Just to show you how boring we are live, here’s a promo clip from our last show in Buenos Aires:
Check this out. Great work from Stephen Schnee of Sacramento, California’s BEACH BLANKET FORT BINGO who used me for his first Video Podcast. Stephen has clearly given “Don’t Blame Yourself” a close listen and asked some interesting questions:
After many decades lurking in the shadows this wonderful footage of The Boys on French TV has shown up:
I remember the day well. A Sunday, I believe, at the start of a French tour to promote Alternative Chartbusters, we’d flown in early. There was a bar just by the filming stage, always dangerous for The Boys, but all went well.
The show, “Blue Jeans”, had an eclectic line up. Mainly French pap but also legend Serge Gainsbourg https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Serge_Gainsbourg . He had a new single out called “Sea, Sex and Sun” which Jack Black impersonated side splittingly for the rest of the tour. The single comprised young french women twittering away about the summer hols for a bit with an intermittent, chain smoking Gainsbourg coming in with a big, bass rumble of “Le Soleil” on the chorus. Jack’s take was perfect.
Talking Heads https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talking_Heads were on plugging Psycho Killer. They’d just stepped off the plane from New York. I gather having a conversation with David Byrne is not easy at the best of times. Trying to talk to him when he was jet lagged and a couple of vodkas to the good is one of the most challenging tasks I’ve faced in my life.
After the recording a very wet behind the ears me was walking back to the hotel for a kip. I stopped to ask the most gorgeous, black hooker, without realising her profession, what the hour was. The conversation went like this:
Me: “Do you have the time?”. Her: “Yes, follow me”.
I was left on the “trottoir” thinking “These good looking French girls are very forward”.
Looking back at the footage what strikes me now is: Didn’t we look great in red. Really ahead of our time.
PS: I’d forgotten Jack Black played the drums with 2 rolled up newspapers. That’s how you mime 🙂
This month (April 2020) the lockdown came. As corona virus stalked the land movement was restricted and mass gatherings forbidden in every country bar Sweden. With a new album out in May all the tours and festivals we had worked hard to string together over the rest of the year fell apart one by one.
Initially lethargy and despair set in. With not even any sport on the TV, apart from the Belarus Football Premier League, which started getting unprececdented viewing figures, I started spending way too much time watching Netflix (Better Call Saul and Ozark if you are interested).
Then I thought: “This won’t do. I’m going to write a song”. Noticing that a good many musicians were broadcasting from home, playing an acoustic guitar on the sofa, I thought: “I’ll do something different. I’ll keep a video diary as I write the song explaining what and how I’m doing it”.
It proved one of the most popular things I have done. So much so that people clamoured (well, ……… a person clamoured) to download the song.
So, here are all the stages. From a blank piece of paper, through starting the demo with drums and guitar, writing the lyrics, recording the lead vocal, adding the bass and embellishing with overdubs, keyboards, harmonies and Backing Vocals. A journey through to a finished demo which you can download here: https://duncanreidandthebigheads.bandcamp.com/
Enjoy the ride!
At the height of Lockdown Duncan & Sophie spoke on Zoom with Vive Le Rock’s (https://vivelerock.net/) Paula Frost about life, the Big Heads and “Don’t Blame Yourself”. Including clips from “Don’t Blame Yourself” here it is:
Don’t forget: Pre Order “Don’t Blame Yourself” here: https://duncanreidandthebigheads.com/pre-order-our-4th-album-dont-blame-yourself/
As you will perhaps have seen we had set the release date for our 4th album: “Don’t Blame Yourself” for May 15. Not unsurprisingly, the wonderful people at our distributor, Cherry Red, told us a few weeks ago that, with no record shops open and shipping lines disrupted, they aren’t releasing any new records in May.
They are therefore putting the physical release back to a date yet to be determined.
That gave us a few headaches. Normally you would chose the same date it comes out on Spotify/Apple Music etc to get records in the shops and on Amazon etc. You’d have a launch show around that date and start bugging press and radio in the run up.
But, we are so desperate to get this great album out that we are going to stick to May 15.
