The moment when the music is so good you turn into a transdimensional spacegoat…
“If music be the food of love play on…”
Well, Shakespeare had that one right in my humble opinion at least, not the spacegoat bit, that's just me having one of my moments...
From what we know about human history in some capacity or other, music has always been present in myriad forms: To summon the spirit world with chants and rhythm, entertain the ruling classes in the courts, the troubadour, the storyteller, gathering around the campfire connecting over the shared love of a tune…
Where would we be without it?
I grew up surrounded by music.
My parents were music lovers in the 70s, hanging with famous bands and actors in the creative explosion of free thinking London.
This then went to the next level when my father began working in the music business.
He started out roadying for a number of well known bands and was then given the opportunity to work for the legendary Cat Stevens aka Yusuf Cat Stevens.
This would change our lives for some years, or as I contemplate the effect on my father, and indeed all of us back then and beyond, all our lives would change forever for many reasons.
This was my life as a young child in the 70s and early 80s: A mixed race family in the suburbs of London, surrounded by musicians, attending festivals and hanging backstage at big gigs. I was in my universe, surrounded by eclectic sounds and long haired musos (I thought short haired men were strange!) Instruments and tour paraphernalia were the norm around our place. I clearly remember running around wearing a silk Iron Maiden tour jacket and Kiss leather spiked wristbands…
Apparently I was singing ‘dreamer’ by Supertramp as a toddler running around the house, perhaps this was a sign of where my head would be most of my life!
My first festival I’m told was Knebworth, Floyd playing ‘Dark side of the moon’ though apparently dad passed out inebriated and mum and I were the only ones that saw the entire set.
Santana, Pink Floyd, Genesis, Supertramp, Led Zep, Peter Frampton…these were just a few of the non stop sounds around me.
On one holiday we stayed with Yusuf’s family in Cyprus.
We met musicians from around the world and put a few up in our flat in Surrey.
One of dad’s close friends was Gerry Lockran, a well known British blues singer, songwriter, poet and guitarist.
Gerry was Anglo Indian like my own father and from a similar post colonial Indian background. Our families were close and spent many happy camping trips together of which I have very fond memories. Sadly Gerry passed young in 1987 though his memory lives on through his family and music which his son Jason Lockran plays beautifully, a talented musician in his own right.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gerry_Lockran
This was my childhood.
I missed dad when he was on tour and later understood more when listening to my mother’s stories: It can’t have been easy for her at times with dad off traveling and staying in 5 star hotels while she was back in Blighty bringing me up though she did have a happy life back then in many ways.
Dad and Cat
My ears were tuned to distinct sounds and rhythms as I developed a deep love and need for
Music in my life.
Dad was always playing bongos, he loved drumming. He had wanted to be a drummer but according to his stories, my grandfather in India beat that out of him at an early age.
I began creating my own mix tapes very young, maybe 8 or 9. I clearly remember sitting next to the radio cassette listening to the Top 40 on BBC Radio One then waiting impatiently for my favorite tune to begin and pressing record and pause at the exact right moment!
I loved everything from prog rock to Blondie and Abba and so much more.
We had a huge amount of albums which would later quadruple when dad inherited many more from Cat when he turned his back on the music following his conversion to Islam.
We had original studio recordings from so many famous artists where dad had been present including massive hits like Gerry Rafferty's Baker street.
Sadly, all of these are long gone like most of what we had back then.
My father developed a love-hate relationship with the business following Yusuf’s departure and our eventual new life in Spain. I don’t think he ever really left that world behind in soul, the stories, the insane adventures and many people who passed through our lives.
There were a few stories that were repeated throughout my childhood featuring the likes of Iggy Pop, Ozzy Ozbourne; The Boomtown Rats, Mark Knopfler...some insane, some poignant…
Some were still a part of it, like dad’s friend John who had worked closely with Jeff Beck for years but dad became more of a recluse…
Still, there were moments when dad and I would share our musical tastes and debate whilst watching MTV together.
If I was in trouble I would be banned from watching, except he did not know I would crawl out of my bedroom and lay on the floor behind the sofa and watch it with him!
I had a few failed attempts at learning guitar. I just didn’t seem to possess the patience despite my adoration for the instrument.
At one point in the 80s my father was mixing with musicians in Spain and decided there was a severe lack of good festivals (the likes of FIB, Benicassim had not yet been created)
He still possessed his little black book of contacts with the likes of Black Sabbath and Canned Heat, two of the bands he was able to secure. I remember accompanying him to see the potential site just outside Benidorm.
Sadly it didn't happen: If I remember rightly the funding and the local mafia who controlled the big night clubs had something to do with it!
