I had very briefly met Marty Willson-Piper a couple of months earlier at a Church post -gig party, and we'd had a pleasant chat about such things as Swedish triple-glazing. I wish I could tell you that we discussed surrealist poetry and situationism, but no, triple glazing it was. I tend not to get too philosophical on a first meeting, then I can at least be sure that people aren't interested in me solely for my wry, sharp, and poignant observations on society, art and literature. (....I hope nobody reading this has had an irony bypass).
For a very long time prior to meeting Marty, I'd been something of a Church fan. I think it was back in 1982 or something that I'd bought a single called 'Almost With You' from a long gone record shop in Crouch End, and played it, and it's B-side, to death. (Our paths had almost crossed in 1985 when we were booked to support them at a gig in Kentish Town. But, as The Church temporarily split up on the day of the gig, it wasn't to be.)
I was always pretty bewildered about why they'd never really 'made it' in the UK. In retrospect, I think it may have had something to do with a brand of smarmy xenophobia particular to the British music press. So ignored were they, that for a while, I'd assumed they'd split up. Then, during an evening of vegetating in front of MTV in a Belgian hotel room, I was thrilled to see a video of the song 'Under The Milky Way'. Back in London, I tracked down the album 'Starfish', and it didn't leave my Walkman for months. I also saw them play live in London, and was really blown away by them. Tim actually saw them too, up in Leeds I think, and, although he'd enjoyed the gig, had had reservations about ' one of the guitarists ', who he'd thought "a right show-off".
Anyway, AAE was limping along, exhaling a long, strangled death rattle. Great seismic chasms were bursting through the cosmetic repairs that we'd made earlier. Tim was spending more and more time up in Huddersfield, and the rest of us were stuck in London moaning about him. It had become absolutely impossible for Tim and I to be around one another. I couldn't stand to be in the same room as him without my thoughts becoming murderous. Obviously, I wouldn't presume to speak for Tim, but, I'd make an educated guess that the feeling was understandably mutual. One day, it all came to a head and there was a particularly ugly telephone call between Tim and I, that ended in my telling him to leave the band, him telling me that no way would he, then me telling him that if he wouldn't, then I would !
Solicitor's letters, phone calls, worried management, worried record company, everybody sticking their unwanted oars in....I got my head down and wrote and demo'd a song called 'The Dreamer', and another called 'A Different Sky'. Andy and I sat in his garden and wrote a song called 'If I had You'. We brought the tapes in to Charlie, our A & R man at Phonogram, he got really excited about them and arranged for us to go in to a studio in Oxfordshire to demo them properly . One problem, no guitarist..... Cue Uncle Wayne Hussey ! Wayne, fuelled by his then beloved Blue Nun kindly did the honours.
There was a lot of outside pressure to find a replacement for Tim as quickly as possible, but, we wanted to take things nice and slowly. It wasn't like we were buying a new bike or anything ! This was going to have to be someone we could imagine spending several happy, creative years with.
I wrote loads of really bad songs and sent them to Robert Smith of the Cure, asking him if he'd be interested in producing our next album. ( Andy and I are still a bit embarrassed that we included a song on the tape that we'd knocked out over a beer one sunny afternoon in the garden, called 'Pob's Tune'! ). Anyway, I had a couple of strange late-night telephone calls with Robert Smith. He liked 'The Dreamer' but wasn't sure about the lyrics. However, once I'd told him that they were about Baudelaire, he seemed much more approving of them. However, for one reason or another, the Robert Smith thing never happened.
Yes, I know it's dangerous, but one fine Summer's day I was sunbathing, plugged in to my ever-present Walkman, listening to the 'Starfish' album and thinking, "God, this guy's guitar-playing is absolutely gorgeous....Wouldn't it be just the best thing in the world if he played on our next album !".....But, as there were two guitarists in The Church, which guitarist was the one ? I thought back to the times I'd seen them play live, and deduced that, although the tall one in the long frock-coat had played some beautiful stuff, it was in fact that nice chap with the pocket-watch that I'd met at the party, that triple-glazing aficionado, that 'right show-off', yes, it was that Marty Willson-Piper that had played the bits I loved best.
Very reluctantly, because he wanted us to 'get somebody cheap from up North', our manager got in touch with The Church's manager, and arranged for a tape to be sent to Marty. A couple of nights later, Marty called me from L.A. He talked for hours, lovingly listing each and every one of his guitars and amps, extolling their differences and virtues, and expressing great enthusiasm for getting involved in the immediate future of AAE. ( I have to admit to being more than a little star-struck. This was one of my guitar idols on the phone, like, from L.A, man !....ahem ) .
A couple of weeks or months later, I can't actually remember which, Marty arrived in London. He and I met and went to a vegetarian cafe West London. ( As I hate vegetables, this was not ideal ! ). We chatted, (Marty over something horribly healthy looking, and me over a fruit salad), broke the ice, and arranged to meet again the next evening round at my place, with Andy and Mark.
So, that next evening, Andy arrived with Mark, a carrier bag of clinking bottles swinging from his hand. (Unfortunately, no beery bonding could be done, as Marty was taking serious doses of anti-biotics to counter the excruciating discomfort of a dental abcess.) I'd been really nervous about whether or not they'd all hit it off together, but, it was a pleasant enough evening.
