Tuesday, October 04, 2005
NME Heroes - Part Four
Charles Shaar Murray
Charlie Murray - famous music writer, guitarist, band leader, radical, and Ramones fan!
Charlie had curly dark hair, had a permanently curled lip and nearly always wore sun glasses, even at night or on the tube! He was a strange person, very intelligent, with a deep interest in music of many forms, but I guess he'll go to his grave (one day) thinking that he was mis-understood.
Mr Murray was one of, in not the, top writers when I joined NME. He was better than Mick Farren, Nick Kent, Tony Tyler, etc, and he knew it. He had made his name writing for OZ! Magazine, a sort of 1970 kid's fanzine, that became embroiled in an obscenity court case due to the swearing and naked women pictures it contained. "Corrupting our children's youth" cried the barrister; "written by the kids themselves" was the retort!
Charlie joined NME in 1973, and stayed for 13 years. He often seemed to look down his nose at the younger, newer, writers and somehow I think he wished he was just 19 all over again.
He spoke very well, and would regularly read passages from articles in the papers out loud on the train for everyone to hear. He didn't care if you weren't interested; he'd carry on regardless, talking over anyone else who may be speaking or who tried to interrupt.
Charlie wasn't one of those who liked getting up early every Tuesday morning for the printers day out. He did it though because he liked the company I think. Maybe he was inherently lonely? Charlie would come along to the pub at lunchtime too, but I don't think the Kettering locals liked his leather jacket, afro hair, and rock 'n' roll look.
Eventually, one day, CSM had had enough of the printers; he turned up at St Pancras station with his Walkman on, playing full volume, he spoke to no-one unusually. He sat on the train with the same music blaring out; he read and corrected his pages at the printer with the music loud as anything - the same album, time after time. It was tough to concentrate; not all of us liked The Ramones that much! Eventually, after about five hours of this, Phil McNeill confronted him, saying something like if he didn't want to be there to F-off back to London and let everyone else get on with their jobs.
This worked, just as Charlie wanted. He packed his bags, jumped in a cab, and never had to do the Kettering printers run again. Job sorted!
Charlie was also a reasonable musician. He had a band - Blast Furnace and the Heatwaves - who played blues and R'n'B covers along with some original material. They - Blast himself on guitar and vocals, D. Based on bass, Blitz Krieg (Andy) on rhythm and slide guitar, Skid Marx on harmonica, and Bee Bop or Tim Pani on drums - were good fun to watch live, I saw them play many times, but would never make it big.
One time they were supporting Eddie and the Hot Rods at The Marquee in Wardour Street; I had been asked to roadie/help out along with colleague Frank. The gear was set up and sound check done by the time we arrived. So I watched the set, then stood at the side of the stage behind the speakers where the gear (drums, amps etc) were to be stored during the Hot Rods set: The Marquee was too small to get support groups stuff out before the main band came on. I helped store it as it was lifted down off stage to me. We departed for the pub until it was time to go back and pack up the gear, but when arriving back inside a still heaving Marquee (the Hot Rods were still on stage), some guy told me that our gear was being flung around and generally dumped on by the crowd. Luckily this was not true...
Another time, Blast and the band got a support slot at The Lyceum on an Easter Monday, and Frank and I were asked to help out again. The headline act was The Boomtown Rats, who were just starting to regularly have hit singles. I met Frank about 5pm and we really struggled to get inside due to the security guys. Eventually, we made it, and the sound check was going on, the Rats had done their check already, then we retreated to the pub. We went back to The Lyceum, and the band went up to the upstairs dressing room to get ready. When it was time to go on, Andy, the rhythm guitarist asked me to carry his spare guitar on stage, and generally look after things his side, the far side. Harvey Goldsmith was the promoter, and he introduced the band (as "here's a rock journalist's band"), and on we went; I had to go first (FIRST!) as I was heading for the far side of the stage. It was a stultifying experience! Walking out on stage with over 2000 punks watching you (my hair was fairly long then...) screaming abuse. I was petrified I'd fall over something. Luckily I didn't. I made it across and stacked Andy's guitar. They played a great set and off they went back to the dressing room upstairs. Frank and myself, plus other roadies, quickly set about dismantling the Heatwaves equipment and stored it behind the main stage, out of the way.
