Me, Chris and Sleazy arrived at about 11 a.m. and set up our gear. We’d brought what equipment we needed to London and rented an extra effects unit to mangle Gen’s vocals. Gen arrived late with Paul Smith. He’d brought his violin from New York but not his bass guitar, offering to pay to hire one. One was bought for him, to be delivered to the studio the next day. We played the tracks to Gen before jamming together, which was our usual TG way of working. Gen sat and listened to us but didn’t join in. He said he had jet lag and wasn’t feeling good. We three carried on trying out ideas for a while, then stopped to talk to Gen about the material and which tracks he’d like to focus on first. He decided to leave early and went back to his hotel in a cab, with us saying that we hoped he felt better tomorrow.
Day two in the studio, and we were going through tracks when Paul Smith called us to say Gen would be along later. We continued working on our own until Gen and his bass guitar arrived. The guitar was quite heavy – he dropped it twice and couldn’t get his effects pedals to work. Dave, the studio engineer, went home and brought his own Boss pedal for Gen to use, and we finally got to do our first jam session together.
It was sounding good – very TG but crucially and deliberately a step forward from the old TG material. I had no interest in regrouping if we weren’t going to explore and create new work together. We had a strategy in place to help us avoid making music that sounded like our past or present individual music projects: we were using new equipment specifically for the TG regrouping. Mute had facilitated this by advancing each of us the money to buy new gear. Me, Chris and Sleazy had each bought a new laptop, music software (including Ableton Live) and an audio interface, and I bought myself a Roland multi-effects unit and a new Hohner headless lead guitar. We’d stuck to the plan but it seemed Gen wasn’t quite on board. He kept mentioning how he hated ‘laptop bands’ – whatever they were supposed to be. We pointed out that TG had always been into new technology and innovative ways of working, that Sleazy had in fact used a computer back in TG in the 1970s, so using a laptop now wasn’t new or alien to TG – it was just a computer in a more portable form, another instrument for generating sounds.
Despite my earlier reservations and the many ‘issues’, I was excited about TG. Once that collective energy and raw power kicked in, it was impossible to resist, like hitting a reflex. I was on a roll, exploring new ways of producing sounds, buying new gear to experiment and throw into the TG mix. Chris and Sleazy were the same. Sleazy was perplexed by why and how making music just ‘worked’ so readily with us but not with anyone else. I knew what he meant. We just had that deep connection, ability and willingness to open ourselves up to collectively surrender to the ‘third mind’.
By the fifth day we were making slow progress, with Gen mostly absent. It was frustrating but we managed to get some work done and were all sat having a coffee in the studio lounge. Vince and Andy from Erasure were next door in studio two, working on their new album. Andy came into the kitchen and asked if he could take a photo of us all together. Gen blurted at him, ‘And who are you?’ as if he were some random souvenir-hunter. It was embarrassing.
‘He’s Andy Bell from Erasure,’ I said.
When Andy had gone, I told Gen how rude he’d been. He apologised to Andy. We needed some time out. We left for the day and took the next day off – then back in the studio, hoping we could pull everything together in time. Gen’s repeated lateness made us feel that he wasn’t that interested in or committed to working with us, especially when, after my working on lyrics with him, he said he wanted the next day off to get the words together and insisted on us giving him a CD of the raw tracks to take with him. None of us were happy about new TG material leaving the studio and we’d already reluctantly given him a CD a few days earlier. Sleazy told Gen that on no account must he play it to anyone. Gen agreed.
We three worked on our own the next day, sorting out the gig and album tracks and putting the new recordings, ‘Almost Like This’ and ‘Splitting Sky’, to one side and preparing ‘How Do You Deal?’ ready for Gen’s return to do vocals.
We finally got the vocals recorded for ‘How Do You Deal?’, sorted out the gig’s running order and jammed the first four numbers to see how they felt. It went well and we made plans to mix the vocal tracks over the next two days, then run through a full set twice the following day. Gen mentioned that he had two art projects starting in the two weeks before the TG gig at ATP so he wouldn’t be available to do anything for TG.
