Pete's Blog

I’ve never counted up all the recordings etc which I have been involved in over the last 45 years but a rough guess would be over 200 albums worth. This includes vinyl, cassettes, VHS tapes, CDs and DVDs. Many of these can be still be found on Amazon today and a big hooray for them.
Very occasionally small cheques in foreign currencies like Bongolian Splonders or Chimpanese Jaffas flutter onto the doormat and with these I treat the wife to a night out at the Goods Station Marshalling Yards and Grill.

At a recent Jon Lord concert in Munich I bumped into Eberhard Schoener, although I was aiming for his lovely wife, Steffi. In the course of a short chat filled with reminiscences, recriminations and my favourite story about an ostrich, a dwarf and a magic lamp, Eberhard mentioned the re-release of a combined CD and DVD entitled Bali Agung with E. Schoener as the artiste. I was heavily featured on this adventurous production and asked for a copy. I knew I wouldn’t get money.

This film and audio recording was made in 1975 when I had much more hair and a dodgy pair of flares.
Eberhard had made his name first as a violinist and then as a gifted orchestral conductor. He and Jon Lord had co-operated on some very exciting meetings of rock and classical musicians in 1973 and 1974 and I had been lucky enough to play drums for them.

Eberhard had an understandable love for the Far East and Bali in particular, with it’s art, culture and unique gamelan music. Not to mention it’s beautiful, in every sense of the word, inhabitants.
I didn’t know anything about this when he asked me to go with him and the technical crew to film there.
I was glad to get out of Europe in February and head to the sun, sand and sea.

You will be now so fired up that you will get hold of this item and see for yourselves what Bali was like in 1975.

Eberhard’s vision and fantasy produced a recording which was awarded 5 stars in Down Beat. It wasn’t jazz but improvisation was an important factor and World music was coming into it’s own as a Category in the polls of such magazines.

So just recently I watched myself sweating in the humidity and was pleased by my drum chops, which were certainly burning.
I had been on the road a lot in the previous years with Hardin and York. In a two piece band we really had to play some to keep the audience’s attention. Here, in Bali, I had around 25 Balinese percussionists, flute and string players around me.
It was one of the most inspiring times of my musical life because we literally could not talk to our friends in the orchestra. We had one English-speaking interpreter and the rest was sign-language and pantomime. But it worked, although I wonder what they thought about my big band drum set and Eberhard’s early Moog synthesizers.

It was a magical time filled with exotic experiences (now you’re getting interested again, dear reader) and I did indeed spend some time with a couple of beautiful local girls. I taught them volleyball and they showed me how to yodel in Indonesian. They told me that they had entertained Mick Jagger and Keith Richards the previous year so I thought there was no point in my explaining cricket to them again.

I must say I’m happy about reissues. They don’t pay the rent or even the newspaper bill but they bring back some delightful memories.
One of the best for me is not to be seen on the film (now don’t get excited, this is pure sentiment not lust).
The hotel was luxurious with a huge beach directly in front of the lush gardens. There was a long jetty or pier leading out over the sea about 100 yards ending in a palm roofed pavilion with a cocktail bar and comfortable colonial furnishing (not our colonies, the Dutch, by the way).
On certain nights after dinner they would show old movies in this pavilion while the guests had a few drinks and enjoyed the spectacular sunset. I must also mention that in the bay was the wreck of a large Chinese junk, still jutting up out of the water. Most evocative and romantic.
Because it was February and rainy season there would be a tropical downpour in the early evening, thunder, lightning and rain that literally washed the birds and bats down out of the sky. It was Biblical for about 40 minutes and then …instant stillness.
The birds and bats dried themselves off with tiny towels and mini-fur and feather dryers and we hotel guests, or at least the alcoholics and singles of which I was a leading players, headed out along the pier.
I knew that the movie was Laurel and Hardy’s “Blockheads” so, after pushing a predatory Italian mother and daughter combination into the warm sea ( how can the promise of unbridled sex compete with L & H?) , I took my cocktail, a Bali Bucket Bouquet, and sat down expectantly.

