Good Evening, just a quick post tonight. I hope you’ve had a chance to drop over and see what Carbon Silicon are up to lately? Check their official site for details as Tony James and Mick Jones have followed a very quiet first 10 months of the year with a buzz of activity. Spoiled as we were by the excellent Carbon Bubble album last month (download it for free) Tony has put together quite a few news updates about the direction of the band now and reaction to the album plus tour discussion. There’s a lot to digest there and I’ll be digging into it this weekend – though I’m keen to hear your interpretation also. It appears that something with record labels/management has triggered a brilliant back to basics approach and as TJ says he’s simply asks that you share the music. Email your friends, tweet about it, or add tracks to your favourites on Facebook. Considering the album has been released for free there’s no excuse for you not spending 10 minutes trying to help more people hear the music. More important than that it’s a great album.

Also with a lot to say about Punk Rock and the years since is former Sex Pistol Glen Matlock. Glen who performed this Summer with Mick Jones at the 100 Club is in the middle of playing some shows in snowy Canada at present. Matlock has given some really candid interviews about more recent events with the Chronicle Herald and also The Winnipeg Sun. Matlock is an interesting character who was key to the Sex Pistols (he was the chief songwriter) but left the band before events of the final 12 months and Sid Vicious stamped their place deeper in the memory of so many with a more pedestrian knowledge of the London scene. Downplaying the role of Matlock is failing to understand that it was really 1976 that created the scene and the development of the Pistols, especially in terms of the songs themselves. The doomed capacity of Sid was never really more than a tragically sad postscript which resulted in the self destruction of the band and ultimately the end of Vicious’ short life. It might look better on the T-Shirts but the Sex Pistols were far more tapered in the musical heritage of Matlock. Both interviews are worth your time and it’s interesting to learn of a Rich Kids reunion/fund raising show scheduled for London next month (apparently with Carbon Silicon) so more of that to come in the days ahead.

Clash Cup and Strummerville event previews coming up in the days ahead so I’ll talk with you soon.

Tim

If you missed part one of this remarkable tale from last month I fully recommend taking the time to read as it sets the stage nicely for part 2.  Mick Jones, Glen Matlock and Steve Diggle; three seminal figures from the British punk scene, one famous club in the heart of London and a benefit concert for Terry Rawlings. All that was missing was a drummer – Buddy Ascott turned out to be that drummer, back to Buddy for the 2nd part.

Down into the bowels of the 100 Club, to the laughingly-named “dressing

Buddy, with The Chords

room” – if you’re fortunate you can find a bit of sticky floor to stand on. A quick rehearsal of our four “Purple Chords” songs, and we’re next up. We start with The Purple Hearts’ ‘Frustration’, Bob Manton on vocals, Jeff on bass and Popey on guitar. It goes down a storm. Exit Bob, stage left, and we tear into our own ‘British Way Of Life’. It’s going great, Jeff exceeding all expectations on the bass, the crowd on our side, and then disaster strikes…

There is but one irreplaceable artefact on a rock’n’roll stage (apart from egos, and amps that go up to eleven), and that is the bass drum skin. I have put my foot straight through it. Not in thirty years of gigging have I done this before – WHY TONIGHT?!

Mic Stoner – roadie to the stars, Bobby Davro lookalike and all-round good chap – saves the day, temporarily, as he patches it up with gaffer tape (now where, just where, could I buy some of that?) ‘Maybe Tomorrow’ follows, but the skin gives way again – sorry chaps, the beast unleashed within me with this song will not allow a timid performance!

Mic weaves his magic once again with the gaffer, then Bob Manton rejoins us, with Damian O’Neill, for The Undertones’ classic ‘Teenage Kicks”. It’s all too soon over and out for us, and I turn to Mic – “The skin’s fucked mate, how’s it gonna see out another three sets?” His optimism and hard work may just pull us through? He sets about repairing the pulverised skin with cardboard, plastic laminates – and a crushed-up Red Bull can. Later that evening, the bass pedal will feel like I’m kicking a brick wall for 30 minutes, and days later the subsequent bruises will convince me I’ve broken a toe.

In an effort to cool down and rehydrate myself, I stand outside in the rainy street. I am not mobbed. Mick Jones and the others arrive, and are mobbed – what am I? Chopped liver? It could soon be so -  Mick Avory arrives! – and a panic ensues within me. Surely he’s not gonna steal my thunder, rain on my parade, and piss on my chips? Happily, no. Diplomatic Jeff (and I never thought I’d see those two words together) to the rescue once again. Avory will play just the last number, ‘You Really Got Me’. Well, I can’t really quibble with that, can I? The man is a living legend and one of my all time favourite drummers. And a gentleman. And he does play on the record!

Steve Diggle’s own band deliver a sterling set, but by now I’m not paying much notice – I’m in a hyperactive state of fear, excitement and hysteria. I can’t decide whether to run screaming from the club (“I can’t do it! I can’t do it I tell you!”) or to simply faint on the spot. I’m certainly hot enough to faint – it’s about 35 degrees (100f for the Americans – Tim) down there and I haven’t cooled down since the rehearsal five hours earlier. I find myself at the side of the stage, propping up a fast-ailing Terry Rawlings, with a very concerned Fiona. We help Terry onstage to deliver a heartfelt thank you to all concerned, and then hands over to Matlock, Jones and Diggle. They play a shambolic yet strangely affecting rendition of ‘Debris’, Jones constantly coming over to Terry and gently patting him, encouraging him, always smiling that infectious grin of his. I’m tearful and exuberant at the same time.

