'I watched the swans in diesel river. I struck a match and watched it burn against the night. I almost prayed ...' The Weather Prophets, Almost Prayed,
I'm enjoying this period of my life as much as I have any other. I don't give a flying one anymore. I'm at the point where I feel I know a few things and I'm not prepared to be cowed by others anymore in a way that I might once have been, because of my working position or my more fragile state of mind. I think I'm a reasonable nice person. At least I strive to be. I'm intent on enjoying life and I wake every day planning to do so.
Good weather helps. We're in the middle of a wonderful unbroken spell which reminds me of the fabled, long hot summer which the UK experienced in 1977, when Punk broke and I was eleven. It was a very happy time in my life.
I was in my last year at Primary School in a lovely school called The Vineyard, the name of the road it was located in, on Richmond Hill in Surrey. That part of South London was and remains rather idyllic. Aesthetically beautiful and almost regal in terms of its grace and bearing. If you can I advise you to move there. Warning, you almost certainly won't be able to afford to do so.
Anyway, I'm perfectly happy to wake up in Newcastle where I am and have been for fifteen years now.. I did so yesterday, got up and bathed and prepared to go to church. I go to church. I have done for eighteen months now, having neglected the spiritual side of my life for the best part of fifty years.
I had a religious upbringing though never an intimidating, evangelical one. Faith is the cornerstone of my parents life. They're still soldiering on, at 88 in Canterbury and are both delighted that I have decided to get dressed on Sunday mornings and pay a visit to my local church, rather than sit in my dressing gown and listen to music like I generally do. It's what they've wanted me to do since I gave up on all of that, gradually from 13 to 17.
Anyway, I won't try to evangelise myself. Especially as I don't really know what I think myself. I like the guy in charge. I'm not talking about God, . The guy in charge at St. Andrew's, the church I attend.. I think of him as the Reverend Mike, although I'm sure that's not his official title. I like the services, I like the choir, I like the hymns I appreciate the Communion and I enjoy the post service discussion and tea and cakes and biscuits.
When I was younger I was ashamed of going to church with my parents and siblings. It was the kind of thing other kids laughed and made fun of you at school about. I'm not really bothered who knows now though I don't run around telling everybody I meet. I imagine most people don't care how I spend my Sunday mornings.
Yesterday I had a great chat with a lady called Marion who seemed to be in her late seventies or early eighties. She has a great bearing, a calmness which struck me as soon as I saw her. She's a widow. We talked about her father and his wartime service in Normandy. I talked about my Grandfather, who I never met and his time in a concentration camp in Germany during the First World War. He never spoke about it. You wouldn't would you.
After I'd finished my tea I said farewell to Marion went and bought a book for the day. I plumped for Whatever Happened to the C-86 Kids. It's about that scene. In David Quantick's words 'the most influential loser tribe in music history.' My kind of tribe. My copy is now signed by Pete Astor who I saw play at Bobik's later in the day. Pete played in The Loft and The Weather Prophets. Both early Creation bands, neither of whom appeared on the infamous C-86 compilation. But they're both strongly associated with that scene. The latter certainly among its greatest 'losers' though of course they're not. They put out some very fine records. Strangely, the sermon today was about 'the lost, though not losers. Who is to say what a loser is. Anyhow, I'm sure Mike didn't have Indie bands influenced by The Velvet Underground, The Byrds, The Fall and Buzzcocks in mind. I think he was probably referring primarily to Food Banks.
I went to The Newcastle Arms and had a fruit cider, put a few C-86 related songs on the jukebox and had a chat with Talia who had just opened up. Talia is a pretty young woman with an infectious laugh and an irritating habit of falling for 'bad boys' who are not nearly good enough for her and are curiously unattractive in any way. .It's a strange tendency in people. I've told her off about it jokingly and she laughs it off. Each to their own I guess. Some people like living in Eastenders I suppose. I don't particularly enjoy even watching it really.
