April to June :

DIARY 28/06/08

Two concerts in, Southampton and Liverpool, and back to the airport. Out of John Lennon to Nice, for the Monaco Grand Prix. Partied Saturday night on a cool Sunseeker in the harbour, even sang a few songs with Eddie Jordan on kit. Stayed in San Remo, near the France/Italy border, driven back and forth several times by Sebastian, who scared three kinds of mulch out of me, roaring up the backside of any vehicle ahead, squeezing through gaps that looked impossible. He was too fast for the public highway, and showed no interest in the comfort of his passengers, so you'd have to mark him down as a poor driver, wouldn't you. Monday morning, dropped off at airport, I asked him what he did for a full-time job, as the chauffeuring could only have been for the Grand Prix weekend. "I'm a test driver for Lamborghini". I'd told him on Sunday that we'd come to watch a motor race, not take part in one. Leaving him, I was a bit lost for words.

From the harbour, as they change up out of the new chicane, they pass at 180mph, from 30 in a matter of about 1.5 seconds. The noise is fearsome. A thunderous roar. A shocking clap. After ten laps I succumbed to the ear-plugs. Not sure they helped much, but it was a thrill to be there as Lewis Hamilton took the chequered flag in what they rate the hardest and most prestigious Grand Prix of all.
Touring is a life of adrenalin-fuelled excitement, so really a lot of rest is needed. But I like to keep moving. So took off to Manchester a day early, on a day off, to see the Gunther von Hagens' Body Worlds exhibit. Now that is really something! His Plastination invention allows him to separate human corpses, skin from muscle, sinew from bone, and exhibit them standing, upright in sprinting poses, or lying, dissected across in six inch chunks. It all seems a little unreal, like plastic. But real they are. It is breath-taking. Astonishing. Caught it during its last few days in the UK. Was half-term, so quite a few kiddies were brought along. But under 14, say, they're too young. How could they ever accept that they are looking at real, dead humans? Surreal.

By the time Holmfirth came around, we were convinced the set was right. I like the rocking segues that fill the first half-hour. Plenty of music, not a lot of dead air. Plenty of memorable nights, with the Indigo2 proving a great rock venue, and a big surprise. And a sold-out Glasgow. Like old times up there.

Tour over. Nowhere near enough dates for me, but it's business, and as my agent would tell you, you can't keep going to the well.....but I want to play more and more, because this band is on fire, and I did like that set very much! Yeh, tour over, but I still keep moving.

To The Haymarket Theater for "Marguerite". Try never to miss Ruthie Henshall. She's a star that shines brighter than any other in the West End. The standards really are not high these days, but Ruthie moves in her own rarified air. It's an unspectacular piece, but I believe it will stay in the memory, with good thoughts. Rehearsed that morning with a different band: the RD Crusaders. These guys come together now and then for Richard Desmond, proprietor of Express Newspapers and OK! mag. to raise funds for Roger Daltrey's Teenage Cancer Trust charity. I took Barry Wickens along and we played, on Sunday, at the Excel, Docklands to a couple of thousand. Barry lead a big band with Zoot Money, Russ Ballard, Simon Townshend, Steve Smith, RD on drums and others (with 3 horns and 3 backing singers) through How Good It Feels, A Friend For Life and Make Me Smile. Barry took the MMS guitar solo. Spot on. Thanks to that, I got myself in OK! mag. for the first time. Would never do one of those cheesy At Home jobs with the family etc. But backstage at a Charity event, that's cool. They raise millions each year for a serious cause, and I'll play with them again. All got organised fairly late, but next time, we'll get a note out on this website - but whether you'd have wanted to be at what was basically a drum convention (International Music Fair, I think it was billed as), with hundreds of them bashing on kits all at the same time, making my head ache backstage, well...Come to think of it, that racket was more difficult to take than the F1 machines shooting past firing cannon a few yards from ear-shot.

Daughter got her Degree. And we are proud of her. Onward and upward, baby. Sort 'em out.

