diary

I used to consider music to be so important in my life that I vowed that should ever the situation arise that my mum died and I had a gig booked the same night, i would not only go through with the gig but I would be suitably inspired to put in a brilliant, passion filled performance. I believed it would be almost worth it because I cared more about music than everything else.

Well, since my mum did actually die 3 months ago I have changed my stance. I really couldn't give a toss about music - just like all those wanker pub audiences I have had inflicted upon me. Having a web site, having an album out. Nowadays everybody's doing it doing it doing it, picking their nose and chewing it (as mum would say).

52 days from diagnosis to death. When we found out it was terminal it was 26 days in. She found out 10 days before she died. Lots of unfinished business, goodbyes etc. Initial relief and now loss. Isn't grief a fantastic journey? Up, down, normal, crushed. Crying.

Why devote your life to unobtainables like record deals? I never thought of myself as a world beater, more of a Kevin Keegan figure, with minimal natural talent but an enormous desire to constantly improve. Maybe I've gone as far as I can. Katie Melua wouldn't be where she is today if she didn't look like she does. Let's face it, she is absolute fucking shit. A helium voice, rudimentary finger picking guitar style with songs written by a womble. But, we'd all love to shag her. Why am I trying to compete in a world like that?

Yet still I believe in the enormous power of music. Nick Lowe was the best friend I had through mum's illness.

Counting off dates (as I do). 100 days ago she died. 15 weeks ago my tears fell on her face and she squeezed my hand to comfort me. This is the room I had so many rows/laughs/rows/felt enormous security and warmth. 6 months ago everything was normal, but of course it wasn't. She had fucking cancer and had done for ages. Yet, still I pushed her to get on with things. I didn't know, but when I did I was good. Now I crave one more day to look after her, talk to her, let her know I love her and make up for the times she saw in my face that she was pissing me off.

There has to be a point to everything I do. I'm not ruling out more music stuff but at the moment there is no point. Maybe enjoyment? But I have to be inspired.

I have 2 things up my sleeve and they are both mum related. One is a song about her which has the point of making me feel I'm doing something for her. The other is a way to get Free The Starfish out to the masses - an idea only made possible with the money mum has left me. When she was alive she encouraged me more than anyone and in death she's helping me find out something that will help me make a pretty big decision.

Bless my little mum.

Wednesday 25th May

I'm going through a particularly bad period at the moment due to family illness. It's amazing that even at the darkest times it is still possible to laugh. Whilst getting my bloody computer to work I stumbled upon the following piece that was originally intended for inclusion on the Collins and Tall website. It really made me laugh and I hope it amuses you too.

SEVERED COCKS AND ABUSE

If you’re in a band and you’ve touted your demos around record companies/publishers/radio stations, hoping against your better judgement that you’ll get some kind of response, then you will fully understand the reasons for our actions as detailed below. The frustrations that build up at the total lack of feedback from these people … well, to be blunt, it really pisses us off.

A few years ago we discovered the phenomenon of abuse. It gets reactions. Andrew Collins, the editor of Q Magazine at the time, had ignored us for too long, despite being furnished with a copy of our first demo and numerous letters. We even called in person once at Q’s offices, equipped with a guitar and a mini-amp, prepared to give him a live medley of our hits. And still he ignored us. So our last throw of the dice was an off-the-cuff letter which admonished him for his lack of response and offered the opinion that his late night TV show was “shite”. Within a week we had a letter back. He said he was aware of us, he liked the demo, he found our correspondence amusing and we were making an impression on him. However, we had “blown it” by slagging off his TV show –“I am proud of my show in the same way you are proud of your music”. As we read the letter I remember Ian jumping around the room exclaiming: “That’s a hit, a direct fucking hit!” We sent Andrew Collins a sickly “sorry” card and we’ve got on great ever since. So abuse works – or does it?

On a roll we sent a letter to Matt Aitken of Stock, Aitken and Waterman infamy. He lived locally at the time and we knew his address. The opening line of the letter read;

“Greetings, we are Collins and Tall. We are prepared to put aside the rumours that you are a cunt and ask for your help anyway”. Oddly, we never heard from him.