I sipped the half gallon of surgical alcohol and prune juice through a small hose inserted into the forest of jungle fronds which filled the beaten bronze bucket. The sun was setting, the sky was aflame with still a few distant lightning flashes, thunder and my after dinner stomach rumbled gently. The familiar “Cuckoos” theme began and Stan and Ollie, old and dear friends to millions of us, began their wonderfully silly story.
I glanced around; the flaming torches in the hotel gardens, shadows lengthening, the bats back in the air, the waves breaking gently on the shore and on the ancient timbers of the Chinese junk.
What beautiful memories and how fortunate we are to have them.

“My name is Oliver Norvell Hardy and this is my friend, Mr Laurel.”

Which brings me neatly to

HARDIN & YORK, THE WORLD’S SMALLEST BIG BAND IS BACK.

Like many other musicians who take a look back at their long careers, Eddie and I have come to the conclusion that we should give it another go. The warm and comforting part of the advance of the years (OK, we’re getting old) is that what really matters in the time we have left before the light really goes out is to do the things we really can enjoy.
I know that one of the most dynamic musical set-ups I was ever in was the duo I had with Eddie.
We started doing a duet number in the Spencer Davis Group and this proved so popular that when we both left Spencer, for differing reasons, we decided to try our luck as a duo.
Our first time together lasted from 1968 until 1976 and we played a LOT of gigs. Our three official albums all earned Gold discs and our bootleg album did over 100.000 making quite a lot of money for someone else. If this person ever shows himself he will die a horrible death similar to Edward the Second. We know people!!!

Right now Eddie and I are preparing for our first show on March 26 in Weinstadt near Stuttgart. We shall play a lot of the old favourites but our familiar sound will be spiced and diced by the addition of Aino Laos, who is a formidable talent on vocals, bass and percussion.
We are hoping this will be a sensational reunion of two old friends, because we’d like to spend a little more time together. There were some exhaustingly satisfying tours and a lot of laughs and we want more of this. It’s not so much to ask, is it?

Of course everything’s changed now. The scene is dominated by pathetic little squeakers and screamers, Jocelyn Beaver etc. OK, they’re young and no 14 year old girl is going to come to hear us. But I do urge all of you old enough to remember us to come out and be shocked and inspired. I might still get a scream out of a 14 year old but unfortunately it would probably be one of laughter.

Having had a good laugh for the last few years playing on a comedy show it’s about time I got back to rock ‘n roll and there seems to be a lot of that ahead for me in 2011. There have been some really nice gigs recently and in between lots of time with Mecky and the occasional trip to the cinema with Steph. Most enjoyable and those long tours have faded into the background.

During the summer I played with Drum Boogie, Christoph Boogiewolf Steinbach and myself plus three lovely and very talented girls, the Kittens and sometimes harmonica virtuoso Albert Koch. We will be at the Schlachthof in Munich again on Oct 23.  

We also had another great session with Albie Donnelly, Roy Herrington and Bolle Dieckmann on the Boogiewolf’s Kitzbuhel Bash. Mecky came along and we had a great time with Harriet Lewis. I wish I could work with her more  often. She is so dynamic and, wow, those silken hose!! The more I play with these groups the more I know that my “House Of The Rising Sun” musical idea can be sensational.

And, coincidentally, a few weeks later we got a call from Eric Burdon’s wife, Marianna, to say that they were in town and could we storm the hotel bar together. It turned into a very jolly evening and Mecky’s memories of her swinging 60s in London were even more colourful than ours. 

On the jazz side there have been some great sessions too. At one of them Susie Who jumped up and sang a couple with a very hot sextet I had. We’ll be doing our first gig in the Munich area in November at the Bürgerhaus here in Grünwald  on November 25 and I expect all our friends to be there. Otherwise they won’t get invited to our Christmas party, thus missing the cabaret with me doing the Last Turkey in the Shop and Waggling My Magical Wand.

