Chapter 45: The Intermission
In which I look back over a life changing week 20 years ago and enjoy some tiramisu.
20 years!?
A cliché, you might insist, but it rattles my poor brain to try and quantify how it’s somehow been two decades since I first played the main stage at Brixton Academy in front of nearly 25,000 ecstatic people over the course of five nights.
I hope I don’t have to explain this all again, but just in case… In the mid 00s I was on the road with Hard-Fi playing records before they hit the stage, and doing a bit of remixing and dubbing back in the studio.
By the spring of 2006, things were really blowing up. I’d just mixed together the band’s cover CD for Mixmag, plus a set of dubs and remixes to accompany a live DVD, and their debut album had recently scored them a UK number 1, knocking James Blunt off the top spot. It was a beautiful time, it’s true.
Five sold out nights at Brixton was not to be scoffed at. Hard-Fi were the first band to do it on the strength of a debut LP, and I think the only other acts to achieve this at the time were Bob Dylan in 2005, The Clash on their final tour after sacking Topper and Mick, and Massive Attack in 2003; a stunning show which I’d attended. In fact I’ve lost count of the times I spent in that place, from Orb all nighters in my teens to watching Kraftwerk tapping on their laptops in 2004. It was an honour to stalk that stage, even if the audience weren’t really there to see me.
The role of a tour DJ is blurry. We’re there to keep things rolling between the bands, but we’re not normally a focal point, usually tucked away in a corner somewhere, playing a few relevant records which the punters might enjoy while splashing out on an overpriced beer at the bar.
Honestly, I would’ve been fine with playing in the shadows somewhere, but the band opted to have me up front under a spotlight, so I figured I should try and craft a set worthy of the platform.
The only set back was a sound man called Sam who refused to accept that I was anything more than background noise, gradually turning me down from the main desk on the previous tour until I was almost inaudible. We exchanged a few colourful words after an absurdly quiet set at the Octagon in Sheffield where I was drowned out by people yelling “TURN IT UP!” while I shrugged and gesticulated towards front of house. I’d had enough, and I guess Sam had too as he remonstrated “you’re not supposed to be loud, it’s the intermission!”1
Confronted with the absurd prospect of being under a spotlight, but with a sound man who didn’t want anyone to hear me, Sam’s words inspired me to put together a set I christened The Intermission which would hopefully be anything but. Over 4 decks I feverishly practised cutting up and quick-mixing classics and lesser known records, taking in synth pop, post-punk, electro, dub, B-more and Chicago house, augmenting songs with extra drums and dropping acapellas over the top.
The exact details of the gigs that followed are a little blurry, but I’ve tried to break the story down into each day. The first of which is free for everyone, and my esteemed full subscribers can read the rest below…
Sunday
To say I started this five night run on a high would be an understatement. We’d taken a couple of days off from touring to prepare for the Brixton sessions, and on the first night I wound up at a house party where I spotted someone I had the hots for. That may sound like the parlance of a character in a John Hughes teen romance, but I was an 80s VHS kid, and that’s exactly how I felt. We shared a kiss. It was some kind of wonderful2.
Like most John Hughes characters, I grew up in the ‘burbs—the Andie in Pretty In Pink side of the tracks rather than Blane and co in the big houses—we’re talking South London with a silent “of”, but half the family hails from Battersea and Lambeth, and Brixton had been a regular haunt since my teens, shopping at Red Records, nights out at The Fridge, and of course plenty of gigs at the Academy, so this felt like a bit of a homecoming for me after the tour kicked off up north. No need for a tour bus to scoop me up en route. Instead I drove my beat up old Fiesta a few miles up the road and pulled up down the side of Max Roach Park where you could still leave your car for free back then.
The park was of course named in tribute to legendary jazz drummer Maxwell Lemuel Roach, but while a couple of hectares of grass on the road to Kennington might seem like an unremarkable offering for the guy responsible for Freedom Now Suite, any Max Roach Park is surely better than no Max Roach Park, and he looked stoked to be there for the grand opening while he was in town for a GLC sponsored concert at the Albert Hall in ‘86.
I parked my old banger just a few feet from where Roach had posed next to his sign 20 years prior, and headed to the venue.
