Hey Everyone,
I thought as my last blog was LONG, therefore hard to stick around for ((being 2,600 words from my autobiography-in-progress) - I'd do a SHORT, original, purely bloggy one. Well, today I've been escaping from my lovely bluely-dressed wife who has been doing a girls' dinner at Batt Battlements in Farnham, (Blue Belles, don't ask!) - - and so I am looking after LONDON, - quite a brief, but nothing has gone wrong so far and Boris seems to be behaving himself.
Heard from one's 19 yr old daughter (studying bass guitar at Berklee in Boston) who is living it up in our New York apartment with her boyfriennd, so it was an understandably short letter.
Had lunch on Thursday with Jeremy Hunt (Culture Secretary) and Andrew Feldman (Conservative Party Chairman) and others at Milllbank Tory HQ this week. What nice chaps, - which I knew already as they are sort of mates - and how wonderfully they will run the country IF THEY HELP THE MUSIC INDUSTRY BY MAKING IT NOT FREE TO APPEAL AGAINST ANY ACTION VIA ISP"S RELATING TO ILLEGAL DOWNLOADING UNDER THE DEA (Digital Economy Act) - and of course look after the social services while still making the essential cuts (!!!) . This one facet of the DEA act could make it totally unworkable, because every copyright thief would automatically appeal, without fear of cost implications! Loss of jobs in Music Industry is the cost - so vote me in as a notional Union rep! Jeremy and Ed please take note!
Back to happy friendly, unpolitical life. Had lunch with Katie 3 days ago. She's good. Getting better and looking forward to her tour in March 2011 onwards.
That's it - I told you it would be short (as the Bishop said to the actress).
Love
Mike
Saturday, 2 October 2010
Monday, 27 September 2010
Confessions of a young musical arranger
THE LAZIEST BLOG YOU'LL READ FOR A WHILE - just an extract pulled from my yet-unpublished autobiography, - explaining the pain and hardship of being a BLUFFER. Are we all bluffers? Or just the lucky ones? Now read on...
One day, as I was riding on a bus in Southampton, I read an ad in Melody Maker. It said “LIBERTY WANTS TALENT”. It had been placed by a talent scout/A&R manager called Ray Williams who had just started working for Liberty Records, - quite a successful US label starting up in this country. It was unusual to see a record company advertising for talent. I replied and got an appointment with Ray. I went to see him at the smart, Mayfair offices of Liberty. He was the epitome of “swinging London” as it was called then. Twenty-three years old, he wore a sharp, dead-cool suit with flared trousers, blue shirt, kipper tie, and had the looks of a slightly more handsome version of Robert Redford. I played him my best song “Mr Poem” which includes the line “Hello, they say, your fame has made you gay”. Ray thought that he has found the next bisexual or gay pop star. I didn’t even know what he word “gay” meant. He asked me what the line meant and I said it just meant that the guy is happy and bright. Ray suggested there and then that I should sign to Liberty’s music publishing company as a songwriter. He wanted me to meet Alan Keen, the head of publishing, who had just joined them after being Programme Controller at the legendary pirate radio station, Radio London. The government had recently legislated against pirate radio and when many of the pirate disc jockeys had joined Radio One, Alan had got the job as Managing Director of Metric Music, Liberty’s publishing company. He was an advertising man, a salesman at heart, - used to sell advertising space for Titbits magazine when he was younger. Now he was a forward-thinking, alert music executive with a great sense of humour and a love of jazz, particularly Blossom Dearie and Bill Evans.
So I was ushered into Alan’s plush office the next day. Alan and I got on ridiculously well, and he signed me to an exclusive contract with Metric Music, Liberty’s company. I was just so pleased to be signed that I agreed to all the terms. Luckily, because the law is on the side of the young creator rather than the big exploiter, - I was able to walk out of this contract one year later because it afforded me such terrible terms that it was unenforceable. No advance money, - just a royalty percentage - and the copyrights to all my songs exclusively to remain with the publisher until seventy years after my death! Now that’s what I call an unfair contract! But great, because I was able to walk out of it. Meanwhile, back in 1968 I’m jumping up and down with glee because SOMEONE has shown an interest in me.
The weird thing about the first day I met Ray is that I didn’t find out until months later that the two guys sitting in reception with me, waiting to see Ray, were Reg Dwight (soon to become Elton John) and Bernie Taupin (soon to become the hugely famous lyricist of Elton’s songs). Elton and Bernie had not met until that day. In his attic office with red chairs with raffia seats, Ray teamed them up on the day he met me and brought me into the company as a writer. He didn’t sign Elton to Liberty; maybe he had an agenda to take Elton somewhere else. But he did act as the catalyst for one of the most formidable songwriting teams ever to work together, - the team that would soon write “Your Song”, “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” and “Candle In The Wind”. Ray Williams eventually left Liberty, to manage Elton, - signing him to Beatles’ publisher Dick James’ record company DJM, - and in leaving, made a job vacant at Liberty Records, which eventually would be offered to me.
Having signed to Liberty as a songwriter I was obviously keen on developing my writing, but I was also keen on getting a record deal as an artist. Because he paid me no money as a writer, Alan Keen – head of publishing for Liberty - offered me work writing out “lead sheets” or “top lines” for songs in the Liberty catalogue. A songwriter would deliver a song to the company on tape, but for copyright reasons and in order to have simple sheet music to offer producers who might be interested in recording the song, they needed the tune, lyrics and chords to be worked out and written down. I did it for one pound, ten shillings (1.50p) a song. So if I did 10 songs a week I made 15 pounds a week, which was almost enough to live on in 1968. I wanted to be the best topline writer in London, so I spend extra time making sure I got the tunes down accurately, and then spent ages writing them out with a music stave pen, adding the titles with Letraset (the only way to get a printed-looking title in those pre-computer days) and sometimes even illustrating them with little thumbnail pictures along the top.
One day I was in Alan’s office and John Gilbert came in. John was the son of film director Lewis Gilbert, and was then managing the hottest band in town – Family. Featuring Roger Chapman on vocals this was the band that everyone, including the Beatles, - rated as the nearest thing to the next Beatles. They were the talk of the rock social scene (not that I was part of that scene, being too young and totally unknown). They had agreed to sign to Liberty, and I had written out their top lines. The demos had just blown me away. Fantastic songs, brilliantly recorded. We played them loudly in the office and declared them to me more exciting than drugs, - not that I knew the first thing about drugs, but it felt like being blown into a different world, listening to these superb, weird, creative records.
John, seeing that I had done the leadsheets, asked if I arranged strings. Being passionate about arranging, - never having done a string arrangement for a record in my life, I said yes. John hired me on the spot, to write the string and brass arrangements for Family’s debut album “Music In A Dolls House”, - to be recorded at a session at Olympic Studios in Barnes, the following week. The deal was that I would get five pounds per arrangement, plus a credit. The next day, Roger Chapman, John Whitney and the rest of the band came in and we met in Alan Keen’s office where there was an upright piano. We talked through the material. They had specific ideas about which songs needed strings and brass, where the climaxes should begin and peak, and where they just wanted “something”. The song that interested me the most was one called “The Chase”. It was already fantastic without strings or brass, - a song with a kind of hunting rhythm, about the thrill of the chase to get the girl. With Roger’s rasping, almost angry vocal, it was a thrilling track. I thought it would be good with a couple of French horns imitating hunting horns, and a string section chugging along to add excitement. There was another song called “Old Songs, New Songs”. It was another of those which had blown me away when I’d heard it in the office, weeks earlier, and written its topline. I couldn’t see how it could be improved. The band said they wanted a jazzy brass section to build slowly through the track, but before the track started I should add four big major chords as a kind of fanfare to start it off. At the end of the meeting, the band left, and Alan Keen came over to me. “Ooh dear, they smelled a bit, didn’t they?” said Alan. He was right, but they actually smelled of oil of patchouli. Everyone wore it in those days, at least everyone who was part of the hippie culture, the rock ‘n’ roll end of the business, or designers, King’s Road boutique owners, cool people. It smelled a bit like you’d slept in your clothes for a week and/or had been chain-smoking joints. Family probably slept in their clothes, smoked joints AND wore oil of patchouli.