I realised an ambition of staging a swing Weekend in the fabulous surroundings of the Dorint Hotel in Bad Brückenau. All concerned worked hard to make it an experience to remember and our group of performers were on top form, Martin Schrack, Kuno Kürner, Claus Koch, Stephan Holstein, Annette Neuffer and Jens Loh. Both we and the guests also enjoyed the jazz films which we watched afterwards to the slurping accompaniment by me on several Guinnesses, or is it Guinnii.

In the pursuit of laughs or musical highlights I often roam about in the YouTube archives but I am disgusted by the comments some people post. Rude, ill-informed, devoid of nostalgia (which seems to be a dirty word to many), cold and riddled with ageism. Most of it seems to come, judging by the words used, from the youth culture of the US and pitiful it is. I am a prime example of someone who loves the music, comedy and other art forms of the past. So here’s some ageism for you. Much of what’s being produced and marketed today in music and comedy is highly inferior in terms of content. Prince Charles has recently called today’s comedy output “witless smut”. He was put down by some as “sad” for his championing of the old Goon Show, but that group of funny men changed the face of comedy forever. The present crop merely insult and embarrass. We should judge by melody, harmony, rhythmic sublety and lyric content in music ; wit, intelligence, warmth and originality in comedy.

Another great reunion which took place recently at the Lahnstein Blues Festival found me on stage with Jon Lord, Zoot Money, Maggie Bell, Albie Donnelly, Miller Anderson and Colin Hodgkinson. What a line-up. We had a 75 minute spot and it wasn’t easy to showcase all the talents we had in the time. Maggie was magnificent and Jon had a ball. Simon Cowell and Sheryl Cole probably wouldn’t have liked us, but then again…..

Idea for TV show “The Great Talent  Judge Hanging Drawing and Quartering Show featuring Uma Thurman and some very sharp swords. Maybe Jamie could do some barbequeing later. Uma’s all right in my book, by the way.

Eddie Hardin and I are looking forward to our first gigs for a long time in 2011. So there’ll be some more rocking for me there. And I have a new drum nut friend, Gomezz, from the hugely successful band, Reamonn. We are planning an exciting band to play with our two-man drum section. There will be some stars from my time and some from his. Gomezz is half my age and he promises to tell me what it’s like to be young and vital. I have totally forgotten. He feels the same about drums, the history and the great players as I do and I think we’ll have a wonderful show.

So there’s much to look forward to. In the meantime, my thoughts go out to Spencer, who is not very well but has a strong will and should fight back to health as always.

We are having a rotten, rainy summer down here in Bavaria. I think all that volcanic ash has floated down and hit the brick wall of the Alps and is now blocking out the sun. I don’t imagine Iceland has as much money as BP but it would be nice if they could find a way to suck all this dust back up their way. A project for your school’s science class.

Once in a while the sun does peep through and then the beer gardens are filled and the charming streets of  Munich are packed with tables and chairs as the cafe culture blooms. On one of these rare nice days an open-air concert was staged featuring two names who I have always proudly displayed in my various biogs, Steve Winwood and Eric Clapton.

My association with Eric was not very long, being limited to my recording session with him for Elektra under the band name of ECs Powerhouse in 1965 I think. He would often turn up at gigs we played in London and sit in (jam) with us because we all loved the same music and he enjoyed Steve’s great talents as a partner on organ or guitar, even in those early days. I think I was asked for that session because Ginger Baker couldn’t make it. I think he might have been recovering from the cosmetic surgery necessary to turn him into Phil Seaman.

My several years with Steve in the Spencer Davis Group shaped the rest of my life and we have met occasionally in the intervening 40 odd years. I had called him several weeks before this open-air in Munich in the hope that we could meet once again.

Tha day dawned sunny and stayed that way. Mecky and I found a good parking place, a small triumph in itself, and picked up our tickets and VIP passes. Steve’s right-hand, James, sent us an SMS that Steve would like us to come to the backstage. It was still an hour and a half to show-time. As is often the case on these kind of gigs, the dressing rooms were in containers grouped around a central catering area for musicians and crew.  There were a few crew members hanging around but no sign of any artists. James met us and took us into Steve’s “room”.