Paul Smith entered the studio to discuss the TG Artist Development Meeting that had taken place over at Mute. It was so weird to think of people talking about us like that. While at Mute we’d done group interviews for the Guardian and some magazines, Sleazy and Gen had done a phone interview, and me and Chris were interviewed by Paul Morley at the BBC. We’d been busy but rumours were circulating that we weren’t actually working together and that ATP might not happen, so we shot a thirty-second video of us all in the studio to put on the Mute and TG websites to prove we were together.
Me, Chris and Sleazy spent the last day in the studio working until 7.30 p.m. on mixes for the album, while Gen went shopping, leaving us all disgruntled, particularly Sleazy. ‘I presume the publishing will be twenty-five per cent each again, despite the fact he’s done fuck all?’
After a full day’s studio work, we got a taxi straight to the Royal Festival Hall restaurant for a meal with Paul Smith, Barry Hogan (of ATP) and Cerith Wyn Evans to discuss the TG gig. Gen turned up dressed to the nines in a leather skirt, stilettos and full make-up, and proceeded to behave as disruptively as he had at the Real Greek meal. He sat next to Cerith, which wasn’t a good idea. They both got blind drunk. We tried to discuss as much as possible but it wasn’t happening. By the time dessert was served I was tired and ready to call it a night – but then, just to put the finishing touches to a trying day and evening meal, as I looked up from putting ice cream in my mouth I was greeted with the sight of Gen with one of his breasts out and Cerith feeling his nipple. Sleazy sighed in resignation at the situation, visibly flagging under the effects of a bad cold. Me and Chris left at 11 p.m.
As we rose to leave, Gen asked, ‘Oh, are you going?’
‘Yes, it’s late,’ Chris said.
‘You call eleven late?’ Gen laughed.
I felt the anger rise in me. ‘It is when you’ve been working in the studio all fucking day!’
Gen went into scolded-dog mode and politely asked what time he had to be at Mute the next day. Chris said 11 a.m.
‘What time are we meeting, then?’ said Gen.
We gave up. He was too drunk to understand.
The Cabinet Gallery official launch of my limited-edition book, Confessions, brought some respite from the preceding few weeks. It was refreshing to be out meeting new and interesting people, discussing and being invited to contribute to their academic and art projects. We’d coordinated the book launch with our DJ set at Nag Nag Nag. The club was run by Jonny Slut and had been described as the new Blitz, except it had a non-elitist door policy: those first in line got in. It didn’t matter whether you were a frequent celebrity visitor like Boy George, Kate Moss or Björk or the guy at the supermarket checkout. There was a diverse crowd, some dressed in the style of Leigh Bowery, some in drag, some dressed down, but all hugging, dancing and laughing. A great atmosphere – the dance floor was a riot. Such a great stress-reliever. At least we offloaded some before a shitload more arrived.
24 April 2004
I’ve been in a state of shock really. We went to London to an urgent meeting at the Groucho Club with Paul Smith and Barry. RE ~TG has been postponed until April 25th next year.
Just ten days before we were due to play ATP, the whole RE~TG event was off. Sleazy, me and Chris met Paul and Barry at the Groucho Club. After all the work we’d done, to say we were pissed off would be an understatement. We wanted an explanation as to what the fuck had gone wrong. It all boiled down to basic mismanagement, resulting in ticket sa
les not covering costs.
It was suggested we put out a postponement notice. That wouldn’t do. I’d been thinking of all the things that were affected. We’d each been allocated a merchandise stall for the RE~TG ATP weekend and me, Chris and Sleazy had already paid out for CDs to be pressed, as well as other stock. Where would we sell them now? Me and Chris had even finished the first Carter Tutti album to coincide with the event. When would we release that now? The merchandise, the other bands, the fans travelling from abroad, the new TG Now album that was recorded and pressed, the posters, the postcards, the sticks of TG rock, the flags, the film programme for the chalets … The list was endless. Financial debt aside, the bottom line was that we weren’t prepared to treat TG’s fans, the ticket holders, in such a dismissive way.
