Kenisia: The band that will never be famous by alan cains

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

Kenisia: The Band that Will Never be Famous Written by Alan Cains Edited by Scott Caines

Published March 2011

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One:

Allow Me to Introduce Myself…

Chapter Two:

Introducing the Band…

Chapter Three:

Kenisia, the Recording Artists

Chapter Four:

Bob and Nam

Chapter Five:

Clock Tower International Enter our Lives

Chapter Six:

Bristol to Amsterdam to Rotterdam and Back Again

Chapter Seven:

New Job, New Friends, New Single, Old Problems

Chapter Eight:

Steve, Phil and Mr Zippy Join the Family

Chapter Nine:

People are Sound at the White House

Chapter Ten:

More Gigs, More Cities, More Misbehaving, Less Sleep

Chapter Eleven:

A New Album and a New Label

114

Chapter Twelve:

Household Name Tour

127

Chapter Thirteen: Making the Video and North of the Border

147

Chapter Fourteen: End of an Era

152

Chapter Fifteen:

This is the End

163

Acknowledgement

169

The Unfinished Chapter:

Deleted Scenes

171

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

Prologue After nine years, three record companies, hundreds of gigs, two vans, countless radio airplays, three TV appearances, three albums, two singles, too many compilation albums, a tarantula, two goldfish, four girlfriends and enough cigarettes to choke a donkey, I became sick and tired of Bristol, Kenisia, work, and I doubted my friends and family. Everything I loved felt as if it had fallen apart, and everyday became ritualistic and hard work. I needed time away from everyone and everything. Why? Because I’m an asshole! The band was obviously so stressful it made me lose all my hair! Please note all views or opinions in this book are my own and are in no way meant to offend!

Disclaimer All the views in this journal are my own and in no way reflect the other band members’ views, past or present. The following is a collection of my favourite memories of the nine years I spent in Kenisia. I wrote this book so that when I’m old and in a retirement home, my grandchildren can visit me once a year and read this back to me, reminding me of all the silly things I did when I was in my prime. Hopefully, I’ll be able to remember what they’re talking about! I hope the contents don’t offend, as it’s all meant as a joke; I’m just an idiot with too much time on my hands!

CHAPTER ONE

Allow me to Introduce Myself… Science class, in a school itself named after a famous scientist, I sat copying answers from my lab partner, Marcus Trescothick; a pupil whose ambitions would soon be realised as his sporting abilities were becoming recognised. It was at this point I realised that my childhood dreams of being the first astronaut to marry an alien life-form were just an illusion! Every time professional skateboarder, Tony Hawk, came to Bath, I seemed to spend more time concussed than successfully impressing the skateboarding legend, shattering any dreams of skating professionally. When the careers’ advisor at Sir Bernard Lovell School, told me I needed ten collective years of professional experience to become a stunt man, I stomped out of class, in a piss, probably because he was squeezing my ass at the time. I could be a doctor in seven years; of course I wasn’t going to be. I needed to find a new career plan, now that my dreams were crushed. And a new school advisor with softer hands! I had to find a career that could cope with my short fuse? ***** May 1989 saw the release of the album ‘Energy’ by Operation Ivy. This American band would soon change the face of punk-music, slowly filtering into the mainstream music scene across the globe. Their brand of ska-punk with underlying hip-hop influences would also change my perception of what music could and couldn’t do. This was the band’s only official album release (although a bootleg singles compilation of previously unreleased material later followed), and Lookout Records printed only 1000 copies on vinyl. I couldn’t find Energy, anywhere at the time. If you said you had a copy in England at the time, you are branded a liar in my eyes! Just like the kids at school who claimed to have latest must-have trainers that weren’t available or didn’t even exist – Point is, you never saw them. In 1990, H-Street Skateboards, USA, released a 15 minute video previewing their upcoming full-feature, ‘Next’. It featured groundbreaking skateboarding, which sent shockwaves of terror around the world to the small communities of boarders still left. The video featured exclusive Operation Ivy songs. If Skaters weren’t pissing in their pants with fear from the death defying new tricks they’d witnessed on film, they were arguing about who had a copy of Energy, or how they get one for themselves. I looked in the local Vinyl shop every

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

weekend and even tried to order a copy. I went without, until its re-issue in the UK in 1994. If you don’t own ‘Energy’ in your punk music collection, even on CD, shame on you! Operation Ivy, split the same month the album was first released. However, Tim Armstrong went on to form, Rancid, another great band. Meanwhile, between 1989 and 1994, I had been heavily influenced by UK punk-bands, The Stupids and Snuff, along with American bands, Nirvana, Mudhoney and Smashing Pumpkins, whilst discovering the older delights of The Dead Kennedy’s and The Clash. In 1995, England was over-polluted with Brit-pop bands; bad haircuts and a pathological arrogance that followed the music scene. The rest of the world may have wanted to follow in British music culture’s footsteps, but to me it was dead; old-fashioned, regurgitated-bollocks, that I could live without. The nation was full of ‘Liam’ look-a-likes; mop-hair-cuts with bad attitudes. American musicians had been producing loud, mind-bending music that spoke volumes over its British counterparts for years. Some American artist managed to filter into the British mainstream, plaguing minds across the nation. To find new music you had to go out and buy music recommended in Melody Maker or NME, or listen to John Peel’s selection of music on Radio One. The best way of discovering a new artist is by going to gigs of bands you like, then discovering the support act are far superior. The Internet existed at this time but mainly for emails. Napster, wouldn’t be invented for another four years, MP3 files didn’t exist and you couldn’t listen or buy music anywhere online at this point. iPods were a thing of fiction, cassette tapes still (just about) ruled the world and Vinyl was still as readily available in shops as porn mags. Good! The first band website I saw was at the tail end of the 90s, but you couldn’t download or even listen to music on at that time. It was pictures and text only – No real excitement there! ***** My second guitar, an Antoria semi-acoustic brought me happiness. For the first time in my life there was a force beyond my control, it spurred me on to create, destruct, and defuse music! Along with my faulty Fender guitar amp they created such a unique and devastating sound. So loud, I never had to turn the dial over 4/10. No subject at school even remotely sparked my interest, but here was something handcrafted, loved, something that made perfect sense. Even when I couldn’t play a note I couldn’t put the guitar down. I wanted to learn for the first time. That guitar was sexier than Sam Fox budgie jumping naked with the budgie chord tied round her neck! Simon

