Punch Drunk: Interesting Stories (Part II)
- jamesgeraghty
- Mar 25
- 12 min read
We are back with a gathering of some interesting tales from around the world of music, providing you with insight, back story and the odd laugh about some of the interesting people that make our favourite tunes.
Before we get into that though, I am going to meander off down a vaguely music related rabbit hole from my youth. When I was at college, there was a guy in my year - we all knew him as Noddy, although his real name, interestingly enough, was Neil Young. He was a long haired fellow from Liverpool and a bit of a metal fan (if I remember correctly).
In my first year there I got into the Icicle Works, a band coincidentally also from Liverpool. Their lead singer, Ian McNabb, also had longish hair, for at least part of the 1980s anyway - and I thought he looked an awful lot like my friend (McNabb is also a massive fan of the other Neil Young, by the way). I happened to tell Neil / Noddy about his musical doppelganger one day, and he didn't seem surprised - he had a story to tell. He had been walking down a Liverpool street a few years earlier, when Ian McNabb walked out of a building - as they clocked each other as the passed, they both had to do a double take as it seems the resemblance was obvious even to them!
Charlie gets his Satisfaction:
This anecdote has amused me for a while now, although it has been disputed more recently by one of the alleged protagonists.
Charlie Watts grew up in Wembley, London, in the 1940s and initially trained as a graphic designer, before his love of jazz drew him into drumming professionally. He joined the Rolling Stones in 1963 (the band would refer to him as 'the Wembley Whammer') and for decades was seen as the beacon of calm at the back of the stage, contrasting with the wild flamboyance of his bandmates.
He never really enjoyed being the pop idol, chased by screaming fans, and never much liked touring either. But this story happened on tour - Amsterdam, 1984 to be precise. It is a tale recounted in Keith Richards 2010 autobiography, Life.
Mick Jagger was extremely drunk and despite Richards' protests, called up to Watts' hotel room around five in the morning, shouting "Where's my drummer?" Around twenty minutes later, Watts appeared in Jagger's room, dressed in his best Saville Row suit and tie, shoes freshly shined, face clean shaven and with added cologne. Grabbing Jagger by the lapels, Watts punched him in the face saying, "Never call me your drummer. You're my f***ing singer!" Richards commented in the book, "Charlie throwing his drummer's punch - a punch I've seen a couple of time and it's lethal; it carries a lot of balance and timing. He has to be badly provoked."
Rolling Stones: Undercover Of The Night (Live at the Beacon, 2006 - from the album they would have been touring at the time of the 'incident')
A great story.... except a few years after the book came out, Jagger said that Richards had totally invented the whole thing. Watts is no longer around to comment, he passed away in 2021 - and a part of me wants to believe that at least this was at least partly true.
Julian Cope helps his hero:
Julian Cope, a legend of the 1980's Liverpool scene, was struggling with his record company, Island, as the 90's began. There was disagreement, because he was really liking making basic one-take recordings, finding them preferable to carrying on in the usual produced and polished way. His last album, Skellington, was such a lo-fi record, and this was the root of the dispute with Island - he wanted to do more like that, and they didn't.
Cope ploughed on regardless. Droolian was recorded in just three days on a 4-track porta-studio in the front room of Pam Young. It was initially only released in Texas, in May 1990, on Mofoco Records. It seems a strange location choice, but that was the home state of one his musical heroes - Roky Erickson of the 60's psychedelic rock band, The 13th Floor Elevators.
Julian Cope: Jellypop Perky Jean (Audio only - typically quirky little ditty)
Erickson had spent much of the last few decades dealing with issues relate to his drug use, including spells in mental hospitals and prisons - which included a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia and being made to undergo electroconvulsive therapy. As the 1990's dawned, he was in legal trouble again and had no representation; Cope released the album in Texas so that any profits could go towards Erickson's legal fees.
The incredible finger picking maestro:
Jean Reinhardt was born in Belgium as part of a French-Romani travelling family, but became known as Django, his Romani nickname. As a child, he learned to play violin, banjo and guitar and was in fact making a living from playing by aged fifteen, busking in cafes.
In 1928, he made his first recording, playing the banjo-guitar on songs with the singer Maurice Chaumel. His name was becoming known and visiting British band leader, Jack Hylton, was suitably impressed and invited him to join his band.
In November that year, tragedy struck. In bed in his wagon with his young wife, Reinhardt knocked over a candle which started a fire. While they both escaped, he suffered extensive burns to around half of his body. In fact, the fourth and fifth fingers of his left (fretboard) hand were so badly burned, he was told he would never play guitar again. But Reinhardt persevered, re-teaching himself, primarily using his index and middle fingers, with the two injured ones just helping out for chord work.
He was introduced to American jazz and became hot property on the Paris scene. In 1934 he teamed up with violinist Stephane Grappelli to form Quintette du Hot Club de France, who were regarded as the most innovative European jazz band of the 1930's (unusual because they only included stringed instruments).