Me and Chris agreed with Sleazy’s damage-limitation proposal of doing a filmed live recording session (like Heathen Earth), free to all ticket holders, who could also either get a refund or transfer their tickets to next year’s rescheduled RE~TG at ATP. Barry would cover the cost and we’d sell the RE~TG merchandise and TG Now album to pay back the Mute studio costs.
I felt so deflated. We three thought the live recording idea was our best option, all things considered, and it assuaged our consciences about letting down the fans. But when we told Gen he (understandably) did his fucking nut and (not so understandably) demanded £5,000 be paid into his bank account or he wouldn’t do the gig. That upped the stress levels. Gen got his £5,000, and me, Chris and Sleazy performed for free. I didn’t like the precedent that had just been set but we’d been forced into a corner by the cancellation and Gen’s demand. TG’s democracy and united front had fallen at the first hurdle but at least we could deliver something that compensated the fans.
18 May 2004
Phew! Sunday TG recording session … what can I say? All aspects of it were immense – emotional, logistics troublesome, ‘interesting’ interrelations, sound so physical and so much more I just don’t know where to start. I’m shell shocked really.
Because we had an early load-in scheduled for 10 a.m. on the day of the show, we’d all arrived in London the day before so we could sign merchandise posters and listen to tracks to agree a running order for the set.
Gen had brought his own merchandise with him to sell at the venue – something we’d all agreed not to do. TG was the focus and only the TG merchandise was to be sold, specifically to recoup as much as we could to pay accrued TG costs. Sleazy started the discussion off, being very diplomatic about it. Silence. I seemed the only one willing to say what we all felt – ‘I don’t want any of the merch you’ve done to be sold at the Astoria’ – and I reminded Gen that it was agreed in emails before he came that none of us were to sell our own merchandise. Unlike him, me, Chris and Sleazy hadn’t received any payment to turn up and were hoping our own merchandise losses could be offset by any shared profit from the RE~TG merchandise sales after repaying Mute. Then Gen told us he’d done a ‘Hamburger Lady’ T-shirt and a TG badge as a surprise. What happened to working and agreeing TG things together?
He was still a little sulky when we went back to our hotels. I told him not to dwell on the merchandise issues, that we’d sort it out tomorrow. He said, ‘OK’, but I knew he wasn’t OK about it.
The next day, with the help of the crew, we set up our equipment, leaving the stage stark, with nothing fancy and all the house lights up. The camera crew of eight were given their instructions by Sleazy. Chris set up an Alesis twenty-four-track recorder at the side of the stage to be manned by MJ, a technician from Mute. Gen arrived in a miniskirt and low-cut blouse, blowing his ‘Hamburger Lady’ duck horn, with Jackie keeping her personal distance from us but once again with video camera, recording the soundcheck. None of us wanted to escalate the already compromised atmosphere over merch issues by telling her to stop. Soundcheck done, we went backstage to get something to eat.
After our lunch break, Chris, Sleazy and I went into the empty auditorium to get a feel for the place. At 3.30 Gen appeared on the deserted stage, unplugged his violin and guitar and started sounding off about people being two-faced and how he’d complied to all wishes and done what he was supposed to do, that he was sick of it all, and was now going to do what HE wanted after twenty-five years. I said his walking off wasn’t a good thing, with over a thousand people waiting outside for TG to play in an hour.
Kirsten, our trusty assistant, stepped in to prevent a full-on huge row between me and Gen. She took him backstage and I called Paul to let him know what was happening. While Paul and Kirsten tried to calm Gen down, we three waited in the auditorium. Jon Whitney (of Brainwashed) was there and casually asked Sleazy when he was going back to Weston. Laughing, Sleazy said, ‘In about ten minutes, I think. Taxi for Mr Christopherson, please!’
We were told that Gen was upset and crying backstage. Paul took us to the communal dressing room to discuss what Gen’s outburst was about and what to do to make sure the gig went ahead on schedule. There wasn’t much time. Paul asked me if I could deal with it. In what way? Could my heart trouble withstand it? Yes … but what Paul actually meant was that he thought the situation was really about me and Gen and our history. I was flabbergasted. After twenty-five years? The other thing was that Paul knew I wouldn’t compromise over Gen selling his merchandise. I knew we’d live to regret giving Gen the ‘sweetener’ payment and that submitting to more of his tantrums and demands would give him the wrong idea that he could ride roughshod over the three of us.
