Bill Nelson diary - September 2003

Sunday, 7th September 2003 -- 1:30 PM

Tired today after getting home at 1 AM from Scotland. The first two concerts of 'The Romance Of Sustain' tour have been performed to enthusiastic audiences in both Tunbridge Wells and Glasgow.

The first concert, at Tunbridge Wells' lovely Trinity Theatre and Arts Centre, was a perfect opportunity for first night nerves. As always with these low-budget enterprises, there is a point beyond which technical perfection has to be compromised in favour of a more pragmatic approach. Also, being a first night affair, there are bound to be adjustments that can only be made with hindsight...on stage monitoring and guitar change-over techniques were revealed to be in need of some tightening up, along with my fumbling of certain sound changes and musical cues. Fortunately, none of these personal reservations seemed to affect the audience's enjoyment of the evening. Those who I met afterwards were unreserved in their enthusiasm, though there was one amusing exception. (More of that later.)

I'd arrived in Tunbridge Wells feeling hot and tired after opting to take the train, rather than the long drive in Dave's van, but, of course, I wasn't allowing for the U.K.'s diabolical railway system. The journey from York to London went without hitch, apart from a car park problem in York. (It was full.) The tube journey from Kings Cross station to Charing Cross was a little more frought due to my innocent misreading of the underground map. I'd thought I would be able to get a tube direct from one station to the other but, as it turned out, I had to change at Euston station. I hauled my luggage on and off the underground and eventually arrived at Charing Cross, only to learn that there were no direct trains running to Tunbridge Wells that day. Some points or signalling failure meant that I had to catch a bus to complete the last leg of the journey. The weather had suddenly reverted to summertime temperatures after the previous few days of cooler, more seasonally appropriate weather and the only available seat was on the top deck of the bus and right in the line of the sun. It was unbearably hot...A greenhouse on wheels. By the time I'd disembarked and hauled my luggage up the steep hill from the station to the venue, I was dizzy and exhausted. Not quite the arrival by limousine of my Be Bop Deluxe days. Hilarious, in some ways. A down to earth contrast from the surreal nature of my performing past and a reminder of how absurd the 'rock star' life once was for me.

Not that I expect or desire all that glam-glory and pampering (a chance would be a fine thing, as they say...). No, these days, there no choice other than to deal with each part of the process of making, releasing and performing music as if I were some kind of warrior. It is a fight, a struggle, a spitting in the eye of indifference with only sheer bloody-minded determination and a lust to make music that is relevant to my life. If it was left to 'the industry', it would never happen. At the end of the day, whatever creative urges drive me onward are the root cause of any work that manifests out there in the wider world. If nothing else, I can console myself with the thought that others at my time of life, if faced with the same obstacles and economic restraints, would completely give up the ghost and retreat to some kind of senile revivalism, or perhaps desperately attempt to re-form an older, more commercially viable band in a last ditch ploy to cash in on their nostalgia quotient before it's too late. I honestly can not bring myself to do that, 'though God knows I've given it some thought. And why the hell should I whilst the juices are still flowing and there are new avenues to explore? But all this is mere discourse and I'm drifting away from the immediate subject of my concert in Tunbridge Wells.

The actual venue was in an old, deconsecrated church. I suspect that there was an old deconsecrated God hiding somewhere amongst its gothic pillars and arches.... Maybe a deconsecrated devil too...or maybe they're the same entity with two uniforms. The ticket collector and chucker-out at a nebulous off-world art event. The stage area was generous and the seating steeply raked to afford every member of the audience a perfect view. The lighting looked subtle yet colourful and there was a perfect screen, flanked by curtains, for projecting the 'Dream Worlds That Really Exist' DVD onto. I hadn't actually planned to screen the 'Flashlight Dreams And Fleeting Shadows' DVD at this particular concert as Tim Elsenberg was scheduled to be the support act. Unfortunately, when Adrian Molloy (from Opium, my management company), arrived during soundcheck, he announced that Tim was unable to make it and that I was without an opening act. Luckily, we were able to rig the sound from the DVD player out to the house PA system and 'Flashlight Dreams' became my support act, as it was originally planned for the other concerts. Hopefully, no-one complained about the substitution!

After soundcheck, a quick trip to the b+b (where I was booked in overnight), to drop off my luggage, then back to the venue to get ready for the show. Two generously willing helpers had come along to look after the merchandising counter, David Brown and Bob Humphries. They did an excellent job, modelling the new 'soft guitar' t-shirts to boot. I'm lucky to have such dedicated fans. Do I deserve this kind of loyalty? Probably not, bearing in mind how little I consider anyone's opinions other than my own when making music. Art has no business with show business. Nevertheless, I'm grateful for my fan's loyalty and do sincerly appreciate their help and support. In this respect, I'm blessed.

Half an hour before the start of the concert, the headache that had been brewing all afternoon kicked in with a vengance. I took a couple of pain killers but felt dizzy and sick. At one point, I wondered how on earth I was going to get through the set, which was going to be a lengthy one. I retired to the second dressing room and changed into my stage clothes, feeling suddenly and totally alone and extremely vulnerable, particularly as Emiko was not able to be with me. No band to banter with in the dressing room, no rock and roll entourage, just me and a suit carrier full of crumpled clothes, an unopened bottle of red wine and a packet of crisps.

