Late Summer Breeze

No getting around it.  It’s been a wet, wet, wet summer.  So for one of our final ride-outs of the summer we hoped for the best but expected the worst. 

Hope came through for us today.  The sun shone and it was a beautiful thing.  It came with proper heat and everything. If you owned two wheels and a two stroke engine today was your day. Everyone wanted in. Chaps from The Foresters and the Enfield Rifles joined forces with the New Originals and we were proper mob handed.

We saddled up in Chingford and headed east.

East through Woodford, Chigwell and beyond. The late summer breeze clearing our souls and bringing a smile to our faces.  The guys in their shorts and t-shirts have never had it so good.

Moments like these are why we ride.  There’s a peace out there on the roads. The shrill of the scooters.  The awed looked from those on the pavements. The cars that honk their horns in appreciation. The camaraderie of fellow riders. 

We rock up at some pub. A cheeky pint?  It’d be rude not to.  And why don’t you throw in a Sunday lunch while your at it.  A catch up with Brad,  Martin, Ian, Danny and the chaps.  It feels good.  It feels even better when young Zelic – all of 6 months! – puts in a show.  His old man Greg is getting him started young.

We were young once.  But time moves on. We’re older now. Kids, mortgages and all that.  But you know what? We can’t kick the habit.  Northern Soul, Ska, Rock Steady, Trojan reggae, plush cotton shirts, paisley scarves, designer denim, hush puppies, old school Adidas trainers and Vespa and Lambrettas.  It’s who we are. We were born this way.

Chesney Hawkes…Let’s talk.

Ok, I’ll get this out of the way from the get go.  Chesney Hawkes is my best friend.

There I said it.  Now let’s move on. 

Twenty one years ago I met him on the set of the film, Buddy’s Song.  A film so awful it never made it on to DVD. I played his best friend Julius. They dubbed my voice with an American accent in the hope that it would make the film more acceptable to American audiences.  Wow, there was some wishful thinking.  

Anyway, 21 years later Ches and I are still as thick as thieves.

Best men at each other’s weddings.  Godfather to each other’s daughters. Still in love with The White Album and all things The Beatles and Prince.

Anyway, enough of the bromance.  Here’s the thing.  I’ve never interviewed him, which is kinda weird, what with me being a journalist and all.  I figured never mix work and friendship but I’m stumped for a blog this month.  And as he’s working on his new album and could use/deserves a bit of publicity, I figured while killing time on a flight from New Orleans that I should do a quick fire interview with him.

Anyway, enough of my ramblings.  Here’s the interview. Enjoy.

PMcK: Your full name.

CH: Chesney Lee Hawkes

PMcK: Important things first. What football team do you support?

CH: You know very well, I am 'West Ham scum' (that's me quoting you)

PMcK: What was the first single you bought?

CH: Superstition (Stevie Wonder) followed by Ghostbusters...!

PMcK:  What was the best, and the worst moment of ‘The One and Only’ fame game.

CH: Best - The whole crazy ride. Worst - being dropped by my record label. It felt like I had lost everything. I never really told you that before, I guess I was trying to hide my depression about it at the time. Thank the Lord you were there to pick up the pieces.

PMcK: You made the front page of The Sun for cheating on your then girlfriend/co-star Lisa Walker for the daughter of hoofer Lionel Blair, Lucy Blair.  Regrets, you must have a few?

CH: I’m not normally one for regrets because I know that whatever we experience and have to endure in this life will make us what we are today and bring us to the truth, but that is something I do regret, even now. She didn't deserve that.

PMcK: What did you learn from all that heartthrob stuff and what advice would you give to One Direction?

CH: Well, at least they have each other. I always wanted to have success in a band situation. This is a difficult question, as I'm not sure One Direction really need or would want my advice, but I would tell them to take a step back and soak up the unique experience and don't believe your own hype. Stay close to your integrity and remember you are first and foremost a son, a brother, a friend and a human being, just like the rest of us. It's only entertainment after all!

PMcK: If you had to put a number on it, how many times would you say you have sung ‘The One and Only’.

CH: At least one too many

PMcK: (ahem, my biased question) A lot of people don’t know this. But you can play the guitar really well and you have a great voice.  Does it frustrate you that people judge you on all that ‘pop star’ stuff and won’t give you and your music a fair listen?