Terry Rawlings with Mick Jones watching on

Suddenly I realise that I’m up next – it’s like my bungy jump, my skydive, my whitewater rafting is all before me again. All rolled into one huge pile of “Oh my God – am I really going to do this?”  But, as then, there’s no escape – so I guess I best just enjoy it.

Matlock introduces me as ‘Mr Buddy’ as I clamber onstage – his phone text the next day tells me that he hadn’t known my full name. I take my place, and Jones turns to me and I ask him, “What are we starting with?” “Train In Vain,” is the reply and I realise I’ve never played it in my life. “Mick – how’s it go?” “Oh, you know, a little skip intro and you’re off.”

And so it just materialises, somewhere out of my memory. Not the most difficult intro, or beat, I’ve ever played, but I’m not sure until I start. Jones plays that riff, the one that sold The Clash to the USA, and the crowd cheers. And I realise that I can’t take that god-damn smile off my face, in fact I am almost laughing with joy. Not smugness, not arrogance, not hubris, just pure unadulterated happiness. For twenty minutes I am going to play some fantastic music with three absolute heroes of mine, to a surging crowd in one of the best venues in the world.        Wow.

Buddy Ascott Glen Matlock

At first I keep it straight, keep it simple. “Don’t take risks, don’t take chances. It’s not your kit, your songs, nor your audience. In fact, at this point, it doesn’t even feel like your body!”

I have Jones to my left, Matlock in front of me, and Diggle to my right. It’s heaven. I’m in musical Utopia. I can almost see myself from the opposite wall, from the mixing desk. I say, “Who’s that up there with those stars?” I do not ponder, “Who’s that up there with Buddy?!”

Mick Jones at the 100 Club

And then…the best bit. I get comfortable, I get confident “I CAN do this!” The impish ghost of Keith Moon pops up in my mind, as he is wont to do at times of great potential peril. “Oh, go on, do a roll here, try that fill there, it’ll be alright! What can go wrong?”

So I do. Outrageously at times. I start a roll miles too early and somehow manage to get back in time for the chorus. I think only Mic Stoner, maybe Jeff, are aware of the risks I’m taking, but they are listening so I might as well throw some other stuff in too, as I’ve got my own audience. It all goes brilliantly.

‘Pretty Vacant’ is followed by ‘Should I Stay’, and then the venerable ‘All Or Nothing’. Nothing fazes me, nothing throws me, I don’t drop or break a single stick.

At the end of my final song, “Stepping Stone”, I even flip to the Monkees-style offbeat snare that I’d been aware that Jones had been toying with – even Matlock (who’d rearranged the song for the Pistols) joins in and smiles…And then it’s over.

I tried to walk off, but Jones stopped me to shake my hand, and I’m aware that Mick Avory is getting up to play ‘You Really Got Me’ – with no sticks. I hand him mine, and walk to the bar for my first beer of the evening. The plaudits and praise are non-stop, even from some green-eyed drummers in the audience. I wish to apologise to each and every one of them – Paul, Gary, Jim – for having had the good fortune to take part. But I can’t stop smiling.

Henry, our trusty steed and loyal servant can’t stop smiling. Eddie Pillar tells me he’d been in tears. And not because the drumming had been so awful (actually, I’d better check this with him now). Credit where credit’s due – nobody is more complimentary than Popey, who I’d feared would be a ball of envy. I probably would’ve been.

Dave Edwards, the DJ, comes up to me and says, “Buddy – up there you looked like a baboon in a field of bananas!”

And a week later I still feel like that. After nearly 40 years of wondering if I was good enough – I suppose I can finally believe that I am. That I was – at least for one night. “Just for one day”

I rang Terry two days later – “I know this might sound totally inappropriate Tel, but I just wanted to say thank you for one of the best nights of my life.”

Terry went into Basingstoke Hospital today, his operation is on Tuesday.

God bless him.

Yours, in a field of bananas somewhere,

Brett ‘Buddy’ Ascott, (aka Mr Buddy)

Sunday August 2^nd 2009

Additional information about Buddy’s current project with Chris Pope

I can’t add anything…..amazing, remarkable and wonderfully written. Thank you so much Buddy, I can’t even contemplate such a situation. Thanks again —- Tim

Not your Stepping Stone

A quick addition – wanted to upload some more images by Pete from the Terry Rawlings Benefit at the 100 Club from Sunday night.  As you know the benefit had a number of acts and the hybrid band of Steve Diggle, Glen Matlock and Mick Jones were the support act for headliners  The Pleasers.

Certainly a night to tell your kids (or your parents) about if you were lucky enough to be in the famed club. Time restricts me from a full detailed summary but if you happened to be there send me a message about your evening and I’ll get something more comprehensive together when I return at the weekend.

Diggle and Jones

In the meantime please enjoy the fantastic images caught by Pete who was in the tiny pit at the 100 club. I’m sure more video will surface too in the days ahead. I’m sure the support for Terry Rawlings is greatly appreciated. Anyone who ever listened to The Clash, Sex Pistols and Buzzcocks must have been on sensory overload to see those three sharing the same space. I’m just stunned looking the photos and wasn’t even there.

Cheers – Tim