Was this tour business such a good idea? Maybe I should just stick to studio work and put all 'live' performance behind me? I've never been really comfortable with the 'performance' aspect of being a musician anyway, even in the Be Bop Deluxe days. It's something that doesn't come naturally to me although, when the wind is in the right direction, I've been known to hoist sails and head for entertainment island. I can be the conquering pirate if all goes well and there are enough females present. That's what I try to tell myself, even if I'm the last person to be convinced of this. No matter how serious the music is (and, despite appearances, it is, deeply serious), the act of walking out onto a stage beneath coloured lights and in front of an audience fuelled with God knows what expectations is utterly and totally unreal. And often quite silly. I constantly have to fight the absurdity of it all, otherwise I'd just down tools and bugger off back home. And that wouldn't achieve anything.

Anyway... Before I knew it, an announcement was made and I found myself in front of a full-looking house, running the 'Romance Of Sustain' set for the first time. My nerves were getting the better of me and I felt all too aware of the audience's intense scrutiny. Ian Thorpe, my sound engineer for the tour, was doing a splendid job out front, from what I was told afterwards, but my on-stage monitoring was throwing me curve balls. Ideally, a separate monitor desk at the side of the stage, with its own monitor engineer would have been the ideal way to solve the problem. However, the budget restrictions mean that we have to use 'in-house' PA systems and monitors, rather than carry our own. Plus there was no possibility of hiring a separate monitor engineer anyway. Budget again.

This introduces a certain amount of unpredicatability, with each venue presenting us with fresh problems. The trick is in being able to adapt without losing sight of the standards required to put across this kind of performance. Luckily, Ian is an experienced live sound engineer and has already, in the space of two concerts, proved to be an invaluable ally for me. At Tunbridge Wells, Ian had to mix from a booth, way up at the back of the theatre, a little isolated from the activity on stage. I was too nervous to attempt mid-show communication with him to re-adjust the monitoring, being too conscious of the audience's perception of the evening's flow...and so I tried to ignore the monitoring difficulties altogether and ploughed on regardless. This made me more tense and I missed a few cues and generally felt I wasn't completely 'inside' the music. Astonishingly, the audience seemed quite happy with what they were hearing so perhaps I'm being over critical of my own performance. I hope so. I met a good few people, after the show, to sign autographs and albums and everyone appeared to have genuinely enjoyed themselves. I was relieved to hear this.

Of course, there's always someone who you can't quite reach and in this case it was the guy who regularly kept calling out for 'Adventures In A Yorkshire Landscape'. He didn't seem to be aware of the fact that this was billed as an instrumental concert and that I didn't have a band on stage with me. It was extremely off-putting, although I think he was unaware of just how much so. I suspect that this was the same person who collared me after the gig and demanded to know why I wasn't singing any old Be Bop Deluxe songs. (Or singing at all.) I politely explained the concept of this particular tour and also gave him an insight into the economics of putting a band on the road and so on. Unfortunately, he saw all this as some kind of 'excuse' and even went as far as saying that I didn't need that 'arty stuff' projected behind me on stage, whilst at the same time grudgingly admitting that I've always leaned towards such girly notions as visual art and design. I felt kind of exasperated but eventually realised that he wasn't really aware of much beyond the Be Bop Deluxe era. This was confirmed when he told me that he had no CD's in his collection, only old vinyl records and that he had no idea of, or interest in, anything I'd done post Be Bop. Nor was he aware that the Nelsonica fan convention existed nor that the band thing he was so desperate to hear would be a part of that event. Computers and the internet (and therefore the websites dedicated to my work) were totally outside his frame of reference. He apparently had no desire to investigate such things either. That he turned out to be only 41 years old made his conservatism seem even more shocking and I felt deflated that I hadn't been able to communicate my enthusiasm for fresh ideas to him. Sometimes, it's hard to accept there's only so much you can do to turn people on to new things. Some people are quite content exactly where they are. I almost envy them....but not quite.

My spirits were lifted though when a 23 year old member of the audience spoke with me. He seemed to have been knocked out by the show and enthused generously, redeeming my faith in the future. He is the guitarist in a band called the Cherubs and I'm pleased and proud to have provided him with a little inspiration. This is what makes it all feel worthwhile.

Glasgow, on the Saturday, was a different type of event entirely. King Tut's Wah Wah Hut looked shockingly small when I arrived for my sound check. It reminded me of those tiny cellar blues clubs I used to play back in the 1960's. The projection screen consisted of a very crumpled sheet, hung at the rear of the small stage. Lots of ergonomic problems to solve with equipment placement plus a low ceiling with stage lighting close enough to burn the stubble off my chin. How they managed to fit three hundred plus people in there I'll never know, but I'm glad that they did. What a crowd!

I was love bombed by the audience from the moment I took the stage to the post-gig signing session. I was, however, somewhat taken aback by the girl who threw herself at me (rather drunkenly, I suspect), and who, in full sight of Emiko, attempted a 'snogging and fondling' session, her hands wandering from my backside towards my crotch whilst I squirmed in embarrasment. I know I've complained about the lack of females at my concerts but this was totally unexpected. I guess at my age though, I shouldn't complain... Luckily, Emi wasn't in the least thrown by this adoration and thought it all rather amusing. Good for her. Of course, I was kissed by some of the men there too, just to balance it out. I'm an equal opportunities celebrity it seems! In Scotland, people are not afraid to express their emotions. I understood perfectly....my paternal grandmother was from Scotland too so there's some Highland blood in there somewhere.

The temperature at the mixing desk during the concert was 32 degrees. (Measured by a nearby thermometer.) On stage, with the intensity of the lights and the video projector, it was even hotter. The audience were so encouraging though, so generous in their enthusism that I felt like a re-consecrated god. I relaxed and really enjoyed myself. There were still a few monitoring problems but the constant rush of energy from the full house defused any tension and everything went well. My two Gretsch guitars perfectly complimented the '50's inspired twang of 'Locarno' and 'Real Men With Ray Guns.' I really love those instruments. What a great night.... I'll remember it for a long time.