At the stage door, Hard-Fi’s tour manager Jamie—one of the sweetest and most enthusiastic people I’ve met in this diabolical industry—ushered me past security and showed me to my dressing room. It was rare that I got my own one, and even rarer that I had my own rider which consisted of a case of Evian3 and a couple of cans of Coke. O-P-U-L-E-N-C-E. I could hear the muffled throb of a kick drum being tested in the main room, and so I popped next door to look for any stray band members or crew to say hello to.
Hard-Fi had the big dressing room, obviously, with a lounge area and, most importantly, a kettle. Trotters up for a minute to enjoy the moment, then I went for a wander, tea in hand.
The sign on the next door said “Billy Bragg” who was joining us for the duration, playing a solo set every night. I was excited, not least because I’d opened the Mixmag CD with ‘A New England’, but also because I will never not be able to hear his name without picturing Alexei Sayle going “sshh” in a snazzy Christmas sweater…
Next door to Billy there was a bit of paper Blutacked which read “Professor Green”. Yes, the Hackney rapper, who’d later score a top 5 with a cover of INXS, was booked for what I’m guessing was one of his first big shows thanks to… checks notes …oh, it was me!
Flashback to a couple of months prior. I was in the Atlantic Records office playing one of my dubs to Hard-Fi’s A&R guy. There was talk of showcasing something different from the usual guitar bands as a support act, akin to The Clash at Bonds in New York where they troubled their fans by booking Grandmaster Flash and Lee Scratch Perry as openers. When asked if I had any thoughts, a handful of names instantly sprang to mind from the mainstays in my record box. Spank Rock were top of my list, but I think they might’ve declined, though I used a bit of their broken-electro-funk single ‘Rick Rubin’ during my set that week.
Next on the list was a newcomer called Lily Allen.
It’s weird to think there was a time when Lily wasn’t a household name, but when I mentioned her, there was an air of indifference in the room. “Lily Rose?” he chuckled before telling me briefly about a shelved record which I think he’d previously worked on with a young Allen and her dad. Changing the subject, he pulled out a white label on a slice of lurid green vinyl. It sounded like a sort of UK hip hop take on Eminem’s high pitched fast-raps. “What do you think?” I didn’t love it, but it wasn’t bad. “Pretty good” I said as I headed out the door with a copy.
But back to Lily Allen. I’d been playing a promo of ‘LDN’ for a few months and loved it, so I mentioned her again to the band—I think someone on the team knew her manager—and she was invited to support. If I recall correctly, the Lily camp considered it right up until her live debut at Nottinghill Arts Club a couple of weeks prior to the Brixton shows. There were queues around the block to get in, but the performance was a bit of a mess, and word got back that they were rethinking her live set up, conceding that she wasn’t ready to play the Academy.
I guess there was a scramble to find a replacement, and my passing “pretty good” was enough to get the guy behind that white label I’d been handed on the lineup. I can’t recall why the A&R department wanted to showcase him so much. He wasn’t on Atlantic, but perhaps they were angling to sign Professor Green at the time.
Inevitably he didn’t go down too well that night. I’d warmed up the walk-ins with 30 minutes of dub and laidback dancehall. I think I’ve shared this before, but a few seconds of me mucking around with some digital echo over Shinehead’s ‘Billy Jean’ were caught on camera…
Professor Green wasn’t boo’d or bottled off like The Furious Five at Bonds, but the crowd clearly weren’t ready for a bunch of East End kids and their surprisingly raw rap show. He’d brought an entourage who probably seemed quite feral to an audience expecting to see the next Kaiser Chiefs or similar, and a few of his crew were passed the mic to spit a few bars. There was one guy on the sidelines behind the Prof who kept getting a shout out: “Big up China Man!” He was handed a mic but just stood there nodding along to the beat. No rhymes? Was it nerves?
In hindsight, it’s commendable that Professor Green and his crew stuck to their guns and just did what they did, regardless of the setting, but I had to jump back on the decks for a few minutes before Billy, and faced with a slightly disgruntled audience I opted for a handful of new wave and 2 Tone classics. This slot varied each night but ‘Oliver’s Army’, ‘Come Dancing’, ‘Do The Dog’ and ‘Do You Dream In Colour’ all got an airing before the Bard Of Barking took to the stage.