At that time I was living on other people’s floors. One of the floors I sometimes slept on was a flat in Carlton Hill, St John’s Wood, where a group of recently-ex Cambridge students lived. I can’t remember where I met them, but I was impressed that one of them had been on University Challenge. Anyway, I remember doing the Family string and brass arrangements while lying on the floor of someone else’s bedroom, because as a temporary visitor to the flat I didn’t actually have a bedroom of my own. I used textbooks to tell me how high and how low the instruments went (the ‘compass’ of the instrument). Then, back at home at my parents’ house in Winchester I checked them on my free grand piano, which was still there in my downstairs “bedroom” blocking the way in, unless you got down on hands and knees and crawled under it.
On the way to the session at the famous Olympic studios in Barnes, (southwest London) I bought a baton so that I could conduct the orchestra. I was quite nervous, having had only a week to do five arrangements, and no idea that it would end up a disaster, a triumph or anything in between.
As I entered the huge studio, the strings were tuning up. I was taken into the control room to meet the album’s producer, Dave Mason, the star of Traffic – the band who had recently made one of my favourite albums, “Mr Fantasy” containing the brilliant hit, “Hole In My Shoe” – brilliant even though it featured that annoying young girl speaking over the music, saying “We climbed on the back of a giant albatross…”
There were various members of the group around, - a few girlfriends, people rolling joints. Quite a community. I felt like a schoolboy in contrast to all these cool people smelling of oil of patchouli and looking beautiful, which all of them did, particularly the women. Luckily, I had with me, as my protection against feeling completely inferior, - but mainly for moral support and a bit of telepathic love through the glass window of the control room, my indescribably attractive girlfriend, Michelle, of whom more in a few paragraphs’ time.
I made my way to the studio floor and stepped onto the podium. Big studios like this usually have quite an elaborate conductor’s podium with a hook for your headphones, a phone to the control room, and sometimes a small table behind you for your scores. I tried to look nonchalant, as if I did this often, but I’m sure the musicians had me sussed from the start. We started with a song called “Mellowing Grey” which just needed strings (we would overdub the brass separately as soon as we’d recorded the strings). I raised my baton at the fateful moment and brought it down crisply to bring the strings in at the right place, as the rhythm track played in our headphones. To my surprise it sounded great. Strings, even if you make errors of judgement, have a way of sounding good. They find their own balance. Obviously they sound better if you arrange them brilliantly, but as long as the notes you write fit the chords of the song, you can’t really make a complete bollocks of it.
Encouraged by how well the first three tracks had gone, with the strings, - including “The Chase” with which I was very pleased - we then moved on to the brass. The string players went home and the brass section came into the room. I was a little awestruck by the fact that the section was led by the great jazz legend, Tubby Hayes, on tenor sax. I gave out the parts; two trumpets, two tenor saxes, a baritone sax, a tenor trombone and a bass trombone. The first song to be recorded was “Old Songs, New Songs”, - the one that the band wanted to have four big chords at the beginning. The backing track had clicks over which the brass chords were to be recorded before the entry of he band’s rhythm section. As these clicks clicked in my headphones, I brought my baton down again, and the most horrendous noise I have ever heard came blasting from the brass section. It was avant-garde, to say the least. I stopped the band. I just wanted the floor to develop a huge hole right under the conductor’s podium and suck me out of sight. I imagined all those cool people in the control room laughing or rolling their eyes in disbelief. I had forgotten to transpose the Bb instruments in the brass section (trumpets and tenor saxes play a D when they mean a C), with the result that it sounded like a complete and utter cacophony. Just as I thought I was going to be sacked, Dave Mason came bounding towards me and started shaking my hand – even though it was shaking all by itself already anyway.
“Brilliant, man!” He exclaimed. Totally fucking original. How old are you? Eighteen? Fucking hell, this is great. Let’s record the rest of it”
The brass section and I knew that it wasn’t quite that simple. Where my ineptly arranged brass chords had sounded avant-garde on their own without accompaniment, - as soon as the rhythm section came in, the game would be up. The odd, discordant tonality wouldn’t match the backing track, and I would be exposed as an incompetent teenager rather than the brilliant new bohemian genius that I had been for about four minutes. It was Tubby Hayes and the brass section that came to my rescue. Realising (as you would) that this was my first gig, and taking pity on me, the brass section transposed the erratic parts by ear, so that they sounded right. So when the sound of Family came crashing into our headphones, playing the phenomenal rhythm, with harmonica riff grinding away throughout, - my beautiful brass section sailed on through the track, building, building, soloing and sounding like stars, with me pumping my shop-new baton up and down, like an expert. The cool people in the control room, - including the snooty chicks – all thought it was brilliant. I have never been more grateful to a group of musicians in my life. They really did save me from looking like a complete twat. This was a real lesson, - to be prepared, to be careful, not to be afraid of making an idiot of myself - but most of all, - if I want to make discordant noises like Bartok or Stravinsky, - not to be afraid to do so.
To this day, you can still put on the Music In A Doll’s House CD and turn to “Old Songs, New Songs” and hear my set of four inadvertent major ninth chords at the beginning, - the four chords that taught me to be brave, take chances and not to care what people think, and in hindsight those chords sound very tame and normal.
One day, as I was riding on a bus in Southampton, I read an ad in Melody Maker. It said “LIBERTY WANTS TALENT”. It had been placed by a talent scout/A&R manager called Ray Williams who had just started working for Liberty Records, - quite a successful US label starting up in this country. It was unusual to see a record company advertising for talent. I replied and got an appointment with Ray. I went to see him at the smart, Mayfair offices of Liberty. He was the epitome of “swinging London” as it was called then. Twenty-three years old, he wore a sharp, dead-cool suit with flared trousers, blue shirt, kipper tie, and had the looks of a slightly more handsome version of Robert Redford. I played him my best song “Mr Poem” which includes the line “Hello, they say, your fame has made you gay”. Ray thought that he has found the next bisexual or gay pop star. I didn’t even know what he word “gay” meant. He asked me what the line meant and I said it just meant that the guy is happy and bright. Ray suggested there and then that I should sign to Liberty’s music publishing company as a songwriter. He wanted me to meet Alan Keen, the head of publishing, who had just joined them after being Programme Controller at the legendary pirate radio station, Radio London. The government had recently legislated against pirate radio and when many of the pirate disc jockeys had joined Radio One, Alan had got the job as Managing Director of Metric Music, Liberty’s publishing company. He was an advertising man, a salesman at heart, - used to sell advertising space for Titbits magazine when he was younger. Now he was a forward-thinking, alert music executive with a great sense of humour and a love of jazz, particularly Blossom Dearie and Bill Evans.