Bruce Watson from Big Country was in the audience but, by the time I'd escaped the dressing room and some fans to go and meet him, he'd left, hassled by Big Country fans I believe. I must email him my apologies. The after-show meet and greet is always difficult, especially when there are friends there who I'd like to spend time with. It's quite a juggling act and tricky to not offend people if they step over the limits and hog the situation to the detriment of others. Luckily, Alan and Garry and Eddie from the Nelsonica team were on hand to keep an eye on the proceedings. They had also worked hard tending the merchandise stall, plus Alan had operated the video projection for me, freeing up Dave Standeaven who unfortunately had to both look after all my guitars AND control the video projection at Tunbridge Wells. Happily, Dave was able to just concentrate on his main task of guitar tech at Glasgow. Nice to see Tim Barr at King Tut's too, although I had nowhere enough time to sit down and speak properly with him as I would have liked to. Apparently, Tim had managed to help publicise the gig in the local media, for which I'm very grateful.

Emi and I had to spend the following day (Sunday), in Scotland as we were unable to book a cheap ticket home in the morning. The earliest available service at our 'price point' was 8:30 PM. Instead, at around midday, we caught a local train from Glasgow Queen Street station to Edinburgh, after admiring some of Glasgow's strong and striking architecture. There's something about Scotland and it's landscapes and buildings that really resonates within me. Maybe it's down to the fact that I read a lot of Dudley D. Watkins' charming 'Oor Wullie' books when I was a boy ( bought for me by my Aunt Nell, my father's sister who lived in Birmingham), or perhaps it really is that Scots blood in me.

Arriving in Edinburgh, Emi and I decided to have lunch at a bistro called 'Ecco Vino' where we had eaten once before. A nice, casual but sophisticated bar/eaterie on a hilly street (Cockburn Street), leading up to the Royal Mile. We enjoyed an excellent lunch of goat's cheese, tomato and basil tart and salad, plus (for Emi), a roasted pepper Frittata and salad. This was followed by a wonderful chocolate cake with cream, the whole meal accompanied by a large glass of red wine. Very indulgent (particularly as we were planning to have dinner in Edinburgh too, before boarding our train), but I really felt like relaxing and letting my hair down a little after all the weeks of preparation for the concerts.

After lunch, we wandered around, in and out of various shops. I found a record/bookstore where I purchased a copy of Kenny Burrel's 'Guitar Forms' album from the early 1960's (with arrangements by the sublime Gil Evans), and also a copy of a Jim Hall and Bill Evans album called 'Undercurrents' from the same era. In the same store I bought a book about William Burroughs and Alan Ginsberg's stay at 'The Beat Hotel' in Paris in the 'fifties, plus a biography of Richard Harris which documents his starring role in Lindsay Anderson's 'This Sporting Life' movie which was filmed in the 1950's in my birthplace of Wakefield. The film is one of my favourites and contains scenes of Wakefield's old 'Locarno' dance hall (now the site of 'The Ridings' shopping centre), where I used to go with my school pal Ian Parkin in my teens, supposedly to dance and meet girls but actually to listen to rock n' roll music (and later, soul music). Formative years that are hinted at in my 'Dream Worlds That Really Exist' video. There will be further stories of those days in my autobiography too.

Eventually, after walking and browsing the afternoon away, Emi and I were ready for dinner. We ate at a restaurant called 'Fishers In The City' in Thistle Street, a seafood establishment. The food looked and tasted good but, on our way to Waverly station to catch our train, Emi was suddenly smitten with terrible stomach ache and we had a mad dash to get her to the station loo's. She felt better after a while but then I got stomach ache too and had to make the same dash. Our train, meanwhile, had not arrived and an announcement was made that there would be a delay. We waited and waited with our fellow passengers on the platform . Eventually we were told to go to the main concourse and await further instructions. Almost one hour later, a platform was announced and we finally made our way to the train. Our reserved seats turned out not to be reserved at all and we had to show tickets to convince the people sitting in our seats that we had the right to sit there. Eventually, the train pulled out of Edinburgh and headed south. It felt like it had been a very long day.

A little further down the aisle and across from us a young couple frantically french-kissed each other for the first half-hour of the trip. How they avoided licking the spots and pustules off of each other's faces is a miracle to me. Hormones were erupting everywhere. You could almost smell the lust. Eventually they fell asleep and later left the train at Berwick-upon-Tweed or somewhere similar. Even further down the carriage, a pair of exremely drunken young blondes who seemed to have picked up two shaven-headed, earing-laden 'hard' men were screaming and cackling at the top of their voices, and loadly insulting anyone who passed by them. Almost pretty, in a commonly artificial way, but so coarse and vulgar as to be beyond any real attractiveness. But, as Bukowski said: "No one's ugly after 2 AM." Me included.

It wasn't two AM when Emi and I finally arrived back at Nelson acres, however, but one AM.... Late enough considering that Emi needed to be up for work the next day. Dave and Ian had driven back some hours before, leaving my equipment at our house, in the dining room. I carried it all upstairs this morning. It's still not unpacked but I will need to get it all operational soon so that I can start to work on the material for the 'Lost Satellites' performance for Nelsonica 03.

Before that though, I have to choose the material itself for the band to learn. I need to burn CD's for everyone. Bearing in mind that the convention is only a very short time away from now, I ought to be getting on with it rather than sitting here writing these words. And how many times have I said that?