Dad momentarily managed a talented young international band which meant I had fun at the gigs, observing as well as enjoying the music.
That did not end well either unfortunately. We did not have the money to invest in the band so they found another manager who could. However, it seems some members went awol taking items that did not belong to them and Interpol were subsequently informed!
Yes, life has never been boring in my family!
I decided I wanted to work in the music business.
I had studied in difficult conditions, tried various basic jobs and I just wanted to follow my passion much to my father's horror.
I of course dated musicians…
I ran off to live in Germany aged 19 and found myself at various excellent gigs including Pearl Jam just as they brought out their album Ten.
I recall getting on stage with the band and getting their autographs and having a nice chat. The roadies wanted to get me along to the after party mistaking me for a groupie not the future Sharon Osbourne that I considered myself to be!
This happened on a few occasions. I shouted at many a sleazy crew member that I was a SERIOUS MUSIC LOVER NOT A FUCKING GROUPIE!
So, I learnt the hard way in my naivety.
My father's words echoed in my ears, ‘the music business is no place for women’! He was not referring to female artists though he was well aware of what many of them went through.
Still, I of course had to prove him wrong. Isn’t that the dynamics of fathers and daughters??
Fast forward a few years. I had lived back in the UK. I was mother to two little girls, one of whom's father played bass guitar and was studying music production. I spent hours in the studio with him where he placed great value on my ear for picking out distinct sounds and giving him an honest opinion.
The 90s was a good time for music. We attended many gigs and festivals in London and the surrounding area. Saw bands in small intimate settings before they got big.
Things changed again when I moved back to Spain, to a remote area in the mountains and became a single parent. Again.
I had never lived in the city in Spain, always on the coast where many great musicians resided but live music was a tricky one. The general crowds wanted covers unless it was an internationally famous band or famous Spanish band who would be paid a hefty fee to play in the local fiesta.
The music scene was booming in other areas with big international music festivals now thriving. There was a particular promoter on the coast who brought the likes of BB King and Lenny Kravitz to town and I got to see one of my all time favorites, The Cult!
I had my first experience of FIB, seeing bands such as ‘The Kings of Leon’, Arctic Monkeys, Amy Winehouse and more…
That was good for the soul.
And then I met a singer and producer who it was said had had a one hit wonder in the 80s and toured with The Prodigy…
I got on with him and his partner and was happy to have met a fellow music lover in this remote village in the Spanish mountains.
There was a large university town nearby that had a couple of good live music spots which was a good omen.
I was dabbling in real estate at the time but that's another story for another day…
However, someone I was collaborating with decided he wanted to invest in something a little different. So the three of us became, ‘business partners’ or rather I was working it on the side for free until the day when we would eventually make some money…
I know, oh how foolish of me!
So the record label and recording studio were born.
Our ex muso`producer mate, let’s call him Dave for anonymity, put out an ad looking for local and national bands and the demos came rolling in.
This was where I apparently had to separate my idea of good music and what would have commercial viability…
I was the only fluent Spanish speaker amongst us hence I did the donkey work with the media and promotion.
I remember one unfortunate moment on the local radio when I succumbed to hysteria and could not stop laughing through the interview!
And then came our debut, a big night promoting the bands at a famous night club.
Once again I arranged accommodation, the media, the band's needs (please don't misinterpret that bit!)
I learnt very quickly that there was little time to actually just enjoy the music and the vibe.
It was all stress and no payment for me…
Apparently all for my love of music!
Funny how history repeats itself…
Once again, despite the warning signs that I tried hard to ignore, one day our erm, ‘business partner’ disappeared into thin air. As did expensive studio equipment and band items.
Yes you have guessed it, I was left alone to literally face the music and very angry bands…
Despite contacting the UK police nothing was ever resolved.
Stubborn, tenacious or just clearly nuts, whatever I was, I could not bear to watch all that hard work go down the drain. So I accepted a large loan to feed me and the kids and try to save the label…
Audible sigh here folks as I recall the story…
So I attempted to support my kids and be band manager, dealing with a misogynistic business, as an outsider, a foreign woman in the mountains trying with all the wrong contacts.
Music promoters, town halls, local and national radio etc…but to no avail.
I eventually had to admit defeat and accept I was not Sharon Osborne though let’s face it, the US and UK scene and a famous father, Don Arden, probably helped her just a tad.
I doubt she would have done much better in early 2000s rural Spain without her little black book...
Father was right unfortunately, though despite his obvious annoyance, he had grudging respect for my tenacity.
And the bank repossessed my house somewhere in the middle of that little adventure…
To be continued in part two...
Me in Dubai at Slash concert
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