I'd finished my bit and headed upstairs into the dressing room where the band were talking to the Rats singer. Frank then entered, in his normal loud manner. Although he was Irish by decent, he had a very English accent. He could "do" Irish though, and this time he strode into the small room talking loudly in a broad Irish brogue about how he was effing knackered or something. He stopped talking when Bob Geldof turned and faced him, with those big staring eyes we've now come to know so well. One look from the big Irishman was enough for Frank to apologise!
Blast and the band ended up in court once more - a pattern emerging for Mr Murray here? - when the soul band Heatwave took a dislike to Blast using Heatwaves in his bands name. Charlie lost that one too, and Blast Furnace and The Legal Matter existed for a couple of years, until they finally disappeared.
Charlie still writes, and very well, and has published a few books in the last ten years or so, as well as writing for The Observer.
Danny Kelly
Dan was always one of the nice guys, and I am really pleased that he has made his fortune.
We didn't have huge amounts to do with each other during our times at NME, but had a healthy respect. Dan was a Spurs fan, and appreciated the troubles that Charlton went through in the late 80's. He was good fun to talk to, and always had an opinion about football, good or bad.
Dan eventually made it to Deputy Editor and then, when Alan Lewis was moved on to other things, was made Editor. The last time I had any contact with him was when I moved house back in the early 90's, a couple of years after I'd left NME.I had stored and kept copies of the paper each week during the late 70's and early 80's (I'd take one home to read on the train), and knew that someone (a punk music researcher probably) had torn large parts out of the printed and bound volumes of these years/issues that NME kept - the only archival record there was in fact. It was a fairly important time music wise, so these issues were very important, and referred back to regularly. I contacted Fiona Foulger, who asked Dan if they were wanted or required. Of course they were! (I sometimes wonder what I could have sold them for on eBay or similar if I still had them...) Dan duly arranged for a van to come around to my parent's house to pick them up. I hope that they came in useful.
In the mid-nineties, Dan moved on and started his own football website. I forget how much he sold it for, but the 365 websites - football, cricket, rugby, etc - were very popular at the time, and we are talking £millions here...
He then got into radio, and has had an on-off working partnership with Danny Baker for many years. So Dan is wealthy, successful, and probably very happy. It's just a shame he supports Spurs!
Nick Logan
Nick was editor when I joined NME in 1977, and he was quite a nice guy. We didn't socialise too much, and I was always a little scared when I had to deal with him over work matters due to him being the big boss!He went on to have a very successful career, and made lots of money, by launching Smash Hits, and then The Face, which he co-founded.
Neil Spencer
Neil took over as Editor from Nick Logan when he moved on, in the late seventies, previously having been Deputy Editor. Neil would add "Man..." to the end of very sentence, and did seem to have once upon a time been a bit of an old hippy. I'm sure if he could have, he would have grown his diminishing hair very long.
Neil was into reggae big time, and the smoking arrangements that seemed to accompany this type of music. Many a time was a there a smoky haze eminating from the Editor's office in Carnaby Street during late afternoon!
It was a standing joke to buzz up from the ground floor pretending to be the police and say into the microphone - "West End Central...let us in please love!" Luckily, the police weren't required much and it didn't happen for real too often, but when it did the toilets used to get busy very quickly!One time they were required though, was when some idiot came in saying he had a delivery and thought it a good idea to fire a gun (OK, it only contained blanks...) on entering the reception area. The girls were absolutely petrified understandably! I don't remember what band this guy was trying to promote, but suffice to say that Neil didn't give them many column inches after that episode!
Neil used to come along to the printers each week, and join us in the pub run when he wasn't too busy. He was good to talk to, a father figure in some respects when I first joined the gang, though I didn't trust him that much.
He was a lucky editor in that he was in the right place at the right time; he could have taken NME to new heights but for some reason, possibly the backing he got from IPC, or maybe due to bullying from the writers themselves, things never quite moved forwards as expected.
I guess Neil still writes for whomever will give him a pay cheque, but I haven't seen or found much from him recently, man.