In the six months leading up to the recording of Filthy Con, Ian was working in a mundane job that he hated. He would relieve the boredom by building up an impressive collection of cock sketches. There were load-blowing cocks, exploding cocks, and then the gem – the cock that had been sliced down the middle with a knife. The attention to detail was staggering, and included a dagger disappearing from the picture with blood dripping from the blade. I defy any man to look at this picture and not wince and cross his legs.

After Filthy Con came out we sent copies to all the music press and received a generous review in Melody Maker. Sod all from NME. We sent numerous reminders to the reviews editor, John Robinson, and we attempted to speak to him on the phone. After dozens of ignored messages, I finally got hold of him in person.

He took the arrogant “you’re a little nobody in a band who I really can’t be arsed with” attitude. If you’re not famous already, it appears you are not worth knowing in the NME. They don’t let the idea of exposing new talent get in the way of increasing their circulation. John Robinson was rude and dismissive to a human being asking him a simple question with hopes pinned on his answer. I swear I wasn’t rude to him – I’m used to this attitude and there was no way that I was going to jeopardise future prospects. So we sent him a letter explaining exactly how we felt. We just happened to type it on a backdrop of the “severed cock and dagger” picture, complete with splattered red franking machine ink; it even had “blood” dripping off the address. It looked horrible but I must stress that in no way did we put across that it was a threat. The cock signified our pain.

When you read an REM interview in NME on a Wednesday morning, you don’t expect to arrive home in the evening to an ansaphone message from the person who had interviewed them. John Robinson was practically in tears and sounded very serious, even mentioning taking legal action against us. We went to the pub and asked a mate, who is a lawyer, if we had broken any laws. Apparently we had – Sending Foul And Abusive Severed Cocks To Deaf Journalists is illegal in England. But the lawyer friend said he would represent us for free and get us loads of publicity because “it will be a laugh”. Not all solicitors are money-grabbing mercenary bastards. Anyway, he owed me a pint.

The following day I rang John Robinson and he again tried to scare me with talk of legal action. With a lawyer lined up, it was hard to hide my disappointment when he backed down and said he was prepared to forget the whole episode. Then he apologised for his original rudeness and now we swap Christmas cards.

Severed cocks can bring people closer.

Tuesday 2nd May

Apologies for the lack of diary entries.

The Black Horse residency thing is going relatively alright. Andy G and I have played all of them and enjoyed ourselves enormously. If anyone knows any bands who can adapt to an acoustic duo for one of these evenings please email me. We think it only fair that some others should experience one of these very special occasions.

Tuesday 22nd February

Good old Ken Livingstone! Today he made a superb speech where he took the press on when most would have gone for the easy life and aplogised. For a start what he said wasn't racist. It was offensive - to a bloke who works in a profession where it is an accepted practice to shove a microphone into the face of someone who has recently been bereaved. Fuck him.

Ken also highlighted the rampant rasicm that pervades the press on a daily basis. I am always reading stories about asylum seekers or immigrants (the press are unable to differentiate between the two) who are living in the Dorchester on our money who deal drugs to our kids after raping our grannies. Undoubtably this sort of stuff does go on at times but the press make out it is rife. There is an agenda to incite racial hatred - and it works! I know too many people who base there whole political opinions on the newspapers. They walk around spouting cliche after cliche. Reciting stories about muslims who expect (and get) gold fillings when they visit the dentist while "us English have to pay for it"

Ken's speech will be covered extensively in tomorrow's papers but how many inches will be dedicated to the passage about the racism in the press?

I once saw Ken Livingstone play tambourine with The Communards - it was less rock and roll than his defiant, brilliantly argued speech today. I love people with principals unlike those bloody foreigners who are all wankers.

Monday 14th February

A couple of weeks ago the Black Horse gig was graced by the presence of Dean Howkins and Johnny Bates - two blasts from the past. When I was playing with the Shades of Colour Band Dean was our, erm, agent and Johnny was the keyboard player.

We used to rehearse every Friday night in the White Room in High Wycombe. Don't look for it.... etc. When we had our first rehearsal there Johnny, who was new to the band, was by far the quietest person in the room. The other band members at this time were Russell Brazier and Noel Lanigan. Noel was even newer to the band than Johnny, but was supremely confident and could hold his own during spirited debates over rhythms, riffs, sexual conquests and wanking stories. Indeed, my main memories of these sessions involve more about the latter than anything else. Johnny, almost as a polar opposite of Noel, was very quiet and unsure of himself. He wasn't used to being called a cunt after making a mistake where as Russell for instance, had grown to expect it. Johnny seemed very intimidated by our relentless piss-taking and embarassed by our wanking stories. So he kept his head down and concentrated on inventing inappropriate keyboard sounds.

