Hot lips
..grimly to myself whilst checking discreetly if I’d been observed.
Nobody was smirking knowingly, so I mopped myself up as best I could, extracted
the wayward saucer from the bowl and continued my meal as if nothing had happened
– but in truth I’d well and truly lost the vibe.
That was some months ago now and since then there’s been nothing to
suggest I hadn’t learnt my lesson. That’s until a couple of days
ago. I got my miso soup with the saucer on top, carefully removed it, (hooray!),
gave the contents a bit of a stir and brought the bowl to my lips.
I don’t know if I was slightly distracted, but too late I realised my
swig had been intemperate to say the least and I had succeeded in scalding
a layer of skin off my lips and now had a mouthful of soup that was too hot
to swallow. In the spirit of the bricklayer’s story, at this point I
must’ve lost my presence of mind because I proceeded to swallow it anyway,
feeling it slowly scald its way down my gullet till it eventually reached
the nerveless confines of my stomach.
It took a day or so for my lips to recover, which is pretty grim for a bloke
who likes his tea hot and black.
I think that breakfast is my favourite meal, maybe just because I don’t
have to think about it. When we’re on tour I’ll enjoy varying
my brekky menu, but at home I invariably default to porridge. And none of
your pansy quick oats either – it’s got to be the full metal jacket
rolled oats, left to soak in water (with a pinch of salt) for at least fifteen
minutes before slowly bringing to the boil and adding lecithin granules, brown
sugar, sultanas, a splash of the white stuff that passes for milk these days
and a dash of cinnamon to finish it off.
Of course, now I realise it’s not a good idea to leave the cayenne pepper
anywhere near this operation, but I ate the whole bowl anyway, telling myself
that it was an interesting variation of my standard porridge, probably worthy
of inclusion on a way-out, trendy restaurant’s breakfast menu. I wasn’t
convinced however and I won’t do that again either.
I got an e-mail from Jeff Smith the other day. It was quite brief, but I
detected its brevity concealed a deal of exultation. It read; ‘We heard
today our film “Rumble and Bang” has been accepted into The International
Film Festival for screening in Wellington and Christchurch.
No Auckland but I have a good friend here with a cinema who is keen to show
it as well so I am pretty pleased with the outcome.
No dates as yet, will be back in touch when I do. Likely late July for Wellington
and August for Christchurch.’
If you’re a regular reader of the Stop Press pages, which is a strong
possibility seeing as you’re reading this, you’ll have read about
the recent launch of Ian Marks and Iain McIntyre’s book Wild About
You! You may even have attended the launch at Readings in Carlton and
heard all three Ians/Iains, (including Ian McFarlane), as well as myself,
mention my first band formed in Christchurch in 1964, The Chants, or as they
became better known, Chants R&B, (Rumble & Bang).
Jeff Smith has been mentioned on these pages* as part of a team of film makers
that has been filming, interviewing, compiling and editing film (largely)
about Chants R&B over the past couple of years. There is a solitary remnant
of (silent) film featuring The Chants shot back in 1964 by local film-maker,
Fred Goldring, but the majority of the footage has been shot during the Chants’
most recent reincarnations in 2007** and 2010*** including live performances
and interviews with the band members and interviews with the people who stirred
themselves to catch up with the band forty-odd years after they’d disbanded.
In fact, I wasn’t absolutely sure where the doco, if that’s what
it was, was heading even after visiting Jeff earlier this year at his home-based
studio in Kaukapakapa and viewing some of the hours of material they were
distilling into a digestible format, and I’m still not sure how it’s
turned out. I might have to go over to NZ and check it out personally. And
now John Baker, who’s single-handedly responsible for rediscovering
the Chants and unearthing recordings we’d long-since forgotten we’d
ever made, is suggesting that another Chants’ reunion might be on the
agenda.
Oddly enough, I had someone at Readings ask if we’d consider playing
in Melbourne next time around and I’ve also had an e-mail from London
asking if we’d like to play there as well! Chants’ bassist Martin
Forrer was over from NZ recently and we got together with guitarist Matt Croke
one night and briefly discussed the possibility of getting together for at
least one gig in NZ – drummer Trevor Courtney has indicated on Face
Book he’s up for it, so we’ll see where that all ends up. Not
in tears, I hope..
The pic? Yes, that’s me in the hounds-tooth suit and the hair and all.
The year was 1965 and Helen and I had gone to the Mecca (I think) to see Max
Merritt who was based in Australia by then. It was a pivotal moment for me,
although I hardly realised it at the time. Anyway, the moment has now been
commemorated in a song dedicated to Max called Soul Man that will
be featured on the third in the Breathing Space series of EPs, Breathing
Space As Well. Max has very generously contributed some vocals to the
song and his long-time associate, Jimmie Sloggett has written and performed
the classic soul horn arrangement.
Bill came over yesterday and we reviewed the selection of songs and culled
a couple. Soul Man will most likely be the opening song. I think
you’re going to like it..