Charlie Murray - famous music writer, guitarist, band leader, radical, and Ramones fan!
Charlie had curly dark hair, had a permanently curled lip and nearly always wore sun glasses, even at night or on the tube! He was a strange person, very intelligent, with a deep interest in music of many forms, but I guess he'll go to his grave (one day) thinking that he was mis-understood.Mr Murray was one of, in not the, top writers when I joined NME. He was better than Mick Farren, Nick Kent, Tony Tyler, etc, and he knew it. He had made his name writing for OZ! Magazine, a sort of 1970 kid's fanzine, that became embroiled in an obscenity court case due to the swearing and naked women pictures it contained. "Corrupting our children's youth" cried the barrister; "written by the kids themselves" was the retort!
Charlie joined NME in 1973, and stayed for 13 years. He often seemed to look down his nose at the younger, newer, writers and somehow I think he wished he was just 19 all over again.
He spoke very well, and would regularly read passages from articles in the papers out loud on the train for everyone to hear. He didn't care if you weren't interested; he'd carry on regardless, talking over anyone else who may be speaking or who tried to interrupt.
Charlie wasn't one of those who liked getting up early every Tuesday morning for the printers day out. He did it though because he liked the company I think. Maybe he was inherently lonely? Charlie would come along to the pub at lunchtime too, but I don't think the Kettering locals liked his leather jacket, afro hair, and rock 'n' roll look.
Eventually, one day, CSM had had enough of the printers; he turned up at St Pancras station with his Walkman on, playing full volume, he spoke to no-one unusually. He sat on the train with the same music blaring out; he read and corrected his pages at the printer with the music loud as anything - the same album, time after time. It was tough to concentrate; not all of us liked The Ramones that much! Eventually, after about five hours of this, Phil McNeill confronted him, saying something like if he didn't want to be there to F-off back to London and let everyone else get on with their jobs.
This worked, just as Charlie wanted. He packed his bags, jumped in a cab, and never had to do the Kettering printers run again. Job sorted!Charlie was also a reasonable musician. He had a band - Blast Furnace and the Heatwaves - who played blues and R'n'B covers along with some original material. They - Blast himself on guitar and vocals, D. Based on bass, Blitz Krieg (Andy) on rhythm and slide guitar, Skid Marx on harmonica, and Bee Bop or Tim Pani on drums - were good fun to watch live, I saw them play many times, but would never make it big.
One time they were supporting Eddie and the Hot Rods at The Marquee in Wardour Street; I had been asked to roadie/help out along with colleague Frank. The gear was set up and sound check done by the time we arrived. So I watched the set, then stood at the side of the stage behind the speakers where the gear (drums, amps etc) were to be stored during the Hot Rods set: The Marquee was too small to get support groups stuff out before the main band came on. I helped store it as it was lifted down off stage to me. We departed for the pub until it was time to go back and pack up the gear, but when arriving back inside a still heaving Marquee (the Hot Rods were still on stage), some guy told me that our gear was being flung around and generally dumped on by the crowd. Luckily this was not true...
Another time, Blast and the band got a support slot at The Lyceum on an Easter Monday, and Frank and I were asked to help out again. The headline act was The Boomtown Rats, who were just starting to regularly have hit singles. I met Frank about 5pm and we really struggled to get inside due to the security guys. Eventually, we made it, and the sound check was going on, the Rats had done their check already, then we retreated to the pub. We went back to The Lyceum, and the band went up to the upstairs dressing room to get ready. When it was time to go on, Andy, the rhythm guitarist asked me to carry his spare guitar on stage, and generally look after things his side, the far side. Harvey Goldsmith was the promoter, and he introduced the band (as "here's a rock journalist's band"), and on we went; I had to go first (FIRST!) as I was heading for the far side of the stage. It was a stultifying experience! Walking out on stage with over 2000 punks watching you (my hair was fairly long then...) screaming abuse. I was petrified I'd fall over something. Luckily I didn't. I made it across and stacked Andy's guitar. They played a great set and off they went back to the dressing room upstairs. Frank and myself, plus other roadies, quickly set about dismantling the Heatwaves equipment and stored it behind the main stage, out of the way.