On the very first day in the unglamorous King's Cross rehearsal room, within the first hour of playing, Andy, Mark and Marty had written the music to 'Strange Way'. I was in a state of absolute delight. To see this instant musical chemistry develop right in front of me and to feel and be involved in this great natural rapport that was happening, was, after the recent miseries we'd been through, nothing short of wonderful. I was so happy.
Marty's way of working and playing was more of a hurricane than a mere breath of fresh air. I loved his enthusiasm, his verve, his fantastically positive attitude. He had an awful lot to bring to the party. After a couple of weeks, it felt as though he'd always been around, always been 'one of us', even always been in AAE. He was so unterritorial,( which is pretty unusual for a guitarist !), happy to let me dabble around on a guitar occasionally, even helping me choose which of his fabulous collection of guitars would do a particular job best. He was so refreshingly devoid of ego in this department. For example, he might be messing about getting a chord progression together, and if I were to say, "Hey, what about if that went to a G# minor instead of a G ?", rather than shooting me a black look , storming out of the room, or sulking, he'd say "Yeah ! Let's try it!".
I returned the favour by sometimes canvassing his opinion on lyrics. Nobody in the band had seemed particularly interested in my lyrics before, but, as Marty was a lyricist himself, it was great to have the option to sound him out on stuff from time to time. Marty was, and still is, very much a 'word' person, and this made me feel somehow less isolated within the band.( However, he was also very careful to just leave me to it if he knew that that's what I wanted).
So, for the first time in ages, there was some great chemistry working within AAE, and, more importantly, we were enjoying ourselves, having fun, and, feeling positive. Although there is a side to Marty that's very serious, thoughtful, philosophical and intense, he's also got a sense of humour pretty similar to mine, and, that made for some extremely hysterical exchanges.( His sense of the absurd bordered on genius ! ).
Another thing I have to thank Marty for, is for being a strong ally to me against record company / management etc. AAE's previous naïveté had got us beaten into many corners before. We'd been too trusting of record company executives, management, journalists, agents....of everyone really ! Having his support made me feel less reluctant to challenge people when I thought that their ideas were stupid / arrogant/ inappropriate. Having until then been fairly malleable and compliant, I learned to be 'difficult' if the occasion demanded it ! (It was less a case of 'prima donna' and more a case of self-preservation.)
Those just outside our 'inner sanctum' found our alliance unnerving. Marty was seen as a very unwelcome and empowering fly in the ointment.
Still, relaxed, happy, confident, we spent a month or so in a place called Jam Studio in North London, demoing songs. By now, Charlie had left Phonogram and we had been taken on by a new A & R bloke called Russ Conway. He had a bad attitude and an even worse denim jacket. We hated him.( I wrote the lyric to Touched By Jesus about him).We used to fantasise about how we could kill him ! We all wrote hate poetry about him ! He would come down to Jam Studio, listen to a track, and say something like : "You should put something in the middle eight to make it a bit more zappy ?" I absolutely despised him. He knew nothing about what we were trying to do. If we were the baby, he was Louise Woodward.
Eventually, we booked in to Jacob's Studios, a residential place in Farnham, Surrey, and war in the Gulf broke out while we were recording the middle eight to the track 'TBJ'.
The atmosphere during the recording of the album was a happy one. Although Warne Livesey was, on reflection, a bit too slick in his production of the album, we got on with him very well, and enjoyed the experience. In the engineer Ted Hayton, we'd found ourselves a gem. I loved working with him. He was a gentleman and a scholar. After dinner, we'd usually all get into a big debate about black holes, weather systems, or even short wave radio. Ted was something of a boffin with an insatiable and infectious interest in everything, and a truly lovely man too.
We recorded some of the album back at Ridge Farm, and, some at a studio called The Mill, which used to belong to Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin. I have great memories of how sweet everything felt during the recording of this album...Andy, Marty and I sat on a bridge under a duvet, feeding swans by moonlight being but one.
My favourite song on 'TBJ' is, without a doubt, 'Wishing The Hours Away'. I really love this song so much. I love its slow-burning sparkle. I love the middle instrumental, where Marty's and Dave Gilmour's guitars melt and glide into one another. I'm also very fond of the lyric, as it reminds me of a balmy night in Linz, Germany, when me and a dear friend watched the Mayflies dying in their mad kamikaze love-fest.
Another favourite is 'Are You Lonely'. (I wrote the lyric for my Father). Again, Marty's guitar is gorgeous. So is Dave Gilmour's, the best bits actually being in the song's fadeout. Warne created some spellbinding keyboard sounds and effects. The whole thing is beautiful. I remember the orchestra adding the strings to the track back at Air Studios in Oxford Street, and being so moved that I was pretty tearful. It was overwhelming.
'Rhythm Of Life' is another treasured song for me. I think this encapsulated the essence of the sum of me, Marty, Andy and Mark at that time. It's one of my absolute favourite Marty solo's.
Unlike other albums, there's nothing I actively dislike on this one.....except the title. Dreadful!"
All quoted text is Copyright © Julianne Regan 1998 and may not be reproduced without permission - Email Chris Wright for further information
