life. My anxiety was lifted and I felt at ease by now. He was with his wife Jo, and they are among the nicest people I have ever met in my life. It was by now a pleasure to be helping out on this shoot. I showed them to their trailer and wandered back onto the film set to see what I could do . The day was going well, but the Whistle Test guys were still locked out, looking sadly though the railings. I better get them another cuppa or a beer or something. "You can let them in now," said Russell, "we're having a break in five minutes and they'll have clearance for a while". So we let them in.

Now Charlie had been backwards and forwards to and from his trailer all day. Poor bloke. They kept calling him to the stage, then shouting "Cut! Break." No sooner had he sat down than he was up again... all day. By now, he was a bit pissed off with all this film nonsense. "Can you go get Charlie again?" Russel asked me, and as I walked with him from his trailer the Whistle Test caught him. He was right at the end of his tether.
"What's it like, twenty five years in the Stones?" they asked
Visibly well -put-out, Charlie replied "well,... it's work, innit. I mean, what have we done today? Nothing, except hang about..."
Whistle test say "You must have done a lot of hanging about in twenty-five years, then...."
Charlie replied "Yeah, five years working and twenty years hanging about."
The beeb had gotten their moment, and what a great moment it was, and I was present and just witnessed one of the greatest quotes in rock and roll history.

Everyone refreshed it was back to work. I noticed relations seemed a bit strained at the time. I never saw Mick or Keith engage in conversation the whole day, but they were clearly really close, like brothers, and despite any squabbles that may have existed at the time, they were so truly professional they just carried on working. It seems nothing is powerful enough to stop the Stones. I was so impressed by the band's stamina, all of them. They started filming at 9.30 am and worked solidly til it finally wrapped at about 6am the following morning.

Back on set, Russell was preparing a shot and I walked into it. I thought for a second they were filming and that I'd ruined something. Standing directly in front of Keith, I froze. He had his guitar, but luckily they were only checking for light. As if to put me at ease he smiled and nodded and all was okay. I felt for a moment like some daft kid running round a playground, but Keith had seen it all before and was only too pleased to help me out by making me feel welcome.
At one point Mick was having his face done in his trailer. I jumped onto the caravan to get another drink for somebody, the caravan wobbled, just as the make-up girl was putting the eyeliner on
"Oww, be careful" he snapped "That could have gone right in my eye! Keep the caravan steady! Keep it still"
"Sorry Mick," I said
Just imagine if she'd skewered Mick Jagger in the eye! Stabbed in the eye by an eyeliner pencil all because of me.

Later on Ron turned to me and asked if I would go tho their trailer and get him another drink from wife Jo "One of my specials, please!" he said. Jo mixed the drink, whatever it was, and said she would take it to him as he had a phone message, so she left me sat there in a trailer full of wall-to-wall bourbon. At this point, it could have gone either way.... I may die from excess, or keep myself together and go back on-set. I chose middle ground, slamming down a large tequila sunrise, then setting off back to Ronnie. It was such an exciting day, like a bizarre dream.
I made sure the Whistle Test boys got some lunch. They'd got some great footage and were well happy, and that guy does look like Paul McCartney. The rest of the day was filled with fabulous performance. It was an education in how to do it and how to do it right.

I gave Charlie a tape of some jazz from my dad's collection and he was really enthusiastic 'cos I think he got a bit bored between filming, and he loves jazz. I didn't title the work, and he asked me to ring my dad and ask who the guys on the tape were, but when I rang home my dad was doing a gig in Scarborough (my dad was a pianist, you see), When I went back to Charlie and told him this, he turned to Mick and said. "We've played in Scarborough. Where did we play in Scarborough" They obvoiously didn't remember cos it was bloomin years ago, and the venue probably no longer exists. Anyway, Bill's the memory man, apparently, according to Mick.

The day rolled on, finally it was a wrap. And as I said goodbye to them I wondered if I'd ever get the chance to meet them again. Probably not. I felt sad, but a million dollars. I now know why they are the greatest rock and roll band in the world and have remained at the top of their game..... .because they work so bloody hard at it.

Have a great new year,

From the King of NoiZE, Stevie Ze Suicide

 

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Ze Suicide Diaries Part 2:
Stevie meets Queen!