Hillier (Kenisia guitarist now), was in my class at school and taught me how to play power chords - this revolutionised my guitar playing abilities. By the time I could play three chords, I started writing music and tried to convince various people at school to start a band with me. But my friends would eventually take a more active interest in girls or VW Beetles. I had the rest of my life to play with girls and I wanted to play in a band! But the person who really pushed me into starting a band was someone I met on work experience in a cult Bristol skateboard shop, Rollermania. The store manager, Scott, was in a local band called Rorschach (and later, Santa Cruz). Without his constant harassment I don’t know if I would have started a band so early on. Along with following Rorschach’s early career I became obsessed with watching local band The Heads, who were in my opinion, the best and most interesting and influential local band! I was at Bath College doing my A-Levels when I started a band. ***** When my mum went to Australia in 1992 with my Grandfather, she left me a bit of money to buy food, to survive whilst on my own, aw. I bought a loaf of bread every other day, a block of cheese, and a box of cornflakes. I spent the rest of the money on vinyl at Replay Records. I love cheese on toast. People loved watching me eat it with salt, and ketchup. I was a willing freak show. Even now I still get people asking me if I still eat it. I can live without food for a while but I can’t live without new music - it’s a healthy obsession. People who don’t like music make me sick! However, the records I bought with the money, made me happy for years. If I had money in my mid to late teens, I’d hop on the bus to town, venture past the homeless people, trying to piss on my legs in the ‘bear pit’ in town, then I headed to my favourite records to buy some new music. ***** Everett True, a music journalist who wrote for Melody Maker, gave me inspiration for new and exciting music coming from all over the world. Just for the record NME is shit and always has been, bring back Melody Maker, please! But the single most mind-bending moment of my music- loving-life, happened whilst watching Nirvana play on The Jonathon Ross Show. I liked music before, but now I wanted to mate with music. I wasn’t interested in women; they were everywhere, in large numbers, wearing little clothes, mainly showed an interest in tossers that owned Ford Escorts. I wanted music. I wanted to make my own music, but I didn’t know how! *****

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

Remember the children’s TV show ‘Number 73’ on Saturday mornings? It’s funny how such a shit TV show could bring such joy to my life. There was an infamous episode when a caller rang the show and pretended to be a fan of the guest band, Five Star. Instead of asking a fan based question he asked the young pop group, ‘Why you’re so fucking shit?’ Yes children, that caller was me! Just kidding, if you’re a police officer or part of the FCC! ***** I was eager to get involved in a band and I was beginning to cross paths with other like-minded people. Going to other bands’ gigs and various club nights cemented my growing relationship within the local subculture. It’s a harsh cutthroat industry, where people and relationships aren’t easy to break into. People are cynical, because we’re all fundamentally after the same thing; that imaginary record deal we all believe will come to us. But it’s important to get yourself into the mix, and another way in quite literally landed on my doorstep. Until that point, ‘Kandi Klub’ was the City’s major alternative nightclub, and social standing there had a pecking order, which at the time, I had no place. But my brother, Paul and Leon Massey, a friend of ours, started a new alternative dance night on an unused boat, The Lightship, in the Bristol. Their club night, ‘Wasted’, only lasted about four months but the memories will live on. Occasionally when my brother or Leon needed a toilet break, they might let me DJ for 20 minutes or so. I tried my best to impress (or rather lure) lots of women from college that I fancied to give myself some notability, usually failing miserably. One college girl in particular, Lucy, freaked me out big time whist at this club. She slept with here eyes open. I was talking to her for about 10 minutes before I realised she was asleep. I thought she was dead at first! Excuse me while I recover from this near heart attack! A guy I met at Wasted told me the weirdest thing one night, which will haunt me till I die. ‘Mate, if you really want to get fucked, crush your drugs, and then shove ’em up your ass. What a rush!’ What an asshole! I liked the guy but I wasn’t going to take his advice. Tempting though, right? Due to my minor involvement with handing our flyers, and social networking for my brother’s club night, I met a handful of key players who introduced and spread awoken my own standings in Bristol’s alternative scene, and presented opportunities not previously available. This would prove useful later on as my band took shape. In the mean time, the DJs for Kandi Klub had taken an instant disliking to Wasted. As soon as we were putting up poster, or handing out flyers,

they were being taken down, removed from shops without our permission. People thought the night was no longer running, so when the Lightship sailed away for repairs, my brother and Leonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s DJ-ing dream sailed off with them.

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

CHAPTER TWO

Introducing the Band…

My friends and I moved back to the sanctuary of the Kandi Klub at the Bristol Bierkeller, and things started to pick up. During the years 1988-1994 some of the most respected touring bands in the world, had graced our compact-scenicvenue with live performances. These once guarded underground artists turned the Bierkeller, into a Mecca for alternative music. We were graced with bands like Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins and The Offspring. Soon, everything my friends and I did, revolved around this weekly event, through this my friendship with Justin Harvey developed. Our mutual love of music, occasionally induced by a chemical romance, we followed our favourite punk bands across the country and planned our own band together. One summer’s night, Justin invited me to a party in Hanham, Bristol to meet a couple of musician friends of his called Martin Smith, a bass player, whose band had recently defunct and Simon Curfouy. We had an instant rapport, within a few weeks we created a band, Narcolepsy: A noisy, post-punk, angst-driven band with nerves of steal with the talent of Eddie the Eagle Edwards. This band had several drummers, and many line-up changes within its two-year life span, including the early departure of Justin. Martin and I remained, and we had become great friends in this time and done some funny things together but more importantly, we played well together musically. ***** The early days with Martin included the occasional all-night session of experimenting with hallucinogenic drugs whilst writing songs. I’m not going to lie to you; I took a lot of drugs over the space of two and a half years, and for the most part I had an amazing time, I was the skinniest I’ve ever been and I laughed my arse off pretty much every night I took drugs. At the time, I thought our music was the dog’s bollocks, when in fact it was just bollocks! Thankfully our drug taking happened mostly before the band got too serious.

You know you’ve had one drug too many, when you’re stood looking at your self in the mirror and an angel and a demon, really has popped up on your shoulders and posses a dark and deeply twisted proposition to you. I realised I was loosing control after one particular drug induced night out. I saw a friend almost die in front on my eyes from an adverse affect to lethally-concocted-drug. As I was driving my friends home, one of them started acting very weird and they decided that kicking through my mum’s car window was their best release of anxiety. She was out of control, and my mum and I took him to hospital and I spent two days there until she regained consciousness. I knew I had to stop, if not for my own sanity, but for the sake of my friends and family. My mum never mentioned the experience other than to ask if my friend was okay. My friend recovered in health but is eternally embarrassed by the scenario. This was a sharp-shock to me, but of course drug taking in one form another is widespread, so escaping it is hard and takes time. It was during this phase, our circle of friends expanded to include, Tom Shorland (who would soon play a major role in the wider universe of the band), and his older brother, John, who rented a flat above a chemist on the main road in Hanham. John arranged for Narcolepsy to play a party there one night and the only thing I remember from the entire evening was smoking a bucket bong before we played. I don’t remember the band playing at all, although I believe we did - I was excruciatingly twisted in my mind! Upon waking up the following morning, I heard John say that some people from the party had broken into the storeroom of the chemists below, helping themselves by stealing some drugs (at least that’s what they claimed). I was still paranoid from my sad bucket-bong-experience and I was sure the police were coming to get me. After packing up the band equipment I drove to the local police station and stood outside for an hour in case they wanted to question me about the break in. No one questioned me. I never smoked a bucket bong again! Any drug, including tobacco is truly stupid - don’t do them- but who is going to listen to me; I wouldn’t back then! Everything seems amazing when you’re on drugs and when you stop; your life crumbles slowly to shit. Once I stopped taking drugs, a good friend told me he hadn’t heard a sensible word out of me for almost a year! I believed him, too. I was so anti drugs, I kick myself forever starting. I lost a lot of old, and new friends thanks to drugs. The old friends thought I was a nutcase, the new friends were disappointed I didn’t want to get wrecked with them any longer. I can still see the disappointment on grandfather’s

