I woke up Sunday morning with the hope of securing Glastonbury tickets. No joy. I’ve never actually ever bought any in a general sale. Whereas all my friends who live in nice areas always seem to be able to get through to the sales page with ease. Maybe the Glastonbury Folk don’t want us rough northern estate types roaming their pastures and they block our IP addresses? Don’t worry Rob it’s just a paranoid thought brought on by failure at 9.30am on a Sunday morning. It’s too early for this kind of setback.
I’ve had some great Glastonbury moments. The first time I went was in 2008. I had been to see MC5 and Primal Scream in London. At the after show I was drinking with Joe Strummer’s friend and Lily Allen’s godfather Pockets. We had a great night filled with drink, innuendo, and mixing with various music personalities. We agreed to meet the next day in Notting Hill for some more beers. I woke up at Ray Gange’s house in Brixton. Ray was a roadie for The Clash and star of their movie Rude Boy. I’d met him some years earlier and we’ve stayed friends ever since. I left his house pretty early and went to meet Pockets. As I arrived he is on the phone talking to Lily about her upcoming Glastonbury appearance and the logistics of their travel. After the call I make some polite icebreaking conversation about Glastonbury. Pockets asked me if I’d ever been “No, but I’d love to someday” I replied. He calls someone and asks about getting me in. All sorted. “What! When is it?” I ask. “We’re setting off in about an hour”. ”Eh? I don’t have any clothes, tent, beer, nothing”. “You’ll survive,” he instructs. It was like something out of a Hunter S. Thompson novel, some kind of weird depraved mission only undertaken by specially selected warriors. I was the man for the job and the 10% battery life on my phone didn’t phase me. I was going to Glastonbury. On the way we stopped off outside Bridgewater at Joe Strummers house. Pockets had to walk the dog. Fender The Punk Rock War Hound … only one man could have named a dog in such a fashion. I was invited inside the house, only I politely declined. I didn’t want to get too close to my hero; I don’t need to step inside his home I thought. Instead I’ll wait outside and walk Fender in the field by the house. It was then I realised that this was possibly an even closer moment to my hero than I anticipated. What a journey. What was I experiencing? It was a lot to take in for a 25 year old. I don’t often tell this story. It is hard to process sometimes.
We left Joe’s house and Pockets took me to a local bar where he told me the next stage of the plan. He had to go inside the festival and locate the person to get me in. It could be a while he warned. I only had 8% battery life. I waited in the car park. All night. It took until the next morning for him to arrive back. In the mean time I’d befriended a couple of people and had a rave in the car park. I drank their beer and we drained the battery on their car pumping out the music. The sun started to rise and I got tired. I found an old piece of rug and rolled myself up leaving only my feet sticking out. A passerby exclaims, “Someone hasn’t disposed of that body very well”. A short while later I’m in the festival. I couldn’t believe it. The plan worked. I’d never experienced such a thing. I managed to find my friend Meesh who helped me gather the basics to survive at a festival and then we started exploring. That weekend was one of the greatest things I have ever experienced. It was like a dream.
A year later I returned to the festival and I played on the Strummerville stage for the first time. I played three songs. I cried during my set. That has only ever happened a handful of times. Unbelievable. Here I am playing Glastonbury. I might never play here again. Savour it. I have since gone on to play a few times more. Each time I tell myself to savour it and each time it has had its own special impact on me.
The greatest impact was meeting my friend Barbara from Barbarella’s Bang Bang. They were playing just before me a few years ago. I was drawn to Barbara. I thought she was an incredible artist and performer. I had an incredible urge to talk to her. I did and we clicked. We’re still good friends and she even appeared on my solo album ‘Reflections’. When I’m writing songs I often hear Barbara singing them in my head. She’s a kind of muse I guess. I’ve already invited her to sing on the new Yallas album. It must be said that it’s no coincidence that my singing voice drastically improved once I met Barbara. She showed me how to look after it. She would chastise me if we spoke on the phone and she could hear that I’d lost it. Since I recorded the ‘Reflections’ album with her I have never lost my voice due to performing. I can nearly even sing in tune now and I’ve sort of found my key. I’ll be forever indebted to her for that. Barbara is also great to talk to about life, spirituality, and philosophy. We will talk until the sun comes up then a few days later I’m writing song after song after song. I hope someday I can write an album for her.
With all these thoughts and memories in my head I am nearly late for rehearsal. This week we have Grant on drums. He is our producer and he has stepped in on drums for us before. He knows our style, songs, humour, and its as much a catch up as it is for work. I ask Grant ‘did you get the demos?” “Yes I did” he replies. “Did you listen to them?” “No” “I didn’t think you would, they’re easy anyway”. Grant pretty much nails the album in one take save for a few false starts and endings but nothing major and overall we’re happy with the groove. I notice we’re all playing with smiles on our faces. Will is in especially high spirits. He has had a tough year but he’s starting to see some light in his situation. It’s lovely to hear him laugh at the banter between us. I think Vince is enjoying Grant in the room too. Vince has been recording his 2nd solo album with him and I think they’ve become mates in their own right without it being a band or a business thing. Vince and myself are much better this week also. I do think the negative energy between us last time was purely down to tiredness. I don’t express anything to the group but I spend most of the rehearsal worrying about my joints. Maybe Its just playing guitar for three hours but I notice I’m starting to cramp up in my wrists and left hand. I try to think of the last time I played as much guitar, and it is probably never. I’m enjoying it though. I doubt I’ll be playing guitar live with the band anytime soon though. I only play as far of the studio and maybe a handful of shows the other side. I’m a better front man if I’m not tied down with a guitar. Will’s got it covered anyway. I’ll only get in the way.
We pack up and Will drives me home. We laugh most of the journey. I think about the wonderful people that surround us, the close friends. The ones like Grant, Dave, Barbara, Mel, Lewis, and there are many more who are always there to bounce ideas with and to get an honest opinion from. It is very important to me.