LOTS to do still, as always. I trust that no one can accuse me of not giving value for money. It's virtually non-stop these days. Not the most sensible occupation in the world but, after a night like Saturday, special enough, I think. Perhaps I don't get to do this often enough. Well, it's not for a lack of trying. More soon, though.

Just completed three days intensive rehearsals with my magical 'Brigadoon' style band (we materialise from another dimension for just one performance per year). 'The Lost Satellites' have been heads down learning eleven songs to perform for attendees at this year's Nelsonica convention. That we managed to get the basics of all of these songs ready for performance in the three short days available to us is a measure of the generous spirit and good will of each of the musicians. Steve Cook (keyboards), struggled through with a dreadful flu virus. He really should have been at home in bed but put himself through the ordeal of rehearsals regardless...he's been so looking forward to playing. Today (our third and final rehearsal day), Steve said he was beginning to feel that he was over the worst, although he still looked far from well. I hope that no-one else in the band has caught the bug from him as the convention concert is only three days away. I'm taking vitamins and keeping my fingers crossed. I still have a string of solo concerts to complete after Nelsonica. My brother Ian was only able to make two out of the three days rehearsal due to work commitments. He says he'll do some homework with the pieces to try and compensate. There's a lot to remember...it's virtually a 'proper' show length, the set running to just over an hour, we reckon. An increase on last year's six number show, certainly.

A very pleasant aspect of these rehearsals has been working with Nick Dew again after a gap of almost thirty years. Where did the time go? Nick was Be Bop Deluxe's original drummer and played on the 'Axe Victim' album. We've been too busy during Nelsonica preparations to chat as much as we'd like to but we have managed to squeeze in some nostalgic and humorous conversations about our memories from the earliest days of the band. I hope we'll have the opportunity to spend a little more time together as, between us, we have a treasure trove of wonderful memories from those early days. It's strange, we're both much older and such a lot of changes have happened to us since we first met but, in many ways, it feels to me as if this last few days has simply been a continuation of our earlier relationship. It has felt really comfortable playing with Nick, who's drumming has proved to be a valuable asset to the band. My old pal Ian Leese has also been his usual musical self...he is always rock solid, enthusiastic and (very important this), 'song sensitive.' By this, I mean that Ian finds the heart of each song, understands it perfectly and responds to it with insight and sensitivity. There's no session man blasé 'been there, done that' nonsense about Ian's playing at all...it's absolutely fresh, appropriate and from the heart. With Nick and Ian, we have a really solid foundation on which to build our music. Dave on second guitar and Jon on keyboards take on a great supporting role between them, covering the essential chordal structure of the songs and allowing me to deal with the vocals and lead guitar parts more comfortably. Some of the songs have never ever been performed live and their studio-oriented style has required me to make some changes to render them practical as live performance pieces. Adapting them to the stage has meant that the arrangements have had to be stripped down to essentials in many ways. Certainly, many of my guitar overdubs have had to change so that I can deal with the aspect of singing and playing at the same time.

On the subject of vocals, my voice has been suffering somewhat. I haven't actually sung a note since last year's convention (it's been an instrumental oriented year), and the strain of these last three days has left my throat feeling raw . The older songs we're performing are the hardest to sing as my voice has changed such a lot over the years. The newer songs we're including in the set are more comfortable though as they have been written to suit these changes. The first two days of rehearsals were a little rough as we got to grips with the material. Today's final run through was much more encouraging and there were moments when it felt as if we'd been playing the songs for months, rather than three days. I hope the choice of material will please the fans who will be there to hear us...it's an interesting mix of old and not so old. I hope that I can remember the arrangements!

There's no turning back now, however. Our equipment has been trucked over to Hull this evening by Alan Myers who has been working like a hero to put the convention together again this year. And his team of helpers too. Jon Wallinger, my loyal and good friend is not only playing in the band again but helping me with my art exhibition at the convention and looking after my auction art. I've said it before but, I really am blessed to have all these kind people around me. I have no idea what I've done to deserve such good fortune. Tomorrow, it's a day for picking up dry cleaning, copying out my lyrics into a clearer notebook, burning a CD-R to give Nelsonica attendees a preview of some of the tracks from the work-in-progress ('Romance Of Sustain' Volume 2), preparing a section of my autobiography to read to the audience on day one of the convention and taking down some framed artwork from the walls of Nelson Acres to exhibit at the venue. No rest until next week, by the look of it. Then, on the 25th, a solo concert in Alnwick followed, on the 26th by another in Sheffield. I'm beaming out a lot of music this year in one form or another. But first...'The Lost Satellites' are about to go into orbit...Wish me luck and I'll wish you luck too.

Monday, 22nd September 2003 -- 3 PM

Life is measured in moments, the more significant moments providing a more accurate measurement of the lives experiencing them. These last few days have had an intensity that has led to several such significant moments. Various individual timelines and lives have crossed and been woven together to create the experience of Nelsonica 03, a gathering of energies and enthusiasms, a celebration and ritual conjuration and a damn good excuse for a party. As noted in my previous diary entry, the three days of rehearsals were tough going due to an ambitious set list, Steve Cook's illness and Ian Nelson's limited availability. The last day of these rehearsals left me feeling that we were at least in with a chance though. Of course, I'd worried what would happen if any member of the band happened to pick up Steve's virus and fall sick on the day of the concert. I'd hoped that the vitamins I had been dosing myself with would have rendered me immune to Steve's bug but it was not to be...Mr. William Fragile fell foul of the dreaded virus. I've always been a delicate boy, if only in the hope that this would make any females present want to mother me. It hasn't always worked.