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

face, as I sat down and bared all. He couldn’t look me in the face for a long time. That killed a part of me, there and then, his opinion meant everything to me, and I had let him down in the name of my own selfish fun. I’ll never get that back! The only things I’ve got to show for the years of fun, I had, are really bad teeth! There are many contradictions in my life, yet I live my life with little conflict, most of the time. I’d rather spend time with someone who smokes weed and giggles occasionally, than someone who drinks themselves into the abyss. I don’t condone the use of any drugs; it’s all down to personal choice. I’ve made mine. The worst a very stoned person will do to you, is make you paranoid. The worst a drunken person will do to you is put you in hospital. Yet, society tends to lend a sympathetic ear to someone who creates havoc after a night on the beer, as apposed to someone who smokes drugs, stays in their home, hurting no one. ***** Sensing a change in our own musical direction it was time to find new band members, and time for a change in band name too. Martin had crossed paths socially with John England, aka Brandy, on several occasions, so I suggested we ask if he fancied jamming with us. Martin had decided he was gong to try his skills on the drums, which left a hole for a bass player to fill. Brandy was the logical solution for this position; a local budding young musician we both liked who shared our interests. Brandy’s band Joshi had just split up as two members had left for university, including one of my closest friends, Steve England (Brandy’s older brother). With Brandy’s similar influences we connected well and soon found ourselves practising together regularly. Most bands took the traditional root of hiring a rehearsal room for their band. That was far too conventional and far too much money, time, and effort. Ideally we would have used a garage. Why go through all that hassle when you have the luxury of a front room in your Mum’s house! Yes, it was very loud, much to the annoyance of my neighbours. The relationship frayed very quickly, resulting in my neighbour coming round one night and threatening me, ‘If you don’t stop that shit, I’m going to kill you’! Can’t say I blamed him really. Along with the noise of the bands twice a week during the evening, I had two very well used skateboard ramps the back garden, too. Now, if you’re thinking I’m a rich spoilt brat, you’re wrong! I was spoilt, by having the use if whole the house to myself most evenings. As for the ramps, most of the wood was either donated by friends of the family, or stolen from various

building sites. The day I burned my skateboard ramps and moved out, my neighbour probably shit his own pants with excitement. We were annoying and very inconsiderate, and at the time, I’m sorry to say, we didn’t really care! ***** Along with our joint musical collaborations, Brandy and I studied photography together for a year at Brunel College in Bristol, in 1996. Most of our journeys to college usually consisted of chatting about the band and planning what we should or shouldn’t do. One morning Brandy couldn’t wait to tell me something. ‘According to the British Medical Journal, I’m an alcoholic!’ ‘Right, care to elaborate?’ I asked him. ‘Yeah, well according to this article I read last night in a newspaper, if you drink two beers a night, you’re technically an alcoholic’ Brandy said this with the biggest glee of happiness; like he was proud of himself. But all this came from a young man whose aspirations were to be just like ‘Homer Simpson’. Brandy was truly on his way. I don’t know what this has to do with the band, but as a statement it pretty much sums him up as a human being. Way before my relationship with Brandy, I shared several classes at school with his older brother, Steve. We shared a similar taste in music, along with abusive hairstyles, and tattered clothes, quite entertaining when you considered we all lived in suburbia. My first real impression of Brandy wasn’t his bass playing abilities it was his naff haircut! It was a butchered version of Hue Grant’s hair in the film, Four Weddings and a Funeral. He had himself a big swinging pair of curtains at the front and short all round the back and sides. Avril must really love him, she not only ended up marrying Brandy, ten years on, but on their first date, she let Brandy molest her on a bus stop in Hanham. Avril told me this! When Steve was at Exeter University, he lived with a girl from Hanham, who lost her virginity on a bus stop. When I get some free time I’m going to hang around in Hanham more often on the bus stops. Brandy’s hair improved massively, gaining him much attention from the ladies! These days however, when I go and watch Kenisia, his hair looks a lot like Doc Emid Brown, from the Back to the Future, films. I can’t say much as I don’t have any hair these days! It wasn’t long after starting the newly formed Kenisia, that we had enough material to do our first gig.

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

Brandy and I both for some reason put off going to university whilst we were in a band. It was a nice way of ignoring the world at large. Brandy wore a seriously long chain attached to his wallet and his trousers. Where Brandy was, the chain followed; just like Jacob Marley. You could hear Brandy coming from 30 metres easily. ***** A friend from college had seen a local cable TV channel advertise for bands to appear on their flagship show, Telly West – a general-interests show for people of Bristol. They must have been pretty desperate as the tape we sent in at the time was terrible quality, with shit songs, too. Brandy asked a friend Tim, ex member of Joshi to stand in for the purpose of the show to thicken the guitar sounds. We drove into the HTV studios Bristol (an impressive site), past the nice building, past the car park and the portable toilets to our final destination; an old porter cabin, which this cable show was being run in. We unloaded our gear, signed in, set up our equipment in the studio, were given a brief introduction to everyone involved including the female host (very nice), then had been instructed to sit in the adjacent cabin to watch as the show started. Before us, was a man that was juggling and mixing cocktail glasses, equally as shit a performance as our own that day! As we sat in the waiting area, nerves got the better of all of us. Brandy paced, Martin and I ate what nails we had left, and Tim was a prick as usual (I never understood why Tim sounded as if he was London, knowing he lived in Bristol his whole life). Watching the show’s live feed on the TV in the other cabin was probably the most exhilarating part of the day. We all wanted to laugh as the cocktail juggler continually dropped his bottles but it seemed to come out as nervous laughter, instead. No wonder we’d never heard of this show before, it was shit. It was a combination of ‘The Big Breakfast’ (a cult early morning show) and a real life ‘Wayne’s World’ - only without the coolness, skipping straight to the cheese factor without forgiving professionalism! We had been asked to play a short song first, followed by an interview and then a final song to close the show, which faded into its ending credits music. In the interview everyone went quiet, reluctantly saying anything. The interviewee probed each of us in turn about the band; its name, what we were doing, and any future gigs. At no point were we offered a gang-bang, this was not my kind of TV! Tim’s contribution was ‘I’m just a session musician!’ (Prick). The show was over in 30 minutes, phew! Did seeing our performance on TV contribute to Martin’s imminent