As always when one meets up with old pals, the years disappear and conversations resume. We caught up on stories and news about all our mutual friends and Steve proudly told me that his son was already drumming in a big band. This will give him invaluable experience and I said I would try to get hold of some arrangements for them. It was a delightful chat but I know how valuable a bit of peace and quiet before the concert is so left him to find our seats in the vast area of the Königsplatz. I hadn’t seen a hair nor plectrum from Eric or heard the patter of a practice pad from Steve Gadd’s room so I guess they were asleep.

We soon met up with Holm Dressler, his wife Jutta and her sister. Holm will direct the Beatles TV show, news of which you will find elsewhere in the website. By now there were around 14.000 people gathered and the beer and wine stands doing a roaring trade.

The show was really enjoyable, lots of oldies, hits and great soloing from Steve, Eric and Chris Stainton. Steve’s voice is astonishingly good and his organ playing made me think back to the jamming we would do before the shows back in the Sixties. For the flavour of these go back to those instrumental B sides on the singles. They were all cut in about twenty minutes each.

How was it for me to listen to these two giants of our music as a member of the crowd? A lot of nostalgia certainly, a touch of sadness that I probably won’t ever get to play for such a huge audience again in this life, but also a great warmth that I have been a part of this British blues/rock story. And I also felt confident that my approach to playing Gimme Some Lovin’ was at least as good as Steve Gadd’s. You can check for yourselves in Lahnstein in September.

As depressing news hits us from all sides, albeit dispensed attractively by the bright and beautiful at Sky News, it is sadly too late for me to stand as the next Prime Minister. I have been living for more than 25 years in Germany; a country which, according to the Brit Dumbo Press, is still peopled by goose-stepping Gauleiters and Fräuleins in lederhosen.

I would have had solutions, ho yes. I would like to see those at BP who thought it wasn’t worth spending any money on a second safety shut-off valve for that exploded oil-rig off New Orleans brought to book.

Perhaps they could raise some of the ginormous clean-up money from a sponsored swim in the polluted Gulf. I think we’d all like to see these dreadful desk jockeys splashing through the goo, choking and spluttering their last.

You may wonder why an old muso on beta-blockers gets hot under the collar about this terrible event, which could so easily have been avoided.  Apart from the damage caused to wildlife and the environment New Orleans gets clobbered again. Without this great city the story of music in the Western world would be vastly different and the U.S. would not have had it’s only original art form, jazz.  This revolution morphed into swing, R & B, rock and roll and eventually pop, so I guess it makes you wonder about how things get polluted in the arts as well. No matter there have been some treasures along the way.

 After the hurricane damage many people suffered great loss and now those same people face a further catastrophe in their area. My heart goes out to all of them.

LAST ONE UP THE ACROPOLIS BUYS THE OUZO

Some years ago I played in Athens and several other gigs in Greece. The financial arrangements were haphazard to say the least. We ate very well and I enjoyed the alcoholicals and the friendly hospitality was delightful. The gigs were packed and cash flowed into the ticket offices everywhere. Nobody seemed to know or care how much or where it went. Occasionaly we would be bunged a handful of notes. I can’t remember any paperwork or demands for signatures that I had received anything.  Quite how the books were balanced I can’t imagine. And now there’s rioting on the streets as the good citizens are asked by their flaky government to cough up the shortfall. Democracy is freedom and freedom means we don’t have to pay taxes if we don’t think we should.  Sorry, it doesn’t work like that.

If Euroland bails out the failing countries with our tax money, and I fear it has to, how about we all go on holidays to these places and then refuse to pay our bills.  

 K.O.D.A.

This is new charity to which I shall be donating large portions of any fees I earn on my forthcoming shows.  Those of you who buy tickets to see me and my excellent musician friends can feel a warm glow as you enjoy stunning performances of a variety of musical programmes. This will be the glow of satisfaction as you know you’ve done something worthwhile for a section of society often neglected by the majority, even despised by the younger generation.

