Grinning Souls… The album… The people… The story….....for Nick's take on the past 20 years read his ECSTATIC FARCE essay at our PREVIOUS page which recalls his times with THE DRIVERS, CUTTING CREW and much more.....very honest and revealing stuff from the old boy!!!

The story of this album really starts in Halifax, Nova Scotia, in the autumn of 1983 when Nick arrived to do a tour of Canada with his band The Drivers and met Kevin MacMichael, with whom he went on to form Cutting Crew two years later.  After they had toured the world (“and beyond,” in the words of David St. Hubbins in Spinal Tap), had achieved a number one in Seventeen countries, including the U.S., with the classic (‘I Just) Died in Your Arms’ they finally split up in ‘92.  Nick and Kevin talked for many years about writing and recording a new album at some time in the future, and the plan was always to do that in Halifax.   However, fate took a nasty turn and, alas, on the 31st December 2002, Kevin sadly died after battling for two years with cancer.

Nick returned to his idyllic home in Barbados and contemplated the events which had shaped his life, from the early days of supporting the likes of Slade and The Jam, with just a trusty Ovation guitar and a dream, to the heady heights of world fame, to the premature deaths of his father and Kevin.  In the spring of 2003, in a highly emotional and motivated state, Nick spent a few blinding weeks writing all but one of the tracks for his planned album.  “The songs just flowed out of me,” he recalls with a bitter-sweet mixture of joy and sadness.  A few months later he was to leave his home on Barbados and return to his former base, Brighton, on England’s south coast.  Here he chopped, changed, arranged and refined each of the songs until he felt ready to present his work before a bunch of trusted musician friends in Halifax.    

And so, in August 2003, having received a great response to his new tracks, he and the gang (Aaron - keyboards; Adam - drums; Asif - lead guitar; Shehab - bass guitar) set out to demo the new album.  The results were phenomenal.  Everyone was amazed at the gutsiness and sparkle which were achieved in that very special fortnight.  Back in the U.K., anxious family and friends listened to Nick’s new album and, to a man (and woman), all agreed that it was something very special.  It was wonderful to hear so many positive comments.  But, in a way, that was just the start of it….      

At the ungodly hour of 6.30 A.M. on Saturday the 20th of September 2003, Nick and I stand in the sunshine on a Brighton (Hove, actually) pavement and await the arrival of our cab.  Our flight to Halifax leaves from Heathrow and we arrive there tired, but excited at the prospect of the weeks ahead.  Even though the check-in lady has to admit that Nick has got “a cute smile” she tells us that it’s the back of the plane for us, in the seats where members of the crew normally sit.  From our seats we can’t see the distant movie screen and so, after a flash of that cute smile and the Air Canada frequent traveller’s card, we are promoted by a stewardess to a much more movie-friendly position near the front.  We settle and watch the news.  It’s Canadian news and the big story of the day is about a citizen’s legal right to shoot moose to his, or her, heart’s content.  They have no record of my veggie food request and I wish I’d never bothered to change seats to watch moose being blasted.      

A mere four-and-a-half hours later we touch down in Halifax.  We cheerfully wander up to the immigration officer and tell him of our plans to spend a long vacation in his wonderful city.  “Not here on business?” he asks, about to stamp the entry visas in our passports.  “I may have one or two business meetings…” replies Nick.  We are instantly escorted to the Canadian Immigration Office for further questioning.  The eight young ladies who are on duty are a hoot.  They love the idea that Nick is the Nick van Eede of Cutting Crew, and I am a TV writer.  However, when Colleen disappears to call Julian Marentette (the album’s Exec. Producer and percussionist) she returns and instantly states, “So, you guys are here to make an album.”  Then to me, “And you’re here to take photographs and write stuff for a website.”  Our expressions of shock and horror at such a suggestion are truly Oscar-worthy (video available from Halifax immigration dept.)  Two hours later, having threatened Julian, “If you’re lying, then I’ll have the RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police - yes, it’s true, the Mounties still exist!) around your house in three minutes, to arrest you,” Colleen does a ‘celebrity’ search for us on the internet and, strangely amused that we’re not criminals, but just harmless, English eccentrics, she grants us our freedom.  By the time we get to baggage reclaim, one of Nick’s bags has been stolen.  Welcome to Canada!  Time for beer!