After a few months, I was almost slightly concerned that we might be pushing Johnny too far, but gradually he grew in confidence and adapted to our humour. Soon he was dishing out caustic remarks and telling wanking stories to a high standard. As rehearsals rolled on, we became a tight bunch who enjoyed the social aspects far more than the music. The ante was constantly upped as we attempted to out do each other with hilariously disgusting anecdotes. Me, Russell, Noel and the ever-present Dean, didn't notice that Johnny's stories were moving on to a new level.

Now, I'm no prude as anyone who has heard the 'wanking into my dead grannies mouth' story will testify. The key word there is 'story' i.e; not true, although it is a fantasy I sometimes like to draw on, it has never actually happened.

Anyway, it was a run of the mill Friday night rehearsal, when, through the haze of spliff smoke, Johnny started a story that began with the question "Have any of you ever.................?" continued with "once I........." and finished with "..........and then I put them back in the drawer". The 94 second, stunned silence that followed seemed to go on forever as we all looked anywhere but Johnny's eyes. Russell was first to speak "No, erm, uh, erm, I've, er never done that Johnny, no". This was quickly followed by Noel, Dean and I, as we scrambled desperately to disassociate ourselves with Johnny's words.

The content of Johnny's story cannot be told here and I would like to stress that it does not involve anything that is actually illegal. However, it is fair to say that his actions would be generally frowned upon. What I can say though, is that what he told us that night was more disgusting than the time he hid one of my mum's cherry tomatoes under his foreskin, before putting it back in the bowl with all the others.

They were good days, mad days, salad days - without the tomatoes, obviously.

Thursday 23rd December

Jesus Christ, it only feels like yesterday I was writing last year's Christmas message.

It's been a funny old year. I haven't achieved as much as I would have hoped and I will be stepping up my work rate in 2005. Getting noticed is a bloody nightmare. I thought the internet would solve all promotional problems but I'm not a fan of sitting in front of a computer unless it's for masturbation purposes.

Next year I aim to get a gig in a prison as I have been advised that it's a good way to get publicity. Presumably the audience can't leave either. I have a strong urge to play 'The Kids Are Alright' to the paedophile wing. I'd get a standing ovation for sure!

I'd like to thank everyone for their support this year and wish you all a very Happy Christmas.

Here's a few photos from the gig at The Red Lion Last week.

Who is that twat with the hat?

Wednesday 1st December

Last Saturday I went to see a gig at Chesham British Legion. I have never seen so many people who play music or used to play music gathered in one place. What a strange breed we are!

On the bill were Thespian(ex-Heathcliffes), Stuart Lloyd, Miles Brazier, Hummingbird(Andy Gadsby & Colin Clit-Hero) and The Heartwarming(Ian Collins & Matthew Owen). Although I found the evening nostalgic in the sense that there were friends I hadn't seen for years, there was very little that was nostalgic about the music. Every band I saw had new songs in their sets.

Pete Townshend had real problems playing music when he turned 30 but has no qualms about doing it at the age of 60. Townshend's problem was that 'rock' was so young that no one knew what you were supposed to do when you got older. Do you just stop doing it or look like an old tosser? I'd say neither.

I think that playing music at a lower level for a long period of time is an achievement in itself. You don't get the adulation of the mega stardom (or even medium stardom) & you generally have to hold down a job. To have carried on doing it means you are doing it for absolutely pure reasons - to express yourself and because you love it.

The music and performances on Saturday were of high quality and it makes me wonder how much great music is not getting heard by a wider audience due to the incredible short sightedness of the music industry. Any A & R man worth his salt would occasionally check out the 'little guys' who have been doing it for years in provincial towns. He would almost certainly turn up a gem that would deserve the hype currently afforded to shite like the Stereophonics.

On Saturday an ex-member of Red Eyedea asked me why I carried on playing music and my answer to him was "Why have you stopped?"