departure of Kenisia? Sat at home reflecting and analysing the shocking recording with friends and family, directly contributed to me writing new material. This was less of an achievement, and more like a personal embarrassment for me. Luckily very few people saw the show! If you’re one of those people who has a copy, burn it! I’ll never pay the ransom money! My long hair had to go. ***** Coming home from Bath College one night I noticed Simon Hiller was on the same bus. I hadn’t seen him since leaving school as he buggered off to University in Salford, three years earlier and he was back in the local area looking for work. He had just had an interview for a job in the audiovisual department at Bath University. I knew we’d been thinking about expanding our sounds as a band, with a second guitarist, so I gave Simon a copy of a tape I had on me and took his number. I could see the prospect of joining a band gave Simon’s eye a little sparkle. Simon was in! But would he remember the songs? Simon would be pleased to know that I once had a dream about him and in the dream things where pretty clear; Simon was a serial killer! I figured it out at long last; this may in fact be my only way of describing years of our friendship, the pieces of jigsaw just fit into place. If you know him it makes perfect sense! He never loses his temper or reveals his anger - does anything piss this man off? All the traits of a psychopath! Simon and I had been in the same class at school together from the age of 11. This guy was nuts! He was always up for anything! If there was a kid at school that took on a dare, it was Simon! On a school trip, he found a rope swing hanging from a tree and went for it. Our gym teacher Miss Knapp, decided if Simon could do it, so could she! However, she flew off the swing, falling straight down ten feet on to her back. I still remember the cries of pain! I blame Simon for that! Although we didn’t grow up as best-of-friends, we had many friends in common, a love of music in common, years of skateboarding in common, and lots of memories of making twats of ourselves together at local discos in our teens, before progressing to Kandi Klub, and doing the same thing there. I only saw Simon a handful of times whilst he was at University and only ever by chance. Before then I’d stopped hanging out with his social group, at the age of about 16, as I took a greater interested in skateboarding and drinking, so our social groups changed massively.

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

Having not seen Simon for some time, I was surprised to see him come back with big-ass dreadlocks! If you’re a fan of the TV show, The Simpson’s, Simon kind of looked a little like Krusty the Clown’s sidekick, Side Show Bob; hence Simon’s gay nickname, Sideshow Si. Not an easy tongue roller. On holiday once, many years ago, Simon was dancing at a nightclub. After one particular song had finished, the DJ announced that Simon had won the ‘craziest dancer’ competition! He even received a prize for this! However, Simon didn’t actually know there was a competition he was just being himself! I’ve only been to Simon’s family house a dozen or so times in my life! Everyone in Simon’s household is excessively happy and optimistic all the time. I always had a sneaking suspicion that Simon’s family might actually be the Osmond family! ***** Scott Caines has the most-witty morbidly dry sense of humour; always prepared to give an honest and accurate account of the facts. He played a huge role in Kenisia, although he’s never officially been a band member. We owe him, big time! Scott isn’t related. It was my first day at secondary school. An already daunting day as I, along with many other pupils from my primary school had been led to believe urban myths that dictated we’d get our arses kicked in the first year. Upon walking into our new tutor room, we found that our names had been written on a folded piece of paper on the desk. This was who we’d be sitting by for the rest of that first year. I looked at my name, then doubled-took at the name next to mine Scott Caines, then Alan Cains. In our teacher’s head, the two of us were related. We joked about our surnames for most of our lives. Simon Hillier, who was later to become Kenisia’s guitarist, was also in the same tutor-group. Scott learned to play the drums in the later stages of school, whereas, I learned to play the guitar, neither of us knew about the other’s musical skills until much later in our friendship. Our relationship grew as we hit the sixth form (known as years six and seven now). Music had become a huge part of our lives and our friendship. Music determined where you were in school in social standings, to a certain degree. Watching bands together, talking about music and finally wanting to form our own bands played an enormous part of who we would become over the next ten years of our lives.

Scott’s involvement in the band went further than supporting. If Scott hadn’t lent us his drums and copious amounts of drumsticks on several occasions for recording purposes, we’d have been screwed. He occasionally stood in as the band’s drummer during sound checks and would usually be on stand-by if Kenisia’s soon-to-be drummer, Tom got too drunk at a gig. Scott would later introduce Kenisia to Jaz, who would firstly become trumpet player on the second album and later, singer. Without Scott joining Mighty Joe Young, we’d never have met Phil, who later became our trombone player. The same goes for Jackie, MJY’s saxophone player who performed on the band’s debut album. He also connected Kenisia with other local bands in the early days, including his older brother, Brett’s band, Regicide, who had a big following in their hometown of Bath. Their music and lively performances made them very popular in the underground scene and sharing gigs with them opened doors for the band to Bath’s close-knit punk society. Furthermore, Scott’s own mum and dad saw Kenisia play more than all our own families combined! Scott was the ‘extended’ Kenisia member! Scott had made friends with Mathew O’Sullivan, also from the same school, only a couple of years above us. Matt remains to this day, one of the bounciest and funny guys I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. He was the first person I’d met, ever crazy enough to ride a Snake-board in public. The two of them had been to see a fair few gigs together and united in their love of music decided they would start up their predominately Bath-based promotions company, named Juggluna Empire Promotions. Aptly named after attending and ultimately running a circus group together. Scott and ‘Sully’ both worked for Future Publishing in Bath, and had a great eye for advertising, which made their promotional material for their shows pretty interesting. I suspected the two didn’t think very much of our band but they thought they’d help out their mates. JLP presented several of Kenisia’s earliest shows and also hooked us up with support slots for other bands elsewhere. Our debut show took place at one of their regular venues, The White Hart in Bath, a small alternative/rockers’ pub on the edge of the city. A handful of friends and girlfriends came over that night to see out first show, now I’d like to tell you it was a gig that would go down in infamy, but I would been lying. The audience looked onwards at us with pity in their hearts, giving us what I can only describe as a ‘you tried’, and clapped after each songs. There were a few looks of horror as if we were a form of freak-show, but I still get that today. After playing I was pushed over to speak to a

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

rather eccentric tall man called Steve Henwood (aka HieronimouS), who was reviewing the show for Venue magazine, Bristol local who’s cool and who’s not. The following week I read the review. The only positive statement referred to the nerve and the craziness in which I handled my guitar. That was our review and we loved it because we were mentioned in a magazine. In the early days, spectators would look onwards at Kenisia on stage, with a tint of fear in their eyes, like we were lepers, or worse, that crazy uncle that people suspect is a paedophile. It takes a sick man (like myself), to enjoy that look of fear from the crowd. ***** Martin only ever did a handful of gigs with the band name Kenisia before quitting. He never actually told us why he quit, though. Tom Shorland, a friend of Martin’s, who I know fairly well, showed up at my house (as he often did), and just mentioned it in passing, as you do. Still to this day I have no clue why Martin left the band. But this wasn’t the end of our friendship. Tom had landed! Most sensible people would have been studying or working at the age of 17. Tom wanted to be a drummer in a band. Tom had sat behind the drums on a number of occasions at band practises and had a natural flare, enthusiasm and passion for drumming, as well as a keen willingness to show up when no one asked him too. Tom-ass, by default, had become Kenisia’s drummer! Tom stayed in close contact with Martin; he only lived five minutes away from him and he had given Tom his permission to borrow his drums until he could afford to buy his own set. Tom was unique; a longhaired teenager that had less cares in the world then me. He lived with his dad in Hanham on Gays Road, with Dave the female cat - how beautiful is that! Before Tom came into my life, I used be the one who came out with all the funny stories and bollocks. Tom took over with a vengeance. Killing people with his stories and nonsense ways kind of stole my thunder! But I liked Tom a lot. He lived moment to moment doing things his own way, which I didn’t always understand but I found amusing. Tom either had a beer in his hands or a spliff, or he was on his way to getting one or the other. We had two weeks between Martin’s unique departure and our next gig at Moles Club in Bath. Panic hit us, even though Tom spent every hour practising on the drums. Despite having natural ability in our living room practice area, Tom would still only have two weeks to learn to play the drums, and our entire set list for the gig. The sensible thing would have been to postpone the gig. But that’s not my style, and