CH: It frustrates me that I can't just do my thing without preconceptions getting in the way. George Michael said it best, ‘Why not just listen without prejudice?’ I feel I have learned through this happening to me.  Consequently I’m not quick to judge anyone else.

PMcK: Talking about your music.  Quickly talk me through the new album.

CH: The album is called 'Real Life Love', a collection of songs very close to my heart spanning from one I wrote with my old mate Nik Kershaw back in ‘92 to songs written this year. I recorded the bare bones with my Nordic brothers in Oslo and have slowly been gathering generous and wonderful cameos on my travels from family and friends including my old man, Chip, my sister Keely and Curt Smith from Tears for Fears. I know all us artists say this, but I really think this is the best work I've ever done. I am truly proud of it.

PMcK: You love The Beatles and Prince, which I totally get.  But explain why you really like shit like Crowded House and Elvis Costello?

CH: Where would we be without diversity huh? (Not the dance act). Ok, Elvis is one of the greatest lyricists of our time, no question. We can argue that till the cows come home and probably will. I still don't really get Weller, sorry. I appreciate some of his work. That's Entertainment is genius, but he is a little hit and miss in my mind. Crowded House is a genre that you have never really embraced, Lord knows I've tried! At least I hit a home run with Van Morrison, James Taylor and World Party. You're welcome.

PMcK:  And finally, this one is personal.  We’ve had some incredible highs over the past 21 years and thankfully, very few lows.  Thinking back, what Macca/Ches moments bring a smile to your face.

CH: Holding hands at The Tunnel in NY (a gay House club in NY, it’s not what you think folks). Bass Clef hazes with Norman Jay MBE, Brits invasion in Indiana, Stag nights - Blackpool, Brighton, Prague (‘word up Homeboy!’) All our road trips over the years...Have I told you lately?

PMcK:  Chesney Hawkes, it’s been the very best of times.  

 CH: I second that emotion...Crazy, crazy, crazy love....

For more details on Chesney Hawkes’ new album head to here:

http://www.pledgemusic.com/projects/chesneyhawkesreallifelove

Finally, Paul is reading ‘56’ a compelling story about Joe DiMaggio and baseball.  Paul is listening to Robin Thicke’s super soulful album, Love After War.

--

Northern Soul...the film

Elaine Constantine Is Ready For Her Close-Up

This Is One Personal

The famed photographer and award winning pop video director Elaine Constantine is about to embark on her debut feature film, titled ‘Northern Soul ’ The semi-autobiographical film pays homage to her Bury home-town, her love of Northern Soul music and dancing the night away at clubs like the Wigan Casino and The Twisted Wheel.

The Prime Minister has recently said that he wants to see ‘more commercial’, i.e. mainstream films being produced, but Elaine isn’t interested on the thoughts of Chairman Cameron. This one is personal. Elaine along with her lead producer Debbie Gray are working the phones, pressing palms and using innovative fundraising methods to ensure that they can make the kind of film that they want to make and one that shows this unheralded British youth culture in a positive light.  If the masses ‘get it’ great, but it’s not a deal breaker.  Elaine Constantine just wants to make a great film with a great soundtrack.

To date, the bar has been set low in regards to films based on the Northern Soul scene.  The 2010 effort Soul Boy, jointly directed by Hawa Essuman, Shimmy Marcus was a poor effort.  While Dean Chalkley’s black and white short was an odd little affair.  Elaine isn’t worried by the past failures of others to get the scene ‘right’.  She wants to make a film that is somewhere along the path of ‘The Commitments meets Saturday Night Fever’.  That said, it won’t be all dancing and sunny smiles. The film will have its dark moments.  British youth culture is like that. But it looks like we won’t get the miserable melancholy of Shane Meadows, simply because Elaine’s North ‘wasn’t quite that bad’.  Back then, they had a laugh, they got their dancing shoes on come the weekend and danced their teenage feet off until sunrise.  Copping off with guys, having a drink and a giggle and dancing to sweet soul music all night long. As they were fond of saying in that part of the world, ‘ain’t nowt wrong with that’.