Tuesday 26th October

The news that John Peel has passed away is absolutely terrible for any struggling band. He is the epitome of what can be great about music. His enthusiasm to hear new stuff kept strong until his dying day and he would give anyone a chance without prejudice. If he liked a song he would play it up to three times in a row - on air! No programmed computer playlists bullshit. Good God we need people like him.

For me and millions of others he was the uncrowned king of music. What a fantastic bloke. R.I.P.

Friday 15th October

When you work as a decorator nothing quite compares to the elation you feel when you wake up to the sound of pouring rain. It means a day off and you get to watch GMTV and Trisha. Heaven! I have become obsessed with the weather to the extent that I feel I could be turning into my dad.

The favourite for Christmas number one this year is a duet between Ronan Keating and Yousouf Islam (formally Cat Stevens). It is a new version of Father and Son. What is the point of this? Is it really art? Get your Boyzone version, your Cat Stevens version, two CD players and play them at the same time. The Boyzone version is practically identical to the original anyway. What delights will this new one bring. Maybe 'Cat' will rap a verse about US customs officials. The lyrics to this song have always disgusted me. 'Find a girl and settle down' That's not what we should be preaching to the kids of today. What ever happened to drugs, booze and shagging everthing in sight?

Maybe I'm not too much like my dad after all, although i did bleed my radiators this week.

Monday 16th August

Here's an extract from my biography...

September 10th 2001 - Emma & I are holidaying in the north of England. We are in Salford library asking directions to Salford Lads Club but nobody knows how to get there, until a voice from behind the photocopier says "I'll show yer the way if yer can give uz a lift like" The voice belongs to Bernard who informs us that he has been 'away' on a two year summer break. The absence of a tan concerned me, but not enough to miss out on the chance to see the legendary place that had adorned my bedroom wall throughout my teenage years. While Duran Duran were posing on yachts, The Smiths' publicity shots were being taken outside Salford Lads Club. As romantic a vision of the north as I could ever imagine.

As Bernard got into the car, Emma gave me a nervous look. Whilst sitting in the back, he entertained us with tales of how he had evaded the police. He never went into why he had needed to evade them in the first place. To be honest I was fucking terrified. But, to be fair to him, he did get us there. He even took the photos of me as I pulled ridiculous Moz poses outside the place.

September 11th 2001 - The worst thing in the world has happened. Whilst Mark & Lard were breaking the news of events in New York, I have noticed my camera shutter isn't opening. Had it opened yesterday? So while the world was in disarray, there was me, pulling yet more ridiculous Moz poses outside Salford Lads Club. I'm always reliable in a crisis.

Wednesday 30th June

I'm giving up booze. I know it's extreme but i've done it before. This time it's because i've been hit by a depression that I would like to get through without pills. A straight head can't hinder my search for a peaceful mind.

Another reason is that I'm about to launch into an Open University course in Psychology. Drunkeness and learning don't really go hand in hand - unless you're learning how to be an arsehole.

I find the human brain fascinating and I want to know more about it's awesome power and more about how deranged people can be when it goes wrong. Andy Gadsby has lent me a book about this subject where, in a case study, a bloke mistook his wife for a hat. His eyesight was perfect but connections in his brain were skewed. On another level, I know people who have done dispicable things; regretted them, admitted they were wrong and apologised. They have then totally re written history to make out their actions were fully justified. What happens in there?

I'm hoping that my thirst for knowledge in this subject makes learning enjoyable. My worry is that I haven't studied for 20 years and discipline will be a big factor. Hence, no booze.

Henman has just gone out of Wimbledon. The bloke doesn't believe he can win it although he seems to have the shots. He can come and see me at the end of my course in 5 years time - I'll sort him out.

Thursday 10th June

I can only apologise for the lack of entries. As you can see from the picture below, I've been distracted....

Tortoises rock!

Saturday 17th April

As I get older I'm always pleasantly surprised that I can still get excited about an imminent cd release. In the past, practically every release by my favourite artists were awaited with mind fizzing expectation. In the weeks leading up to the date I would stand in WH Smiths reading every review or scrap of information. Very rarely would the actual music match the excitement of the anticipation.