So I was ushered into Alan’s plush office the next day. Alan and I got on ridiculously well, and he signed me to an exclusive contract with Metric Music, Liberty’s company. I was just so pleased to be signed that I agreed to all the terms. Luckily, because the law is on the side of the young creator rather than the big exploiter, - I was able to walk out of this contract one year later because it afforded me such terrible terms that it was unenforceable. No advance money, - just a royalty percentage - and the copyrights to all my songs exclusively to remain with the publisher until seventy years after my death! Now that’s what I call an unfair contract! But great, because I was able to walk out of it. Meanwhile, back in 1968 I’m jumping up and down with glee because SOMEONE has shown an interest in me.
The weird thing about the first day I met Ray is that I didn’t find out until months later that the two guys sitting in reception with me, waiting to see Ray, were Reg Dwight (soon to become Elton John) and Bernie Taupin (soon to become the hugely famous lyricist of Elton’s songs). Elton and Bernie had not met until that day. In his attic office with red chairs with raffia seats, Ray teamed them up on the day he met me and brought me into the company as a writer. He didn’t sign Elton to Liberty; maybe he had an agenda to take Elton somewhere else. But he did act as the catalyst for one of the most formidable songwriting teams ever to work together, - the team that would soon write “Your Song”, “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” and “Candle In The Wind”. Ray Williams eventually left Liberty, to manage Elton, - signing him to Beatles’ publisher Dick James’ record company DJM, - and in leaving, made a job vacant at Liberty Records, which eventually would be offered to me.
Having signed to Liberty as a songwriter I was obviously keen on developing my writing, but I was also keen on getting a record deal as an artist. Because he paid me no money as a writer, Alan Keen – head of publishing for Liberty - offered me work writing out “lead sheets” or “top lines” for songs in the Liberty catalogue. A songwriter would deliver a song to the company on tape, but for copyright reasons and in order to have simple sheet music to offer producers who might be interested in recording the song, they needed the tune, lyrics and chords to be worked out and written down. I did it for one pound, ten shillings (1.50p) a song. So if I did 10 songs a week I made 15 pounds a week, which was almost enough to live on in 1968. I wanted to be the best topline writer in London, so I spend extra time making sure I got the tunes down accurately, and then spent ages writing them out with a music stave pen, adding the titles with Letraset (the only way to get a printed-looking title in those pre-computer days) and sometimes even illustrating them with little thumbnail pictures along the top.
One day I was in Alan’s office and John Gilbert came in. John was the son of film director Lewis Gilbert, and was then managing the hottest band in town – Family. Featuring Roger Chapman on vocals this was the band that everyone, including the Beatles, - rated as the nearest thing to the next Beatles. They were the talk of the rock social scene (not that I was part of that scene, being too young and totally unknown). They had agreed to sign to Liberty, and I had written out their top lines. The demos had just blown me away. Fantastic songs, brilliantly recorded. We played them loudly in the office and declared them to me more exciting than drugs, - not that I knew the first thing about drugs, but it felt like being blown into a different world, listening to these superb, weird, creative records.
John, seeing that I had done the leadsheets, asked if I arranged strings. Being passionate about arranging, - never having done a string arrangement for a record in my life, I said yes. John hired me on the spot, to write the string and brass arrangements for Family’s debut album “Music In A Dolls House”, - to be recorded at a session at Olympic Studios in Barnes, the following week. The deal was that I would get five pounds per arrangement, plus a credit. The next day, Roger Chapman, John Whitney and the rest of the band came in and we met in Alan Keen’s office where there was an upright piano. We talked through the material. They had specific ideas about which songs needed strings and brass, where the climaxes should begin and peak, and where they just wanted “something”. The song that interested me the most was one called “The Chase”. It was already fantastic without strings or brass, - a song with a kind of hunting rhythm, about the thrill of the chase to get the girl. With Roger’s rasping, almost angry vocal, it was a thrilling track. I thought it would be good with a couple of French horns imitating hunting horns, and a string section chugging along to add excitement. There was another song called “Old Songs, New Songs”. It was another of those which had blown me away when I’d heard it in the office, weeks earlier, and written its topline. I couldn’t see how it could be improved. The band said they wanted a jazzy brass section to build slowly through the track, but before the track started I should add four big major chords as a kind of fanfare to start it off. At the end of the meeting, the band left, and Alan Keen came over to me. “Ooh dear, they smelled a bit, didn’t they?” said Alan. He was right, but they actually smelled of oil of patchouli. Everyone wore it in those days, at least everyone who was part of the hippie culture, the rock ‘n’ roll end of the business, or designers, King’s Road boutique owners, cool people. It smelled a bit like you’d slept in your clothes for a week and/or had been chain-smoking joints. Family probably slept in their clothes, smoked joints AND wore oil of patchouli.
At that time I was living on other people’s floors. One of the floors I sometimes slept on was a flat in Carlton Hill, St John’s Wood, where a group of recently-ex Cambridge students lived. I can’t remember where I met them, but I was impressed that one of them had been on University Challenge. Anyway, I remember doing the Family string and brass arrangements while lying on the floor of someone else’s bedroom, because as a temporary visitor to the flat I didn’t actually have a bedroom of my own. I used textbooks to tell me how high and how low the instruments went (the ‘compass’ of the instrument). Then, back at home at my parents’ house in Winchester I checked them on my free grand piano, which was still there in my downstairs “bedroom” blocking the way in, unless you got down on hands and knees and crawled under it.
On the way to the session at the famous Olympic studios in Barnes, (southwest London) I bought a baton so that I could conduct the orchestra. I was quite nervous, having had only a week to do five arrangements, and no idea that it would end up a disaster, a triumph or anything in between.
As I entered the huge studio, the strings were tuning up. I was taken into the control room to meet the album’s producer, Dave Mason, the star of Traffic – the band who had recently made one of my favourite albums, “Mr Fantasy” containing the brilliant hit, “Hole In My Shoe” – brilliant even though it featured that annoying young girl speaking over the music, saying “We climbed on the back of a giant albatross…”
There were various members of the group around, - a few girlfriends, people rolling joints. Quite a community. I felt like a schoolboy in contrast to all these cool people smelling of oil of patchouli and looking beautiful, which all of them did, particularly the women. Luckily, I had with me, as my protection against feeling completely inferior, - but mainly for moral support and a bit of telepathic love through the glass window of the control room, my indescribably attractive girlfriend, Michelle, of whom more in a few paragraphs’ time.
I made my way to the studio floor and stepped onto the podium. Big studios like this usually have quite an elaborate conductor’s podium with a hook for your headphones, a phone to the control room, and sometimes a small table behind you for your scores. I tried to look nonchalant, as if I did this often, but I’m sure the musicians had me sussed from the start. We started with a song called “Mellowing Grey” which just needed strings (we would overdub the brass separately as soon as we’d recorded the strings). I raised my baton at the fateful moment and brought it down crisply to bring the strings in at the right place, as the rhythm track played in our headphones. To my surprise it sounded great. Strings, even if you make errors of judgement, have a way of sounding good. They find their own balance. Obviously they sound better if you arrange them brilliantly, but as long as the notes you write fit the chords of the song, you can’t really make a complete bollocks of it.