It is sobering to think that there are many men, but mercifully few women, who are unable to afford front-row seats for the Cirque du Soleil, or the muscle and joint relieving treatment of the Pattaya Massage and Ticklerama Salon, a Lamborghini Hybrid Tricycle or a relaxing paddle in Celine Dion’s watergarden. These are all fantasy dreams for this tragic group and that’s why the charity KODA now exists. It stands for Keeping Old Drummers Alive and you and your family can help by coming to see me and ichronic figures like me, as often as possible.

I am about to leave home for another season with Helge in the Admiralspalast, Berlin. Mecky will tearfully wave me off tomorrow as I lay the rattan switch across the broad shoulders of Phil So Yung, the Chinese coolie who will rickshaw me to the capital. Further up the street the milkman, the insurance salesman and a certain Hans Kneess will be waiting till I’m safely out of the way before fancying their chances with my lovely wife.
They should be so lucky……
We have done this Berlin gig for some years now and it is phenomenal how Helge fills this theatre for over two solid weeks.
However when this is over on April 4th. Helge wants to take a loooong break, and who can blame him. Making people laugh and keeping the material fresh takes a lot of energy and imagination. There have been hundreds of shows since I have been on board and it’s not surprising that Helge wants to take time off to be with his growing family.

I shall not be idle for long as I have gigs coming up with my various jazz and R & B mates. There are some long lasting friendships among us and it’s life affirming to continue to see and play with pals ranging from Ron Hills from my Birmingham days and Jon Lord from the time when Hardin and York was an opening act for Deep Purple. And Ron played cornet on the H & Y first album.

AND THERE’S ONLY TWO OF THEM

Apropos the above notelet, Hardin And York enjoyed great success in Europe and America back in the early Seventies. Forty years on seems a good time to stun the audiences one more time. A duo of organ and drums was, and still is, a rarity on the live music scene. And we were a concert act, appearing at massive festivals and at such prestigious venues as the Albert Hall. Our several LP recordings all went Gold according to our producer, Mike Hurst. This fact was kept from us by our then manager, in case we asked where the money was. Yet another Right Royal Rip-Off to add to the ones in the Spencer Davis years. We did feel some satisfaction from sending this creep a postcard from Dachau with “Wish You Were Here” written on it.

Eddie and I have renewed our phonings and the  humour is still very much there. We hope to show ourselves soon, svelte, mature and still capable of the old magic. We’ll take care to con an old friend into managing us so those problems don’t re-occur.

MUSIC? I’LL GIVE YOU MUSIC

When you flit through that group of TV channels supposedly presenting moosick you actually won’t find much because the dumbing down by artists and producers especially has resulted in melodies, if there are any, which make the average nursery rhyme sound like Stravinsky. So, no tune. The chords and harmonies are predictable and elementary and rhythms are built around a deafening four in the bar which could be used as cover for an underground assault on a bank vault.

The artists who present this puerile pap usually dress like hookers of either of the three sexes. Now there’s nothing wrong with this in my book except that none of them look as if they have the straight up moxy to follow through on the promise they seem to be making. I would have more respect for these pop girls if, at the end of their songs, they would leap into the audience and give all those interested a good seeing-to. But no, they slip away in a cloud of bodyguards to their bio dressing rooms for some macro muesli and holy water. Dethpicable!!!

Now in my day……..

A very happy and healthy New Year to you, our Reader. I know who you are and where you live so don’t think you can hide this dark desire to read the ravings of a super-annuated skin basher. Twelve more exciting new months stretch in front of us like the threadbare strip of carpet on the landing. Of course, they might not be exciting for everyone. There’s a lot of sadness and misery in the world today. Much of it inflicted on us by bankers, politicians, military strategists and the leaders of various religions.
Creative artists don’t tend to go in for intolerance, dogma, rampaging greed, despotism and the extermination of anybody who doesn’t agree with them. We are dreamers and we express our dreams through various arty outlets, which never hurt anyone. I hope our neighbours agree when I start practising at 8.00 in the morning.