Let’s Dance

So there they are at the famed 100 Club Oxford St, London.  Elaine and her merry band of dancers, having their monthly dance class sessions.  They’ve been at it since 2009, when Elaine finally completed the first draft of her script and set in motion the uphill task of finding a cast and crew.  She placed adverts on-line and in trade newspapers and dancers came from as far a field as Wolverhampton, Bolton and the Lake District.  They know it’s an indie film, i.e. they know they know they are going to get paid in pennies, but the deal was this: show up, learn the moves, commit to the project and you’ll have a part [big or small] in the film.  Once a month they turn up for their three-hour dance class, and in return they are given bus/train fare, sandwiches and water.  And they’re cool with it, because the music, the project and Elaine has got a hold of them.  Sure, the vast majority of them want to be on film, and they want to get paid properly and they want to be famous.  But having spent an afternoon with them at the 100 Club it’s clear there’s something else afoot.  Elaine’s idea, Elaine’s passion, Elaine’s Northern charm has created a world that they want in on. She’s opened up their ears to some of the best music they’ll ever hear, and as wanky as this sounds, she’s opened up their hearts.  Her every move, implores the young dancers to ‘Trust me.  Trust this project. We’ll get there in the end.  And when we do, it’s going be great’. And the assembled crew, don’t doubt her for a second.

Lights. Camera. Action.

And it’s not only the dancers who trust Elaine. The crew, the producers, the veterans on the Northern Soul scene are also trusting the 46-year old blonde from Bury to come good on this project. A girl who at 16 summers old hopped on a train to London, ran into some photographer chap named Nick Knight, became his assistant and never looked back.  Now, after three decade of globetrotting, shooting adverts for major brands like Nike, Coca-Cola and Gap, Elaine is heading home. She’s had a baby boy and gone and got married. Now, it’s time for her moment in the sun. It’s showtime time folks.  Pre-production begins in earnest late March and then it’s game on. Lights.  Camera. Action. Elaine Constantine is now ready for her close up.

This blog piece is a prelude to a broadsheet newspaper feature I’m writing about Elaine and her Northern Soul film.  For more information on the film, head over to: http://www.northernsoulthefilm.com/

Finally, Paul is listening to Paul Weller's new effort Sonik Kicks. And Paul is about to start reading Raymond Carver's BEGINNERS.

Woah, what happened there!

I’ve left my blog alone for too long now.  I’m meant to be a journalist and I’m meant to enjoy this writing thing.  Well I am and I do.  But I got distracted. Took my eye off the ball and let things drift. Sorry. Won’t happen again.  Updates at least once a fortnight. More when the scooter season kicks off. More on my return from New Orleans.

What matters to me right now is getting this year started right.  Thirteen days in.  It’s been madness. On New Year’s Day my best mate broke his ankle, thus missing out on a reality show and all the riches that a gig like that brings!  The leg thing is a pisser because I saw him in rehearsals and he was really working hard, ice skating like a man possessed and, whisper it, getting really good.  Which is why it broke my heart to see him in plaster and in the pages of the national press, wearing a wry smile and a plastic boot. He deserved better.

And so did I.  I wrote a feature for the Independent on racism in the UK.  You know, what with it being a hot button topic and all.  When it ran, mayhem ensued.  The Indy had to close down it’s message board as it quickly disintegrated into a free for all, white van man meets black cab man meets highbrow man meets Nick Griffin lunatic.  I was like, whoa, what happened there?  It’s an article, people.  Read it. Think about it.  And discuss it like adults. The threatening emails and calls were a bit too much – especially when my team was on the telly.  Still I gained a few new nice twitter followers [Macca394, that’s me folks] and as one sane friend said, it got them talking and thinking.

Talking of watching football, I’m watching loads of it lately. And I’m loving every second of it.  Why?  Because Spurs are bloody brilliant.  After years and years of watching (and loving) them when they were shit, (I can say that, Arsenal fans can’t) it’s blowing me away (and all my fellow Spurs’ fans) now that we’re now bloody brilliant.  Can we win the Premier League? Yes we can.  Will we win it?  I’m not even gonna go there.

I’m gonna go to the gym. I’m gonna go on my MacBook pro and write.  I’m gonna play some FIFA12.  I’m gonna play The White Album.  And I’m gonna have a sauna and read a copy of Rolling Stone.  That’s how I’m living today.

