What's Your Vibe Man?

It's late November 1991, and I've been kicking around at a bit of a loose end drumming-wise since the demise of the Smugglers in the summer. There have been a couple of no-hope `small ad' experiences I'm not anxious to repeat, and a couple of invitations from friends of friends, which while flattering, were not for me. I have got it into my head that it has to be something pretty big, as at 28 I ain't getting any younger.

A call comes through from Jo at Ultimate Records, saying that Cally (one of the exceptions to the rule in the music business, being generous of spirit and genuinely interested in music) has recommended me to Gavin Friday and to call his musical director Maurice to arrange a chat. Thus I find myself in a large and plush apartment in Notting Hill, where said Mr Friday and collaborator Maurice Seezer are over from Dublin to (ahem) `sequence the album'. In layman's terms this means that the record is done, but the tracks need to be arranged in an agreeable running order in order to benefit the album as a whole. It's something us mere mortals do on the back of a beer-mat after a few pints, but as an Island Records recording artiste it has to be done this way, at maximum possible expense to everybody concerned.

I'm way too assured, and even a little put out that they've never heard of the Honey Smugglers.I've also had a couple of `liveners'. I feel a slight bristle in the room when I ask for a beer when offered a drink, as they are both on small bottles of Coca Cola.They're assembling a band to tour Europe from February, and I'm being considered for the drum position. As I sit there nonchalantly in my tracksuit bottoms in front of Gavin and Maurice and their huge stereo, I am somewhat less than impressed with the tracks they play me.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=BkuT7Mv8uOE
(It sounds pretty good to me now, I must say. Ah, the arrogance of youth.)

Maybe if I'd bothered to find out who Gavin Friday was (no internet in them days mind!) I'd have had a bit more respect, but he kept saying in a strong Dublin accent, things like "every song is loike a movie" and "what's your voibe man?" just a little bit too seriously for what I regarded as quite ordinary music. Suffice to say I don't think we really hit it off, and politely went our separate ways. Even if I didn't like the music that much, I figured, I at least needed to work with someone a bit better connected if I was going to get anywhere in the wonderful world of Pop.

It was only afterwards that I found out he was best mates with Bono.