by the madly fused expression on Tom’s face when he showed up to practice, it wasn’t his either. This was a lot to ask Tom, so I asked if a friend from college would share the burden. Dave practised with the band and Tom for two sessions before deciding Tom could hold up on his own with a little more time. Dave was a highly proficient drummer, but never blended with our brand of warped music. Then again who did? Perhaps at the time Dave was just too professional for us to cope with. He couldn’t speak highly enough of Tom’s natural flowing abilities. Dave’s critiquing from watching and listening to Tom play the drums, gave Tom bounds of confidence. Dave insisted Tom could do the show. For some reason when Dave drummed, he closed his eyes and made weird faces. When he did this I couldn’t stop laughing. I swear Dave was gurning and drumming at the same time! Talk about multi-tasking! Also playing with Kenisia on Tom’s first gig for a few songs was Craig Rackham, another long-term friend of the band and awesome guitarist. Simon was still new to many of the songs but for some freakish reason, Craig knew most of the songs. Craig played the songs Simon wasn’t too familiar with at the time. Most people need a stiff drink before their first show - stands to reason, a way to calm the nerves a little. However, Tom had downed a few beers before I’d even picked him up and then he carried on drinking until he played. In an odd way, this made Tom perform a little better. When Tom drank beer, he was fearless. Perhaps even possessed! Tom’s influence of metal, rap and Indie music would change the band dynamics completely and propel our sound profoundly. Taking us from playing in local shit holes, to gigs out of out normal comfort zone. Amazing for a boy that had been a reluctant hero! We couldn’t get rid of Tom, no matter how hard we tried! For a first gig it was an exceptional performance. I think Brandy and I concentrated on Tom’s performance more than our own. As the audience was mainly filled with our friends, we naturally went down well. Tom’s brother, John, was in awe of his little brother. And Tom’s female friends beamed smiles at Tom across the darkened room. Tom’s second gig wasn’t short of events either. At The White Hart, Tom managed to make an awesome impression by placing the drums near the only place on stage with a whacking great hole in it. Tom’s stool found the hole, on several occasions. I thought Tom was being a little mental that night until someone explained it to me later on. I still ponder to myself if Tom was doing it for effect? But with Simon

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

progressing too, the sound of the band and dynamics of the songs had filled out, making us tighter as a unit and thicker in sound. The new songs we’d written had take on a different direction thanks to everyone’s influence. Within three months, Tom was already better than most of the drummers we gigged with. At Tom’s third gig the drummer from the band, Chimera, couldn’t believe Tom had only been playing for three months. Tom’s loud and thick sound would not only suit our live sound but would add wonders to the recording sound. However, when we started buying Tom’s drumsticks, we should have realised then, this was a sign of things to come… Bless him. My biggest issue now was getting Tom out of my house. He practically lived there for some time. Like Martin, Tom could play most instruments very well and I’d be sat at home listening to Tom playing my guitar if he couldn’t play the drums during the daytime due to the noise. We were lucky that the new flat we practised in never had one complaint about the noise levels. Tom may have been an exceptional drummer, but he dances like an athlete in the Special Olympics. Or you could compare Tom’s dancing to that of a Thunderbird puppet! Would I ever be able to get rid of him though?

CHAPTER THREE

Kenisia, the Recording Artists

In the company of manikins, you receive no complaints. No threats of violence. In 1998, I was living in a flat above my mum’s fancy dress shop in Warmley, Bristol. She had recently moved out of the flat and Simon moved in with me. This made song writing and rehearsing much easier and we did so without annoying anyone too much. Simon was the best flatmate I ever had. He met his lifelong girlfriend Jane, shortly after moving in and subsequently spent all his time with Jane at her flat. I was glad he moved out though as I couldn’t stop stealing his Nutella chocolate spread. I was becoming quite the addict! I’d replace it but I would eat that too. But as Simon never spent much time there outside of band activities, so never notice… or did he? I blame Simon for my obesity problem these days, because I never used to eat chocolate until he moved in. Just as two years earlier in my previous home, the living room in my flat played host to our rehearsals. The difference this time was the only next-door neighbours were manikins in full fancy dress, although I suspect the people half way down the street could probably hear us. Something else that had changed was my writing style. It’s important to understand that in the early days of my music, I was heavily influenced

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

when smoking a lot of Cannabis. I thought the songs I wrote whilst in an altered state of mind were cool. In reality though, they sucked. When I wasn’t high it became clear, the songs were nonsensical. Kids, drugs are bad! I guess the songs I wrote in the early days were based around things that I thought were cool or I was trying to be clever. I loved the stories of Kurt Cobain and David Bowie conceptualising whilst writing poetry with meaning and Bollocks! There’s enough bullshit music in the world and I had moved on without looking back. When I first started writing, I was trying to convey my darker, untapped side with songs like: ‘My Bloody Valentine’, ‘You do it For Me’, and ‘A Kiss the World, Goodbye’, dealing with rejection and inner conflict, mixed with humour. I wasn’t writing for the masses, I was writing for myself. With a shift in consciousness, lack of drugs and a sense of time to move on in life, the music I started writing became a little more upbeat and commercial sounding with ‘She knows’, ‘Disco Bitch’ and ‘Friends’, and at the frantically bizarre ‘Lunar Buggy Riot’. It was round about this point Kenisia developed its first little fan base. ***** Besides being our convenient practice area, my flat had become a general meeting point for friends of the band. Tom’s friend Tom Gander was a frequent visitor. This guy could certainly liven up an evening. At band practice once, Tom recanted a Tom G nightmare story that haunts me with laughter still. As both Toms entered a Pizza Hutt establishment, Tom G threw a big spanner in the works as he grabbed a hold of Tom’s hand and without warning starting to act as if he had severe learning difficulties. Tom G started drooling down his top, acting over the top, loud and very childlike. Tom was so taken aback by this he didn’t know what to do? Feeling awkward he figured he’d sit down to order food, presuming Tom G would soon stop this charade. Tom G’s embarrassing behaviour didn’t stop and when the poor waiter came over to take their order, Tom G shouted, ‘Pizza, pizza, beer’. Tom G got louder and more exaggerated in his actions and wasn’t about to stop his masquerade any time soon. The waiter asked, ‘Should he really be drinking alcohol’, but Tom just said, ‘why not’? The waiter came back with their drinks shortly afterwards, smiling, ‘Here’s your drinks sirs’. Tom G picks up the beer and downs most of it, as the rest flies over his t-shirt, as he’s making grunting noises. The waiter just watches embarrassed, dazed and confused. When the pizza finally arrives Tom G suddenly changes back from his drooling character and says, ‘cheers mate’ and runs

