Once, after a meeting with our A+R man – the infamous punk rocker Gene October – we were whisked off to a busy London hostelry with drinking funds provided by our record company IRS Records. As I recall, I did not drink too much during that charming afternoon in Soho and neither did my fellow band members. It was a completely different state of affairs for our boozy A+R man though.
October got so drunk that he could hardly stand up. He had a gig later that evening with his band Chelsea and we felt slightly responsible for his inopportune condition. We were forced to escort him to the sound-check at 4pm, but we quickly made our excuses to his fellow musicians and beat a hasty retreat.
We refreshed ourselves at Nelson’s flat in Stepney and returned to the venue later that night to witness a show that was a spectacular disaster. October, who had evidently carried on drinking, was falling all over the small stage. He was constantly causing Marshall amplifier stacks to go crashing to the floor and was collapsing with expert precision all over the drum-kit, sending pieces of it flying towards the bemused audience. When he could manage to hold the microphone, the band launched into their hit Right to Work, but Gene replaced the lyric in the famous chorus with ‘F***ing c***s, f****ing c***s.’
The shocked onlookers were also treated to an impromptu cover version of the old rock’n’roll number Little Queenie during which the controversial frontman frightened Dave Graham (Slaughterhouse 5’s genius bass player) to death by clumsily trying to invade his rear end in a drunken public display of homosexual affection.
When the ‘gig’ was over, a young reporter from the NME tried to interview the singer and took the opportunity of asking him a few questions when he found himself standing next to October in the gent’s toilet. Unwilling or unable to provide any comprehensible verbal answers, Gene decided to urinate all over the poor man. For the reporter, it was an absurd embarrassment, but for Gene October it was all in a day’s work – and I must say, in my opinion, his comments were delivered with a sort of admirable simplicity.
About half an hour later, I rescued Tom, Slaughterhouse 5’s young and good looking guitar technician, from October’s evil clutches. He had promised our Tom a ‘party’ back at his place with beer and fat joints. I chased them down the street. ‘Leave him alone, Gene,’ I demanded.
‘No! He’sh coming wiv’ me,’ he shouted, his arm held tightly around the naïve boy’s waist.
‘He’s not,’ I said and pushed Tom into our van.
‘Look,’ October leaned on me and hissed into my face, covering me in punky spittle, ‘It’s not easy being me, you know.’
Is I look back now, I must say that I am slightly puzzled by the respect and admiration we had for the man – and still have to some extent – because to say that he could be difficult at times would be something of an understatement.
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