Post by Taylorholic78 on Jul 25, 2005 11:01:06 GMT -5
from www.trusttheprocess.com
Throughout the course of 1998 John (the artist formerly known as Nigel) expressed many thoughts, opinions, ideas and insights (or just the ramblings of a madman to some!) through a feature on this website called The Nigel Page. We thought we would bring them all back for those who might have missed them.
February 2, 1998
Usually when I think about my first concert, my first rock music event ever, I think of Roxy Music at Birmingham Odeon, in the autumn of 1974. But it wasn't (the first that is...) Earlier that same year, I went to see Mick Ronson, in concert, at the Town Hall. The show started at seven thirty, and it was a school night. This was the first time I had been allowed into the city of a night time. It was April , and I was coming to the end of my thirteenth year. I had missed the Bowie concert the previous June (Ziggy's final tour) but something had happened between then and now. Pop Music, the pop that I was attracted to, the sleazy glam of Queen and Roxy and Bowie and even Lou Reed, had begun to get under my skin.
In the previous year or so certain songs: "Starman", "Virginia Plain", "Walk on the Wild Side", "Ride a White Swan", had been like beacons to me. Beckoning me out from isolation and the collecting of Napoleonic toy soldiers, with promises of something more. Interesting. Sexual? Perhaps. It certainly seemed that the girls at school got more excited by Bowie or Bolan than they did by Marshall Murat. One More Thing: I had started working. Okay okay, it was only car washing, but Colin Spilsbury and I were good. My Dad had trained me well, and we had a regular patch we worked Sunday mornings.
After that first Sunday I was able to go to that last surviving outpost of hippie-dom Virgin records and buy "Aladdin Sane" and "Transformer". Financial independence, Ha! I needed not a parent's approval, "Can I have this Dad?" anymore. I think this Was necessary as Dad would have had a hard time parting with cash for either of these albums, which both, coincidentally had transsexual motifs as part of their cover graphics. No, no- do not go jumping to any conclusions, like I said, it was the music that got me there, if anything some of DB's stage gear was a bit embarrassing. Nonetheless, investment in this aspect of the culture gave my identity some much needed edge. I was beginning to slip away. As a kid I had invested long hours in Catholicism (which I seemed to be relating to less and less, the more my intellect grew), and "Art". However it was art of the nerdy kind: Lego, endless designs for new cars (Hello!! Dad!!), and models. Model cars, model planes, tanks, and now this more recent interest, in metal soldiers and war games. Quite a serious branch of the hobby actually. Not quite chess, but played by a lot of the same people.
My partner in these games was David Twist. We had been born in the same hospital, almost bed to bed and our mothers had been friends, then fallen out of touch, then back in again. David and I would stage epic shows in his bedroom, with biscuit tins for drums and so forth.
His parents both sang with the local opera company, usually Gilbert and Sullivan, and his Dad, Doug, in particular had an irrepressible enthusiasm for music. He built David an amplifier for his bass and we were known to give the odd concert when our parents got together. My idea of a perfect afternoon soon became setting up our guitars- my car washing talents had soon afforded me a fifteen pound telecaster copy- in his parents sitting room, and imitating our favourite artists. But this is jumping ahead. David and I shared an interest in pop and model soldiers, and David introduced me to a kid from his school, an album buying pop culture prodigy named Nick Bates.
Nick was two years younger than David and I but already had stacks of albums, and took delivery of every music weekly, every week. (He had a girlfriend too, but let's not talk about that yet.) Nick and I traded photos of pop stars the way American kids the same age trade baseball cards. We quickly bonded and it was with he that I entered the next level of pop fan-dom that April night in '74.
Birmingham's Town Hall was mock Grecian. The Acropolis on Corporation street. It had played host to innerable visiting artistes and consequently, upon first entering, the grandeur was replaced by the new to me odour of pot and hash, doing battle with the milder forms of hippie-stink, beer and incense. Joining the many kids and young adults that night, coming from all over the midlands, we rushed through the doors. Uniquely, I was to soon find out, at this event everyone was handed a folder on entering. At the time Mainman (The Bowie/ Ronson management team) and RCA had big plans for Mick Ronson. Mick had been a big part of Bowies' breakthrough several years earlier, as a largely under acknowledged hench man he co wrote and produced with Bowie on a number of high profile projects.
