Sonny Starr, drummer with the Modern Men rang me last night begging for studio time again.
‘Can you hear me OK? I’m in Dubai!’
‘Good for you, Sonny,’ I shouted over a bad line, ‘but I know what you’re like. Besides, I keep telling you, the studio is too small for a big kit like yours.’
‘I got rid of that, Davy. I’ve just bought one of those cool little Fibes kits. Four-piece.’
My ears pricked up. I love those old 70s drum kits. They are quite unusual: they are made of fibreglass and have a lovely fat, heavy punchy sound that reminds me of the Sweet or Slade. They are quite sought after.
‘This Arab swapped it me for some speed.’
‘You smuggled speed into Dubai!?’
‘Nah. Of course not.’
I breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Minty did.’
‘Minty?‘
‘New bass player. Very cool. Bit, though, you know . . . mental.’
‘When you say an Arab swapped the Fibes kit for some speed, Sonny, were you sure no one was watching you? From any parked cars or anything?’
‘Hee hee. Don’t worry, Davy-Boy, it’s only crrrss zzrkkk crkkz.’
‘I can’t hear you, Sonny. Tell me . . . oh, look, it doesn’t matter.’ I carried on shouting into the phone. ‘You definitely are not coming into the studio! Especially with Minty in tow, and especially with a set of drums you acquired using nefarious means from an Arab in Dubai – even if it is an old Fibes kit.’
‘You need some excitement in your life, Davy. Remember what it’s like being in a band?’
‘I’m in a band.’
‘No, you know, I mean . . . a proper band. On tour.’
‘I have enough excitement in my life at the moment, Sonny, thank you very much.’
‘Really? I doubt it. What you gonna do right now after talking to me, for instance?’
‘I’m about to take Audrey for a walk.’
‘Hah! See what I mean? You should be coming with us to this secret booze club near the Australian embassy where they have topless belly dancers.’
‘. . .’
‘You’d love it! Nelson Galaxy would. What you doing after your stupid walk?’
‘I’m going to listen to a little Burt Bacharach and then go to bed.’
‘With your Marks and Spencer’s pyjamas on?’ The line was still bad but I could tell he was laughing on the other end of it. ‘I saw Bacharach on the telly over here the other night,’ he went on, ‘and I’ll tell you this . . .’
‘What’s that, Sonny?’
‘He’s not little.’
‘Very funny. I wish I’d said that.’
‘Don’t worry, Davy, you will. See ya.’
Tagged as:
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