This means that, on that date, it won’t be available in shops or online physical sellers but it will be on Spotify etc (if you want to make sure you are notified by Spotify please follow us there on this page: https://open.spotify.com/artist/15VNyCsUxdJPr3huzwfToi?si=VYVnImkWT4Km3EkgDAyJOw).
If you want an LP or CD you can preorder through our shop here: https://duncanreidandthebigheads.com/pre-order-our-4th-album-dont-blame-yourself/ and we’ll get them out to you. Or you can buy through our Bandcamp page https://duncanreidandthebigheads.bandcamp.com/ (which is the same except they charge us 10% to tell us where to send stuff -downloading there is better for us than iTunes etc though).
If you pledged up front for the album thank you so much for doing so and we will get your stuff out to you in advance when we get them this month.
We are, on the other hand, putting the release show back from May 14 to July 9. A: it’s looking increasingly unlikely things will be back to some form of normality by May 14 and B: July 9 is my birthday so that’ll be fun.
If you’ve bought tickets already they will be valid for the new date and if you want one they can be bought here: https://www.wegottickets.com/event/496998
On a final note, if you have a blog, radio show, magazine etc please email us at firstname.lastname@example.org for our release pack, interview requests etc and we’ll be delighted to serve you.
That’s all. As you were. Back to song writing and potato planting!
In October 2019 we went to Japan and Korea, supposedly to play 7 shows and it’s true: we did do that.
We also caught many very fast trains, ate some delicious food out of boxes, met the most respectful but friendly people (like Rumi) , washed stains off our trousers with holy water, cycled around Kyoto on and off pavements to holy shrines, a taxi drivers cafe and along a river, never bothered to lock the front door of our Airbnb because you don’t have to, nearly fell in a number of ornamental lakes, dropped our sunglasses into a number of ornamental lakes, worried about football sized spiders dropping on our heads and pretended we were mediaeval horsemen taking part in an archery contest (I kid you not. The evidence is below).
I discovered a forgotten song which had become an underground hit (more on that here https://duncanreidandthebigheads.com/2019/10/31/the-wilderness-years-begin-and-a-lost-song-is-discovered/ ) which we rehearsed and played at the magical Poor Cow bar run by the charismatic Fifi (http://tokyodeep.blogspot.com/2015/10/bar-poor-cow-in-shimokitazawa-powerpop.html ).The rehearsal is captured below.
And in all of this we were lead astray by a Welshman, Russ Mainwaring, pretending to speak Japanese to uncomprehending locals while filming our every move, begging us with all his heart to buy a “go everywhere” train ticket so as not to be forced to queue at every station, while rescued by an army of super lovely and efficient Japanese women like Chihiro Isadora.
Big thanks to Russ for making it happen and for recording this home movie which we will always treasure:
I thought long and hard about how to make this vital story interesting. And the solution came: follow the technique of modern politicians. I.e. pick a segment of society and make everything their fault. So:
Youngsters: don’t they listen to a pile of shite? Justin Bieber with 5 billion YouTube views! Ed Sheeran? I mean ………Ed Sheeran!
And you know what? Their music spreads like a bland, drummer free virus. Allow me to explain how.
You see, you, my cherished and much loved listeners, you buy CDs and LPs which enables us purveyors of guitar rock to make records and play live.
But youngsters, those acne ridden, cloth eared wearers of exercise clothing in inappropriate places, when they drag themselves away from their intelligence sapping phone games, youngsters listen to Spotify. And when they listen to Spotify, they “follow” the soppy, sound the same as everyone else pillocks they like. And Spotify, just like every other form of digital media, has algorithms which think, “oh look, there’s a fuckwit getting a load of followers. I’m going to put that prick in a whole variety of playlists I present to other listeners so they can hear that Nike wearing twerp in unstylish footwear, with his hat on the wrong way round, as well”.
And so it spreads, as a virtual bacteria throughout the inter web, with a whole new generation descending into an abyss of bubonic Ariana Grande black death.