I’m going to make a big effort this year to become a celebrity, if only to make it easier to get my music across.
Forty five years ago I was in a boy group, as handsome and heart-throbbing as any today. We had our own Boy Wonder who did much to give us the gold and platinum disc success we enjoyed. Unfortunately the money didn’t really flow our way and the BW went his own way to play with more “interesting” people. In those dim and distant fabled Swinging Sixties a culture of excess developed. Getting plastered on a Friday night was the norm as it is in Britain today and drugs found a ready market. From joints to pills to acid to needles the drug scene grew to become a fact of musical life and began to define the musicians themselves.
I remember many parties where the lines were drawn between those who did and those who didn’t. Almost a religious intolerance. I know I missed out on many gig offers because I was too straight. I would have fitted in nicely with Cliff Richard but he already had an excellent drummer in Brian Bennett.
Well that’s all going to change. While everbody else is giving things up, I’m just about to start a year-long orgy of substance abuse, endless partying and making a spectacle of myself in public places.
I estimate that my new notoriety will make me irresistible to the Press. And I don’t care how low I have to stoop to make those headlines. Has anybody got Jordan’s phone number?

I can’t take life very seriously, perhaps it’s all the pills I have to take for the ongoing functioning of my battered organs. Perhaps I have been a drug addict without knowing it for many years. I must call Keith Richards, maybe there’s still a chance.
But first my affair with Jordan. Mecky won’t mind because there won’t be any physical contact, I just have to be photographed coming out of her place at 5.00 in the morning looking extremely seen-to and dressed in Sophia Loren’s old corset. I hope it’s not too big for me.

2010 will be fun indeed.

Christmas has been and gone but the memories of it still lurk around the waistband. Mecky cooked a trad English lunch beautifully. She has had over thirty years experience of doing this, having married a Brit. Our daughter, Stephanie, has always been with us at Christmas and Mecky’s sister, Hildegard, was also able to come. I think the turkey’s parents might have included an ostrich because it was a big bird, sort of Dawn French with feathers. Anyway the leftovers turned up for several meals afterwards in various disguises. The most spectacular being spaghetti. Although my favourite is always Madras Turkey Curry with the help of the Pataks sauce  company without whom life for an expat, a thousand miles from Birmingham, would be unbearable.

Christmas TV via Sky satellite wasn’t too exciting, the old shows are the best for me. Mecky and I did pop into the Nutcracker for a some ballet and wonderful music. It seemed to fit our mood and we both stayed with it and thoroughly enjoyed it. I have to make more effort and get out to see these productions live. That can be a New Year’s Resolution.

There are some live shows that I would like to see next year, promoters please note. There’s money to be made here for you avid collectors of the green and crinkly, and I don’t mean de-hydrated aliens, of which I have two for sale. A sporting fixture I have been waiting for is the All-Blacks versus Manchester United live in Las Vegas with cheerleaders. Another one which won’t take up much room and could be of great interest to socio-anthropologists involves Tiger Woods and Silvio Berlusconi locked in a cage together for several days. This could be staged in a circus ring and the spectators could wander in and out hoping to see some sort of action. The incarceration of two sex addicts hasn’t happened since Liz and Dick’s honeymoon, which sadly wasn’t televised.

I am not expecting to be invited to be a juror on a reality talent celebrity show in 2010. As someone who has forty five years experience of playing and singing all kinds of music in all branches of the media I don’t have the right qualifications. I have never been cosmetically enhanced, I’m not wrapped up in my own image, my tits are as nature intended and I have always been friendly and approachable and have never ripped-off my colleagues. I admit it, Simon, I’m just not in your league.

But I won’t have time for that rubbish anyway. 2010 is going to be very exciting, if I can stay alive. In January begins a series of over 50 concerts with the incredible Helge Schneider. A new show was devised before the holidays and we played four times in the Mülheim Stadthalle, all sold out. Now we are all looking forward to taking this out to the whole of Germany in the next three months, including our delightful three weeks in Berlin. For those of you who don’t know Helge and his humour and music there is a lot on YouTube.