A few where it did; Sugar - Copper Blue, REM - Automatic For The People, Belly - King, Radiohead - OK Computer, Neil Young - Ragged Glory, Nova Mob - The Last Days Of Pompeii and The Pixies - Doolittle.

A lot that didn't; Billy Bragg - Don't Try This At Home, The Smiths - Strangeways Here We Come, Elvis Costello - Spike, New Order - Republic, The Style Council - Cafe Bleu, Blur - 13.....that's off the top of my head. God, there are hundreds! This doesn't mean they are bad records, just that my expectations were impossibly high.

These days I buy albums with almost no expectations, I suppose I've been let down too often. The joy of this approach is that you don't open yourself up to the torture of playing a shit album over and over again looking for something good in it. Also, every now and then you discover a classic without even trying.

So, why, why, WHY am I looking forward to the new Morrissey album so much? He's let me down before; 'Viva Hate' ( shit tunes), 'Kill Uncle' (shit everything), 'Southpaw Grammer' (songs too long and boring). I didn't even bother with 'Malajusted' although I must admit 'Your Arsenal' was one of those low expectation ones that caught me out, by being quite good.

Last year I gave his 'Vauxhall and I' album another listen. Even though I had owned it for nine years I had never given it a proper chance. It blew me away, I couldn't believe how great it was and it consumed me for months. As good as The Smiths.

Logically, this does not mean that Mozzer's new album will be any good, but fuck logic, I can't wait!

Monday 22nd March

A few weeks ago my mate Chris asked me to help him run a disco for a mutual friend's 40th birthday. Since I have absolutely no DJ experience whatsoever I was delighted to accept a new challenge. We did the 'show' 2 days ago and I really enjoyed it.

Chris knows what he's doing so i was happy to watch him play a few obscurities at the beginning, and then, gradually cranking it up to go mental after the speeches. At no point did I think I'd be left to cope for any period longer than it takes to have a wee. I was wrong.

I was left with the instruction to put Girls just want to have fun by Cyndi Lauper on after the one that was playing at the time. I managed this. As Cyndi neared the end I realised the next song was in my hands. I HAD POWER! I fumbled for something that would fit. I plumped for Aha's Take on me. I cued it up in the headphones, it sounded godlike. When the drum intro exploded from the speakers I was close to orgasm. The crowd loved it. What should I play next? This was decided by an 8 year old girl demanding I play Usher's latest offering. I obliged. It sounded shit to me but it's number one now, I played it first! I followed this with Brimful of asha by Cornershop. This sounded awesome and it won the crowd back after Usher. Now, guitars were into the equation. To drive my point home The Stone's Jumpin jack flash was more than up to the job. A new wave of dancers appeared on the floor. ALL DOWN TO ME. Drunk with power, now I was thinking of loud guitars. I found the gem, the singer was in the public eye very recently so it was topical, loud guitars are in (thanks to Busted), this song was gonna drive the crowd wild. YEAH! As the thunderous opening chords of Anarchy in the uk burst from the speakers I knew DJ ing was for me.

I looked up to see the dancefloor rapidly emptying. I've never seen a crush of people trying to get out of anything before this. Chris was panting as he arrived by my side "what are you doing?" he asked with enforced politeness. I didn't have chance to answer as the Sex Pistols segued, seamlessly into Barry White.

Monday 8th March

Bloody hell where is this year going? I'm sorry for the lack of updates. It really pisses me off when you continually return to a site that never changes. I have no excuses apart from that i've stopped smoking. To do this I read Allen Carr's Permanent Way To Stop Smoking. It's been 4 weeks now and I feel a lot healthier. I was hacking up bad grollies man. I mustn't get complacent cos I read Carr's other book about 10 years ago and stopped for 18 months. Then I got pissed, had a cigarette and I was back on 20 a day within two weeks. It's great to be free from a lifetime of slavery.

I have recently spent quite a lot of time hating Dido. She seems a pleasant enough girl but her music is unbelievably bland. Her win at the Brits proves what a desperate state music is in. The most cutting edge thing she's ever done in her life is to not turn up to collect her award. For my job I spend a lot of time in people's houses. I always check out their cd's and sure enough there is always fucking Dido. Music designed to be listened to while you're doing something else. Like drilling.

For no reason other than that it makes me laugh, here is a picture of my Godson, Lewis, and my mate Dan. Dan is off his nuts.