Encouraged by how well the first three tracks had gone, with the strings, - including “The Chase” with which I was very pleased - we then moved on to the brass. The string players went home and the brass section came into the room. I was a little awestruck by the fact that the section was led by the great jazz legend, Tubby Hayes, on tenor sax. I gave out the parts; two trumpets, two tenor saxes, a baritone sax, a tenor trombone and a bass trombone. The first song to be recorded was “Old Songs, New Songs”, - the one that the band wanted to have four big chords at the beginning. The backing track had clicks over which the brass chords were to be recorded before the entry of he band’s rhythm section. As these clicks clicked in my headphones, I brought my baton down again, and the most horrendous noise I have ever heard came blasting from the brass section. It was avant-garde, to say the least. I stopped the band. I just wanted the floor to develop a huge hole right under the conductor’s podium and suck me out of sight. I imagined all those cool people in the control room laughing or rolling their eyes in disbelief. I had forgotten to transpose the Bb instruments in the brass section (trumpets and tenor saxes play a D when they mean a C), with the result that it sounded like a complete and utter cacophony. Just as I thought I was going to be sacked, Dave Mason came bounding towards me and started shaking my hand – even though it was shaking all by itself already anyway.
“Brilliant, man!” He exclaimed. Totally fucking original. How old are you? Eighteen? Fucking hell, this is great. Let’s record the rest of it”
The brass section and I knew that it wasn’t quite that simple. Where my ineptly arranged brass chords had sounded avant-garde on their own without accompaniment, - as soon as the rhythm section came in, the game would be up. The odd, discordant tonality wouldn’t match the backing track, and I would be exposed as an incompetent teenager rather than the brilliant new bohemian genius that I had been for about four minutes. It was Tubby Hayes and the brass section that came to my rescue. Realising (as you would) that this was my first gig, and taking pity on me, the brass section transposed the erratic parts by ear, so that they sounded right. So when the sound of Family came crashing into our headphones, playing the phenomenal rhythm, with harmonica riff grinding away throughout, - my beautiful brass section sailed on through the track, building, building, soloing and sounding like stars, with me pumping my shop-new baton up and down, like an expert. The cool people in the control room, - including the snooty chicks – all thought it was brilliant. I have never been more grateful to a group of musicians in my life. They really did save me from looking like a complete twat. This was a real lesson, - to be prepared, to be careful, not to be afraid of making an idiot of myself - but most of all, - if I want to make discordant noises like Bartok or Stravinsky, - not to be afraid to do so.
To this day, you can still put on the Music In A Doll’s House CD and turn to “Old Songs, New Songs” and hear my set of four inadvertent major ninth chords at the beginning, - the four chords that taught me to be brave, take chances and not to care what people think, and in hindsight those chords sound very tame and normal.
Friday, 23 July 2010
Twitter makes me a lazy blogger
I have come to the conclusion that Tweeting makes you lazy as a blogger. At least in my case it does. I think, “Oh I just Tweeted” so I think that’s all that’s needed. On top of that, I’ve been so busy lately that a proper longish blog has been hard to get around to. Please excuse the fact that the sentence before this ended with a preposition, something I’m not proud of. So how far back can I reasonably go without boring the crap out of you, but still spilling the beans on life at Batt Battlements and beyond to an extent that will quench your thirst for the detailed machinations of my life, dreams, hopes, favourite colour, recipes for fish pie and more?
Ok, so we shot Katie’s video (“A Happy Place”) in Berlin. That was a laugh. I’d long had this idea that the Radio Berlin headquarters’ lifts (called Paternoster lifts, after the catholic Hail Mary-type beads) – would be a good location for a video. They have no doors, and continuously go up on the left and down on the right, like a fairground ride. You just step onto the next one that comes along. Very dangerous actually, and it’s illegal to build them these days. So I went out a few days ahead of the shoot, to do a recce, and to recruit a crew. The lifts pass through 4 floors so I wanted a camera on each floor, to catch Katie and other characters moving around in the lifts in real time. We used these fantastic newish cameras called “Reds” which behave like film cameras but are really HD video cameras. They have a narrow depth of field, and if you want a “film” look you use Prime lenses. Really great cameras. Anyway, our night shoot was, shall we say, interesting. It was the most hurried and stressful shoot I’ve ever directed – we only had 5 hours of shooting overnight, due to miscommunications with the art department and lots of things going wrong from start to finish. We were blessed by many really talented people, - from Christian Valle, our Brazilian/UK choreographer, to Quin Jessop, our UK Director Of Photography(operating camera one) and a crew of very good German camera operators and focus pullers. The dancers (auditioned in Berlin 3 days before the shoot) were absolutely terrific. The result is a weird video that I admit is not everybody’s cup of tea, but a lot of people love it,- and I’m fine with that. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lCdRA0lQq38&feature=avmsc2
It’s certainly unusual. I think some people have objected to Katie looking so “Extreme, - and one guy (I hate this kind of ignorant comment) said “money-grabbing Dramatico have made Katie do this” – or words to that effect. Everything about Katie’s slight shift in musical and visual emphasis has been led by her, with me and others advising from the sidelines. She is as, or more deserving of the credit (and blame) for what she is doing than anyone else in the team, including William Orbit and Guy Chambers. It’s always hard for an artist to make artistic progress without upsetting a few people. In this case, most of her fans have remained loyal, and a whole “flood” of new ones has appeared including critics and TV/radio producers who never “got” her before. Anyway, nobody died, so if you don’t like it, - I’m sorry, and you’ll get over it! Maybe the next album will be her singing the great American songbook with the Hollywood Bowl Symphony Orchestra. (Or maybe not!).
The album shot straight into the number one slot of the European chart Billboard figures) on the week of release, - which means she had a lot of high chart positions around Europe, like number 4 in UK, number one in several continental countries. We are very proud of her. (Again!)
About the same time – in fact exactly on the day of “The House” being released,- I had my concert at the Cadogan Hall. It was a huge thrill, - and I’m definitely going to do more shows like that. (in fact I did a similar thing in Stuttgart last week, which I’ll come to in a minute). Cadogan not a big hall, about a thousand people, - but a beautiful place - and we had a big orchestra (“The Secret Symphony Orchesta” my new, 55 piece session/concert orchestra available for weddings, bah mitzvahs, highly paid corporate events, etc) and Florence Rawlings as chief backing vocalist and star of two songs. We had Kruky (Michael Kruk) from The Planets on drums and Jono (Hill) from The Planets as leader of the orchestra (first violin). I conducted, sang and played the Joanna. Sarah Blasko lent me her guitarist, Ben, who was a great addition – a perfect combination with Louis Ricardi on lead guitar and Matt round on Bass. We made a lot of noise. I always enjoy doing “The Ride To Agadir”, which goes well because with Florence “leading” the BV’s and me, Louis and Ben, we had a pretty good vocal harmony block. We’ve recorded it for TV etc but won’t have time to edit it for ages. Just filmed it for posterity really, so when I’m an old man (in a few months’ time) I can look back and kid myself I was famous once.
This year I was Artistic Director of the Stuttgart Open jazz festival, - and we did a big concert called “Starry, Starry Night” - which was originally going to star Katie Melua, Jessye Norman, Curtis Stigers, Til Bronner, the Stuttgart Philharmonic Orchestra and moi. I found it very difficult to communicate with Jessye Norman about the repertoire she wanted or didn’t want to sing, in the weeks leading up to the gig. Quite honestly, I found it impossible; it was spoiling the whole gig for me. By pure coincidence however, she developed an eye infection on the day I left for Stuttgart and she pulled out. Although I was sorry to hear about the eye infection which I hope is now better, it was like a weight being lifted from my shoulders. I immediately rang my old (young) friend, Soprano Anna Maria Kaufmann, and although she was busy on the Saturday and the Monday, doing concerts, she very kindly agreed to step in for rehearsals on the Friday and the show on Sunday. I didn’t have time to worry about someone dropping out, I had a prime time gala TV concert to put on for five thousand people (at the Porche arena) . It was a joy to have Anna Maria, who is helpful, pretty and a beautiful singer.