Onto Rosie's which has been by most steadfast local for almost fifteen years now since I got to Newcastle. A chat with Mark and Cath in the company of the knuckle dragging barmen who's been there for a couple of years now to my dismay, and resembles nothing so much as a twenty something lobotomy who will serve you a pint if you ask him really nicely. I don't tarry long.
Then round the corner to my flat, a call to mum who's just finished Sunday lunch and head off to Jesmond to get my own. I walk through the mall. I like to go to a record shop or a restaurant most days at the minute. I've slipped into a routine. I go to HMV and stroke the cover of Sun Ra's singles collection which I covet and have vowed to buy in a few weeks.
Then on leaving the shop I almost bump into Mustafa from Baghdad with his wife and two small boys. Mustafa is one of the favourite students I've taught in my career of 32 years 'at the chalkface' if you care to use that ludicrous expression. I taught him about three ago now. At the height of Lockdown. He was a smart, eager and funny student who joined us from a house he'd built himself in Baghdad. The infrastructure in Baghdad was still in such tatters that his electrical connection flickered on and off on his screen throughout the lesson. It was a constant reminder to me of how fortunate we in the West still are despite our 'apparent' woes and how we should never forget it.
Anyway, we chat, take selfies and vow to meet and catch up properly. I continue on my way to Jesmond. It's a fifteen minute walk and the day is incredibly warm and beautiful. I make my way past my office buildings and am at the doors to The Carriage, just past Jesmond Station before I know it.
I used to socialise quite a lot in this part of the world when I first came to Newcastle. I stopped coming here for almost ten years but am now starting to frequent it much more again now I'm walking and gigging more. It's my main source of venues now along with the Byker and Ouseburn Valley area. I love NE1 where I live but am not starting to find these districts cooler in some respects.
The Carriage is one of the coolest pubs in Newcastle. It has a jukebox, an actual old school jukebox, a stately lounge, a fine selection of ales and a wonderful garden with an actual section of a railway carriage. I enjoy my beer and move on to As You Like It.
As You Like It was a major feature of my life for several years when I first came to Newcastle. It's a classy restaurant / bar on several levels with a pretty unique ambience. It's classy without being elitist, the food is excellent and the service good. I had a two course Sunday lunch which blew my head off, (no not actually), and I chatted with the two pretty young waitresses about just how wonderful everything was. Things are unwinding very nicely.
Then a walk round Jesmond Dene, a small miracle in the heart of Newcastle, the place for great walks and bike rides. The pastoral creation of Victorian engineer, inventor and philanthropist William Armstrong. A couple of years ago when activists started getting excited by the idea of pulling down statues of historical figures they disapproved of, Armstrong became a prime candidate for such treatment round here. Largely as far as I can see, because his inventions and engineering genius led to the production of whole arsenals of weaponry. My personal take is that proponents of such rigid judgement should be taken for a long walk in Jesmond Dene with the hope that some reflection would occur within its beauty. Then back to the fine local pub The Punchbowl to discuss the matter further.
I now find myself in The Punchbowl, upstairs at its gig venue with a pint of coke and ice. I'm tired, I'd got slightly lost in Jesmond Dene and had walked the best part of a mile further than I'd wanted or intended to. I was put back on the right path by a young music fan, who was quite unaware of Pete Astor, The Loft or The Weather Prophets but very knowledgeable on the subject of another Creation act, My Bloody Valentine and Loveless in particular. He walked me back to where I needed to be and I thanked him.
But now I needed to sit and I was grateful that it was a seated gig. This suited the small audience who turned up at Bobik's looking to see Pete and his support for the evening Nev Clay. We were all of an age. I chatted with Chris and his lady friend for fifteen minutes before the gig. They like me and Pete and Nev were of a certain vintage. Eighties Indie people.
We talked about Pete and Bobby. The Fall, R.E.M. and Tom Waits. The music that was playing on their playlist. Christ was a stalwart of the scene. He's also known as Prancey Dog and he puts on events at local venues like this one and The Cumberland Arms. The local scene wouldn't survive without the determination of people like him with the get up and go to put on events for those that care. I'm very grateful for them.
