He told me to calm down and I told him I expect to have to kill a baby or two (its a metaphoric term folks. You do remember metaphor, dont cha?). Followed advice: blow me down (with a tin whistle) if the re vamp didn't return with a musical bounce beyond my ken, expectation or fondest imaginings.
Meanwhile over on the book of face The Mighty Fall page some kind person posts me a pic of me teen fanzine.
Not with one of Mark's columns but a piece part written (in felt pen frrchrissakes) by me (the guts of which is on the turn) and part written by (common name at time) Gerry Atrick -who went on to become, an astrologer I believe.
Here it is.
Back at the coalface.
Lo fi has its attractions but this (unkilled and bouncing) baby needed a professionally recorded vocal track.
Ali G of Brighton Road Studios was unavailable leaving me to fish locally.
I google and , as Werner's film declared, lo & behold! , I discover excellent local studio run by Jess and ...is it Yodi, Yati?
"It's a long story," explains the chap in question, after I've met delightful studio mascot, Prince of Pooches, Ronnie (or is it Runnie?).
Anyway enough of my deafness. Whither me vanity and journalistic nous tho?
Not present enough to remember to take a selfie in the vocal booth.
Gah, now Im thinking of the photos I never took.
With Madonna in the bedroom of her East Side Apartment, Willie Dixon ailing at the end of his life, Marvin Gaye stoned to the bone in LA in 1982 and ...so on.
No matter tomorrow its time to call in the big guns