So how can you, the heros and heroines of this story, come to our rescue and put an end to this misery?
Well for a start, if you do not already have one, you can open a Spotify account. It’s free, and it doesn’t mean you must never buy a CD or LP again. You don’t even need to listen to it.
If you don’t already have one, please follow the link to do so: https://www.spotify.com/uk/select-your-country/
Once you have your Spotify account you click on the Spotify logo at the top right of the box below. This takes you to our page where you hit the “Follow” button.
If all of you do this and follow us on Spotify, there is an infinitely greater chance that, when our new album comes out, it will appear in more Spotify playlists at the expense of pillocks like Coldplay. Having heard this impending work of genius, more people will add it to their playlists and follow us. And so the robots at Spotify will think: “look at those handsome, talented Big Heads. No wonder so many people are falling in love with them. I am going to help this love spread”.
Et voila: digital penicillin!
You could, if you were so inclined, also pursue this policy with other commendable musicians. The more the merrier in the fight against those brain dead, teenage soap dodgers with their tattooed eyebrows, inflicting Little Mix on us in shopping malls with no thought for our sanity.
Come on! Collectively we can reclaim the airwaves a la Joey Ramone. Or it’s modern equivalent at least. Your generation needs you. Let’s make something or other great again!
Postscript 18 Jan 2020
I posted the above in mid Jan and shared it on Facebook and Twitter. 200 people read it. I think most chuckled and we gained a few Spotify followers. I also posted it on the US site Reddit. 4 people from Reddit read the blog which received the 4 following comments there:
So, out of 4 people who read it at least 3 hated it. My sense of humour is either too British or old or I just know nothing about promotion! Probably the latter 😂 😂 😂
I love our uber fans. No, not people who arrive at gigs using mobile phones, but those wonders of the modern age who know more about us than we do, are familiar with every single thing we’ve recorded even if never released, and who will journey to the ends of the earth to see us.
People like this guy who stopped me in the street in Osaka to say he had traversed the length of Japan and here was his screensaver:
But different types of fans present a challenge. At one end of the spectrum there are those who would be happy with an entire set of unreleased rarities and complain if Boys’ songs are included to the exclusion of Big Head originals. At the other end are older hands who will riot if “First Time” and “Sick on You” don’t make an appearance. (It was different in Korea, by the way, where no one had heard of “First Time” and the audience seemed to be comprised largely of Prog Jazz fans! But more of that another time perhaps).
So when, a couple of months ahead of our recent Japan dates, a gentleman messaged to say that “No Joke” by The Hollywood Killers is very popular in Japan and we should play it I thought: “Silly sausage. Thank you kindly for knowing so much about a band I’d almost forgotten I was in, and a record which was never released, but how can that song possibly be known in Japan?”
Now: “Who are The Hollywood Killers?” I hear you ask:
Shortly before moving to London at the age of 17 I hung out with my school friend Neil Aplin in Canterbury. We both liked some pretty dodgy music and would jam for hours on end at Neil’s house on the posh side of town, the council house I lived in being way too close to the neighbours who would have had no truck with teenagers noodling away all afternoon like Crosby, Stills Nash and Young. Neil had a friend, Jim Penfold, whose parents ran a pub outside Hastings and who was a bit of a go getter. Jim was a big MacCartney fan and wrote very Beatles influenced songs. Neil and I joined his band and I remember a few gigs around Hastings including a support spot with The Heavy Metal Kids and a college date promoted by Simon Fuller (who would go on to manage the Spice Girls and create American Idol).
But soon I was bored with provincial life and packed my bags for London, where another school friend, Jack Black, persuaded me to drop a job in a posh frock shop in Knightsbridge to join him at a T Shirt Factory managed by a certain Honest John Plain. He took Jack and I to 47A Warrington Crescent where the likes of Mick Jones, Billy Idol, Tony James, Brian James, Steve Jones etc would gather on Sundays to play the intro to Slow Death by the Flamin Groovies (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QU91FmqJZ6w) all afternoon because no one was good enough to move on to the rest of the song. All of this well before they all went off to form the Clash, Sex Pistols, Generation X and Damned.