We had loads of orchestral rehearsal time but not much with the actual “stars” who mostly arrived the usual 24 hrs ahead of the concert, so the last rehearsal on the Sunday afternoon was a big panic. I had done a special arrangements of “All You Need Is Love” for the orchestra and ensemble – as a finale, plus one of Duke Ellington’s “It Don’t Mean A Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing) which we had to abandon because we never got around to rehearsing it properly. You can’t rehearse a three hour concert in two hours! But “All You Need Is Love” turned out to be a huge hit with the audience.
Anyway – it was a triumph. We are now huge fans of Curtis Stigers – whose combination of a great voice and a fantastic attitude – not to mention being a brilliant sax player – give him a star quality that added so much to our concert. He’s on at Ronnie Scott’s in a week or so and my wife and I are going down to catch his set and be fans.
Another great addition to the concert was trumpet maestro Till Bronner, - one of the best jazz talents to come out of Germany in the last ten years. He’s another impressive character who made a kind of pair with Curtis as our two cool jazz dudes. They already knew each other, so that helped. Katie had to arrive from Montreux on the afternoon of the show so we had minimal rehearsal time with her; but she was a pro, as usual, and pulled it off with aplomb. So many people were full of high praise for Anna Maria Kaufmann. I’ve recorded her before and would love to do so again some day. The 90 minute TV show goes out nationally – as I said as a prime time Gala, on ARD I think, but I don’t know the date yet.
So now I’m here in Mallorca with my family, staying with another family who are great friends and have a really lovely villa. I can see out across mountains and sea. Yesterday we went to a beautiful tapas place in a courtyard. I don’t take a lot of holidays but that just makes a week away all the more enjoyable. Katie is currently enjoying a week off, with her family, after a round of summer gigs, and my concert last Sunday.
So that’s the latest. Not funny or clever, just true. Hope you enjoyed reading it.
More soon.
Peace and love
Mike
Ok, so we shot Katie’s video (“A Happy Place”) in Berlin. That was a laugh. I’d long had this idea that the Radio Berlin headquarters’ lifts (called Paternoster lifts, after the catholic Hail Mary-type beads) – would be a good location for a video. They have no doors, and continuously go up on the left and down on the right, like a fairground ride. You just step onto the next one that comes along. Very dangerous actually, and it’s illegal to build them these days. So I went out a few days ahead of the shoot, to do a recce, and to recruit a crew. The lifts pass through 4 floors so I wanted a camera on each floor, to catch Katie and other characters moving around in the lifts in real time. We used these fantastic newish cameras called “Reds” which behave like film cameras but are really HD video cameras. They have a narrow depth of field, and if you want a “film” look you use Prime lenses. Really great cameras. Anyway, our night shoot was, shall we say, interesting. It was the most hurried and stressful shoot I’ve ever directed – we only had 5 hours of shooting overnight, due to miscommunications with the art department and lots of things going wrong from start to finish. We were blessed by many really talented people, - from Christian Valle, our Brazilian/UK choreographer, to Quin Jessop, our UK Director Of Photography(operating camera one) and a crew of very good German camera operators and focus pullers. The dancers (auditioned in Berlin 3 days before the shoot) were absolutely terrific. The result is a weird video that I admit is not everybody’s cup of tea, but a lot of people love it,- and I’m fine with that. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lCdRA0lQq38&feature=avmsc2
It’s certainly unusual. I think some people have objected to Katie looking so “Extreme, - and one guy (I hate this kind of ignorant comment) said “money-grabbing Dramatico have made Katie do this” – or words to that effect. Everything about Katie’s slight shift in musical and visual emphasis has been led by her, with me and others advising from the sidelines. She is as, or more deserving of the credit (and blame) for what she is doing than anyone else in the team, including William Orbit and Guy Chambers. It’s always hard for an artist to make artistic progress without upsetting a few people. In this case, most of her fans have remained loyal, and a whole “flood” of new ones has appeared including critics and TV/radio producers who never “got” her before. Anyway, nobody died, so if you don’t like it, - I’m sorry, and you’ll get over it! Maybe the next album will be her singing the great American songbook with the Hollywood Bowl Symphony Orchestra. (Or maybe not!).
The album shot straight into the number one slot of the European chart Billboard figures) on the week of release, - which means she had a lot of high chart positions around Europe, like number 4 in UK, number one in several continental countries. We are very proud of her. (Again!)
About the same time – in fact exactly on the day of “The House” being released,- I had my concert at the Cadogan Hall. It was a huge thrill, - and I’m definitely going to do more shows like that. (in fact I did a similar thing in Stuttgart last week, which I’ll come to in a minute). Cadogan not a big hall, about a thousand people, - but a beautiful place - and we had a big orchestra (“The Secret Symphony Orchesta” my new, 55 piece session/concert orchestra available for weddings, bah mitzvahs, highly paid corporate events, etc) and Florence Rawlings as chief backing vocalist and star of two songs. We had Kruky (Michael Kruk) from The Planets on drums and Jono (Hill) from The Planets as leader of the orchestra (first violin). I conducted, sang and played the Joanna. Sarah Blasko lent me her guitarist, Ben, who was a great addition – a perfect combination with Louis Ricardi on lead guitar and Matt round on Bass. We made a lot of noise. I always enjoy doing “The Ride To Agadir”, which goes well because with Florence “leading” the BV’s and me, Louis and Ben, we had a pretty good vocal harmony block. We’ve recorded it for TV etc but won’t have time to edit it for ages. Just filmed it for posterity really, so when I’m an old man (in a few months’ time) I can look back and kid myself I was famous once.
This year I was Artistic Director of the Stuttgart Open jazz festival, - and we did a big concert called “Starry, Starry Night” - which was originally going to star Katie Melua, Jessye Norman, Curtis Stigers, Til Bronner, the Stuttgart Philharmonic Orchestra and moi. I found it very difficult to communicate with Jessye Norman about the repertoire she wanted or didn’t want to sing, in the weeks leading up to the gig. Quite honestly, I found it impossible; it was spoiling the whole gig for me. By pure coincidence however, she developed an eye infection on the day I left for Stuttgart and she pulled out. Although I was sorry to hear about the eye infection which I hope is now better, it was like a weight being lifted from my shoulders. I immediately rang my old (young) friend, Soprano Anna Maria Kaufmann, and although she was busy on the Saturday and the Monday, doing concerts, she very kindly agreed to step in for rehearsals on the Friday and the show on Sunday. I didn’t have time to worry about someone dropping out, I had a prime time gala TV concert to put on for five thousand people (at the Porche arena) . It was a joy to have Anna Maria, who is helpful, pretty and a beautiful singer.
We had loads of orchestral rehearsal time but not much with the actual “stars” who mostly arrived the usual 24 hrs ahead of the concert, so the last rehearsal on the Sunday afternoon was a big panic. I had done a special arrangements of “All You Need Is Love” for the orchestra and ensemble – as a finale, plus one of Duke Ellington’s “It Don’t Mean A Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing) which we had to abandon because we never got around to rehearsing it properly. You can’t rehearse a three hour concert in two hours! But “All You Need Is Love” turned out to be a huge hit with the audience.