Now what have James Bond and Carry On Camping got in common? Great films? Well, Bond's got chicks everywhere, fast cars and a license to kill, and Carry On Camping reminds me of some of the tours I've had to do, but they were also both filmed in the same place- Pinewood Studios. Writing lyrics for Sex Drugs and Death, a new song that I'm recording on Monday for a single, I think back.... I remember I was once in EMI and an A&R man said "If only I could find a rock act out there with the image" and I said "I'm here, why don't you sign me?" He said "Cos you're crap." Now I took that as a huge compliment, cos I know that if he'd liked me, I'd have been doing it all wrong! Always keep one foot in the gutter, thats what I say. What I mean by that is no matter how sucessful you become, or how lavish a production budget you may have, keep the music hungry and it will never die

Anyway, let's go back to Pinewood Studios. It's the late eighties and I'm continuing my experiences at MGMM, and today is Queen day! I am to work on a track Freddie Mercury is doing with a big fat opera singer from Spain called Madam Monserrat. The track is called Barcelona, and we are to be at Pinewood film studios by 6am prompt. I always thought opera was a bit posh, so this was going to be interesting..... anyway I arrive at Pinewood and meet a nice bloke from Leeds called Mike Moran who did Sarah Brightman and all that stuff,
"We're in Roger Moore's dressing room," he said "The cleaners love him, so watch where you sit!"
I walk in to Rogies room, where the cleaners tell me to be very careful with his things, because he's a very lovely gentleman and they think the world of him.
"He always gives us flowers and we keep the place spotless" they said. And now stupid old Pinewood is letting a bloody rock band in. "Who is it anyway?" they concerningly spit. "Queen." I said
"Well just tell them to behave themselves. This is Roger's room."
"Well he is James Bond" I replied, trying hard to be on their side.
"Yes he is!" They shout proudly "And he's a very nice man, a very very nice man, and you're in his room!" and off they go.
At this point my mind is pre-occupied with thoughts of Aston Martins and I think I must get a Rolls Royce before we run out of oil.

Freddie arrives. I've met him before and he recognises me. "Guess what? You're in Roger Moores dressing room!" I said trying hard to please him.
"Let's hope he's hoovered up then!" replies Freddie with his usual wit, and everybody laughs. The ice is broken. At this point I knew I was in the company of a driving force, and he was. Freddie Mercury's energy and professionalism were second to none. This guy was just stunning, utterly charming and very funny. A total rock star. Even Freddie's immaculate Louis Vuitton make-up case was an inspiration. (Now all these years later I have a make-up case of my own, but mine came from B&Q.) I poured his drink as ordered- Don Perignon Champagne and Vladivar vodka... mixed. "Shaken, not stirred" I quipped as I handed it to him. "Oh, don't be bloody silly" he said, "Where's Monserrat? Has she arrived yet? No? Well let me know when she does please, dear."
I grab a crafty Don Perignon and vod for myself and hide outside to await her arrival.
Monserrat arrives, and her assistant, or bodyguard or whatever he is, lays down the law with gusto. "No hairspray! No alcohol! ABSOLUTELY no ciggies , perfume, or any food may enter Madam's room!" A voice bellows to me. He's a real busy-body bully-beef this bloke. However she turns out to be a really nice friendly lady, like a best friend's mum or something. She smiles and laughs and everything!. She eats fruit and drinks fruit juice, not the expected sausage, egg, and bacon fry-up as I thought. I'd bought all this food we won't need.
By this time Freddie is ready to meet Mrs Monserrat. He picks up his drink and cigarettes, and walks casually across. I'm thinking "Oh NO!" as he gets to Madame Monserrat's door and the bodyguard stands in his way and attempts to tell him not to come in with his selection of banned items "Oh get out of the way. Move, move, man! Freddie wafted him to one side like a fly, a brilliant moment, and he walked in with cigarettes, alcohol and enough hairspray to melt the ozone. Later that day I sat back and watched in amazement at Freddie and Madame Monserrat's performance on Barcelona, conducted of course by the great Mike Moran. What an experience. I hope that the next time you see the video you'll think of this story and the fun we had backstage

So back to today, writing down lyrics for the single I am recording on Monday reflects just how times have changed since those more carefree days....
"The dead sink their claws in me, the living steal the air I breathe, and lepers pick their days in careful pain. The smell of death around a suicide, do pretty flowers make you want to cry? now Satan spreads his wings and calls your name..."
The lyrics sound pretty dark, but as I'm writing them, at the back of my mind I'm thinking how you can't get hold of silver lipstick for love nor money, a subconcious reminder to myself that however hard hitting a message is, it should still be delivered with entertainment in mind. That is the fabulous legacy left to us by all the great performers, artists and musicians, such as Freddie Mercury, Jimmy Hendrix, Bob Dylan, Iggy Pop etc. If we ignore these lessons in art and theatre the world, and rock music, would be a much duller place.
And speaking of great artists, Ive just interviewed my heroes Dave and Don from Slade, a little extra item for the first Ze Suicide DVD we are putting together.