out of the pizza restaurant leaving Tom to pay for the bill, and to deal with the humiliation of the stunt he was never in on. If you ever see Tom G in public, RUN! On another occasion I was over Tom’s brothers flat on Whiteladies Road, Bristol, when a police officer showed up at the door. There had been a report from a member of the public, complaining that someone from one of these flats had urinated off of the balcony on to him whilst waiting for a bus. Everyone present refuted the allegations but we all knew that it was Tom G’s type antics. Tom and his profound sense of humour would set the way for some of the most random catch phrases that would ever become stuck in my head. An example or two if I may; ‘Then?’, ‘ Nice bike’, ‘Shall we mate?’, ‘Proper job’, ‘It’s not sign posted, so how am I supposed to know’, ‘I’d a go round there, I’d a take the money of her, and I’d a shit on her lawn’ (funnier when you know that mental patient). Whenever Tom and Tom G were together they were far too encouraging; the nightmare dynamic duo. ***** In the summer of 1996 Kenisia recorded a 12 track Demo, which no one will ever hear. Driving to the studio I spotted a bird trying to land on a telephone wire. Things hadn’t worked out for the bird as expected as the bird ended upside down on the telephone wire motionless. I never learnt the fate of the bird, but I nearly crashed the car laughing as I drove to the studio. Kenisia paid the sum of £100 to record in a shed somewhere in the wilderness outside of Bath. The 8-track recording studio, Presuming Ed’s, was named after a character in the cult classic British film, Withnail and I. This unique recording experience was a first for Kenisia’s new line-up. In hindsight, the songs weren’t remarkable, though our musical skills had improved immensely. The raw recordings served as a sufficient source for reviewing and critiquing our material, as well as a valuable lesson in time management and constructing our songs before recording. It’s always a gamble choosing a recording studio on a budget. You’re putting your faith in some maniac’s hands. They might have 30 years experience in recording sound effects for Dr Who, but have only just started recording bands as a hobby? Simon’s facial expressions watching Martin from Presuming Ed’s at ‘work’, said it all. What the Hell? Martin was a lovely, well-meaning gentleman, just starting out, finding his way. Tom’s drumming at the time had come on leaps and bounds and he showed great aptitude to a subject he clearly loved, putting maximum effect into his drumming. Watching Tom swear like a trooper,

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

setting up his drum kit in his new 4ft by 4ft cell, was quality entertainment. This was Tom’s first recording experience. A useful tip for when you’ve finished recording/mixing in a studio with thousands of pounds worth of equipment, take your own portable stereo with you, copy the recording onto a CD, then play it on your stereo. If the recording sounds good on your shit stereo, you’re on to a winner. It’s the most disappointing thing in the world to get home all excited and wonder why the recording sounds shit! The studio could be shit? Most likely the band is shit! Martin listened to Kenisia’s opinion, too much (a bad sign). He should have taken a more active-directive. The beautiful sun filled day, accompanied with joints, and beer, put rose coloured spectacles on Kenisia. Towards the end of recording, Martin took greater interest in Tom’s friend, Ruth, trying to recruit her for one of his own demos as a singer. Going on his ‘penis radar’, and not gut instinct, Martin thought Ruth, would make a good singer! He only heard her talk. Martin’s unusual vocal-recordingtechnique-recommendation was bizarre, even for my standards. Martin had apparently read an article, which suggested putting the microphone on top of your head, will pick up the bass in the vocals more affectively. This flummoxed all of us. Dime Bar! Once again, Simon’s face said ‘What-the?’ I thought Martin was taking the piss, refusing to play along at first but after a lot of persuasion I finally yielded, and like a prized lemon-head, I held the rather large radio mix on my forehead, for everyone’s entertainment for one song. We weren’t expecting miracles - we didn’t receive any either! Our new demo represented us slightly more, we could use it to get us more gigs, and if nothing else it was a decent enough recording of the songs, which we could listen to and reflect upon. The recordings weren’t good enough to sell, and I wasn’t happy enough that I’d send them to record companies. A few years later I made sure that any copies of these recordings lying round the house had been destroyed, I bet Brandy and Tom still have theirs. If these recoding show up somehow, I promise I will eat a wild-Tiger: while you watch, endangered or not! ***** Thanks to Trevor, the eloquent and much respected sound engineer at Bath Moles Club, for a matter of days my phone was inundated with assholes calling from record

companies. I vividly remember coming home from college one night, as my mum finished up in her fancy dress shop downstairs from me, and she told me she had taken a call from someone at EMI records. However, they hadn’t left a number! I thought my mum had been taking the piss out of me to be honest, but they were apparently going to call back later. So I waited in, like a twat on the off chance but they never called that night. The following night I waited in again. Surely mum was winding me up now. But after an hour or so the phone rang and an unfamiliar voice, claiming to represent EMI, spoke to me about the band. I was still wondering if this was a joke, but I couldn’t help but feel a little excited, but also very confused as I didn’t remember sending any demos off, and I wasn’t aware of any A&R people at the show (not that we’d necessarily know). It never occurred too me to ask him how he’d heard of our band! The conversation consisted of this A&R guy saying he’d heard good things about Kenisia, but never actually listened to us and would love it if I would send him a demo tape. I agreed and sent him a copy of our only demo; a three-track tape we’d recorded. The next day when I picked up Brandy to drive to college, I told him what had happened. He seemed as puzzled as I was. We now both thought it was a bit of a wind up. Perhaps one of our friends had put a friend up to it? It was however, very convincing! Throughout the course of the day I thought nothing of it, until later on that evening. I had just got home and sat down with a nice cup of tea, and I hear the ring of the phone. Once again I didn’t recognise the voice I was talking to but it was pretty much the same conversation I’d had the previous evening with the EMI man! This guy was a bit friendlier and was from Sony Records. I was getting a bit freaked out by now and then maybe two minutes after I’d put the phone down, it rang again! Another new voice and now I was talking to Virgin Records. I began to laugh to myself because I still didn’t have a clue where these people were getting hold of their information? Three separate phone calls which were all very believable. None of which had local accents. This was way too much of an elaborate joke for anyone I knew. Plus the bastards had all withheld their numbers, so I couldn’t harass them! After sending off a bunch of demos we never got any feedback from any of these record companies, so I never sent off another demo to any major labels again. They could buy the demos or come to see us for themselves. Fair enough the demo lacked the subtlety of an Austrian named Hans Fritzl! Basically, Trevor had told the