Finally…

Paul is watching his Christmas box-set of Treme.  Won’t bow, don’t know how.

Paul is watching way too many films at the moment.  Drive, over-rated.  Red State, disturbing. Rise of the Footsoldiers, surprisingly good.

Oh and if you want to read the Independent racism article, here’s the link:

http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-families/features/whats-the-most-racist-thing-thats-ever-happened-to-you-6284119.html?origin=internalSearch

Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads? circa 2011

When you’ve stood in the middle of a soccer riot,

When you’ve stood, in a middle of a field rushing your head off,

Dancing, watching the sun come up

It’s all a buzz

-        ‘Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads?’ the late, great Gavin Hills, The Face 1991

Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads? circa 2011

I bumped into some likely lads on Friday night.  Top night. The fuckers, still can’t kick the habit.  Dancing Nikes at the ready, a mouthful of chat up lines, cold beers, sharp threads, eyes on the move, giving the gaff the once over.  Scanning for faces, old and new.  So, who’s on the manor?  Mob load of Tottenham, as always.  A few West Ham, the odd Chelsea and some Gooners sneaking about.  It’s a few weeks to the new season, but already plans are afoot.

Tonight, we put football on hold.  There's some serious dancing to be done.  Norman Jay MBE is on the decks and there’s nothing but good times ahead. 

He’s off. And boy, it feels good.  Rare groove sounds so pure, so true, close your eyes for a second and you’ll swear you were back at the Bass Clef.  The likely lads assume their position.  Strike a pose around the decks and over by the speakers.  Nothing changes.

We were young once.  Wild and carefree, tearing up the terraces and dancefloors across the country.   Casuals, mods, house heads, soul boys.  If the designer shoe fit, we wore it.

Now, as I clock all the old faces, I can’t help but smile.  We’ve made into a fourth decade with all our faculties in tact.  No one gave us a chance. Black working class kids from Hackney, Tottenham and Shepherds Bush.  ‘They’ll all be doing bird by the time they hit 30’ whispered the naysayers. What do they know? Not even close.

Too smart, too strong.  We married good women and had ourselves some great kids.  Heck, some of us even got decent jobs. Put simply, we knew we had too much to lose.

We couldn’t let our folks down. Not after all they went through.

We always had an uncanny habit of knowing the score.  

When to calm it down and move on.

How proud am I of this mob?  More than you’ll ever know.  The man on the decks is a fucking MBE!  I never saw that coming when we were getting down to his tunes 20 years ago.  You see, the kiddie stand next to him with the wild ‘fro, that his son. The fella standing next to him has just become a father for the first time.  The big one over there, he’s an actor who tells the best stories you'll ever hear.  The one in the tight t-shirt is showcasing his new frame, he’s been down the gym working out and wants the world to know it.  The guy in the glasses has recently lost his dad and seen his beautiful daughter turn 21.  Life’s bittersweet don’t cha know.

And me?  The throat is sore and I should be in bed as I have a scooter run in the morning.  But I can’t kick the habit.  The buzz is still there. The tunes, the beers, the company.  ‘Whatever happened to the likely lads?’, I hear you ask.  It’s all good.  Older, wiser, still styling, still dancing. 

Paul has been listening to the Good Times 30^th Anniversary album.  N Jay compiles some classic grooves for our listening pleasure.

Paul has been reading The Paris Wife by Paula McLain.  Stunning, beautiful and moving. It rocked my gypsy soul.

The Little Girl Who Waved

The Little Girl Who Waved

On a sun-kissed Sunday morning I took to the road.  It’s my third scooter run and you know what, I’m kinda liking it.

I’m like the way Jules and Dixie greet me like a friend, even though I’ve only met them once.

I like the way the New Originals Scooter Club roll into the car park and shake my hand. 

I like looking at the various scooters.  All chrome and fancy paint jobs.

I like the fact I’m up and out of the house on a Sunday morning.

I like the way 70 like-minded souls, dress up, scooter up and hit the road all in the name of Modernism and Charity.

The Mods from the Foresters Scooter Club have organised today’s run.  They’re raising money for the Bethnal Green Disaster fund. 173 souls lost their lives back in 1943. The fund will pay for a memorial for those that died.  Gone but not forgotten. 