Finally, let's return again to Pinewood. In the early hours, on the way home, we cross Baker Street, and Freddie's car stops next to ours at the lights. I looked over and put my thumb up to say "See ya, matey". He smiled and raised his hand to say goodbye. That was the last time I was ever to see the great man. Yes James Bond is cool, but Freddie was a real gentleman who showed us all just how it should be done. Bond is the ultimate icon and a hero to his cleaning ladies, but Freddie Mercury was in a class of his own, elegant and inspiring, always with one foot in the gutter just in case he needed to "Let them eat cake, she says, just like Marie Antoinette"
We all miss Freddie Mercury so much. x.

 

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Ze Suicide Diaries Part 1:
I stole Phil Collins's pint!

So here we are in the age of glitz and glamour, wondering why we still can’t recapture the moment that was Bowie’s Jean Genie, T-Rex’s Get It On and of course John Lennon’s Instant Karma.

Do you remember when singers only had five or six personal assistants? Times must have been hard then, poor sods! The three-day week, a small bag of coke on the rider if you were lucky and a two-star hotel… I believe one singer actually built a small bedsit under the stairs for his roadie. And what about that guitarist who set fire to his granny to keep his gear warm one winter? I suppose that story’s not true, but artists were dedicated in those days.

How things have changed. In those days if you threw a telly out of the window there was always somebody who needed one waiting to catch it. Unfortunately, our bass player in The UK Subs once had hold of the plug when the TV went out the window and he went with it. He’d only gone to plug it in to watch Mr & Mrs in the afternoon before the gig! But times were different then, Top Of The Pops had DJs who were over 14, and Radio One was all about the release that music gave against the backdrop of mundane everyday boring life, short-circuiting blandness and an end to nothingness.

Anyway, here I am filming my first set of videos to promote my new album, and thinking back to the 80s when I was earning extra dosh making videos for MGM – as a tea boy actually, but a great experience nonetheless. We were doing a Genesis video once, I don’t recall which track it was, but it rained and I remember losing my bloody ear-ring down the shop. Anyway , Phil Collins fancied a cheese butty, so he called me over. “No tomatoes!” he insisted. “And any chance of a lager and lime? In a glass?” Y’see, you can easily get sick of plastic cups on a film set. Now, as I was in charge of refreshments, or refreshmentation, at the time, and had been issued with a large cash float, I said: “No problems, matey!”

There was a little pub over the road where we could take out pints. “Great,” Phil said. The poor bloke had been sitting round all day waiting to film. He must have been bored out of his tree.

So off I went in search of pint and cheese butty (no tomatoes). Well, when I got to the pub, the lady owner knew I was from the nearby film studio, and asked who the pint and butty was for. You are told you are not supposed to say, under any circumstances whatsoever, who is over there filming, due to enormity and mega-ness of some clients.

So I said: “PHIL COLLINS!”

“My God, he’s my favourite! My absolute hero! I love him! Tell him it’s on the house.” She shouted: “Phil Collins! Phil Collins! This pint’s for Phil Collins!” By now half the bloody East End knew!

I took pint and butty (no tomatoes) back to Phil to eagerly gobble them down, and thought: “I’ll have some of this.” So I went back to get a sneaky pint for myself. Of course, by this time the pub was buzzing. “Another pint for Phil, is it?” the lady owner steamed as I walked in. “Oh yes, he’s a bit thirsty today,” I replied.

Receiving the pint I swiftly entered the local alley to drink it down as fast as possible. And as I took the glass back into the pub… “Another pint for Phil, is it?” the lady owner glee’d. “Oh, yes please,” I said. Back into the alley. “By heck, he’s knocking ’em back today,” she seemed concerned as I returned once again. And again. And again, until I filled up with Phil’s atomic liquid lunch. “Oh yes, he’s enjoying this very much, I can tell you,” I said. “He likes a pint, does old Phil.” By this time I’d decided enough was enough and I’d go back to the studio, when she said: “Stevie, tell Phil to come in. We love him… is he a bit of a pisshead then?” I should have said, “No he isn’t, but I am” – but I didn’t!

So, like I said, here I am filming my own videos and looking back on past experiences and really enjoying it all. I’ve just finished filming the video for Ballpark, the first track on my album, and I’m now filming for my first single, which will be a cover of Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust, out soon. Both Ziggy Stardust and Lady Rocker, another track from the Ze Suicide album, were recorded at Trevor Bolder’s house. He’s a brilliant producer, great to work with, and he actually played all the instruments on Lady Rocker himself. What a buzz to have the original Spiders From Mars bassist producing my version of Ziggy Stardust. Brilliant!

I’ll never forget those times at MGMM, working on songs with Kiss, The Stones, AC/DC, Diana Ross, Tina Turner and loads more. It was a fantastic experience, and I still make an excellent cup of tea. And if Phil Collins ever reads this: “Thanks for the beers!” He’s a really nice bloke, except, apparently, if you give him tomatoes. I bet Phil would love my videos. There’s enough cheese in them to make a million butties!