And as a result of hanging out at 47A Jack and I were in The Boys.
Fast forward from 1976 to 1981, The Boys were in the last year of their first life when I went to see Jim Penfold and Neil Aplin, for the first time since 1976, in their latest incarnation at Dingwalls in London.
I loved it and joined the band, initially known as The Speedos, whose line up was topped off on keys by Lino Robinson (http://www.lionelrobinson.com/music.html) and drums by Paul Tully.
It was very much Jim’s band and he decided on the name change to “The Hollywood Killers” which fitted the 60’s Doors type vibe we had. We were a kind of Psychedelica meets Bubblegum pop band (You’ll of course be surprised beyond comprehension that I would be in a band with a poppy bent).
A couple of things happened:
A: we became very, very good, and
B: we became very, very successful -but only in the strict confines of the rich London areas of Kensington, Fulham, Mayfair and Chelsea.
Here’s a clip of us playing one of our psychedelic pop songs recorded at the Golden Lion in Fulham:
We played plenty of “proper gigs” and supported the Lords of the New Church (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lords_of_the_New_Church) on one occasion at a BBC Radio 1 In Concert Session.
We also played a whole variety of very well paid aristocratic Balls. We were a pretty handsome bunch and Jim, in particular, was tall and very good looking. The rich totty went mad for him. It was almost as if he was constantly surrounded by busty, posh birds in ball gowns. What a terrible life.
The biggest and most prestigious of all the Debutante Balls was the Berkeley Square Ball (https://www.montcalm.co.uk/blog/berkeley-square-ball-returns-to-london/), held each summer in the Mayfair location of that name. The theme that summer was the sixties so we were booked to play, together with another psychedelic pop band, being pushed as the next big thing by the music press at the time, whose name escapes me. (Update: I’ve since been informed by the encyclopedic Steve Green of Green Square who did such a fine design job on the covers of Little Big Head 2019 and Bombs Away (https://www.greensquare.me/) that this band was almost certainly Mood Six (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mood_Six)
We played our set, Champagne flowed, busty girls in ball gowns were admired as they chased Jim, chinless wonders in penguin suits were derided and I was plastered as I started my car to head home. Setting off I turned a corner to head the wrong way up a one way street, coming to a stop directly in front of a police car with two of London’s finest staring straight at me.
Now, was it the fact they knew I had just come from the Berkeley Square Ball and might therefore be very well connected which ensured that, while staring directly at me, neither shifted from their seats as I put the car into reverse, backed down the street and headed home, all the time praising my luck? I shall never know.
On another occasion we played a Convent School to two hundred frustrated and highly charged 15 year old girls, who hadn’t seen a male under the age of 50 for two months. We made it through 2 songs before they stampeded the stage, ripping the clothes from our backs and thrusting hands into places their mothers would not have approved of. The nuns came flying to our rescue, like black clad ravens hauling the girls off to bed with no supper amid admonitions of what they could expect in the after life. The Mother Superior was very kind, apologised profusely and gave us a glass of wine.
Suddenly we had a record deal with the independent label, Creole Records. But by that time I had made the momentous decision to quit music, accepting an offer to study Materials Engineering at Imperial College (https://www.imperial.ac.uk/), a very prestigious part of London University. At school I’d been good at English but hated History and all of the other “arts” subjects. I had an aptitude for Maths, Physics and Chemistry and, despite being lazy, ended up with decent A levels. Five minutes after finishing the last exam the headmaster ordered me to go home because he wasn’t having me hanging around with nothing to do, suspecting, possibly correctly, that I was connected with his car finding its way into the aisle of the school chapel with it’s fuel tank siphoned empty.
Hence, with those qualifications, it had to be a science or engineering degree. I had decided, at the ripe old age of 23 that I no longer wanted to be a penniless musician. I had no idea of the impending emotional hit to my self esteem which would come from the transition to student, but I still had a year till it started. When I told Jim of my decision he learned, on the same day, that he had the record contract he had always craved but would lose his side kick, which was what I was.