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

promoter from Moles Club to big-us-up to some labels. Never trust a man who still dyes his hair jet black, especially if he’s northern! ***** Generally it was left to us to promote ourselves – and that was how we liked it. I loved handing out flyers for our gigs on a night out. It was an excellent was to meet women, even if they were surrounded in big groups of men. It wasn’t only an icebreaker; it was a way in. Instead of chucking a flyer in someone’s hand and running off, there was good scope for banter. If a girl seemed interested in you, you could tell as she’d probably asked you questions… ‘Where is it?’ ‘Who are they?’ ‘What kind of a band is it?’ ‘Do you have any more fliers?’ Always a welcome response! All positive and inquisitive behaviours towards this tiny piece of paper you had. In fact, it was a bugger if you went out without flyers, as it was such a useful pick up line without doing any real hard work. Girls are either into seeing something new or they’re not! - An obligatory statement perhaps, but a truism nonetheless. I met Tessa (an ex girlfriend of mine) whilst handing out flyers at Kandi Klub. Tessa’s reaction to being given the flyer was great! ‘Sorry I’ve never heard of this band?’ And that’s a great introduction, right there and an opportunity to entice Tessa to a show. As we talked, I knew something was up as she kept on asking me for a ‘shag’, I knew there was obviously a Dutch-English misinterpretation/translation thing going on as Tessa was adamant she wanted a shag to go with her drink. As it turned out ‘shag’, is the Dutch terminology for rolling tobacco. Who’d have known? (Everyone bar me apparently). The amount of time we got a bollocking for flying pubs and other venues never ceased to amaze me. I’ve been asked to leave a few pubs in the past, all in the name of their establishment. You have to ask for the pub’s permission apparently. That’s one to remember. It’s also good to remember sticking up posters for a band is illegal too. You can get a hefty fine, per poster by the council. The local council call the venue, which I believe are legally obligated to give out the bands contact details and you are given 48 hours to remove all posters before they fine you for each item they

find with the band’s name on. I’ve met several bands that have confirmed this is no myth. Not really sure why, but in the early days of Kenisia, (not for protection, or self preservation) I used to wear my green skateboard helmet at gigs, whilst playing the guitar. When the band played an instrumental piece of music, I occasionally shamed myself on-stage trying to break-dance, head-spinning away, trying my best not to break my neck. The helmet would later be replaced with my blue and yellow beanie, which came to every show, this proved great for spinning on my head, too. My future housemate Mike, from the band Bag of Shite, sold this infamous green helmet at a car-boot sale when I was travelling round the world, I’d never forgive him for this injustice. The green helmet was my equivalent of a superhero costume; without it I was a lost soul, people could see me, and I’m ugly as sin. On a random note, Brandy very kindly bought me a South Park T-shirt for my birthday, thanks to that T-shirt my mum carried on buying me South Park paraphernalia ever since, thanks to that bloody T-shirt! There are only so many South Park pants and socks one man can own, and legally wear? Now I had sexy South Park underwear and a green helmet to wear at shows, nice! With the gigs on the increase, Tom needed a drum kit imminently. As it stood, no one in the band had enough money to lend Tom but overhearing our dilemma one day, my mum offered to lend Tom the money for a Kit under the condition he repay her as soon as he could, which Tom did as promised. Tom was now the owner of a black Pearl drum kit. The kit was an ex-show kit that came with Zildjian K cymbals, that neither Tom nor I knew were badass at that time and Tom ended swapping them for lower range Zildjian cymbals. It didn’t make much difference, as the drum kit ended up in cash converters eventually! Most gigs, you’ve got a 30-minute plus set of your own music and you’re only playing a handful of local venues, to a limited audience. The only way to expand is to record your music, send off demos to out of town venues and try to sell your music. Kenisia had begun playing with loads of local bands now, with big followings such as, Regicide, Fat Man’s Tracksuit, and Might Joe Young. But outside of the people we knew, and the other bands’ friends, no one else had heard of us. I don’t consider your friends as fans unless their all sleeping with you, that would be weird, most of them where men. The time had come for the band to extend its reach!

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

CHAPTER FOUR

Bob and Nam

Be wary of false profits claiming they will fulfil your life by do good deeds for your band. Take one well-meaning wannabe pop-mogul and find yourself a step closer to the destruction of Bristol’s music industry. In August 1996, local promoter, Bob Beale was trying to raise music profiles for bands in Bristol by running a series of gigs simultaneously across Bristol under the name, Bristol Sound City. It started with an advert in local what’s on magazine, Venue. Always eager to play a show without doing all the work ourselves, I called him and we found ourselves on the bill for a fundraiser to support his venture. Just before the gig, I’d spent July in Colorado, with my then girlfriend, Sian. I was literally grateful that I came back alive. The first leg of the flight to America consisted of tail-end-winds from a hurricane in the Caribbean, which was one scary ass trip! No one spoke after we got over the Atlantic Ocean and safely down on US soil. At

least I had a four hour delay between flights so I could relax before I got traumatised again. In the connecting flight from New Jersey to Denver, we flew through an electric magnetic storm. I pretty much soiled myself, again. Although I must say the landscape of the Rocky Mountains was absolutely beautiful, plus the business woman sat next to me seemed to like my shaggy hair and British accent - shame I thought I was going to die! Other holiday highlights included, driving through a flash-flood, dodging hail stones the size of golf balls capable of smashing car windscreens, missing a tornado by a few minutes, and heat that reached 45C, which gave me heat stroke. You couldn’t make this shit up; I felt like fate had it in for me! Perhaps karma was telling me to stay away from Bob Beale! Back in Bristol, we played a show for Bob, with local bands, Bronze Age Fox, and Bag of Shite. This was a show to promote the whole Bristol Sound City project Bob had committed himself to and took place at, The Full Moon; a dark and shady pub, always filled with characters. As BAF would later inform us, Bob was famous for telling long and colourful stories. The other support act BOS wasn’t just a funny name, these guys really did suck, badly! Their guitarist was immediately recognisable, a dreadlocked, massive guy, I’d seen at various gigs, and at Kandi Klub friendly character, Jon, who was big and cuddly and immediately likeable. However, that night BOS wound their bassist up so much, he bottled out of the gig because he was so nervous. Left without a bass player, not knowing the songs I jammed along with the band for the show. Despite having not practices our selves, Kenisia performance went really well. There was a big audience and lots of drunken people making tits of themselves. Even though BAF went to school with Tom, they didn’t say much to us that night. Band rivalry runs strong in Bristol. They opened up eventually. A few days later, and very early in the morning, my phone rang, and on the other end of the line was a hobbit-like voice speaking - I knew this mans voice, but from where? Then it hit me, Bob! ‘Hi ya, Alan, got your number from Bronze Age Fox’ (bastards!), ‘really enjoyed you the other night, would you like to play another show for me next week?’ Bob had me! I was a sucker for playing as many gigs as humanly possible. ‘Yes please, I’ll see you next week’ and so the relationship grew from there. I’ll be honest, Tom and I started meeting up with Bob to talk music an awful lot and I liked hearing stories from a man that sounded and looked like a wizard. We were unemployed and enthusiastic like Bob himself, and the stories were very funny.