On Sunday morning we head out to a bar, but only to watch a crucial UK Premier Division soccer game between Arsenal and Manchester United (0-0 draw).  We visit Kevin’s former ‘office’, which just happens to be Gus’s Bar.   The owner is miserable and surly, and serves us spicy Bloody Caesars - but not in the traditional Mason Jars, as requested (“Kevin’ll be turning!” comments Nick).  The smokers are safely locked away in an airtight, glass box, full of gaming machines and air-conditioning equipment (“Kevin’ll be…”).  We go to the waterfront for beer and end up getting a lecture about the biggest manmade, pre-Hiroshima explosion in the world (1917 when French steamship the Mont Blanc, over-laden with TNT, collided with relief ship the Imo in Halifax harbour).  We laugh a lot, we listen to Nick and Kevin’s Christmas song ‘King of the World’ from 1995 (on which Kevin sings lead vocals very well) and, thanks to our friend Linda, we find out what Bristol Board is (in English we call it Poster Board). 

It’s Monday and the work begins when Terry Brown flies in from Toronto.  After curry, Terry’s first job is to set up the ultimate drum sound at Idea of East Studio, where the demo was born.  Adam has bought a shiny, new, expensive drum kit since the demo, and although it’s the dog’s bollocks on stage, it’s apparently not going to cut the mustard on Nick’s album.  New heads are tried, new kits are ordered in, drums come and go, but nothing compares with the crisp, rich sound of Adam’s trusty, old Tama Superstar kit.  It’s decided that new and shiny isn’t always best (as Terry will vouch for!)  

On Tuesday, as drum set-ups are still being tried, tested and tweaked, Brian the guitarist arrives from Barbados.  We enjoy beer and brunch before hitting the studio.  The core band (Aaron, Adam, Asif and Shehab) is ready and waiting, with excited anticipation (and their instruments set up).  Starting off with ‘Shot of Democracy’ the guys do a few run-throughs.  It’s sounding good, but not the same as the demo.  The more they play, the tighter it gets, but it’s still not as lively as the earlier version.  Brian notices that bits of phrasing on the guitar parts have been changed, and so, the band plays on, and on, and on….   

As Wednesday morning is devoted to more frustrating drum set-ups, the decision is taken that Adam’s lovely new kit will never see the light of day on this album.  Enter Adam’s old kit.  Exit band as new heads are fitted and tuned by the ever-patient, ever-obliging Adam, whose smile and sense of humour are still intact.  The guys return to run through a few songs and they are sounding much, much better.  Everyone departs, after five hours’ of enthusiastic rehearsal, ready to eat horses and drink rivers.  Where else to go, but Maxwell’s Plum?  They have plenty of things to eat but, more importantly, they have more than a hundred beers on tap, plus every bottled beer in the universe!  (Hereinafter the place known as ‘Maxwell’s Plum’ shall be referred to as ‘The Office’)  Terry is accosted by the legendary waitress, Alison, who flirts outrageously with him (and everyone else - but don’t tell Terry) and whose bizarre and amazing memory can recall what everyone drinks from serving them six weeks ago!  As Nick makes sure that guys and girlfriends are fed and watered, Terry nonchalantly mentions that he mixed Joe Cocker’s ‘With a Little Help from my Friends’ (as you do).       

A day off on Thursday, and our nursemaid, chauffeur and all round wonderwoman, Linda, pops round with giant dishes of homemade veggie lasagne and chilli beef.  Brian and I go along with Nick to pick up Julian’s surprise birthday present (Ping golf clubs) and we are introduced to the Eighth Wonder of the World, which just happens to be next door to the golf shop.  It’s called Dollarama and it’s twenty thousand square feet of insane indulgence!  We buy everything from plastic weapons to plastic flowers and end up with sixty-eight dollars worth of pure pleasure (that’s sixty-eight quality items - what a deal!)  We invite Julian and his wife Anne round to our place to dine on some delicious, homemade veggie lasagne and chilli beef, which we have lovingly prepared earlier (a lie, but they don’t need to know that).  As they are being suitably impressed by our culinary skills, Nick recounts the time he started a Drivers’ encore in Saskatoon and the drummer was so blasted that on the count, “one, two, three four…” he puked up all over the stage (but apparently he was perfectly in time!)  The late night conversation turns (as it does) to ghosts, and Nick goes white as he tells of how, on a trip to Greece to recharge his batteries, a ghostly apparition of a sea captain appeared in his hotel room.  Scared out of his wits, he ran out of the place (leaving 40 drachmas on the bed as payment for his room) and never returned.  Terry continues the theme, recalling the eerie sight of sheet music floating across the studio at a recording session with Barbra Streisand (n.b. this was in the seventies when people saw floating objects most of the time).      