Anyway – it was a triumph. We are now huge fans of Curtis Stigers – whose combination of a great voice and a fantastic attitude – not to mention being a brilliant sax player – give him a star quality that added so much to our concert. He’s on at Ronnie Scott’s in a week or so and my wife and I are going down to catch his set and be fans.
Another great addition to the concert was trumpet maestro Till Bronner, - one of the best jazz talents to come out of Germany in the last ten years. He’s another impressive character who made a kind of pair with Curtis as our two cool jazz dudes. They already knew each other, so that helped. Katie had to arrive from Montreux on the afternoon of the show so we had minimal rehearsal time with her; but she was a pro, as usual, and pulled it off with aplomb. So many people were full of high praise for Anna Maria Kaufmann. I’ve recorded her before and would love to do so again some day. The 90 minute TV show goes out nationally – as I said as a prime time Gala, on ARD I think, but I don’t know the date yet.
So now I’m here in Mallorca with my family, staying with another family who are great friends and have a really lovely villa. I can see out across mountains and sea. Yesterday we went to a beautiful tapas place in a courtyard. I don’t take a lot of holidays but that just makes a week away all the more enjoyable. Katie is currently enjoying a week off, with her family, after a round of summer gigs, and my concert last Sunday.
So that’s the latest. Not funny or clever, just true. Hope you enjoyed reading it.
More soon.
Peace and love
Mike
Saturday, 22 May 2010
The Big Rocks
I can't claim credit for this story, I just thought it was worth passing on to those who haven't seen it. It's one of those things people send round on e mail. I got it ages ago but just found it again. I think it's quite good.
Here it is...
The busier you are, the more important it is to stop and read this story. One day, an expert in time management was speaking to a group of business students and, to drive home a point, used an illustration those students will never forget.
As he stood in front of the group of high-powered overachievers, he said,
"Okay, time for a quiz."
He then pulled out a one-gallon, 'wide-mouth' mason jar and set it on the table in front of him.
Then he produced about a dozen fist-sized rocks and carefully placed them, one by one, into the jar.
When the jar was filled to the top and no more rocks would fit inside, he asked, "Is this jar full?"
Everyone in the class said,"Yes."
Then he said,"Really?"
He reached under the table and pulled out a bucket of gravel.
Then he dumped some gravel in and shook the jar, causing pieces of gravel to work themselves down into the space between the big rocks.
Then he asked the group once more. "Is this jar full?"
By this time the class was on to him. "Probably not," one of them answered.
"Good!" he replied.
He reached under the table and brought out a bucket of sand.
He started dumping the sand in the jar and it went into all the spaces left between the rocks and the gravel.
Once more he asked the question. "Is this jar full?"
"No!" the class shouted.
Once again, he said, "Good!".
Then he grabbed a pitcher of water and began to pour it in until the jar was filled to the brim.
Then the expert in time-management looked at the class and asked, "What is the point of this illustration?"
One eager beaver raised his hand and said, "The point is, no matter how full your schedule is, if you try really hard you can always fit some more things in it."
No", the speaker replied, "That's not the point.
The truth this illustration teaches us is this:
If you don't put the big rocks in first, you'll never get them in at all.
What are the big rocks in your life?
Your children.
Your spouse.
Your loved ones.
Your friendships.
Your education.
Your dreams.
A worthy cause.
Teaching or mentoring others.
Doing things that you love.
Time for yourself. Your health.
Remember to put these BIG ROCKS in first, or you'll never get them in at all."
If you sweat the little stuff (i.e. gravel, the sand) then you'll fill your life with little things you will never have the real quality
time you need to spend on the big, important stuff (the big rocks).
So, tonight, or in the morning, when you are reflecting on this short story, ask yourself this question:
What are the "big rocks" in my life?
Then put those in your jar first.
Here it is...
The busier you are, the more important it is to stop and read this story. One day, an expert in time management was speaking to a group of business students and, to drive home a point, used an illustration those students will never forget.
As he stood in front of the group of high-powered overachievers, he said,
"Okay, time for a quiz."
He then pulled out a one-gallon, 'wide-mouth' mason jar and set it on the table in front of him.
Then he produced about a dozen fist-sized rocks and carefully placed them, one by one, into the jar.
When the jar was filled to the top and no more rocks would fit inside, he asked, "Is this jar full?"
Everyone in the class said,"Yes."
Then he said,"Really?"
He reached under the table and pulled out a bucket of gravel.
Then he dumped some gravel in and shook the jar, causing pieces of gravel to work themselves down into the space between the big rocks.
Then he asked the group once more. "Is this jar full?"
By this time the class was on to him. "Probably not," one of them answered.
"Good!" he replied.
He reached under the table and brought out a bucket of sand.
He started dumping the sand in the jar and it went into all the spaces left between the rocks and the gravel.
Once more he asked the question. "Is this jar full?"
"No!" the class shouted.
Once again, he said, "Good!".
Then he grabbed a pitcher of water and began to pour it in until the jar was filled to the brim.
Then the expert in time-management looked at the class and asked, "What is the point of this illustration?"
One eager beaver raised his hand and said, "The point is, no matter how full your schedule is, if you try really hard you can always fit some more things in it."
No", the speaker replied, "That's not the point.
The truth this illustration teaches us is this:
If you don't put the big rocks in first, you'll never get them in at all.
What are the big rocks in your life?
Your children.
Your spouse.
Your loved ones.
Your friendships.
Your education.
Your dreams.
A worthy cause.
Teaching or mentoring others.
Doing things that you love.
Time for yourself. Your health.
Remember to put these BIG ROCKS in first, or you'll never get them in at all."
If you sweat the little stuff (i.e. gravel, the sand) then you'll fill your life with little things you will never have the real quality
time you need to spend on the big, important stuff (the big rocks).
So, tonight, or in the morning, when you are reflecting on this short story, ask yourself this question:
What are the "big rocks" in my life?
Then put those in your jar first.
Sunday, 18 April 2010
Rant about Politics and stuff
I suppose I ought to write a bloody nother blog again. It’s a bit like going for a run around the park, you drag yourself out of bed and get on with it and when you get into a pace it’s quite fun, and then when you get home you’re glad you did it. I’m not even over the road into the park yet in blog terms but maybe I’ll get into my stride.
OK so the Man In The Golden Tie “won” the first Prime Ministerial debate, but for one main reason. He – and he alone, looked down the barrel of Camera One all the time he gave his answers. None of the others looked into the camera once – except in their opening and closing pitches.
Job done. At the moment I want Cameron to win, not least because I can’t stand another 5 years of a further-empowered Brown. Bloody hell, does ANYBODY? A hung parliament is a potential disaster. We should give Dave a go. If he fucks it up we can vote Gordon back in in five years’ time (!). I’ll be dead or at least badly ill by then. The fact is, Governments get arrogant after 13 years in office. Let’s let a new lot in and then kick them out after their 13 years of becoming tired and arrogant. The “Vote For Change” motto is quite good – except I suggested to party treasurers they should have their own badges made saying “Notes Or Change”. (Geddit?)
Hey, I’m over the first bit of park, starting to run round the Serpentine. A few Canadian Geese jump out of my way as I head towards the swimming changing rooms where lunatics swim every morning, wearing BATHING CAPS. Surely if you are hard enough to swim in the icy waters of the Serpentine you don’t need a woossy bathing cap? Dear me, what are you, vegetarians?
