Old grey and white underpants
It's been a mixed week at Appleton Towers but one that ended on some kind of high.
It started with interruptions, the like of which can occur when you work from home. It goes with the territory. Following the trip to see Toyah as described in my previous blog, there was little more than admin/paperwork/accounting to immediately look forward to, for both Blaze Bayley Recording and Rocksector Records - not my favourite tasks but a necessary evil as business owners/directors will understand. However, by the time Blaze had stepped on to the red carpet for the premiere of the Iron Maiden documentary Burning Ambition, positivity had returned.
So, in just a short period of time, an artist I manage is inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, is booked to headline the second stage at Iron Maiden's Eddfest on the hallowed turf of Knebworth and hits the red carpet in London, lapping up the attention and recognition of once again interacting with his old band mates, whilst also stealing the limelight when goofing around for the camera with Eddie, the ultimate metal band mascot (sorry that was a heck of a long sentence but I like it, so I'm leaving it!). Again, repeating in my mind that my artist has achieved these things, I allow myself a quiet pat on the back for my involvement during 10 years now as Blaze's manager. We have a great team in place with suitably contrasting skills and with everyone pulling in the same direction, it seems to work.
Lynne and I viewed the documentary in the slightly less hallowed surroundings of Vue Cinema, Bury (near Manchester) but still absorbing the enormity of what has been occurring recently and celebrating in our own quiet way.
Last night (Saturday) we were at a local Manchester boozer (Eagle and Child) to watch covers band Thrash The Whippet. I've known this band since the late nineties / early noughties (I think) and son Chris caused a stir back in the day as he made one of his local guitaring debuts at a very young age (about 11/12 years of age I think) - anyone reading this and who was there at the Wheatsheaf to witness, please feel free to put me right on the timeline. It must have been around 1998/1999?
It had been a tiring day as my three grand-daughters had visited - aged 13, 7 and nearly 3, each charged with rocket fuel, and I don't mind admitting that lovely as they are, by the time they left, this old grand-dad was ready for a rest.
Anyhow, back to the music. Last night Thrash The Whippet played lots of favourite rock and metal tunes to a busy house... such as Boys Of Summer, Highway to Hell, Now I'm Here, and my personal favourite of the night Cowboy Song by Thin Lizzy. Before going out I could have willingly stayed home - yes, once again I had the dreaded Restless leg Syndrome complicated by the fact that I had forgotten to take my lunchtime meds. Not a smart move with regard to Parky's meds which for best effectiveness are designed to be taken at pretty strict consistent intervals. Determined not to be robbed of a night out, Lynne and I got an Uber cab and off to the pub we went. I don't drink much these days but found that somehow a small number of pints of Cider and vodka and tonics changed my mood for the better. Had alcohol really stepped in to do the job that Parky's meds are supposed to do? Most probably not, but as sometimes occurs the lightened mood worked some kind of magic and everything with the world, including catching up with several friends, was OK!
When I saw Si Winstanley's Old Grey Whistle Test t-shirt (pictured above) I was of course reminded of that famous BBC TV show, which included some stellar, legendary live in the studio performances by so many great bands such as Heart, Sensational Alex Harvey Band, Little Feat, Rory Gallagher, Focus and so many more. My mind also dragged itself back to one of my favourite such performances - Lynyrd Skynyrd doing their sensational Free Bird televised as a repeat of one of the new year's eve specials in the seventies (not sure which one!)
So, I was 13 at the time and captivated by anything with six strings, so the extended soloing was 'manna from heaven'. The TV was on loud, the time heading towards 2am, mum and dad had gone to bed not long after midnight so there I was all alone and in awe of Free Bird. Suddenly the lounge door bursts open and there's my Dad in just white underpants and white vest screaming at me to 'turn it off... they're just making as much noise as possible'. Well, yes Dad that's kinda one of the main points. While I was explaining to him that the show would end in a few minutes time, Dad took himself back off to bed in a huff, obviously realising that this was a fight he couldn't win and leaving me for all time with the memory of Dad in his white undies yelling at me and the TV, all to the glorious background 'noise' of Free Bird. Thanks Dad because, except when it blatantly caused me to fluff my A level exams, you did in fact encourage me so much with my guitar playing. I miss you and love you.