Saturday 17th January

It's been a weird start to the year. I am playing particularly well in rehearsals and I think it's down to the punch in the face that was my Nana dying after a protracted illness. No person should experience the pain and lack of hope that she did for nearly a year. She's ok now, bless her.

A death in the family produces a myriad of emotions. There's the obvious that involves crying and hugging, but also there becomes back-biting and arguments. Nerve endings are fraying and you do and say things you regret. It's an emotional time.

My sister bought me a Jools Holland DVD, which includes outstanding performances by Elvis Costello, Pete Townshend and Patti Smith to name a few. The thing that moved me the most is a badly remembered version of Suspicious Minds performed by Robbie Williams, this actually made me cry. Twice! He was really going for it, in the zone where you are firing on pure adrenaline. I'm not really a Robbie fan, but I recognised in his face the buzz that doesn't come along very often at my level. Nevertheless, I can't stop because the next buzz could be just around the corner.

As I said, I have a new urgency in rehearsals which I am enjoying. I think Trevor Tall fans at the White Horse next Friday who are expecting the Free The Starfish album in order will be pleasantly digusted!

Saturday 20th December

The gig went ok last Sunday. On the upside we raised £278 for charity and I played pretty well, both solo and with Owen. Unfortunately I had 'string trouble'. I always worry about string breaks or equiptment failure and nothing goes wrong. It did this time! Owen and I managed nearly half an out of tune Morrissey cover before we abandoned it for a guitar change and after the usual drawn out intro to 'How would You Feel' a bloody string broke as it got to the good bit.

I suppose another upside was that I managed to make my debut playing harmonica without my eyes exploding through effort. All in all a good night with plenty of heckling from those rowdy George locals. A good night at The George is usually measured by the number of cars still in the car park the next morning. It was full.

Below are some photos taken by Stuart Lloyd on that magical evening. Have a great Christmas. See you in the new year.

Wednesday 10th December

I had my final rehearsal with Owen a few days ago for The George gig this Sunday. I've known Owen for 22 years. He was in the same class as me at school, he was on my decorating course at college and he was also in my first band. All I can think about is BAD PENNY...BAD PENNY...BAD PENNY. Owen is also the bloke that forced me to buy All Mod Cons by The Jam. He got me into music basically.

Rehearsals with Owen are nothing like the old days, we can actually play now. I remember playing bass while he played guitar on a song in my garage when my dad informed us we were wildly out of tune. To rectify this, I simple moved onto a different string hoping it was closer to the pitch. We really were shite.

Sunday will be the first time I've been on stage with him for 13 years. Time has flown... We've both had our moments in music but not the fame we dreamed of in our younger days - There's still time!

Rehearsals with Owen have been a joy, we spent more time talking than playing. If Sunday goes well, we expect lots of offers to reform Groovey People. Don't get too excited die hards, there isn't a lobotomy in the world that will make us think it's a good name.

On another note, it was an interesting review of FTS in the Midweek paper. The reviewer thinks I'm a cross between Freddie Starr and Timmy Mallett, one of those 'zany', 'wacky' characters we love so much. I hold my hands up, he has impeccable judgement.

I'm looking forward to the gig on Sunday, nothing beats playing to an audience of piss heads on a Sunday night before Christmas.

See you there!

ps. Get well soon Ozzy!

Wednesday 26th November

I don't know why I called this a diary because it's really a page of whatever feelings, thoughts or reminicenses that are drifting through my transom. Expect lots of bollocks.

I've been busy lately rehearsing and setting up this website. The last few years have been taken up recording the album. Now it's finished I want to concentrate on promoting it and gigging.

I'm looking forward to the gig at The George on the 14th of December and now i've got a PA system I hope to do a lot more.

This is nothing to do with anything but i thought the England win in the rugby was fantastic. It gave me a buzz similar to Steve Redgrave's last olympic gold. The England rugby team are so dignified too. Can you imagine the football team having a penalty given against them in the last minute and not complaining wildly? 'Footballer's are poncy tossers' I thought for three days until Arsenal's awesome steamrollering of Inter Milan.

I'm relatively happy at the moment in general apart from the fact that the navigator bar on this page is a different colour to the other pages. Purple, WHY? Bloody computers.

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