When Ziggy quit Mick was immediately offered a crack at solo stardom. Everyone who knew knew, and a lot of confidence and cash was put behind Mick's solo debut "Slaughter on 10th Avenue". Now this was a big one for me. I always had a tendency towards the sidemen, they were somehow hipper... Ron Wood, Phil Manzanera or Micky Finn, but Mick was the goods. The Bowie machine appeared so huge and unstoppable (he had six albums in the UK fifty that year) it seemed a no brainer that Mick would become equally huge as a front man and star in his own right. Which brings me back to the folder. A green tinted version of the by now familiar cover of the boy's album artwork. Inside official RCA black and white 10 x 8's (very classy) a poster and a pink flexi disc.
Large tacky black badge's saying RONNO were being handed out too. Well, past the lobby to our seats. Not so close to the eight foot stage to provide a great view, (Row J- Work it out!), but inside this great palace, which again looked like a palace once you were all the way inside, about to witness a real, live rock event. The Show itself made me so nervy... Stand up, sit down, where's the loo?, What time is it? I do not remember so much about it. I remember Mick pleading for the screamers down the front to hush, so his quieter music could be heard, and I remember "Moonage Daydream" the Bowie song he had brought so much to... "Love me Tender" was the single, the big idea to make Mick an undeniable teen idol ASAP, and was perhaps the powers that be's first mistake. I hated it. To be honest no one else who saw that tour would talk of it as being particularly memorable, and Mick's uneasiness was a forbearance of his later inability to make a successful star of himself. He would continue to be one of music's greatest collaborators, with Bob Dylan, Morrisey and Mott the Hoople but would never front his own band on a Birmingham stage again. (I had a front row seat for The Hunter Ronson band years later which was scary great but never Mick alone.)
Now that Roxy Music gig was something else. When the lights dimmed at the Odeon that September night the sound of Souza drum rolls filled the room I was amidst a scramble. Now the Odeon was plusher than the Town Hall in many ways, not least of all the ticket prices. At the Town Hall there were hints of socialism and Student Unionism at work.Tickets were priced at One Pound ten, One pound Thirty five and One Sixty, and there was often a cheap ticket beneath a pound, but the Odeon was clean and conservative. One Pound One Fifty and Two Pounds. Put on sale Saturday mornings, or in the case of the giants like Rod and The Faces, Sunday, so the over nighters camping out for the best seats would be less trouble. I had tried for Faces tickets the previous Christmas but had no idea how much standing in line was involved. Roxy had been easier. Nick and I got our tickets the day they went on sale, turning up several hours early to ensure success. Roxy were doing two nights as opposed to The Faces one, so we knew we would be alright. We made friends at the Odeon that day. Jeff Bray and Marcus Cale were older than we were and more experienced, being festival goers. And we hung by the stage door with them to hear the band sound check and to collect autographs. I stayed friends with Marcus for years and in one of my first bands to perform publicly, he played Stylophone and Ironing Board.
Roxy Music were the machine Mick Ronson wasn't, and they had been doing this for years. I had gotten them immediately they appeared on Top Of The Pops singing "Virginia Plain", and had cycled many miles out of bounds for my own copy. Loved "Pyjamarama" and "Street Life" their singles, although album appreciation was a little deep for me. On this tour they promoted their fourth album "Country Life", opening with what would remain one of my favourite songs of theirs, "Prairie Rose". Bryan Ferry wore a white and Black Spanish cowboy outfit which would be much maligned by the NME next Thursday, but I though it looked pretty good. Programmes were to be paid for... I always have to have souvenirs of events such as these, and this one was a tasty but tiny affair that felt overpriced.
The band was brilliant that night- John Wetton played bass. A Timpani Solo. And all the hits, although I was still intimidated by the roar of the crowd, the stand up/sit down, and the "will we make the last bus if they do a second encore" sort of fear. I am almost too embarrassed to admit hanging around the Holiday Inn the next day waiting for... What? Spare Tickets for that night's show? Marcus and Jeff caved in and bought cancellations, but Nick and I instead used the time to ask a rockstarish looking geezer who I though was opening act Jess Roden for an autograph. The guy turned out to be Nick Kent: "legendary NME scribe" and to his credit the guy was no ponce. He said simply,"I'm not famous" and cut out. Our waiting was rewarded by a friendly chat with Eddie Jobson, the Violinist who looked barely out of his teens himself, and a rare sighting of Bob Monkhouse, television celebrity host of "The Golden Shot" and already a major media pain. As to whether we asked him for his autograph or not that afternoon must remain I feel, a secret...
Nigel would like to recommend Mick Ronson's solo albums, "Slaughter On 10th Avenue" and "Play, Don't Worry", both now available on compact disc through Dead Quick Music, sold at most respectable music stores.