In The Boys, Casino Steel had always called me the front man, which was indeed my role. This didn’t mean I was leader of the band. I couldn’t be because, in a songwriting sense I’ve always said I was the student learning at the feet of masters. I was co lead singer, but the man at the front of the stage getting the crowd going and visually being the focus. In the Hollywood Killers I had more of a Mick Ronson (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mick_Ronson) role which was very enjoyable and carried a good deal less pressure.
I wrote, with Lino Robinson, a couple of songs in the set and one of them, “No Joke”, was pencilled in to be recorded in a five song session with legendary producer Mike Vernon (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mike_Vernon_(record_producer)).
And boy did that make me excited. I was a huge fan of early Fleetwood Mac, the version lead by Peter Green (https://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/4703771/Shall-I-tell-you-about-my-life….html). Green was on the verge of morphing from straight forward blues into something seriously original when, like Syd Barrett (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Syd_Barrett), his mind was fried and his genius stolen by a tab of acid, spending the rest of his life tormented by mental illness. But before he was lost he left behind the saddest and most beautiful song ever.
Don’t underestimate Mike Vernon’s contribution here together with his amazing work on records like “Albatross” where, through the guitars and cymbals, you can almost hear a bird flying over ocean waves.
I learned so much about production from Tony Barber when we came to make “Little Big Head”. At the outset, in typical Tony fashion he said: “We can make this record like a Ramones record or we can make it interesting”. Tony wasn’t being rude about The Ramones. Their early records are straight forward. The sound is almost the same on each track. The end of the track sounds the same as the beginning with no variation in between and they have almost no harmonies. The Ramones can do that and make a great record because they are so perfect and their songs are so superb. Thousands of eager young punk bands have since taken the same approach and made boring records because they don’t have the same genius.
Compare that approach to “Man of the World”. The genius of Peter Green, the artist, is not imposed on or hindered in any way, unlike for instance Phil Spector or Trevor Horn who dominate their records by producing their sound (and a great sound it usually is). But in “Man of the World” listen to how the sound and the instrumentation changes. A little bit of Spanish guitar then it’s gone. Heavy reverb on an electric guitar then it’s gone. Heavy reverb on a vocal then it’s gone. Heavy distortion on a bass then it’s gone. A distorted guitar line then a clean guitar line and on and on go the variations, being “interesting” indeed. All the modern technology in the world could not make that record any more perfect than it is.
And Mike didn’t disappointment with us. Time with him in the studio was an easy going joy. We decamped for a few days to his mansion in the Cotswolds where he had a studio in a barn and a barrel of beer in the recording room. The Boys wouldn’t have made it to the end of the session.
There was something so professional and calming about this man with the country bumpkin accent. He did a great job, the results of which are here:
And for good measure, showing what a great live band the Hollywood Killers were, here is a live version of “No Joke” from that Golden Lion show:
And so we fast forward from 1982 to October 2019 and Pop Pizza (https://poppizza.business.site/) in Kyoto Japan, one of those basement music bars so typical there, run by Dan, an American and sometime member of M.O.T.O (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M.O.T.O.) (check out “I Hate My Fucking Job“, one of the best American punk records of all time).
Dan says he has to close his club when he’s on tour because the Japanese can’t cook pizza. I couldn’t possibly comment.
Remember the kind man who had reminded me of “No Joke” by the Hollywood Killers and who I had dismissed as a well meaning but delusional soul for telling me it was popular in Japan?
We’d played our set at Pop Pizza and were mingling with the crowd, signing albums and bowing back as they respectfully bowed at us in that shy Japanese way which is so beguiling. Nick Hughes gave me a tap on the shoulder and shouted above the music: “What’s this song the DJ is playing. It’s really Elton John but I’ve never heard it”. I listened. “Fuck me”, I said, “It’s me!”.
I rushed over to the DJ shouting: “What is this, where did you get it?”. “It’s a 7 inch released in Spain” he said, “It’s very popular here”.
