The Birdhouse, Paris 1988 (Photo featured in the video It’s My Life)
I skipped red-eye retouch on this photo, because his eyes probably WERE that colour
As I recall the big guy was “security” and hanging around the dressing room. For some reason he was bugging me and I gave him short shrift. He seized the opportunity later - halfway through the set - to crack my British reserve by sticking his massive head unceremoniously between my legs. Then he stood up so I was obliged to play while sitting on his shoulders. But as you can see I was neither stirred nor shaken….and the band played on.
It’s My LIfe: a cover of the Crushed Butler song, with kind permission of co-writer and copyright owner Darryl Read
This is to celebrate what i’ve done over four decades in music. You won’t find me in the celebrity mags but I sure had a good ride…..
It’s My Life ….and if I want to prance around on video in a PVC catsuit at my age, then so be it.
It’s YOUR life.…unless you’re a Buddhist it may be the only one you’ll get….go for it!
“It’s My Life” is a raw video collage of action and photos. The moving footage - me now. The photos - me (and fellow rockers) back then. Snapshots of moments in my life: the great, the sad, the bad, and the plain daft. I’m no longer the person in those photos anymore….but when I sing and play, then some essence of whatever was there survives, via some kind of rock n roll alchemy. For which I’m eternally grateful.
Why record a song by another artist? I’ve written plenty of my own ….. But my rock n roll girlfriend at Fancy in NY sent me some tracks by cult pre-punk band Crushed Butler, and this one spoke to me. It said “Cover me or else!” Things fell into place; a reunion recording with the drummer from my 70s punk band The Accelerators. Then a chance meeting with the charismatic Darryl Read from Crushed Butler, who gave our version his blessing. And finally - the video It’s My Life (shot by Rob Raw)
julieconnelly asked: Whens the book coming out?Enjoyed your blog and luddite article , yes a lot of it is a waste of time and effort frankly. The technology spoof says it all.
book will come out when I’ve honed my writing skills on the blog! glad you like the luddite article, thanks!
Kathy X in Spain next month with Gwen and the Boppin Rhythms- que bueno!
Kathy X has a couple of shows in Spain next month and in a fit of diligence i invested in an audio book of tourist Spanish.
I hate not understanding a word when in another country. My old punk-metal band Joyryde had 2 shows in Finland. Helsinki no problem, but the next day we were in a van with Finnish bassist and Finnish road crew heading North through an endless hypnotic and eery wall of snow and fir trees, quickly losing all track of time and reality. There was a lot of ominous discussion - obviously concerning some kind of MAJOR PROBLEM but damned if I knew what our bassist and the other unsmiling Finns were on about. Not a single word was familiar. Would we ever come back from this sinister Artic vortex?
Clearly we did but I still remember that “what-are-they-planning-to-do-with-us?” feeling. As it happened the issue was band politics. Finnish bass player left us soon after……but that’s another story.
PS
One tiny unexpected advantage of recent freezing weather here : sitting on public transport with a scarf in front of my mouth and no-one is any the wiser when I repeat several times that Ive reserved a double room and prepared the paella. I havent got to the section about soundchecks yet.
“Now you don’t come out to play - Girlfriend threw your toys away Ain’t got time for all that jive -Work your butt off nine to five…”
(from “You Don’t Rock No More”)
For a free download of this song, join my mailing list (download available till June)
If you play in a band - or do whatever your special thing is - you may wake up one morning realising the fun’s over. Some people’s priorities change with age. The fire that once burned so brightly gradually morphs into some kind of minor inconvience and reminders of it are removed from view. Till one day some chance occurrence triggers off the memory and you wonder what the hell happened to your dreams.
Here’s the choice: reclaim what you had, or act like it never happened. Neither is an easy road. Reclaiming your old dreams means confronting why you dumped them. Drowning them seems simpler on the face of it but there will always be an uneasy feeling - even if it’s buried six feet under - that you sold your soul overnight. Or in tiny pieces as the years went on.
I made a conscious decision not to live with that, and I’ve turned down more than one “safe” job offer over the years. People are sometimes surprised that I choose a chronically insecure lifestyle But when I have a rent-panic, I remind myself that I will never, EVER have to answer company mails on a Sunday to ensure I can escape to Isla Whereva once a year. And when I face the final curtain I’ll be entitled to have a certain special song played at my wake:
Hi Li’l Spaceman… a tough question but I guess supporting the Buzzcocks comes close.