Anyway so tomorrow we have the launch party (not the actual release) of Katie Melua’s fourth studio album (although I would say this wouldn’t I?) it’s a CRACKER!!! People from all over the world have been unable to come because ICELAND who have crap supermarkets, crap banks and crap volcanoes have decided to let one of theirs off just before our party. Bastards. Volcanic ash we don’t need. Can’t people keep their volcanic ash to themselves? Or does this signal the fact that the World is just one big place and we should pool our resources, - like volcanic fall-out, - have a World Government (headed by, er…) and share our volcanic ash and our cash and our territorial boundaries. Muslems would be free to kill anyone they want for violating their religion if they are – (or especially if they aren’t) OF their religion, and Catholic priests could be as lovely as they like to choirboys. Labour and Tories wouldn’t exist. Only Lib Dems would. Yellow would be the only colour of government – let’s face it, it’s the colour of sun, wheat, butter, bananas, guaranteed anti-cholesterol margerine, puss, er – oh, I said puss, sorry, I meant piss, oh no sorry, I meant beautiful Chinese girls waving banners and singing songs about working together. And those lovely little ducks for the bath that you get in hotel rooms - at least, in the ones I go to, not no-homo B+B's. Canyou imagine:
“You’re homos are you?”.
“Well, sort of”.
“OK well we have strict rules here, no fags, so piss off. Unless you are a LibDems, in which case, just don’t tell anyone, but I’d be obliged if you sit at separate tables at breakfast, and make sure you eat the sausages in a sensible, no-nonsense sort of way.”
Fucking hell.
The World’s gone mad. Actually it’s BEEN mad since Coelacanths turned into humans , some time just before the first World War. So it’s ALL OUR FAULT. We shoot each other, pillage, win by-elections against each other, spit in customers’ food, burgle each other’s houses. (I’ve often wondered what a burglar would think if he got home from a night’s burglaring to discover someone had broken in and stolen his video and fucked his wife) – anyway moving on, or MAYBE NOT.
Maybe that’s far enough for one night.
In blog/jog terms I’m already passing the Peter Pan statue in Kensington Gardens and on the final straight. It may have been bollocks bit at least it’s been MY bollocks.
“And now the end is near…”
Katie album coming out on May 24th. Phew, New suit, one would hope. New trainers.
Eric Pickles said at the special Conservative screening of the live debate this week that he bought his shirts at Marks and Sparks, unlike Brown and Mandelson, who clearly shop at Turnbull and Asser. I proudly claim that everything I wear EVERY DAY is from Marks. Suit, shirts, socks, -er, undies, - just my shoes come from the finest shoemakers in the land. That’s fair – I’m a reasonably famous songwriter. We are supposed to have posh shoes. Aren't we? Can I get a socio-economic popularity steer here?
OK so the Man In The Golden Tie “won” the first Prime Ministerial debate, but for one main reason. He – and he alone, looked down the barrel of Camera One all the time he gave his answers. None of the others looked into the camera once – except in their opening and closing pitches.
Job done. At the moment I want Cameron to win, not least because I can’t stand another 5 years of a further-empowered Brown. Bloody hell, does ANYBODY? A hung parliament is a potential disaster. We should give Dave a go. If he fucks it up we can vote Gordon back in in five years’ time (!). I’ll be dead or at least badly ill by then. The fact is, Governments get arrogant after 13 years in office. Let’s let a new lot in and then kick them out after their 13 years of becoming tired and arrogant. The “Vote For Change” motto is quite good – except I suggested to party treasurers they should have their own badges made saying “Notes Or Change”. (Geddit?)
Hey, I’m over the first bit of park, starting to run round the Serpentine. A few Canadian Geese jump out of my way as I head towards the swimming changing rooms where lunatics swim every morning, wearing BATHING CAPS. Surely if you are hard enough to swim in the icy waters of the Serpentine you don’t need a woossy bathing cap? Dear me, what are you, vegetarians?
Anyway so tomorrow we have the launch party (not the actual release) of Katie Melua’s fourth studio album (although I would say this wouldn’t I?) it’s a CRACKER!!! People from all over the world have been unable to come because ICELAND who have crap supermarkets, crap banks and crap volcanoes have decided to let one of theirs off just before our party. Bastards. Volcanic ash we don’t need. Can’t people keep their volcanic ash to themselves? Or does this signal the fact that the World is just one big place and we should pool our resources, - like volcanic fall-out, - have a World Government (headed by, er…) and share our volcanic ash and our cash and our territorial boundaries. Muslems would be free to kill anyone they want for violating their religion if they are – (or especially if they aren’t) OF their religion, and Catholic priests could be as lovely as they like to choirboys. Labour and Tories wouldn’t exist. Only Lib Dems would. Yellow would be the only colour of government – let’s face it, it’s the colour of sun, wheat, butter, bananas, guaranteed anti-cholesterol margerine, puss, er – oh, I said puss, sorry, I meant piss, oh no sorry, I meant beautiful Chinese girls waving banners and singing songs about working together. And those lovely little ducks for the bath that you get in hotel rooms - at least, in the ones I go to, not no-homo B+B's. Canyou imagine:
“You’re homos are you?”.
“Well, sort of”.
“OK well we have strict rules here, no fags, so piss off. Unless you are a LibDems, in which case, just don’t tell anyone, but I’d be obliged if you sit at separate tables at breakfast, and make sure you eat the sausages in a sensible, no-nonsense sort of way.”
Fucking hell.
The World’s gone mad. Actually it’s BEEN mad since Coelacanths turned into humans , some time just before the first World War. So it’s ALL OUR FAULT. We shoot each other, pillage, win by-elections against each other, spit in customers’ food, burgle each other’s houses. (I’ve often wondered what a burglar would think if he got home from a night’s burglaring to discover someone had broken in and stolen his video and fucked his wife) – anyway moving on, or MAYBE NOT.
Maybe that’s far enough for one night.
In blog/jog terms I’m already passing the Peter Pan statue in Kensington Gardens and on the final straight. It may have been bollocks bit at least it’s been MY bollocks.
“And now the end is near…”
Katie album coming out on May 24th. Phew, New suit, one would hope. New trainers.
Eric Pickles said at the special Conservative screening of the live debate this week that he bought his shirts at Marks and Sparks, unlike Brown and Mandelson, who clearly shop at Turnbull and Asser. I proudly claim that everything I wear EVERY DAY is from Marks. Suit, shirts, socks, -er, undies, - just my shoes come from the finest shoemakers in the land. That’s fair – I’m a reasonably famous songwriter. We are supposed to have posh shoes. Aren't we? Can I get a socio-economic popularity steer here?
Sunday, 28 March 2010
The Osteopath From Hell
We were shooting the video for Katie’s new song “The Flood” at Elstree Studios a couple of days ago, and I had a bad chest pain that I thought might have been, but probably wasn’t, a heart attack. The pain had started the day before and I’ve had that same pain years earlier and it had all been radiating from a vertebra about heart-level, between my shoulder blades. Since I broke my C2 and nearly died, six or seven years ago, I don’t like going to osteopaths, - it just isn’t something I like to do, understandably.
Anyway, this pain was SO bad, and I was working on the video (I wasn’t directing this time; Kevin Godley was) – but I said to my assistant that I really thought I ought to see an osteopath to get me through the day! It was bloody painful. Anyway, it turned out that just across the road was an osteopathy place, so she was able to make an appointment for me, well-timed, right during our crew’s lunch break. Perfect. Except they DIDN’T tell her that they were a “College Of Osteopathy” and that I would be a guinea pig. In other words a student would ”crack” my back, observed by others. Not mentioned.