Throughout the course of 1998 John (the artist formerly known as Nigel) expressed many thoughts, opinions, ideas and insights (or just the ramblings of a madman to some!) through a feature on this website called The Nigel Page. We thought we would bring them all back for those who might have missed them.
February 2, 1998
Usually when I think about my first concert, my first rock music event ever, I think of Roxy Music at Birmingham Odeon, in the autumn of 1974. But it wasn't (the first that is...) Earlier that same year, I went to see Mick Ronson, in concert, at the Town Hall. The show started at seven thirty, and it was a school night. This was the first time I had been allowed into the city of a night time. It was April , and I was coming to the end of my thirteenth year. I had missed the Bowie concert the previous June (Ziggy's final tour) but something had happened between then and now. Pop Music, the pop that I was attracted to, the sleazy glam of Queen and Roxy and Bowie and even Lou Reed, had begun to get under my skin.
In the previous year or so certain songs: "Starman", "Virginia Plain", "Walk on the Wild Side", "Ride a White Swan", had been like beacons to me. Beckoning me out from isolation and the collecting of Napoleonic toy soldiers, with promises of something more. Interesting. Sexual? Perhaps. It certainly seemed that the girls at school got more excited by Bowie or Bolan than they did by Marshall Murat. One More Thing: I had started working. Okay okay, it was only car washing, but Colin Spilsbury and I were good. My Dad had trained me well, and we had a regular patch we worked Sunday mornings.
After that first Sunday I was able to go to that last surviving outpost of hippie-dom Virgin records and buy "Aladdin Sane" and "Transformer". Financial independence, Ha! I needed not a parent's approval, "Can I have this Dad?" anymore. I think this Was necessary as Dad would have had a hard time parting with cash for either of these albums, which both, coincidentally had transsexual motifs as part of their cover graphics. No, no- do not go jumping to any conclusions, like I said, it was the music that got me there, if anything some of DB's stage gear was a bit embarrassing. Nonetheless, investment in this aspect of the culture gave my identity some much needed edge. I was beginning to slip away. As a kid I had invested long hours in Catholicism (which I seemed to be relating to less and less, the more my intellect grew), and "Art". However it was art of the nerdy kind: Lego, endless designs for new cars (Hello!! Dad!!), and models. Model cars, model planes, tanks, and now this more recent interest, in metal soldiers and war games. Quite a serious branch of the hobby actually. Not quite chess, but played by a lot of the same people.
My partner in these games was David Twist. We had been born in the same hospital, almost bed to bed and our mothers had been friends, then fallen out of touch, then back in again. David and I would stage epic shows in his bedroom, with biscuit tins for drums and so forth.
His parents both sang with the local opera company, usually Gilbert and Sullivan, and his Dad, Doug, in particular had an irrepressible enthusiasm for music. He built David an amplifier for his bass and we were known to give the odd concert when our parents got together. My idea of a perfect afternoon soon became setting up our guitars- my car washing talents had soon afforded me a fifteen pound telecaster copy- in his parents sitting room, and imitating our favourite artists. But this is jumping ahead. David and I shared an interest in pop and model soldiers, and David introduced me to a kid from his school, an album buying pop culture prodigy named Nick Bates.
Nick was two years younger than David and I but already had stacks of albums, and took delivery of every music weekly, every week. (He had a girlfriend too, but let's not talk about that yet.) Nick and I traded photos of pop stars the way American kids the same age trade baseball cards. We quickly bonded and it was with he that I entered the next level of pop fan-dom that April night in '74.
Birmingham's Town Hall was mock Grecian. The Acropolis on Corporation street. It had played host to innerable visiting artistes and consequently, upon first entering, the grandeur was replaced by the new to me odour of pot and hash, doing battle with the milder forms of hippie-stink, beer and incense. Joining the many kids and young adults that night, coming from all over the midlands, we rushed through the doors. Uniquely, I was to soon find out, at this event everyone was handed a folder on entering. At the time Mainman (The Bowie/ Ronson management team) and RCA had big plans for Mick Ronson. Mick had been a big part of Bowies' breakthrough several years earlier, as a largely under acknowledged hench man he co wrote and produced with Bowie on a number of high profile projects.