For the first time, on Friday, Brian plays along with the guys and… promptly breaks a string.  Adam plays drums and…. promptly breaks the tip off one of his sticks and sends it shooting into the ceiling (where it still is to this day).  Having insisted that Shehab change his bass strings, Terry asks him from the safety of the control room, “That’s better, isn’t it?”  Shehab glares through the glass at him and responds coldly, “I have planned your death already.”  I can tell it’s going to be a dangerous day.  After several passes of ‘Hard on You’ the last two are awesome, proving that controlled danger sounds good.  Work progresses late into the evening and we finally escape for a drink at O’Carrol’s Bar, whereupon Terry is asked by the middle-aged, redheaded waitress whether he’d like some Black Bush (whisky).  He declines.  The waitress winks at him suggestively and asks, “How about a little Red Bush, then?”  Terry runs a mile!  We all run a mile, and Nick takes us to Bearly’s House of Blues and Ribs where local singer Theresa Malenfant and her band are on stage (actually a tiny area in the centre of the beer-soaked floor).  Brian is engrossed for hours by the guitar playing.  They’re not young, and they’re not sober - but they’re good!   

There are no such things as weekends in the rock-n-roll business and, despite the excesses of last night, it’s back to the studio on Saturday.  And it’s back to more takes of ‘Hard on You’.  Nick chuckles as he jokes, “This used to be my Roy Orbison song… now Asif has changed the chords and brought it forward forty-five years!”  Asif is one of these real boffin types, and admits that he used to get bullied at school for being a member of the chess and bridge clubs (I suppose that’s the price one pays for being a perfect genius and a really nice guy).  The next song to tackle is ‘Apparent Depth’ which, for labelling purposes, Lawrence (the engineer) has decided to rename ‘Parot Death’.  Nobody objects.  After a run-through, Nick comments that the guys are sounding like the school band and orders them to, “Report for rehearsal at 3.15 and be ready to play in assembly in the morning.”  A vote takes place as to whether the song should be played in G-minor or F-sharp minor.  G-minor wins a landslide.  The guys continue playing and Nick complains that the song is sounding, “too Moody Blues.”  He turns to Terry and asks, “That was slow, wasn’t it?”  Terry looks up from the mixing desk and nonchalantly replies, “I don’t know, I fell asleep in the second bar!”  To liven up the mood, Nick does what any self-respecting musician would do… he puts a tea towel on his head and accompanies himself on guitar as he sings ‘How Much is That Doggy in the Window’ backwards (believe me, it’s not as bad as it sounds - there could be a market out there somewhere!)  ‘Parot Death’ sounds better and better, until Terry finally gives it the seal of approval, proclaiming with his usual catchphrase, “It’s in the pocket.”  As it’s Saturday night, we decide to throw a party.  The band, plus a whole assortment of reprobates, show up and sup every drop of booze in the place (which is a lot).  At 4.30 in the morning, we decide that we want to go to a music bar.  Some insane cab driver insists on squeezing seven of us into his car (on the floor and laying across each other… everywhere but the trunk - it was already full of junk!)  Nick, myself and Brian get stranded at the venue (but we obviously make it home somehow - or we’d still be there!)

After a wild night, we all crawl out of bed on Sunday and go for brunch at the bizarrely named Your Father’s Moustache (ideas on a postcard, please?)  At 1pm we hit the studio and the place is soon rocking to the sound of ‘Understudies’.  It’s played several times through, cranked up to ‘Stella Level’ (beer drinkers will understand this technical terminology), and Asif soon complains that he’s worn his hand out.  People are suffering today, but luckily Terry has a mammoth supply of Ibuprofen to stop their heads falling off!  After the next run-through, Adam announces that “something” has just happened to the snare.  Lawrence asks him knowingly, “Something bad?”  At 6pm, after attempts to resuscitate the dead snare have failed, a new one is delivered.  When Adam gives this new baby a good hiding, Nick describes it, flatteringly, as “stinky”.  There’s a hurricane coming in, but with the way Adam’s playing we’re not sure that it hasn’t hit already!  As we peer out at the ever-darkening sky, Asif the amateur meteorologist explains the finer points of the Beaufort Scale to us.  “Force seven,” he tells us, “is when cars get blown over.”  I’m not saying that Nick’s hearing is shot or anything, but he laughs until he’s almost purple and wonders why Beaufort would choose “cows being blown over” as a measure of wind speed!  As Asif plays his guitar dubs, Nick recalls how Kevin would always fall asleep in the studio, and they would always stick pieces of paper and tape and cigarette cartons to him (now that’s what I call sticking together as a band!)  Adam plays his heart out on ‘Understudies’ and it’s awesome.  Unfortunately, he loses the use of his arms and legs for the next hour, but, as he says, “That’s all part of the fun!”  Later, as he moves on to play the manic ‘Boomerang’ he observes that it’s a tough song to do…

especially after drinking 19 beers the night before!  As the wind picks up, making us nervous, it’s decided that we’d better shut down the power and call it a night.  Back at our third floor apartment, the wind howls wildly and starts to tear at the trees and overhead power cables.  By 11pm the city is in darkness.  We stay up and drink, gazing from our balcony at the electric blue flashes all around us.  

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