I started to exhibit symptoms the day after rehearsals but the virus began to manifest itself more obviously on day one of the convention. I felt terrible: clammy, sore throat, headache, weak and so on. I stepped up the vitamin C and tried to rest but found it hard to sleep, worrying what would happen if I had to cancel the performance. It also transpired that my daughter Elle had almost lost her voice at a previous gig and was unable to sing more than a small number of songs at the convention, leaving Honeytone Cody to operate in an instrumental only capacity during part of their set. They handled this setback magnificently and the audience responded to the band's determination with enthusiasm. I had no idea whether my own voice would be up to the same task the following day. I tried not to dwell on it too much. The Friday event saw me reading to the audience a much shorter passage from my autobiography than I'd originally intended. An attempt to rest the vocal chords. Actually, I ended up getting into a lengthy question and answer session with the audience which, under the circumstances, was a bit of a gamble. Once I was up there, however, things didn't feel too bad. At one point, I even thought that I'd maybe got over the worst. Wishful thinking as it turned out... Later that night, I couldn't sleep again, sneezing and blowing my nose, sweating and generally feeling awful. After a couple of hours of tossing and turning, I went downstairs and poured myself a glass of 14 year old Armagnac Brandy in the hope that it would send me off to sleep. It didn't, 'though I certainly felt a warm, comforting glow. Before long, the dawn broke and I was still awake. Eventually, I gave up trying to sleep altogether and got up, feeling as if I'd just flown back from Japan...via Venus and Mars. I had serious doubts about my ability to get through the forthcoming day's set at all, especially as there was a solo instrumental recital to perform first.

As Saturday morning wore on and the medication kicked in, there was a slight blurring of the symptoms. The adrenalin of anticipation also lent its energy to my condition and I was able to subdue the urge to run back home to bed. I tried to pretend that everything was fine, that I was fit and strong and that all would be well. It was an unusually hot day for the time of year and the temperature in 'The Duke Of Cumberland' was already several degrees higher than outside. When the stage lights were turned on, it would become even hotter.

Alan Myers and his team were scuttling about the place, attending to this and that, never still, working tremendously hard to see that all was in place for the day's events. A small exhibition of some of my artwork from the 1960's and very early '70's was on display in the large marquee in the garden at the rear of the 'Dukes' concert room. Hand painted posters for Global Village and some very early Be Bop Deluxe posters that I'd designed, amongst other items. The sun was shining and, as I looked at the trees and bushes that bordered one side of the garden, I was taken back in time once again. I have very happy memories from the early 'seventies with regard to that same garden. I may have hinted at them in last year's post-Nelsonica diary entry but I'll just mention here that, between sets in those far-off days, the rest of the band had to go looking for me to say that it was time to start the next part of the show. I was blissfully wrapped in the arms of a certain 'teenage archangel' at the time...(sigh...) But that was then...this is now.

The Lost Satellites set up their equipment on the specially extended stage and we began our soundcheck. All sounded well. Our PA system was piloted by Ian Thorpe who is also acting as my front-of-house sound engineer on 'The Romance Of Sustain' tour. In fact, Ian's own sound company had been booked to provide the PA system for Nelsonica again this year...Lighting rig too. This latter was a great improvement on the rather basic house lights of last year. Ian's a good man who takes time to get things right. I appreciate his attention to detail.

After band soundcheck, I did a brief solo-set soundcheck and then retired to the 'dressing room' to take another Lem-Sip. I use the term 'dressing room' loosely. It was actually a spare kitchen at the back of the hall. The very same one that Be Bop Deluxe Mark One used in the early seventies when we used to play a regular monthly concert there at 'The Duke' long before recording our first album. Nelsonica 03 was rendered even more nostalgic than 02 for me by the fact that Nick Dew, Be Bop's original drummer from that time, was now playing with The Lost Satellites, the first time we've played together since the 'Axe Victim' tour in '74... A thirty year gap, next year. Nick and I recalled the fun of those early days and how, on the first ever gig we did at 'The Duke', we applied our 'make up' (poster paints and glittery, stick-on stars due to our that 'too scared to ask for women's makeup at the Woolworth's cosmetic counter' nervousness), in the gent's toilets. Glam rock was an unknown quantity in the north of England at that time and we must have been regarded with a great deal of suspicion and amusement by the male members of the audience who entered the gent's toilets to relieve themselves. I enjoyed the sense of outrage and provocation that our unusual appearance stirred up in the more conservative types present and soon got up the nerve to apply proper glamour makeup, green and silver eye shadow, cheek rouge, red lipstick, fake beauty spot and all the rest. (Usually bought from the cosmetic counter of Boots The Chemist or Woolworth's.) It was, in many ways, a continuation of the 'freak-out' happenings I'd organised in the late sixties, a happy, theatrical flaunting of sexual stereotypes. Looking back, I marvel at our nerve. It was, of course, the privilege of being young. AND it attracted the girls in palpitating numbers... Very nice for a shy boy like myself! But...I'm drifting into nostalgia land again.

Soon, it became time for me to go on stage and perform my instrumental set, a cut-down version of 'The Romance Of Sustain' concerts. I changed my clothes and went on to enthusiastic applause. Always helps to get some immediate and positive response from the audience. The set flew by. Before I knew it, I was into the improvised 'free-form' encore, using my Boss loop-station gizmo to create a shifting pattern of guitar phrases to improvise against. Some tuning problems due to the on-stage heat. Not crucial though, just sweetly sour enough to add a strange edge to the piece. I decided to title it 'Another Sexy Dream?' due to something Emiko had said to me when I awoke that morning. She knows exactly what I'm like!