He also went onto record with artists like Coleman Hawkins and Benny Carter, and played live with the likes of Louis Armstrong and Dizzy Gillespie. It is all incredible, as he became an inspiration for so many guitarists after him, despite having to overcome such adversity.
And all of this, despite being barely literate and certainly unable to read music - he developed 3-note chords, using his fourth and fifth fingers to fret high strings, and occasionally using his thumb wrapped around on the lowest string. Ian Cruickshank notes the highly innovative technique he had to adopt which had "staggering harmonic and melodic concept, huge sound, pulsating swing, sense of humour and sheer speed of execution, and it is little wonder that guitar players were knocked sideways upon their first encounter with this full-blown genius."
Django Reinhardt (& Stephane Grappelli): J'attendrai (Live recording - stupendous playing)
Bruce goes to Bosnia:
Firstly - no it's not a tale about 'The Boss', but a different musical Bruce entirely and one of the craziest live gigs ever organised.....
In the wake of Yugoslavia breaking up in the early 1990's, a bloody war erupted between the newly formed Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina, and two wannabe states, the Republic of Herzeg-Bosnia and Republika Srpska (backed by Croatia and Serbia respectively).
The war was to last almost four years, and at the painful heart of it was the siege of Bosnian capitol Sarajevo, which lasted 1,425 days and saw around 11,000 die, with 1,500 children among that total. The UN was there, but its mandate was so weak it could do little to stop the bloodshed.
Amongst the bombs and the ruins of Sarajevo, UN negotiator Trevor Gibson had a crazy idea - what if we get a rock band flown in to play for the beleaguered citizens!? The Rolling Stones said no, Major Martin Morris thought he had Motörhead lined up, but they pulled out. Finally, Bruce Dickinson, until recently the lead singer of metal behemoths Iron Maiden, agreed, persuading his new band Skunkworks to come with him. They had no idea what they were letting themselves in for!
Jasenko Pašić, who later make the documentary Scream For Me Sarajevo, about this incredible episode, said, "They knew there was a siege going on, but they literally did not know what that meant." With all kinds of issues, especially not wanting to upset the Serbs by showing any sort of favouritism, not to mention one of their helicopters having been hit, the UN wanted to cancel this crazy show. But Bruce wanted to persevere, and the British personnel who had invited him felt obliged to do what they could to help him get in.
Dickinson's bass player Chris Dale recounted the story of their arrival. "It got progressively scarier the further we went in. When we woke up in the morning in the truck, we were at one of the Bosnian Army checkpoints. There were all these soldiers - not soldiers on parade - these guys had been up all night fighting. They were drained. The buildings were shot up around us. We had actually entered a proper active combat zone. It was way too late to change our minds at this point."
The band arrived at the community centre they were due to play at, unloading their gear in full sight of Serbian sniper positions, hoping that they didn't want to create an international incident by shooting a famous rock star.
Once in, they were supported by two local bands, Sikter and Allmanah, before they launched into Dickinson's set, to the now legendary cry of "Scream for me Sarajevo!" The crowd didn't know any of the words, or indeed any of the songs, but the energy that night was massive.
The experience fundamentally changed the way Dale viewed the world. "I know that those people are not running away just to try and steal our jobs. I know what they're running away from.... You would run. You'd take your family and you'd f***ing run."
Bruce Dickinson: Gods Of War (Live in Sarajevo, 1994 - only known full song video)
When the film of it was finally pieced together and released in 2015, some twenty years later, Dale now realised that they hadn't just been some morbidly weird "gawky" tourists, and that the show had genuinely helped local people - it had become a highlight that had lifted people's spirits.
Dickinson later remembered. "The show itself was great, because the reaction was unbelievable. These people literally lived in a war, and they'd all come out to the show, and when they cut loose it was like, 'Holy Shit'..... What's so moving about it was what it meant to everyone else. Bugger what we felt.... it was a genuinely life-changing event for us, this was about the people who it was for."
Scream For Me Sarajevo (Film trailer)
The Fake Zombies:
Who knew such a weird turn of events would later happen in the United States, when in 1961, a group of schoolchildren from St. Albans in leafy Hertfordshire, formed a band.
Rod Argent (keyboards), Paul Atkinson (guitar), Hugh Grundy (drums), Colin Blunstone (vocals) and Paul Arnold (bass) formed the band that would become The Zombies. Arnold chose the name but soon left the band, replaced by Chris White.
They won a £250 prize in a Beat Group competition organised by Watford Borough Council and sponsored by the London Evening News. This led to them being signed by Decca. Success came quickly, with She's Not There reaching 12 in the UK, and almost hitting the top in the US (#2) in late 1964.