Nev Clay was now on. He's another local phenomenon to be grateful for. A regular on the scene. An unremarkable looking man with a beard, a reddish one and something of a comb over, he was a mental health nurse in 2018 and his work experiences seem to form the basis of his material. He's a raconteur and his rambling digressions, often mid-song are as much of his act as his actual songs, perhaps more so. He's like some kind of Folk Ronnie Corbett. Ivor Cutler and Jake Thakray are further reference points. He's very funny, frequently laugh out loud so and I'll see him again, just as soon as I can.
He leaves and Pete, who's been at the back of the venue, enjoying Nev's set along with the rest of us, stands up and sets up his Merch table. He's a dapper, medium heighted man in his sixties with glasses, a good head of hair and a good mouthful of well tended teeth. He has a certain, residual Rock & Roll cool, but he's not showy about it. Nice white suit, cool boots. He knows it's still a good idea to dress up to a certain degree. He's about to put on a performance after all.
I chat to him a bit at the table. I say I was at a Weather Prophets gig at The Hammersmith Clarendon. Supported by the early Happy Mondays who were quite startling frankly, as well as The Servants and Pop Will It Itself. It was quite a night looking back. He was immediately friendly and laughed at the memory of it and said they were nice guys and had had a good tour together and worked on a version of One Nation Under a Groove together.
I also indicated his latest album, last years Time on Earth and said I thought it was the best thing he'd ever done. I genuinely think this. It has a gravitas and precision that are quite remarkable. Some artists become comfortable in their skin later on in life and I think this is the case with Pete. He was obviously pleased with the compliment and said that a few people had said this. More people should.
He was onstage shortly afterwards, a few rows of people facing him. He was incredibly comfortable and soon had us all eating out of the palm of his hand. He pushed away the mic and settled into his set, thanking Nev and chatted away to Chris, a couple of guys he'd put on his gig in Darlington the previous night, me actually, and anyone else who had anything to say. It was a delightful night of conversation between a group of people of a certain age and disposition who shared a love of Rock & Roll lore first and foremost. For some this isn't just a hobby among other hobbies. For some of us, it's a more abiding and enduring passion. The heart of the matter.
He's funny and smart and self-depreciating and reflective. A teacher at college and I imagine a good one. He said that life gets easier as you get older and I agree with him. That chimes with my own current experience. With age you're better able to cope with it, predict it and mold it though you're obviously just as prone to the bad things about it. People you love dying mostly.
Anyhow, Pete chats about being in The Weather Prophets. Not so much about The Loft. He talks about he and Dave Morgan, his drummer, being mean to Simon Reynolds and Dave Stubbs when they stopped over with them as strangers at Oxford in their early musical days and how the two of them wreaked their revenge on them in the late Eighties whenever they reviewed the Weather Prophets in Melody Maker. He talks about the Trotskyite dictates of Post Punk and how you weren't allowed to like The Grateful Dead for a few years.
He's cool in short. He takes requests for his 'encore' though says it's not really that. He's going to play and then stop as he pleases. Three songs are asked for and he goes out when he's played the set he planned into a backroom to work out the chords and lyrics. The three that he's asked for are, The Undertaker which is about death and how we're all a lot smaller and less significant than we like to believe. He plays Peter Cook, which I asked for and is about, err Peter Cook, and how funny and special he was.
As his last song he plays, Why Does The Rain, which was so good he recorded it twice, for The Loft and The Weather Prophets and released twice as a single. It should have been a huge hit. It's probably the song he's most known for. It describes the English condition, our phlegmatic and debilitated condition as well as any song I know. He said it was written by a very angry young 23 year old. He's clearly much happier now. That's great to see.
He signs my copy of C-86, saying that it's a great book and I head for the train. I'm listening to Mayflower, the first Weather Prophets album now. For the second time today. The one that was supposed to make Pete a Pop Star, but didn't for some reason. Possibly because it was not the right time. Possibly because it was not quite good enough. I like it more than I've ever liked it before now I've shaken the hand and spent an evening in the company of the man behind it. He's a very interesting and very wise fellow.
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