Back to the kitchen come dressing room and a clothes change. Soaked to the skin already. I informed the band that it was going to be a hot one. We decided to walk to the stage from the kitchen at the rear of the hall, exactly as we used to do it in the Be Bop days, through the crowd. Unfortunately, I was already feeling exhausted and worried about my voice holding out. I had wanted to savour the moment of re-creating that walk from the dressing room to the stage, to half close my eyes and try to recollect the faces from thirty years ago, the feeling of excitement that used to flood me back then. Instead, I was sucking on the last drop of a medicated throat losenge and thinking that I should have arranged for a glass of water to be on stage.

As soon as the band took up its positions, I realised that my lyric book and set list were not laid out on my music stand. The instrumental set's note book and list were still in place. I cursed the fact that I'd taken it for granted that everything would be re-arranged. Too many years of having a professional road crew, I guess. Lots of fumbling, embarrassment and nerves and then we were away into 'Ordinary Idiots,' from the 'After The Satellite Sings' album, its first ever live performance. The set progressed to an enthusiastic audience response. More technical hiccups with a special stereo guitar cable for my old Gibson 345 semi-acoustic. It wasn't set up ready to use. In fact, I couldn't find it! Steve had nervously started his piano introduction to 'Adventures In A Yorkshire Landscape' before I had chance to signal that I was ready to go. He then had to drag it out to ridiculous lengths whilst I tried to sort out the missing guitar cable. When I eventually got the Gibson happening, it was way out of tune, due to the heat probably. Half way through the piece, whilst the keyboard and sax solos were underway, I swapped over to my Duesenberg guitar. This was a little more in tune and we concluded the piece in better shape than we'd began.

I joked with the audience, trying to sound relaxed and flippant. Inside, I was a raging inferno of uncertainty. It was only in the final song of the set, 'Panic In The World', that my own panic started to subside. Things began to gel and I was able to genuinely relax a little more and enjoy myself. I'd chosen 'Wonder Of The Moment' as our encore number. It was nice to pick up an acoustic guitar and deliver this song in an almost 'unplugged' style. An extended arrangement, compared to the recording on 'Luxury Lodge', but a suitably minimalistic one. Alan Myers said it chokes him up every time he hears it. (He had been to rehearsals when we put the performance together.) The audience seemed to love it too. I then called the band back to perform a rough and virtually unrehearsed version of 'Need Your Love So Bad', originally a Willie Dixon blues number but covered by the Peter Green era Fleetwood Mac, way back. I hadn't played this since my days in Global Village in the '60's when we used to perform in various Yorkshire blues clubs. A nice change of pace, this.

I once saw that early line-up of Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac playing at a pub near Bradford. It was an education at the time and an inspiration too. Peter had a 'touch' that was so special. No wonder BB King said that he was 'the only white blues guitarist that could make him sweat.' I have no idea whether we did the song justice at Nelsonica or not (there was an entire middle section missing that we'd not had time to work out). We didn't even have a copy of the record but just relied on my unreliable memory of the piece. Nevertheless, it seemed to go down well with the audience and it was nice to play it again after so many years. I'm still fond of the blues. Damn it, I get them all the time, I should be able to sing the buggers!

The set was over, gone faster than we'd expected despite an increase on last years set of a mere six numbers. (We did twelve this year.) Again, I felt that I hadn't been able to relax enough to savour the moment, particularly to turn around and look at Nick and imagine him with his make up and glad rags on in the old Be Bop days, on exactly the same stage, when we were both innocent and fresh to the experience, untainted by the music industry and all its pressures, playing with the openness and wonder of youth. I think, I hope (and pray), that some of that wonder and freshness is still present with us both, with all the band. I know that it is particularly so with Jon and Steve who are neither professional musicians nor war-seasoned music industry veterans. It must be exciting and daunting for them to be thrust into playing the songs that they once approached purely as fans. They served the songs well, regardless of inexperience.

Back in the dressing room, we stripped off our sweat soaked stage clothes and were able to relax a little. Then back out into the hall for the meet n' greet session. A time to say hello to everyone and thank them for coming. I had been given several presents, all generous and appropriately chosen by their bestowers: A beautiful, hand-tooled guitar strap from California which will be, from now on, the support for my Gretsch Nashville 6120 guitar (thanks a million, Roger!). A miniature garden shed which now sits in front of my mixing desk, plus a book about 'Men In Sheds' (both items thanks to the legendary Shed Man)! A magical glass paperweight which contains the image of a guitar in its heart (this latter a beautiful gift from 'Permanent Flame' webmaster Chuck Bird), a collection of 'Oor Wullie' and 'The Broons' comic strips from the fifties (thanks so much Eddie)! A wonderful reproduction of a tin-plate, vintage Robby The Robot in a bright red colour which has joined my shelf of precious sci-fi toys, a catalogue from a William Blake exhibition, a bottle of exceedingly good Burgundy which I am drinking as I write these words, several CD's, (including two of Johnny Cash's last albums), and from Ian Haydock (who generously donated several fabulous raffle ticket prizes), a rare and treasured limited edition of Cocteau poems collected together under the title of 'A Tempest Of Stars', presented in a luxurious box....absolutely stunning! And other stuff too...I was blown away by the thoughtful kindness of everyone. So nice...and so difficult to express just how much this demonstration of affection meant to me. Thank you to everyone who came along to make the day such a special one and so eminently memorable. It was very important for me to receive your encouragement and love.

And....the musicians that have put their heart and soul into the project for little more than expenses and a few drinks: Many, many sincere thanks, Ian N, Steve, Ian L, Jon, Nick, Dave...what a lovely bunch of guys. Fantastic work, particularly with such a brief time to prepare. I really am grateful for your support and patience and time. It's a privilege to stand on stage with you all.