Also on YouTube is Pete York and the Susie Who Swing Revue, a little demo film shot at a freezing cold open-air concert. We shall be booking this in the New Year plus my trios and other combos.

I have no idea how many people read this but even if it’s only YOU alone let me wish you a very Happy and Healthy New Year. I’m happy to still be out there playing drums with the love and support of my small family. Drop by and listen some day. You’ll be amazed!!!!!

The Great God Google does an intergalactically magnificent jog of distributing information both useful and trivial. But, beware, there are dyslexic gremlins lurking amongst its cyber workforce, mostly on Level J just past the Megabyte’s toilets. One of these has confused me with some Johnny Come Lately upstart called Pete Yorn.
You might read that I have done something with Scarlett Johansson. This would come as a big surprise to her and would also lead to a big surprise for me when my lovely wife of more than thirty years approaches me from behind with a polo mallet and a pair of secateurs.
Michelle Pfeiffer and Kim Basinger may be very keen to sing with my band but they have an understanding of the fabulous musical depth of the Great American Songbook, which is my kind of music. They are also very lonely.
But Scarlett, fine actress that she is, hasn’t progressed beyond the C & W brand of songstressing evident in “My cheatin’ bum of a husband ran off with a dog to Peoria in a semi-trailer truck. I believed he had a job in the stockyards, but he only went down for …some luck.”
Not my kind of music.

SPAMMED AND SCAMMED
Another warning – I recently ordered and paid for a DVD box set of the old Dean Martin Roasts from a mob called tvaddicts. Instead of the 12 DVDs of all the shows I eventually took delivery of rice-paper package from China which contained 4 DVDs in a cheap box with a picture of what looks like a young Peter Falk on the box.
One DVD opened up and proved to be a Best Of compilation lasting around 100 minutes. The other 3 DVDs were blank and didn’t display anything unless it was a cross-section of the moral fibre displayed by our politicians who took us into the Iraq war.
I complained savagely and threatened to send my mate, Cyril Radetzky, round with his brass knuckles, wooden teeth and steel balls.
Their representative in Florida or Canada or wherever the heck he was, name of Randy, mailed back to say that all would be put right.
Quite soon a new package arrived from China containing exactly the same garbage as before.
Cyril promises to arrive back here soon with a plastic bag containing certain vital parts of Randy, who will now have to change his name.
My advice is to check all these selling sites to see if complaints have appeared. I didn’t and lost out. Amazon is enough for me from now on.

Having been scammed once gives me cause to reflect on the ongoing spamming sneaking into my mail. I would herewith like to inform Dr Gloria Gristle, the Wellbeing  Stud Farm of Rydem, Nevada, the Church of What’s Happening and the Margaret Rutherford Trust that I am not interested in your tempting offers of Viagra. I bought some on the internet once and I have never been without friendly cyber contact since. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to pay chemist’s prices. Outrageous. The drug companies are amongst the most profitable on the planet and continue to extort from us all. Especially those of us whose insurance companies won’t cover the cost of a good time. So a little improvisation is called for to make up for the shortfall, so to speak. I’ll explain everything next time but you gentlemen might like to prepare yourselves by having a roll of gaffer tape and a few lolly sticks on hand.

My gigging life away from the Helge Schneider shows is certainly very varied. At the end of September I appeared on a Trade Fair which had nothing to do with music. The mail order business seems to be booming and my friends at W & Co, Alex and Katja and company, thought it would be eye and ear catching to have me drumming on their stand for a couple of days. Lots of smartly dressed business men were reminded of the music of their youths and wanted autographs and photos. I was reminded of why I gave up my job at GKN in Birmingham in 1964 to go on the road as a professional musician. Although I’ve never had much security in the intervening 45 years I have had some great experiences, some of which were musical.
From Wiesbaden I made the short trip to Kaiserslautern to play with Christoph Steinbach, Albert Koch and Ray Dorset (Mungo Jerry). It was an evening of British Blues headed by Mick Taylor, who everybody treated with awe and respect although I can’t really think why. Own up, we’ve all been doing this since God was a boy. His crew carried on as though it was the second coming.
Our little combo fired the crowd up no end with some awesome blues and boogie plus versions of the old Spencer Tracy hits lead by piano and harmonica.
It made me wonder why I gave myself a hernia helping to carry that blasted organ all those years ago. I lifted up the harmonica with one hand, no sweat.

