After a semi-decent night in Shepherd’s Bush we all gather in the bar downstairs for breakfast, the idiosyncrasies of the toaster confuse us for a while but soon enough it’s strong coffee and hot toast all round. We debate the recent performance by U2 at Glastonbury and quickly come to the conclusion that whilst the rest of the band are still cutting it Bono has slowly transformed into a tractor repair man from the arse end of County Kerry – his rendition of Jerusalem being a specific when it came down to ‘most cringeworthy moments’. Still, that was them and we were us, so it was off out into the city again, we had a cab to flag and songs to record.
In typical London cabbie style, our driver had an ample selection of rock and roll tales to tell, the most recent encounter was of the manager of Metallica who he had just taken to Claridges to pick up the drummer. They were on with four nights at Donnington at a million quid per show. So what? We’d just spent ten minutes staring into a dodgy toaster and swilling cheap instant coffee –and all that after a night in a room full of backpackers who didn’t take lightly to our singer and his snoring. I know where I’d rather be.
On arrival at the studio we are shocked to find that The Cabin Café across the road is closed at weekends. Steve has already befriended the proprietor, Nellie, who he charmed with his northern wit and propensity for multiple bacon butties and he is gutted that his fat intake maybe severely restricted. We try and distract him with music and before long the boys are rushing headlong into Blink [which was called Stuffy this time last week]. It is a thumping, driven song whose rhythm owes more than a nod to certain Canadian influences, and despite it being perhaps the least prepared song, the guide tracks and drums are nailed in no time. After Steve’s sterling work on the drums we decide to wander off and find a café and leave Stick to do some guitar parts on Poster Boy and Blink.
Harlesden High Road is a hot spot for Brazilian fare, as we soon found out. Spotting South American delicacies through the window Sam dragged us in the first place we saw and insisted that this was where we should eat. Fortunately for Steve the staff were very accommodating and we were served up with bacon, sausage and egg butties while Sam joined in with the local cuisine.
A stroll back and there is a lull where we all just sit around and talk – inevitably about music. Key discussion points are based around The Cure and The Chameleons – two bands that have been important to all of us and were both produced by Dave. He gives us some insight into how things worked and the sort of things that went on while both those bands were recording with him. He is a very insightful kind of bloke and it is thrilling to hear these anecdotes – it’s a welcome break form the intensity of recording (and bacon).
Now, onto I Was a 97 Pound Weakling – it is a song that has been demoed but it is a song that has provoked much debate around how it should be arranged. The lyrical sentiments of the song are laced with despair, but should that be reflected in the music or should there be a fight back, a defiance if you like. We have all found ourselves on either side of the fence at any one time, but today the feeling is that the song should fight back and not be brow beaten. It’s a very Decoration attitude and one that works well in this instance, the opening section of the song outlines just how bad things are, whilst the denouement is a great big ‘fuck you’ to everything and everyone who ever trampled all over it.
To end the day the band run through Silent Kisses for Quiet Goodbyes, a few unclicked live takes are done and it is sounding good, it’s upbeat and free and has a nice flowing feel to it. It is testament to Dave’s working structure, where everything is constantly being rotated and moved on, so nothing becomes stale and the band don’t grow bored of certain parts or songs, it just keeps everything fresh and everyone thinks it is a great way to work. Silent Kisses will be worked on in the morning, but for now we have new digs to find - in Willesden.
We find the new hostel, in Willesden, and are immediately horrified. To say the least, it is a shit hole – it was all booked at the last minute due to the possibility that the studio might fall through, so we had little choice – but this place was terrible. I spend a while online trying to find alternative digs, but it is late on a Saturday night in London and there is nothing going. We numb our senses with alcohol and brace ourselves for an unpleasant night.
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