And...The RWBV team, headed up by maestro Myers. You guys were incredible! I'm speechless, really...I can't express my gratitude enough. Thank you so much! As last year, my neighbour and friend Jim ferried my equipment home in his van, helping to unload it at Nelson Acres. A valuable piece of assistance. Jim had also bought me a bottle of chilled white wine which I drank at the table at 'The Duke' as I performed my meet and greet duties. (I was slightly the worse for wear by the time I left the building.) Nice to relax though, knowing that the Satellite's mission had been successfully accomplished. All in all, a fabulous two days. I won't forget them. (And thanks to the person who passed on a brief message from an old flame...I hope it was genuine!) A lot of good memories for all concerned, I hope. Now, there is the tour to get back to. Thursday is Alnwick and Friday is Sheffield. And more beyond. Time to polish up those guitars again in preparation.

A breathing space. Sun shining outside, despite a drop in temperature. Autumn is definitely in the air which, as it is now almost the end of September, should not be surprising. It feels surprising though, simply because the summer seems to have extended itself unnaturally into the last third of the year. It's been unusually warm and dry of late....more global weather shifts probably. Nevertheless, the ivy that gracefully twists its way over the mellow brick surface of the little house that Emi and I call home has turned a beautiful deep scarlet-red and is shedding its leaves all over our pathway and garden. The mellow fruitfulness returns.

Emi is in London today at one of her Japanese Buddhist organisation meetings. She'll be home tonight. We plan to have a quiet meal out together when she gets back. Tomorrow, she has to endure the second part of her dental operation at a specialist surgery south of Sheffield. The first half, one week ago, was to remove an imbedded post that had been installed many years ago in Japan but which had become infected. Her local dentist in York hadn't been able to remove it and so she was referred to the aforementioned specialist. An expensive operation....over 700 quid, so far. Last weeks operation successfully removed the post but tomorrow, a new one has to be fitted, along with a new crown. The discomfort that she had prior to the operation still persists though, which is a little worrying.

One week ago (as of yesterday), The Lost Satellites were playing their extended Nelsonica set at The Duke Of Cumberland in North Ferriby. The intervening week has flown by, as all weeks seem to do nowadays. The ever-present time-slip effect... My flu virus still lingers though, if not quite as virulent as before. Generally feeling out of sorts with it, which hasn't helped the concert tour performances. It's been hard work.

Last Thursday saw me performing at 'The Playhouse', a wonderful old cinema in the Northumbrian town of Alnwick. It was my first visit to this charming place. Bumped into Eric and Diane from the USA who had stayed on after Nelsonica to attend the Alnwick and Sheffield shows. Really nice people and devoted fans. Unfortunately, it transpired that they would have to miss the Sheffield concert on Friday due to the fact that there were no trains to get them to the airport in time for an early Saturday morning flight back to the US. A shame as the Sheffield concert turned out to be the best of the tour so far.

In Alnwick, Dave Standeven (my acting guitar tech), Ian Thorpe (my live sound engineer), and myself were all booked into a local B&B, just across the road from the venue. Our landlady informed us that there was a pub just up the hill that would serve us drinks after the show (after hours basically). She said she would 'phone the landlord to make sure we could gain admittance later.

The show went smoothly enough, despite me having trouble with the clarity of the monitors on stage. The same old problem that I always seem to come up against in these situations. I'm 100% dependent upon stage monitoring to hear my backing tracks and guitars in these solo improv adventures. It's not just a matter of volume or balance but more a matter of clarity. I need to hear detail in the backing tracks so as to know exactly where I am in each piece and what I'm improvising with/against. It was a struggle at Alnwick but the out-front sound was good and the audience seemed to enjoy it tremendously. As the venue was a cinema, there was a full size screen to project my video pieces on. They looked impressive at such a large scale. The show had the visual impact I'd been hoping for....a little more sophisticated than the small, crumpled bed-sheet we were reduced to using at King Tut's in Glasgow!

A lengthy signing session after the show confirmed that it had gone down well with the crowd. I was pleased to see such enthusiasm from the audience as I'd actually felt a little bit down during the performance for some reason. Maybe because the monitors were a struggle, or perhaps because Emiko wasn't with me to lend her support. Anyway, I shouldn't have worried so much. It seemed to have been a success.

After all was done, Ian, Dave and I walked to the pub that our landlady had recommended. It was just after 11 PM and we were ready to relax after the day's tensions. We arrived at the pub's front door to find it closed and locked...the adjacent windows were shuttered too. We knocked on the door and got no reply. Maybe we were going to be out of luck? More knocking which eventually escalated into banging. Suddenly, the door opened a crack and a rather young-looking landlord peered around the edge of it. We muttered that we were the 'artistes' from the Playhouse Theatre and the landlord indicated for us to come inside. Apparently, our landlady had telephoned to warn him, as she had promised us she would. Inside, away from the cold street, we were hit by the pub's warmth, both physically and metaphysically. It was, as they say, 'steaming'. The place was packed with a predominantly young clientele, all noisily quaffing ales in an extremely affable manner, everyone in a good mood amidst the stone walls and wooden beams of the old building's interior. A cozy, celebratory atmosphere. Ian and Dave drank their pints of ale whilst I had a couple of glasses of red wine. We sat and chatted, Ian and I exchanged tales of life on the road as 'professional' music people. As the night wore on, our tales became more scandalous...(well, mine certainly did!). A pleasant time and a much needed opportunity to socialise with my fellow travelers. At around 1:35 AM the landlord indicated that he was about to shut up shop. Dave, Ian and I looked around to realize that we were the last people in the place. A happy walk down the hill to our lodgings and off to bed.