Sleazy always avoided confrontation and Chris wasn’t getting involved. The event had to go ahead so I said I’d talk to Gen. He joined us, walking in like the injured party. Sleazy apologised for any hurt he may have unintentionally caused and Gen accepted that and thanked him for being so adult – whatever that meant. Then Gen looked at the floor as he talked, avoiding eye contact with me as he said that my telling him last night not to dwell on things was intended to make him do exactly that.
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa – stop right there,’ I said, ‘and look at me when you’re talking about me.’ I reiterated that my intention was to reassure him. I wasn’t into playing games.
Then he mentioned my conversation with one of his friends about the TG T-shirts, saying things that weren’t true. It had all the hallmarks of turning into a petty ‘he said, she said’ argument, so I called his friend in to confirm the truth of what I’d said to him – that I’d not said what Gen had just implied. At that point Sleazy agreed that what I’d said about TG merchandise having to be a joint decision was correct, that the TG house style was the four of us together and that was and is how it should always be. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Gen giggled and cuddled up to Sleazy.
As we were about to go on stage half an hour later, someone said, ‘Group hug.’ A tentative attempt was made, with Gen saying, ‘We’re legends, you know. And it’s twenty-three years since we last played together.’
At that moment all I could think was that this would be the last time ever – but walking on stage blew away all the preceding wranglings. The atmosphere was charged with expectation and joy, the place heaving with people thrilled to see us together. It was an immensely emotional moment. After a brief technical hitch we started playing and the place erupted. The musician Susan Stenger had loaned me her guitar strap in the hope that I’d stand and play guitar to make my presence felt. I had a feeling that, if I stood up, Gen would come over to me acting like a rock-star lead vocalist, playing up to my guitar sounds. But this was a recording session and sitting best suited the way I used and abused my guitar. So I stayed seated until I played cornet, when a great cheer went up. That was nice.
I set aside Gen’s antics – these people were who mattered. This was TG magic in action. I felt such affinity with the audience as the TG beast was unleashed. When we played ‘Discipline’, Chris’s descending sub-bass sent me and the crowd into raptures … and apparently the bar staff shut up shop, fearful that the building would collapse as it was shaking so much.
The session ended in a climactic frenzy, with the audience all but hysterical. One young guy with pink hair directly in front of me was so far gone, his eyes rolling back then staring at me as he head-banged to the rhythm. I sped up the rhythm on my guitar in response. I felt wicked but good too. People went crazy, stripping off, crying and clawing at themselves. The effect we had was extraordinary. It was one of the most intense one and a half hours I’d ever played. We left the stage stunned, with our ears ringing.
14 August 2004
This week has been absolutely terrible. What we may have been guessing for months now happened … World Serpent went bust and owe us somewhere in the region of £8,000.
Just as our Carter Tutti album Cabal was getting radio play and gigs were coming in, World Serpent collapsed. They’d sold thousands of our CDs and we were to receive nothing. We weren’t the only ones. Coil were owed more than us. We’d talked to Sleazy about our World Serpent worries when we were in Amsterdam for a Kink FM gig. The line-up was Carter Tutti, Coil and Whitehouse. An odd mix, considering the animosity Sleazy and Geff had towards William Bennett. But good to see Coil in action … even if Geff was slumped out of his head at the back of the stage for most of their show.
The way World Serpent handled things was bad, keeping us hanging on and taking more of our stock at a time when they weren’t able to pay us. I’d only spoken to Gibby a few days before he walked out and he gave me no inkling what was about to happen. Alan had left the previous year and now Gibby was gone, leaving only Alison to deal with everyone. She called me to tell me the bad news. She told us she had some of our stock in her garage and we could collect it. We drove there in our car. The garage was at the bottom of her garden and was half falling down with a leaking roof. A lot of other people’s stock had been water-damaged but we were lucky that ours was in a dry part. We loaded up as much as we could and slowly drove home with the car so loaded down that the body was nearly touching the wheels. We talked with Sleazy about suing them but the cost and hassle weren’t worth the aggravation.
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