And the same thing happened in Okayama the following night, then in Osaka and then at our first gig in Tokyo. “No Joke” was everywhere.
Our second, smaller gig in Tokyo was an acoustic affair in the intimate Poor Cow bar, a wonderful place run by Fifi, a great singer fronting a great band in his own right. The bar is based around his vinyl collection and, of course, he had a copy of “No Joke”. The clamour to play the song was too great so we learned it in the sound check. When we played it a huge cheer erupted and at the end of the set, instead of the traditional Japanese communal shout of “One more song” the shout was a collective “No Joke”.
So we played it again, largely messing it up but still getting a resoundingly positive reaction.
Across the Sea of Japan the Koreans didn’t know the song, of course. They were busy listening to jazz. But what an unexpected bonus from the trip. A song, forgotten in the mists of time, restored to its rightful owner, together with memories of a couple of happy years, my last as a musician before the transition to student, businessman, husband and father.
Like many writers the majority of my songs are about me and my life. And these blog pieces are usually about my songs and, therefore, about my life. But there is a time I’ve not yet written about and perhaps I should.
What did I do in the years between 1981 when The Boys broke up and 2000 when we got back together to play Japan? In short I went back to the University I left after a day in 1976, then got a job, family and mortgage like everyone else.
I’ve talked about my time working for Andrew Lloyd Webber (https://www.andrewlloydwebber.com/about/) in this blog: https://duncanreidandthebigheads.com/2018/11/12/the-story-behind-the-song-parts-6-and-7-children/ and the family sacrifices which inspired the song “Little Fingers and Toes”.
However, in 1997 Andrew Lloyd Webber was rethinking his desire for global domination and talked of a simpler life, taking his Really Useful Group back to being a small theatre production company dedicated to his work in London and on Broadway. In that smaller company what would a guy who spent his days planning new ventures in film and television, opening up new theatre markets in Europe, Las Vegas and the like, and who was looking at managing non Lloyd Webber shows such as Riverdance do with himself? Get laid off was the obvious answer.
So I started looking around to see how I could keep a roof over the heads of my young family and stop the bank coming in to repossess our nice house which still had a pretty hefty mortgage hanging over it.
But I couldn’t just do anything. I have a very low boredom threshold and when I saw an advert which said “Premier League Football Club requires full time director” I thought: “Why not?”
200 people applied for the job at double European Champions Nottingham Forest (https://www.nottinghamforest.co.uk/) but I must have made a good impression. Experience as a performer is useful in many situations including interviews, which is why a drama degree is often undervalued (not that I have one). I remember being asked: “How does working for a theatre company make you qualified to run a footbll club?” to which my reply was: “I’ve been running venues, selling tickets and merchandise, negotiating media rights, and organising bars and food. It seems to me the only difference with football is the divas are a different sex”. It got a chuckle and maybe got me the job but I was wrong. I was about to go from a company that made millions of pounds while we slept in our beds from shows all over the world, to an industry based on financial madness, where clubs get relegated with a wage bill they can’t afford while their income is reduced to a fraction of what it was, and which requires Arab royal families, Rusian oligarchs or American billionaires for a team to be competitive. But more of that later.
Off I trotted home to tell my wife: “I’ve landed a new job”. “Oh, where is it?”, she asked.”Nottingham”, I replied.
We took the very sensible (with hindsight) decision not to take our daughter, Lauren, out of school, sell the house and move to Nottingham until we saw how the job worked out. So started 2 years of me living in Nottingham and Liz and Lauren coming up Friday nights after school till crack of dawn Monday.
I moved into a house rented by the club and previously used by a string of Scandanavian footballers like Alf Inge Haaland ( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alf-Inge_H%C3%A5land ) who you may remember had his career ended at Manchester City by a particularly thugish tackle of Roy Keane’s.
I moved in during the close season when no matches took place and most of the news was about new players. It was known that this was a “Forest House” rented out to players and as I put the keys in the door for the first time I turned round to see a gaggle of little boys looking at me, eyes and mouths wide open, horror written across their faces. “Bloody Hell they are buying them small and old”, they were thinking.