So we’re doing our bit.  Well the Foresters are. And fair play to them.  £414 raised, a few nice speeches, a cheeky half and some decent sounds. What a way to spend a Sunday morning.  But it gets better.

En route, the sweetest thing happened.  We were five minutes into our journey, driving through Epping Forest and I caught the eye of this family that stopped to watch us ride past.  You always get an audience, people stopping and smiling, taking pictures.  But this little girl, cute as buttons, started waving. Holding her mum’s hand, smaller sibling in a pram.  She wouldn’t stop waving until we’d all passed by.  I couldn’t stop smiling.  She saw a slice of England youth culture and liked it.  Guys and girls who continue to fly the flag. Making a delivery of £414 to a group of pensioners who want to put a plaque on the wall of a tube station.

Some things you can’t explain.  Some things just feel right.  Some things just warm your soul.  The little girl who waved did just that.  She made me feel good about getting up and out, and joining the scooter scene. 

I’m heading to the Isle of Wight with a spring in step and a smile in heart. Onwards and upwards we go.

Finally…

Paul liked, nay, loved the film Fire In Babylon. West Indies cricket, the glory days relived. A beautiful thing.

Paul liked the fact West Ham got relegated.

Early Morning Rain Pt 2 – Kick Start Scooter Rally review March 13 2010

In the early morning rain

With a dollar in my hand

And an aching in my heart

And my pockets full of sand

When I was a teenager I was a Rude Boy. Two tone suit, pork pie hat and wrap-round shades. Two years later I ditched the look and became a Mod.  Sharper threads, better sounds and chrome scooters.  A few years later, I moved on.  Football got the better of me and the casual look was where it was at.

I may have swapped lanes, trading parkas for Fila tracksuit tops, but some things never change.  I never lost my love for Weller and I never lost my love for scooters.  The years may have passed but that smell of teen spirit has never left me.  We move on.

Standing under the gaze of the London Eye in the early morning rain, I cast my mind make to those teenage years.  The scene before me has got me thinking. Nobody does youth tribes better than the British.   It seeps into our soul at early age and stays with us forever. That’s why 300 plus like-minded souls stand under grey skies, next to treasured scooters.  They’ve come from far and wide.  Portsmouth.  Leeds. Reading.  Whisper it, but a fair few of them appear to edging towards 50.  Some might say they should know better. But they can’t kick the habit. British youth culture will do that to you.

And so we leave.  Cameras flash, tourists are awed.  We’re quite a sight, “Those Brits, fuck they’re cool,” is written all over their faces.  I’d give a dashing smile and a royal wave, but it’s wet and the rain is getting heavier and I’m on my first scooter run and I don’t know the route…so better concentrate!

I easily keep up with the pack, the traditionalist might sneer at my scooter, but new school scooter means new school engine. 

Over the Embankment, the lights dance between red and green.  The pack thins out.  We head East, which is fine, it’s my manor.  But here, I should have slunk off.  I’m wet, I’m miserable and my £200 desert boots are getting ruined.  Still, I go on.  Down the A12 and over to Wansted, nearly messing up big time and ending up on the M11…don’t ask.

At some point, sanity kicks in.  I can’t make it to Epping.  300 have dwindled to 12.  The traffic lights and rain mean that groups have splintered off into smaller and smaller packs. 

I’ve lost Gary (ages ago).

I’m soaking wet.

I’m hungry (note to self…eat brekkie before you head out).

I conclude it’s an ok debut.  Of course, there’s a nagging doubt.  If I can’t do Epping which is only a few miles from home, how the heck am I’m going to do the IoW.  It’s a worry for another day.  I have a full summer ahead of me to gain more ride out experience and to research the scene. Right now it’s time to head home…

…With a dollar in my hand

And an aching in my heart

And my pockets full of sand

Finally…

Paul watched Spurs draw with West Ham and was truly gutted.  If we want Champions’ League footie again, we’ve got to beat West Ham, Wolves and Blackpool (we drew with two, lost to one and all three teams are shit).

Paul read the Guardian cover story on Ed Milliband and is still not convinced.

Paul was wowed by the greatness of Aretha Franklin on the way to gym.