When Ziggy quit Mick was immediately offered a crack at solo stardom. Everyone who knew knew, and a lot of confidence and cash was put behind Mick's solo debut "Slaughter on 10th Avenue". Now this was a big one for me. I always had a tendency towards the sidemen, they were somehow hipper... Ron Wood, Phil Manzanera or Micky Finn, but Mick was the goods. The Bowie machine appeared so huge and unstoppable (he had six albums in the UK fifty that year) it seemed a no brainer that Mick would become equally huge as a front man and star in his own right. Which brings me back to the folder. A green tinted version of the by now familiar cover of the boy's album artwork. Inside official RCA black and white 10 x 8's (very classy) a poster and a pink flexi disc.
Large tacky black badge's saying RONNO were being handed out too. Well, past the lobby to our seats. Not so close to the eight foot stage to provide a great view, (Row J- Work it out!), but inside this great palace, which again looked like a palace once you were all the way inside, about to witness a real, live rock event. The Show itself made me so nervy... Stand up, sit down, where's the loo?, What time is it? I do not remember so much about it. I remember Mick pleading for the screamers down the front to hush, so his quieter music could be heard, and I remember "Moonage Daydream" the Bowie song he had brought so much to... "Love me Tender" was the single, the big idea to make Mick an undeniable teen idol ASAP, and was perhaps the powers that be's first mistake. I hated it. To be honest no one else who saw that tour would talk of it as being particularly memorable, and Mick's uneasiness was a forbearance of his later inability to make a successful star of himself. He would continue to be one of music's greatest collaborators, with Bob Dylan, Morrisey and Mott the Hoople but would never front his own band on a Birmingham stage again. (I had a front row seat for The Hunter Ronson band years later which was scary great but never Mick alone.)
Now that Roxy Music gig was something else. When the lights dimmed at the Odeon that September night the sound of Souza drum rolls filled the room I was amidst a scramble. Now the Odeon was plusher than the Town Hall in many ways, not least of all the ticket prices. At the Town Hall there were hints of socialism and Student Unionism at work.Tickets were priced at One Pound ten, One pound Thirty five and One Sixty, and there was often a cheap ticket beneath a pound, but the Odeon was clean and conservative. One Pound One Fifty and Two Pounds. Put on sale Saturday mornings, or in the case of the giants like Rod and The Faces, Sunday, so the over nighters camping out for the best seats would be less trouble. I had tried for Faces tickets the previous Christmas but had no idea how much standing in line was involved. Roxy had been easier. Nick and I got our tickets the day they went on sale, turning up several hours early to ensure success. Roxy were doing two nights as opposed to The Faces one, so we knew we would be alright. We made friends at the Odeon that day. Jeff Bray and Marcus Cale were older than we were and more experienced, being festival goers. And we hung by the stage door with them to hear the band sound check and to collect autographs. I stayed friends with Marcus for years and in one of my first bands to perform publicly, he played Stylophone and Ironing Board.
Roxy Music were the machine Mick Ronson wasn't, and they had been doing this for years. I had gotten them immediately they appeared on Top Of The Pops singing "Virginia Plain", and had cycled many miles out of bounds for my own copy. Loved "Pyjamarama" and "Street Life" their singles, although album appreciation was a little deep for me. On this tour they promoted their fourth album "Country Life", opening with what would remain one of my favourite songs of theirs, "Prairie Rose". Bryan Ferry wore a white and Black Spanish cowboy outfit which would be much maligned by the NME next Thursday, but I though it looked pretty good. Programmes were to be paid for... I always have to have souvenirs of events such as these, and this one was a tasty but tiny affair that felt overpriced.
The band was brilliant that night- John Wetton played bass. A Timpani Solo. And all the hits, although I was still intimidated by the roar of the crowd, the stand up/sit down, and the "will we make the last bus if they do a second encore" sort of fear. I am almost too embarrassed to admit hanging around the Holiday Inn the next day waiting for... What? Spare Tickets for that night's show? Marcus and Jeff caved in and bought cancellations, but Nick and I instead used the time to ask a rockstarish looking geezer who I though was opening act Jess Roden for an autograph. The guy turned out to be Nick Kent: "legendary NME scribe" and to his credit the guy was no ponce. He said simply,"I'm not famous" and cut out. Our waiting was rewarded by a friendly chat with Eddie Jobson, the Violinist who looked barely out of his teens himself, and a rare sighting of Bob Monkhouse, television celebrity host of "The Golden Shot" and already a major media pain. As to whether we asked him for his autograph or not that afternoon must remain I feel, a secret...
Nigel would like to recommend Mick Ronson's solo albums, "Slaughter On 10th Avenue" and "Play, Don't Worry", both now available on compact disc through Dead Quick Music, sold at most respectable music stores.
