January 30th, 2009
“Back in the old days I would just be getting home round about now. In fact, Phil Lynott and I would have tanked a bottle of Smirnoff before we even put on our makeup. But having been shown the hooch equivalent of a red card sometime in the eighties - don’t ask when, it’s a blur - it’s been a 6am rise ever since.
The band are rehearsing today. At least I think they’re rehearsing. I don’t really keep that close a watch on them. ‘Exploit from a distance’, that’s what I say. For one thing, it saves walking around with a clothes peg on my nose.
I heard the new material and apparently some of it’s pretty good. This I know for a fact because one of the execs told me so. ‘Never trust your own judgement when others can judge for you,’ that’s what I say.
So I begin the day’s business by glancing at some of the emails I get: the usual collection of losers looking to hang on to my coat tails, now that I can afford coat tails. Every no-talent muso within a thousand mile radius wants me. They’re like moths at a great flame.
Let’s face it: anybody can be in a band. The real talent is in management.”
- George Lyttleton, Band Manager
Categories: 2. George Lyttleton, Band Manager |
Tags: music business | No Comments
January 29th, 2009
The following are the liner notes from the new cd by ESRE:
“I used to play guitar. Seriously. I was the only guy around who could play ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ using just two chords. I bowled them over alright. People said I should ‘desist’, but I was never that keen on protest songs.
When I turned to managing bands in the 1970’s, it was a rich period in pop history. Managers could have their pick of any number of great groups back then. There was 10cc, Roxy Music, Cockney Rebel, Thin Lizzy… if only I’d picked them and not the turkeys I ended up with, I might not be here working with Neil Sommerville now.
But it’s all water under the bridge. Bleeding troubled water. Which brings me to Esre. I think they could be my ‘bridge’. I think I still have a chance at the big time with these kids. And for those of you who read the papers and think you see a pattern emerging in my life - the making of a small fortune followed by tax evasion, bankruptcy, ignominy and a spell at her majesty’s pleasure - let me say this: Esre are only my ticket to the first of these. I can handle the rest myself.
I may not understand their music, but when has that ever bothered managers in the past? I know a good thing when I see one. Like the first time I saw Dire Straits. Unfortunately it was at Wembley stadium so I was too late to sign them.
And it’s not that I don’t like Esre’s sound, even though everybody knows music’s gone downhill since the invention of stereo. I mean, one speaker was good enough for Phil Spector and if it wasn’t broke why fix it? Spector may be a major twonk, but if Gnarls Barclay traded their four cloth ears for just one of his they might come up with a decent tune.
This aside, I think you’ll agree that Esre could do wonders for my bank balance and help to erase some of the terrible things that have been said about me in the press. Who knows, they could even be as big as Simon and Garfunkel.”
- George Lyttleton, Band Manager
Categories: 2. George Lyttleton, Band Manager |
Tags: music business | 1 Comment
January 27th, 2009
Spore lay unconscious on the floor having stumbled in seconds earlier, clutching a slip of paper. I tried to determine whether he was still breathing. I may not like my clients but I don’t want them dead. It’s bad for business.
LaFlamme wrenched the piece of paper from his fingers and read it aloud.
“Jackals dine,” she said mysteriously. We both stared at each other blankly across Spore’s gangly frame.
“Jackals dine? What the hell does that mean?” I asked.
“I might have missed all the other anagrams in this story, but I’m not about to miss this one,” LaFlamme replied confidently.
I had no idea what she meant, but at least the story was back on track.
Categories: 1. Graphic Design Dilemmas |
Tags: anagrams, Fifi LaFlamme | No Comments
January 25th, 2009
“You should have stuck with the Da Vinci Code,” said LaFlamme in her best I-told-you-so voice. “Then it wouldn’t have taken you a month to write this next instalment.”
I had to agree that the book had been the source of some of my finest jests and that having abandoned it during a particularly silly passage, what I was now missing was real comedic inspiration.
I tried watching the movie but despite being equally feeble I realised it was no match for the book’s poor character development and shallow plotting, and again my interest tapered off midway.
“How can such a large book be so insubstantial?” I asked LaFlamme, as if she knew all the answers. Generally she did know all the answers, at least ones that would satisfy a dullard like me. This time was no exception.
“That’s part of the skill. If you can prattle on for ages about cornerstones and priories and make people think it’s important, you’ve cracked it.”
“I suppose so,” I conceded. I always think if I have to endure a 300-page tome it better explain the meaning of life at the very least.
“Let’s try and kick-start this baby,” LaFlamme offered, and sat down to type in her inimitable floor-shaking manner.
‘Suddenly there is a knock at the door,’ she began, ‘and the client Ignacious Spore stumbles in and collapses on the floor, a slip of paper clutched in his outstretched hand.’
“That’s quite good,” I said, although I suspected it was from the Maltese Falcon. At least Dashiell Hammett was worth ripping off.
Categories: 1. Graphic Design Dilemmas |
Tags: Da Vinci Code, Fifi LaFlamme | No Comments