Billy was awe inspiring. One guy under a spotlight belting through his repertoire, every now and then stopping to deliver a poignant speech about the state of the world, how The Clash inspired him to pick up a guitar, and a bit where he likened political parties to the FA Cup which made no sense to me because I still know absolutely nothing about football, but I’d happily listen to Billy deliver the shipping forecasts.
And then it was time… The Intermission.
A slight panic as I looked out at the rammed dance floor beyond the stage. I cautiously strolled out front and hit start on one of the decks. The organ swell of cheese-meister Klaus Wunderlich’s ‘Anema e Core’ spilled out of the huge speaker boxes next to me, then my friend Sarah Wayne’s voice echoed through the hall: “Good evening, and welcome to the intermission. Food and beverages are available in the lobby…” An aural two fingers to sound man Sam, and I’m still amazed he didn’t turn me down for that.
I chuckled as I dropped ‘Killing ‘Em Softly’ by The Fugees over the intro of ‘Rise’ by PiL, and as Lydon ululated “I could be wrong…” I cut in a “Tom!”. The identity of that scratched vocal snippet is now lost in the mists of time, but it may well have been the great Wendy Craig saying my name.4
I can still vividly picture being up there playing those sets, though the exact selection was a little blurry as I went to piece this all together. It was recorded one night, but the audio is sadly long gone, however I did find the track list from when James Hyman aired it on Xfm a few months later (funnily enough he also played a Lily Allen mixtape on the show that night)…
Intro (a)-(c) (Announcer: Sarah Wayne)
(a) Klaus Wunderlich ‘Anema E Core’ (Telefunken)
(b) The Fugees ‘Killing 'Em Softly’ (Ruffhouse)
(c) Public Image Limited ‘Rise’ (Virgin)
Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five ‘The Message (A Cappella)’ (Antidote)
Primal Scream ‘Loaded’ (Creation)
Brixton Mash Up (a)-(d)
(a) SOS Band ‘Just Be Good To Me’ (Tabu)
(b) Hijack ‘Back To Brixton’ (Rhyme Syndicate)
(c) London Posse ‘Money Mad’ (Mango Street)
d) The Clash ‘Guns Of Brixton’ (CBS)
Lil Louis ‘French Kiss (Relayed)’ (FFRR)
The Rapture ‘House Of Jealous Lovers (A Cappella)’ (Output)
Spank Rock ‘Rick Rubin (Instrumental)’ (Big Dada)
Eurythmics ‘Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This’ (RCA)
The Clash ‘Mustapha Dance’ (CBS)
Five Deez ‘B Girl (A Cappella)’ (!K7)
New Order ‘Blue Monday’ (Factory)
Franz Ferdinand ‘The Outsiders (JD & Twitch Optimo Refreak)’ (Domino)
Donna Summer ‘I Feel Love’ (GTO)
LCD Soundsystem ‘Beat Connection (Disco Dub)’ (Output)
A Guy Called Gerald ‘Voodoo Ray’ (Rham)
Hard-Fi ‘Hard To Beat (Axwell Remix)’ (Atlantic)
The Style Council "Promised Land (Pianopella) (Polydor)
As I dropped my big finale—my rework of The Style Council covering Joe Smooth’s ‘Promised Land’—I looked across a sea of happy faces and hands planted in the air. Instead of yelling for more volume, they were crying along with Weller and co as the choir belted out “we’ll walk hand in hand. Sisters! Brothers! We’ll make it to the promised land…”
I certainly felt like I’d made it as Mick Talbot’s closing synth descended, and the lights went down. A thundering roar from the crowd as I slipped off stage ready for Hard-Fi to meet them.
This was normally feet up time again, but I wanted to watch the band kick off in front of this many people. As they launched into ‘Middle Eastern Holiday’, the front few rows went wild. Then the new recruits, who I’d guess were more familiar with the singles, joined in with the die-hard fans as Rich, wielding his trusty melodica, played the opening riff of ‘Cash Machine’. From then on he had almost 5000 people in his pocket. It was inspiring to see how Hard-Fi had grown from demos he’d played me while we chatted over a cuppa, to touring the land in a cramped splitter bus, and finally this. I was proud as hell.
Just a few drinks backstage to celebrate, then it was a fairly early night so we’d be fresh for round two.