I awoke at 5 AM. with a headache. Only two glasses of wine (largish ones, I'll admit), and I'd saddled myself with a hangover. Something to do with the fact that I had only eaten a couple of sandwiches the day before, not having found time for a proper meal? Or was the wine far stronger than I'd thought? Whatever, I couldn't get back to sleep and eventually got up and dressed, feeling absolutely disconnected from reality, an aching veil of dulled sensation between me and the world. Dave and I walked down to the Playhouse to retrieve my equipment (we'd left it there the night before), and then loaded the van and set off for Sheffield where I was due to play that evening. As our journey progressed, I realised that my hangover wasn't getting any better. Actually it was getting worse. The prospect of working my way through a set that could be up to two hours long (with encores), became extremely daunting. Panic set in.

We were making good time so I asked Dave if he'd mind stopping off at my home so that I could take a bath. The boarding house had only a shower cubicle in the corner of the bedroom and had no soap. I'd washed using hair-shampoo that morning. Dave said there was no problem as we were ahead of schedule and I soon found myself relaxing in my own familiar bathtub. A change of clothes and we were soon back on the road again, heading for Sheffield. Unfortunately, I still felt absolutely awful.

There was a little trouble negotiating Sheffield's one way system to find the Memorial Hall (part of the City Hall where Be Bop Deluxe used to play at the height of their career in the seventies), but we eventually arrived and began to unload the equipment. Or rather , Dave did as I was waylaid by fans who had been waiting for autographs. I began to feel some concern as some of the fans seemed to be under the impression that the show was to be a band-based one, featuring vocals. I had already heard rumours, several weeks earlier, that the advertising had led people to believe that this would be the case. I had contacted Adrian Molloy (my manager Richard Chadwick's assistant at Opium Arts), to express my concern about this. He had assured me that all the promoters of these concerts were fully aware of the nature of my planned performance, and that it was to be a purely instrumental affair. I tried not to worry myself further at the time but these latest developments brought back the worry.

Dave and I unpacked my guitars and effects and began to set up on the stage. The hall was a wonderful building, semi-circular (as was the stage). It had a kind of neo-gothic but 'moderne' look to it...somewhat 'early Mussolini' in a worryingly fascist way but impressive though and brutally beautiful. After some problems with siting the video projector, I was able to soundcheck and retire to the dressing room. The dressing room next door was occupied by singing vicars who were giving some kind of humorous ecclesiastical revue in another part of the building. They were wandering about the corridors backstage in various stages of camp undress. All very surreal, especially when a nun passed and she turned out to be a vicar in drag. This, combined with my continuing hangover, added a dreamlike quality to the day.

Ian Thorpe had given me a gift before soundcheck....a book by Bill Bryson called 'Notes From A Big Country.' He had been raving about the book over our drinks in the Alnwick pub, the night before. Ian's a nice man and I was very grateful for the gift. I'll be reading it this week. Emiko and my son Elliot arrived. Emi had been working during the day and had picked Elliot up once she had finished her flower duties. She looked a little tired. I felt tired too, the hangover still hanging over me. I drank water continually, ate a pizza that had been ordered into the dressing room and then got changed for the show. I was told by Alan Myers, who was acting as my projectionist for the evening (as he had done in Alnwick and Glasgow), that the place was absolutely packed and that last minute 'walk-up' customers were being turned away as the place was full. This was encouraging, although I still worried that people might not realize the nature of my performance. I made seemingly endless trips to the toilet and wondered if I'd get through it all without a hitch. Someone passed on the news that Robert Palmer had died that day. A shock, particularly as he was the same age as me.. I suddenly felt even more fragile than before. Did I really want to do this performance thing? All the old doubts and insecurities came flooding back. Why didn't I just stay home in my studio and get on with the business of recording new music? Why was I putting myself on the line, trying to play solo conceptual instrumental music to an audience who might be expecting a straightforward rock band?

I stepped out onto the stage to warm and tumultuous applause and immediately felt better. After the first piece, the response was terrific and I relaxed a little. I explained that this was to be a purely instrumental show but that I was looking at the possibility of doing some shows with a band next year...a '30 years since Be Bop's first album' celebration tour. Huge applause and cheers from the audience. Had I got them on my side? Would they be open minded enough to enjoy the 'Romance Of Sustain' material? Well...it seemed so. It was a wonderful night for me. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. This and King Tut's had restored my confidence in both the music and the audience. And in me too. Considering that it was around twenty seven years ago I'd last played in Sheffield, this was a staggering turn out and a fabulous reception.

The show lasted two hours, with encores and I left the stage exhausted but happy. What a night. Spent an hour signing autographs and then drove home, dropping Elliot off at his place first. Retired to bed tired but happy. Now, I have to fit some domestic duties into this week. Also meet up with someone who is interested in publishing these diary pages of mine in book form. A haircut required too, over at Steve's salon in Elland. This coming Saturday is the Windsor concert and Emi and I intend to travel south by train. Will there be a good and generous audience there too, I wonder? I've been spoiled a little by Sheffield and Glasgow. Best not to get my expectations too high...

All in all, an interesting time and one which seems to confirm what I've been saying all along. This music, whether vocal or instrumental, seems to mean something to a lot of people. I'm amazed that it does, but extremely grateful too. I've made no real concessions towards mainstream taste, avoided the obvious ploys and the cheap promotional shots, the 'Be Bop reformation' pitch that stinks of desperation and defeat. And yet, something still manifests itself, it seems....something attracts listeners. I shouldn't even think about it, let alone try to analyze it. I'll just get on with the work instead.