I'd finished my bit and headed upstairs into the dressing room where the band were talking to the Rats singer. Frank then entered, in his normal loud manner. Although he was Irish by decent, he had a very English accent. He could "do" Irish though, and this time he strode into the small room talking loudly in a broad Irish brogue about how he was effing knackered or something. He stopped talking when Bob Geldof turned and faced him, with those big staring eyes we've now come to know so well. One look from the big Irishman was enough for Frank to apologise!
Blast and the band ended up in court once more - a pattern emerging for Mr Murray here? - when the soul band Heatwave took a dislike to Blast using Heatwaves in his bands name. Charlie lost that one too, and Blast Furnace and The Legal Matter existed for a couple of years, until they finally disappeared.
Charlie still writes, and very well, and has published a few books in the last ten years or so, as well as writing for The Observer.
Danny Kelly
Dan was always one of the nice guys, and I am really pleased that he has made his fortune.We didn't have huge amounts to do with each other during our times at NME, but had a healthy respect. Dan was a Spurs fan, and appreciated the troubles that Charlton went through in the late 80's. He was good fun to talk to, and always had an opinion about football, good or bad.
Dan eventually made it to Deputy Editor and then, when Alan Lewis was moved on to other things, was made Editor. The last time I had any contact with him was when I moved house back in the early 90's, a couple of years after I'd left NME.
I had stored and kept copies of the paper each week during the late 70's and early 80's (I'd take one home to read on the train), and knew that someone (a punk music researcher probably) had torn large parts out of the printed and bound volumes of these years/issues that NME kept - the only archival record there was in fact. It was a fairly important time music wise, so these issues were very important, and referred back to regularly. I contacted Fiona Foulger, who asked Dan if they were wanted or required. Of course they were! (I sometimes wonder what I could have sold them for on eBay or similar if I still had them...) Dan duly arranged for a van to come around to my parent's house to pick them up. I hope that they came in useful.In the mid-nineties, Dan moved on and started his own football website. I forget how much he sold it for, but the 365 websites - football, cricket, rugby, etc - were very popular at the time, and we are talking £millions here...
He then got into radio, and has had an on-off working partnership with Danny Baker for many years. So Dan is wealthy, successful, and probably very happy. It's just a shame he supports Spurs!
Nick Logan
Nick was editor when I joined NME in 1977, and he was quite a nice guy. We didn't socialise too much, and I was always a little scared when I had to deal with him over work matters due to him being the big boss!
He went on to have a very successful career, and made lots of money, by launching Smash Hits, and then The Face, which he co-founded. Neil Spencer
Neil took over as Editor from Nick Logan when he moved on, in the late seventies, previously having been Deputy Editor. Neil would add "Man..." to the end of very sentence, and did seem to have once upon a time been a bit of an old hippy. I'm sure if he could have, he would have grown his diminishing hair very long.
Neil was into reggae big time, and the smoking arrangements that seemed to accompany this type of music. Many a time was a there a smoky haze eminating from the Editor's office in Carnaby Street during late afternoon!
It was a standing joke to buzz up from the ground floor pretending to be the police and say into the microphone - "West End Central...let us in please love!" Luckily, the police weren't required much and it didn't happen for real too often, but when it did the toilets used to get busy very quickly!
One time they were required though, was when some idiot came in saying he had a delivery and thought it a good idea to fire a gun (OK, it only contained blanks...) on entering the reception area. The girls were absolutely petrified understandably! I don't remember what band this guy was trying to promote, but suffice to say that Neil didn't give them many column inches after that episode!Neil used to come along to the printers each week, and join us in the pub run when he wasn't too busy. He was good to talk to, a father figure in some respects when I first joined the gang, though I didn't trust him that much.
He was a lucky editor in that he was in the right place at the right time; he could have taken NME to new heights but for some reason, possibly the backing he got from IPC, or maybe due to bullying from the writers themselves, things never quite moved forwards as expected.
I guess Neil still writes for whomever will give him a pay cheque, but I haven't seen or found much from him recently, man.