Then it was on to another gig, another band with my trio featuring the great musicianship of Kuno Kürner and Claus Koch. This took place in Deidesheim, another short journey, and was organised by an old friend, Yvonne Moissi.
We had a full house in the Stadthalle and swung mightily.
This tiny trio sounds like a big band at times and the soloing is stunning.

Back at home the following week I had three days filming some biographical material with Michael Osterhoff and his lovely wife, Ruth.
Mecky looked after us culinarily ??? and the weather was great so that we got gorgeous footage of a Bavarian autumn as background for my inane chatter.

I have been preparing a new programme with a young singer, Susie Who. She has a CD out which I found very attractive and we now have a swinging quintet to support our vocals.
We played our first gig at the Audi Forum in Neckarsulm and it was on an open stage in the middle of October. It was freezing and we all wore woolly underwear underneath our gold lame jump suits.
I was very proud of the boys and Susie gritted her chattering teeth and delivered a good show. We got some good video material out of the night which we shall use to get more work.
That seems to have been my life for years now, gigs and more gigs. I’ll be back out with Helge again before Christmas but right now it’s a challenge and fun to play a full show myself with all the drumming, singing and jollity which I think is expected of me.

I was able to get our trio version of the Gene Krupa Story onto the Ludwigsburg Drum Days. I met Lee Kerslake from Uriah Heep, Mike Terrana and a lot of percussion pals.
Marcel Vogelmann sets this up and it’s a real labour of love.
But then again, so much of playing music live is a labour of love. Tomorrow I’m off to Nuremberg for my PY Drum Show. Now that’ll be a trial for us all, boys and girls.

Blogging on to glory – as I attempt a solo crossing of the oceans of ether without a paddle with only a mouse to hold onto. 

So far it’s not so difficult. Words are appearing before me as I type but there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to plaster them all over the website. 

I am gratified that some friends appear to have visited and we have weeded out the insulting and sometimes downright filthy comments. And as for you, Gladys Hagerty of Monmouth, I have never owned a wet-suit or a Ken Dodd mask let alone left displays of suggestive vegetables outside Mothercare.

How am I doing so far, Martin? This is the guy who, together with Andrea from W & Co, has been incredibly helpful in setting up this new site. I hope that my old webmaster, Gerhart, will soon be aboard again with enthusiasm and ideas.

I am off the road with Helge Schneider for a couple of months and taking the opportunity to play with some other line-ups. It’s all very varied. There has been a Beatles programme with the Bayerishe Kammerorchester which we performed in the open-air in the pouring rain but the audience didn’t seem to mind and demanded several encores.

There are some jazz trio gigs coming up and the first appearance of a young singer friend, Susie Who, with old Petelein as featured turn.  Have a look at her website. 

Down in deepest Austria recently I took the Saturday night spot on a great little festival in St Veit in the yard of an ancient castle. Jack Bruce and Stan Webb played on the Friday night. Stan and I talked a lot about jazz and Jack told me to stop talking during his sound-check. We called my band the Rising Sun Orchestra because my “House of the Rising Sun” project is slowly creeping towards its goal of being a theatre musical. We had a group of very accomplished performers – Albie Donnelly on tenor sax, Roy Herrington on guitar, Bolle Dieckmann on bass and Christoph “Boogiewolf” Steinbach on keyboards. Everybody took featured solos, the audience danced, Roy disappeared into the crowd and I sweated buckets even as the night time temperature plummeted.  Check out their website www.burgkultur.at for pix.

There are several nice gigs coming up and I’m looking forward to playing all the different styles I enjoy so much. Keep those messages coming in. It’s a thrill to hear from someone I haven’t seen for 50 years.