So off I go to the place, at lunch time. As I walk in, I notice it says “College Of Osteopathy” but just think, that’s fine, some of the best hospitals are “teaching hospitals”. A young bloke in a white jacket, dressed up like a doctor, comes out and invites me into a room, saying “I’ll be treating you today”, and informs me there will be some observers. I’m in so much pain I don’t mind about observers. Key information missing was “…and I myself am a student, as in not a qualified Osteopath”.
So I sit there for 45 minutes answering a huge load of questions, - really detailed medical questions. There’s one girl “observing” from the other side of the room, so I still think this guy is the osteopath and she is the student. He asks me way more info than you usually get asked in situations like this. Can I shit normally? (I normally can), whether my Mother and Father are alive (yes and no). Just to be clear, it’s not that they are both sometimes alive and sometimes not; my Dad has died and my mother hasn't.
After the 45 minutes the guy tells me that of course (of course!) a student will treat me, as in crack my back. At this point I’m thinking “Hang on, nobody told me or my assistant about this! So I say, “Look, nobody told me about this: I broke my neck a few years ago – as you know because I told you half an hour ago in huge detail, - and I’m a bit nervous about being here at ALL. A student cracking my back is out of the question I’m afraid. I’ve already spent an hour now, getting here and being here, and nobody mentioned this. What’s more, I’m in agony and I have to get back to the studio to get this video made”
He goes off, and five minutes later comes out and explains that this can’t happen. This is a college and a student ALWAYS does it.
Another, older bloke, not wearing a doctor’s outfit (presumably the owner or principal of the college; maybe the Headmaster) walks in and starts arguing with me, saying I should have known a student would do it because it says “College of Osteopathy” on the door.
I said “Are YOU a qualified Osteopath” He says, ”Yes, I’m highly qualified”
I say, “Well, could you please make an exception and treat my back for me because I’m trying make a video over the road and I have to go soon, - and I paid your receptionist on the way in?”
He says “I could, but I’m not going to”.
I say, “You mean you’re a qualified osteopath, and you’re going to let me walk out of here in agony when you could help me?”
He says, “Yes”.
I say, “I’m leaving; don’t worry I’ve already paid. He says “You can have your money back” but I’m already half way out of the door. “I haven’t got time” I call, as I close the door quietly behind me. Should've slammed it, really.
So I spent the whole day in pain, with restricted movement and chest pains that could have actually been a heart problem if the osteopathy had been given the chance to illiminate the idea of it being anything more than a skeletal problem
What a bunch of turkeys! And if any of you are reading this and thinking of suing me, for defamation, just try it. You behaved unprofessionally by not warning me either on the phone or in person that I was to be a guinea pig for a student, and you wasted my time on a day when I could ill afford for it to be wasted, and had a floor full of artists and crew across the road, waiting for me to get back and work with them. Thanks for nothing. If you don’t destroy my intimate medical notes it’ll be me suing you.
Anyway, this pain was SO bad, and I was working on the video (I wasn’t directing this time; Kevin Godley was) – but I said to my assistant that I really thought I ought to see an osteopath to get me through the day! It was bloody painful. Anyway, it turned out that just across the road was an osteopathy place, so she was able to make an appointment for me, well-timed, right during our crew’s lunch break. Perfect. Except they DIDN’T tell her that they were a “College Of Osteopathy” and that I would be a guinea pig. In other words a student would ”crack” my back, observed by others. Not mentioned.
So off I go to the place, at lunch time. As I walk in, I notice it says “College Of Osteopathy” but just think, that’s fine, some of the best hospitals are “teaching hospitals”. A young bloke in a white jacket, dressed up like a doctor, comes out and invites me into a room, saying “I’ll be treating you today”, and informs me there will be some observers. I’m in so much pain I don’t mind about observers. Key information missing was “…and I myself am a student, as in not a qualified Osteopath”.
So I sit there for 45 minutes answering a huge load of questions, - really detailed medical questions. There’s one girl “observing” from the other side of the room, so I still think this guy is the osteopath and she is the student. He asks me way more info than you usually get asked in situations like this. Can I shit normally? (I normally can), whether my Mother and Father are alive (yes and no). Just to be clear, it’s not that they are both sometimes alive and sometimes not; my Dad has died and my mother hasn't.
After the 45 minutes the guy tells me that of course (of course!) a student will treat me, as in crack my back. At this point I’m thinking “Hang on, nobody told me or my assistant about this! So I say, “Look, nobody told me about this: I broke my neck a few years ago – as you know because I told you half an hour ago in huge detail, - and I’m a bit nervous about being here at ALL. A student cracking my back is out of the question I’m afraid. I’ve already spent an hour now, getting here and being here, and nobody mentioned this. What’s more, I’m in agony and I have to get back to the studio to get this video made”
He goes off, and five minutes later comes out and explains that this can’t happen. This is a college and a student ALWAYS does it.
Another, older bloke, not wearing a doctor’s outfit (presumably the owner or principal of the college; maybe the Headmaster) walks in and starts arguing with me, saying I should have known a student would do it because it says “College of Osteopathy” on the door.
I said “Are YOU a qualified Osteopath” He says, ”Yes, I’m highly qualified”
I say, “Well, could you please make an exception and treat my back for me because I’m trying make a video over the road and I have to go soon, - and I paid your receptionist on the way in?”
He says “I could, but I’m not going to”.
I say, “You mean you’re a qualified osteopath, and you’re going to let me walk out of here in agony when you could help me?”
He says, “Yes”.
I say, “I’m leaving; don’t worry I’ve already paid. He says “You can have your money back” but I’m already half way out of the door. “I haven’t got time” I call, as I close the door quietly behind me. Should've slammed it, really.
So I spent the whole day in pain, with restricted movement and chest pains that could have actually been a heart problem if the osteopathy had been given the chance to illiminate the idea of it being anything more than a skeletal problem
What a bunch of turkeys! And if any of you are reading this and thinking of suing me, for defamation, just try it. You behaved unprofessionally by not warning me either on the phone or in person that I was to be a guinea pig for a student, and you wasted my time on a day when I could ill afford for it to be wasted, and had a floor full of artists and crew across the road, waiting for me to get back and work with them. Thanks for nothing. If you don’t destroy my intimate medical notes it’ll be me suing you.
Saturday, 13 February 2010
If Music Be The Food Of Love...
A poem WHAT I wrote. You might find it amusing (or might not).
If music be the food of love,
and lyrics be the wine,
Whose songs are dodgy bread and plonk?
And whose, a feast divine?
Whose songs are caviar combined
With vodka served on ice?
And whose are bits of bacon rind
With Chateau Notseau Nice?
Like chefs, our efforts never cease
But still the song we sing
Is sometimes Ivy or Caprice,
And sometimes Burger King!
Mike Batt
© Dramatico
If music be the food of love,
and lyrics be the wine,
Whose songs are dodgy bread and plonk?
And whose, a feast divine?
Whose songs are caviar combined
With vodka served on ice?
And whose are bits of bacon rind
With Chateau Notseau Nice?
Like chefs, our efforts never cease
But still the song we sing
Is sometimes Ivy or Caprice,
And sometimes Burger King!
Mike Batt
© Dramatico
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