DIARY 21/05/08

Fiddling with the set-list. And so far in advance. But need some r 'n r. Saw The Stones' movie, Scorsese's "Shine A Light" at the comfy Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge. One for fans, essentially. I wanted more interview footage. They were amusing young guys, all of them. But they rock in that small theatre.
To "Cirque Du Soleil" at a much bigger space, 02. Lots of percussion and body contortion, but it don't rock like The Stones. Missed the Craven at Newmarket for that trip to London, and am wondering whether.....yeh, on balance it's a show to see, but just the once. Got to the races, anyway, at the end of April: Sandown Park for the Nordoff-Robbins Race Day, in aid of Music Therapy, a charity I have supported since the mid-70s. Met old acquaintances from the music biz. Hadn't seen David Munns in an age, and shared a table with Rupert Perry and Terry Slater. Now, these names may mean little to the average reader of this diary, but the men are legends in the Music world, all top-of-the-tree executives at one time or another, even now in at least one case. And each has been closely involved in my career. Lunch recently with Bob Mercer and his fab wife Margie. Now Mercer really was close to me; as much a friend as a business acquaintance, and we reminisce with giggles and fondness over tea at Sotheby's. Their hot-water machine broke down during our visit, so no re-fills were available. They didn't have the nous to pop upstairs to any one of a hundred offices and borrow a kettle for the customers downstairs, even though we did suggest this simple solution. Won't be back there, ever.

Lost on the 2000 Guineas, but recovered next day backing the French filly Natagora. She will scoot up at Royal Ascot, if form means anything. And it might not. I get around. To Lillehammer for indoor festival. Such fine people, all round us. Three hours sleep before departure; two hours sleep after show; two hour drives to and from Oslo to venue; and all but one of us, a 14-strong team, in their 40s and 50s. It must be love. And for us all the night was a thrill. Hadn't played together for several months, and I was twitchy. But a good sound-check blew away the webs and steadied the nerves. 2,000 people bopped and sang in party mood. Also, acted as great rehearsal for the UK dates to come. Talking of which.....Southampton tonight. Still fiddling with that set-list.

DIARY 04/04/08

Can't keep away from Broadcasting House: 26th, record Tracks Of My Years for the Ken Bruce radio 2 show; 28th, record interview with Steve Wright. Chatting with Ken, I find myself getting a little shaky, searching on the hoof for the perfect word or phrase to describe my feelings about some of the wonderful records in my list. They ask for 15 titles and whittle it down to their own choice of 10. Don't hear the tracks at the time of the chat, just discuss them cold. I realise how deeply some of them have affected my life. Back to the 60s with The Beatles and The Hollies and you remember the mates, and the girls, the fun and the growing up; the loss of some of your innocence. And Millwall, and the unbeaten home record coming to an untidy end at the hands of Plymouth Argyle, bringing with it what might have been the first-ever pitch invasion, at least since 1923 and The White Horse Wembley Final, where the poor lucky buggers mostly had little choice. Ken keeps it flowing because he likes music, he respects musicians and he has a great knowledge of his subject. As does Steve Wright: but with him it's all done impromptu, it seems. Never know where it's going to go, and going with his erratic and comedic flow is best. Faith is restored at these times. Hearing A Friend For Life at 8.45 one morning last autumn, when Johnnie Walker sat in for Wogan, restored some faith, too. Make Me Smile is no albatross, but it's a relief to hear more recent tracks aired.

To a meeting with tax specialist re copyright questions. I don't enjoy meetings, or committees, or business much. After, took relief by picking up a rare leftover for matinee of The God Of Carnage. Four supreme performances. It manages, temporarily, to take my mind off a certain legal matter that has dogged me for two years or more.

Later, the news tells of a Cessna jet coming down in Kent, and I learn that one of the perished is Richard Lloyd, an acquaintance of mine of old and possibly my dear mate Richard Goss's best friend. Next day, the owner of the shattered house the plane landed on is quoted from Portugal, where he is on a golfing holiday, implying that he would not be letting it spoil his fun. He won't be rushing back. The wife is home; she can take care of things. The Press like this stuff and hold him up as a great Britisher with a stiff upper-lip. But I notice he doesn't mention the five dead men, nor their heart-broken families. I think he's a prat. But then my view modifies slightly as I allow him the benefit.......he too was under an obscene pressure and perhaps one day he'll realise what he has, or rather hasn't, said. First reactions, though, do tend to carry the ring of truth, do tend to expose the core person, who seldom, if ever, changes.

I'm with T.S.Eliot on the matter: "The only wisdom we can hope to acquire is the wisdom of humility: humility is endless".