So began two of the most fun and interesting years of my life. Nottingham was a delight to live in. People spoke funny but boy they were friendly. I fell out of bed a half hour before I was due in work, as opposed to struggling in to town for hours on overcrowded and often cancelled trains. Footballers themselves were surprisingly down to earth and often very intelligent (and teetotal!). Some were greedy, charging charities and schools money to turn up at open days when they earned so much anyway and had so much free time. But then there were others like Chris Bart Williams (https://www.nottinghampost.com/sport/football/now-former-nottingham-forest-midfielder-1228760) who I discovered ran and funded a free football academy for underpriveleged children in his spare time.
One thing I had never previously appreciated was how large a part pain plays in their lives. We always read in the paper “So and so has an injury”. It’s so common we take it for granted. But injury equals pain, and often surgery and crutches. These guys who run a half marathon twice a week and train in between live with it. Some of them constantly.
But they do get paid well.
The people who really impressed me were the managers. I never quite met Brian Clough (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brian_Clough) the genius legend who took Nottingham Forest from the Second division, to English Champions and double European Champions in 5 years. But I heard some great stories most of which I can’t repeat. We organised a public dinner in his honour and invited most of the great champion team of 1979/80 to attend. Many of them were by then very succesful managers in their own right like Martin O’Neill (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_O%27Neill). To a man they sat white knuckle rigid with fear until word came through that Brian Clough was too “poorly” to attend (he was known to struggle with the drink). Hearing the news, all those years later and after Brian Clough no longer had any day to day hold over them, this group of successful adult men visibly relaxed and could enjoy the evening.
That was the old way of managing with techniques such as the Alex Ferguson “hairdryer” at half time, making the players scared of upsetting you with an undercurrent of potential violence. It’s been a long time since that worked.
Imagine you have a workforce of millionaires who have been on good money since they were teenagers. A workforce for whom the threat of the sack would represent an opportunity to get out of a contract and sign for another club with a massive signing on fee. And it’s a cold, wet, Wednesday in February with an away match at a lower team. That is why you see the Jurgen Klopp approach of I’m your friend and surrogate Dad, with so much emphasis on team building and playing for your mates. Not only do managers have to be great coaches and football tacticians, they have to be charming, master psychoanalysts and all the ones I met were an impressive presence in the room.
The best and worst thing about the job was the football itself, both on the pitch and around the match.
For my then nine year old daughter, Lauren, the first match was an ordeal. Clearly bored she spent the whole time looking at anything but the pitch and asking to go home. But the power of football won. At our third game I heard this little voice beside me say: “He was offside”. I was stunned. The offside law is one of the hardest for newcomers to get and the player had been offside. From then on she enjoyed an initiation into football spent visiting matchday boardrooms and liking it if the catering was up to scratch. At home games she had the run of the ground because all the security people knew her, and after every game she would make sure she got an autograph from Dutch international Pierre Van Hooijdonk (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pierre_van_Hooijdonk) as we had a jolly time in the “Robin Hood” lounge where the players would relax post match. Pierre would chuckle as he signed what he knew must have been her 20th autograph from him.
I’m glad to say she knows now it was a bit of a weird way to get into football and is happy to sit in the stands like everyone else.
You might be an avid football fan. You might often find it tense, depressing or exhilarating. Imagine if you are running the place. If you’ve raised money to get promoted and know that there is no more. That while you are trying to get promoted that money is being burned through at a rate of knots as it goes out the door each month via the players payroll. And you know that if you don’t get promoted back to the Premier League that season then its over. There will have to be a fire sale and who knows what that will lead to. Believe me, life and, in particular, every match was an emotional roller coaster.
I remember a game at Manchester City. We had bought Pierre Van Hooijdonk the previous season from Celtic while we were in the Premier League and there was a clause that said if he scored 25 goals in a season we’d pay an extra £500,000. In the Premier League that would have been challenging for him. In the Championship (as it’s now called) he was like a thoroughbred racing against goats, scoring amazing goals left, right and centre. At Manchester City we were 3-0 up when awarded a penalty. Pierre was on 24 goals for the season. “Please don’t let him take it”, I prayed. As he stepped up to take the place kick I had to be restrained from running on to steal the ball.