The Zombies: She's Not There (US tv performance)
Things soon faded though, and the group had split in late 1967, even before there last album, Odessy and Oracle hit the shelves the following April. Then the first odd thing happened. Time Of The Season was put out as a single, and it flew under the radar for a long time, but then became something of a sleeper hit when it cracked the US Top Ten in 1969! Demand resurfaced for the band to appear live, especially in the US, but they refused to reform.
This is where it gets properly strange. In the days before social media and the internet, many of these groups who had moderate success could pass unnoticed - most people might know the songs but have no idea what the people who made them, looked like. This provided a weird opportunity to fill a gap, and with a huge amount of gall, several bands started to fill this void - fake Zombies!
It all stemmed from an entity called Delta Promotions, an agency that was also touting fake Animals and fake Archies. They pulled together two different fake Zombies bands, who were touring simultaneously in 1969, one in Texas and one out of Michigan. Delta insisted that they had legally acquired the rights to the music, but even if that were true, they never let on to the paying public that these weren't the real deal (despite the accent differences and the Texan version wearing cowboy hats).
Fun Fact: the Texas fake Zombies band included two young musicians called Frank Beard and Dusty Hill (middle two on the right), who within a few years would find genuine fame and fortune, as founder members of ZZ Top!
In 1988, it started happening again, and this time the real Zombies got wind of it. Paul Atkinson, now living and working in California, went to a show in L.A. and taped it. Chris White told Rolling Stone that this counterfeit band were "taking money from our fans and dragging down our reputation." It was also alleged that one of these bands had phoned the record labels office in Dallas to try and get $1,000 publicity money.
White posed a music journalist and interviewed the band's management - he was told that the lead singer has passed away and that two other original members had left, and that was why there had been some line-up changes!
There was something of a happy ending. All of these shenanigans played a part in getting the real Zombies back together again, making a third album in 1990 and going on to do more touring - even recently, a version still containing Argent and Blunstone was still recording and touring.
Burning Down the (Boat)House:
Bill Drummond is a Scottish musician and producer, and Jimmy Cauty is and English artist and musician (who would later form dance band The Orb, but that is not relevant here). The two together would create spectacle, controversy and some banging tunes!
The band that Drummond and Cauty formed would go through many guises - they were JAMs, the Timelords, the Justified Ancients of Mu Mu, and of course, the KLF. They created a genre all to themselves - stadium house - which blended rave music with a classic pop feel. They took their philosophy from esoteric novels such as The Illuminatus! trilogy by Robert Shea and Robert Wilson - something called anarchistic situationist, apparently.
They defaced billboards, put cryptic adverts in the NME, oh and there was the dead sheep they left at the BRIT Award after-party in 1992. That and they were the biggest selling singles band in the whole world, across 1991.
The KLF: America, What Time Is Love? (Official music video)
Their K Foundation promoted performance art and created the Worst Artist of the Year awards. But all of this was a mere sideshow set-up for what would become the main event, and something that was talked about for decades...
Ironically, what ended up being a media frenzy, started out as something much more innocuous. They had £1 million left after all of their other escapades and they didn't want to keep it. At first they decided to give it out to struggling artists who were managed by the foundation, but then Drummond said, "We realised that struggling artists are meant to struggle, that's the whole point."
They considered doing other things with the cash, including turning it into various gallery installations. Then Cauty recounts, "We were just sitting in a cafe talking about what we were going to spend the money on and then we decided it would be better if we burned it."
Yes, you did hear that correctly.
And so it was, on 23 August 1994, Drummond, Cauty and their friend Gimpo (with the slightly less interesting real name of Alan), who was there with his Hi-8 camera to capture the event, found themselves in the back of an abandoned boathouse on the Scottish island of Jura. Journalist Jim Reid was also there as some kind of independent witness to this bizarre happening (he wrote about it for The Observer).
It seems that it took one to two hours for the cash to burn, with an estimated £900 thousand cremated, and the rest going up the chimney and out into the wider island world, in some sort of semi-charred state. Appalled locals handed in some of these remnants to the local police, who later corroborated that it was indeed genuine money. The pair thought they had destroyed the film evidence, but Gimpo managed to keep a copy of it.
One year later, on the first anniversary of the burning, it was released as a film, with Dummond and Cauty doing something of a UK tour with it, debating audiences around the incident and its meaning. But then, in November 1995, the K Foundation disbanded with a pledge made not to discuss the incident again for 23 years.
Right on time, 23 August 2017, the world got to see that the follow-up show, Why Did The K Foundation Burn A Million Quid? which revisited the saga on that 23rd anniversary. The story still garners much debate - why did they burn it, and of course, was the money even real?
One person who had a very clear interpretation of what happened was Julian Cope, one time protégé of Drummond, who reckoned the KLF man still owed him some money. "He burned a million pounds which was not all his, and some of it was mine. People should pay off their creditors before they pull intellectual dry-wank stunts like that."
Here is a new article from the 2017 return, which includes some of the burning footage.
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