At the top of this blog there is a picture of the squad with me front right sat next to Pierre van Hooijdonk. Like the alpha male he was he has his long, long legs wide apart taking up some of my room. “Can you close your legs a bit?, I said. “No”, he replied, “My bollocks are too big”.
Ultimately it was the business which defeated me. You can save as much money as you like on the paper clips but the money going to players is extraordinary. Back in the Premier League it was clear the team weren’t good enough and there was no money in the bank. Yes, there was a huge amount of TV income but the wages were even higher. Fans are unforgiving. We are so used to hearing about players costing £50 million, £60 million, £70 million that we no longer stop to think just what a huge amount of money that is! Sums that would fund hospitals spent on one footballer before paying hundreds of thousands per week on wages. But fans want “investment” (In most walks of life that means spending money on something which lasts a long time and increases your value. In football it means spending more money than you have and later going into administration).
In the autumn of 1999, and back in the Premier League, we invited some friends to a home game against West Ham. It was the early part to the season and there was still some optimism. But the fans, used to a recent history of success, wanted new players and started a chant of “Sack the Board”. “Who are they singing about?”, asked one of my friends.”Me”, I replied.
Plus, there is only so long you can spend living away from your family before the week nights start to feel very lonely, fun as the weekends and school holidays were.
It was time to return to London, with a heavy heart at leaving Nottingham and Nottingham Forest, but invigorated and refreshed by the experience. And, although I didn’t know it at the time, a new chapter was about to start as The Boys would be asked to reform to play a couple of shows in Japan, an experience we would enjoy so much that, having not even listened to anything but Football for years, my love of music would be rekindled after nearly two decades away.
Some mornings social media is brutal. You wake up. Spy your phone. See what’s going on and ……………….. BANG!!!!!!!!!
Russ Taylor’s Dead
I first met Russ when we played North West Calling (https://www.songkick.com/festivals/2645484-north-west-calling/id/39132816-north-west-calling-2020) in the summer of 2018. Not long ago but it seems like a lifetime. Russ years must be like dogs’. One is worth seven.
We had played our set and retired to the merch stall. In terms of shifting product things were going swimmingly. But financially: it was a disaster. Our table was directly in front of the bar. Everytime a CD, LP or shirt was sold, whoever took the money swivelled 180 degrees and spent it on a round of jaegermeister shots! (Don’t ask. It’s pretty much de rigeur in Powersland).
Things were messy.
Russ had the table next to us and was both impressed at the demand for the records and amused at where the money was going. We talked. Clearly here was a music nut. He explained he had a vinyl label, Crocodile Records (https://www.discogs.com/label/120995-Crocodile-Records-3), and gave me a pile of releases, enthusing about each and every one.
“Let me put a single out for you”, he said, and I pretty much decided there and then through the Jaeger haze that I would. What I didn’t realise while we spoke, with Russ sat behind his table, was the huge effort required for him to get up and move just 5 yards. Russ was heavily disabled, but with his cheery demeanor there was no inkling of the extreme effort it took for him to get through the day, until he had to get up and get through it.
Russ put out the single of “Kelly’s Gone Insane” for us (featured here: https://duncanreidandthebigheads.com/2019/06/17/the-story-behind-the-song-kellys-gone-insane/ ) and over the past months has worked tirelessly to get it promoted all over the world.
Whenever we’ve played in the North West he’s been there via a combination of crutches, busses and trains. Exhausting just to watch. But always with a smile, always with an encouraging word, always brightening the day for those of us for whom life is a doddle compared to the barriers he had to overcome to achieve what he did.
So, I’ve lost a business partner (for want of a better phrase) and friend. The world has lost a battler and a ray of sunshine. The music we love has lost a hero it can ill afford to lose. And everyone has lost an example we should all aspire to.
Good bye Russ. I’m honoured our paths crossed.