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

Bob started giving Kenisia gigs every other week, occasionally at the last minute, we didn’t care we loved playing. Every time Tom and I met Bob for coffee on Gloucester Road, Bob would swear he’d just finished a meeting. Visiting Bob was like volunteering at a retirement home, listening to a lonely old man, dying to tell you his memories of how he escaped the Nazis. Bob was doing the band favours and we were killing time, it was a great relationship. In Bob’s unique approach, he started billing Kenisia on flyers and posters with weird statements: ‘Late night rock show with Kenisia’ or ‘Kenisia; The scariest band you’ll ever see’. Bob’s slightly outdated perceptions of the modern day never ceased to amuse us. But had it not been for Bob we wouldn’t have met some really nice people. Thanks to Bob we met Bag of Shite, Those Mighty Minnows, Pop Tarts, The Girls, and Dayshine. Bob also led us to Nam recording studios were we recorded our first demo release. After recording our first demo tape at Nam, our relationship with Bob changed from personal to professional. Bob liked one of the songs on the recording so much he and his new forged business partners wanted Kenisia to use the song as their first single release. Bob wanted us to film a video for the song, and introduced Tom and I to a man that made pop videos. He even showed us a copy of a video that this man had filmed for a band, which allegedly cost £250,000. Yeah right, I think he meant £2,500. It was around this time that Bob introduced us to his new business partners, Jackie, and Rowan. For the next two years this newly formed record company would be a big part of our lives whether we liked it or not. Kenisia were officially getting fucked by a Hobbit! ***** The pace of gigs was now picking up. With our newly formed alliance with Bob and co., as well as our friends looking out for shows for us, I felt energised and I doubled my own efforts in an attempt to broaden our reach. I poorly packaged up a few tapes, and sent them to well-respected venues in Nottingham, Exeter (recommended by our friend, Steve), Leeds, London, Newport, Swindon, and Worcester in the hope of support touring bands. I called these venues religiously until I got hold of someone who could confirm they had listened to the band’s demo. I wanted a refusal in person! Venues rarely call you, unless they’re desperate, or they know you’ll make them money. Most of the venues offered us flyer deals, but I wasn’t driving to Leeds for a £1 a flyer night. It’s a waste of our time, however Newport TJ’s and The Cavern Club in Exeter both confirmed we had decent support slots. After our first

gig in Exeter, on the way home, a very pissed-up Tom demanded we stop in a petrol station. Tom remerged from the petrol station with two porn magazines and a bar of chocolate. I’m guessing the chocolate bar was to get his energy up to masturbate when he got back. TJ’s has one of the nicest guys you’ll ever deal with in charge of its shows. Simon will give you an honest and warm opinion on your music and if he can, he’ll help you out with a show. You’ll have to be patient and call him every month or two, but eventually, Simon will give you a support slot with a decent band. It took us a while, but out first gig with Simon at TJ’s club Newport was with DOA. Closer to home, The Porter Butt in Bath was the main hub for social networking for old school punks. It was always filled with colourful characters with piercing in every orifice and hair colouring hair of every proportion. It was a great atmosphere to be in. I loved it. I aspired to it and in a matter of time we’d be playing amongst some of the most notable bands that came our way via the Bath punk scene. We didn’t look like the bands we wanted to play with, or at the time, sound like them either. Would they accept us? I still don’t know. The Porter Butt is possibly the smelliest venues I’ve come across. It smells like a sewer, but some how the venue’s stench draws in, and produces so many great bands. I guess its reputation means a lot. Our friends hated coming to see Kenisia playing at this venue, over many years, as they fear they might die! The gigs for some reason always end up in the best atmosphere, something The White Hart or Moles Club will never achieve. It’s more like a home from home. Among the growing number of established venues we were becoming welcomed to, we would still get the occasional random gig. Wotton Basset is famous these days for people lining the streets in respect for the dead returning from combat. For me it holds a dark and sinister memory after an all-night gig in this quite dwelling. Tom’s relationship with his then girlfriend, Hannah, was explosive, unpredictable and time consuming. Their relationship seemed to be fuelled by emotive arguments and sex. Both in public, I might add. Hannah insisted on coming to this gig as it was an all day drinking session followed by camping overnight. To the band’s horror as we walked into this pub, in a sleepy picturesque village, we were confronted by a clientele ranging from nine to ninety. Usually when a stranger enters a new pub, people stop what they’re doing and, as they might, utter ‘freaks’ under their breath, in your direction. In this case, it was us calling the locals freaks! ‘Never judge a book by its cover’, this sleepy hollow kicked off big time when we

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

played. It was like seeing zombies reanimated corpses; hungry for flesh. We had a lot of fun that night and everyone was so nice. It occurred to me both Bath and Bristol were spoilt for musical choice every night of the week. With too many bands on offer, people are overly selective. Here everyone goes out. I needed to find more intimate venues like this one. When you’re performing badly, you tend to look in the weirdest places onstage out of embarrassment, disassociating yourself with the band wherever possible. When you’re on form like tonight’s gig, you merge with the rest of the band and connect with the audience where possible, and the music flies by so quickly. The performance blends into a wall of noise. Each image a snapshot, a Polaroid moment contained with multiple sensations of colours, shapes & smells of your surroundings. I can’t recall any of the songs we played, but the smiling happy faces of the audience are etched into my memory banks forever. In the early hours of the morning I stirred from a poor sleep in my tent, due to an argument erupting between Tom and Hannah. Next thing, Tom woke me, shouting ‘Alan, Hannah’s legged it’! My retort went something like, ‘Don’t worry, we’re in the countryside, she won’t get far’. Not amused, I got up, and Tom and I drove around the countryside looking for Hannah, before eventually making our way to Swindon train station, where we searched for Hannah. With no luck, we found a payphone (no mobiles in those days) and called Hannah’s home number. She was home and safe. ‘Silly Moo’, Hannah had walked to the nearest main road, where she hitched a lift to Swindon, and got the train back to Bristol. No alien abduction stories sadly. Shame, I would have paid aliens to abduct the silly moo for scaring the crap out of us! Tom’s mere involvement in the band would often cause conflict one way or another, whether intentional or not. Tom started drumming with a defunct band member of Joshi, Tim and Martin ex Kenisia. Helping him out initially and filling in the time when he was bored. Tom enjoyed this and it became more than a friendly favour. Kenisia and Tim’s band did a few shows together, but luckily the band dissolved shortly after a few shows. ***** Other than mental retardation along with underlying sexual impotence, challenges that faced Kenisia included internal struggles within the UK musical structure, causing issue, dilemmas and long-term-frustrations for the band. Brit-pop infiltration and

destruction was more vicious than a nappy in the UK’s water system. Countless Oasis and Blur, copycat bands sprang up in every orifice across the land, making indie music mainstream. At each venue or gig we played at, there would be mini ‘Liam’ look-alikes fronting the bands. This new musical barrier would provide its own obstacles, challenging Kenisia and alternative bands alike. Word of mouth would prove more effective finding venues and promoters who took risks and liked an alternative option. It wasn’t uncommon for promoters to put Kenisia on the bill with two Brit-pop bands and ‘The Commitments’, covers bands. Oh Joy! Don’t get me wrong, I love some indie bands, I’d never become that accustomed to Brit-pop, but Blur were a great indie band that were umbrella-ed along with less worthy acts by the tabloid newspapers. ***** The first Nam sessions were after an all-night-party at a friend Chris Gunstone’s house. The early hours of morning saw a floor scattered with sleeping snoring, drunken bodies fused with alcohol. With the exception of Simon, who decided that he wanted to climb into bed with Chris, I could just hear a brief, ‘Alright Al?’ from another room. Chris, so drunk he hadn’t realised someone else gotten into his double bed with him, was roused by the unfamiliar voice started shouting, ‘What the fuck are you doing in my bed?’ This made everyone else laugh even more at the situation, as Simon walked out of the bedroom. Brandy, was looking worse for wear, and was as pale as the sheet on a Ku Kluk Klan member’s head. Driving up Tog Hill on the way to Bath, Brandy looked increasingly worse by the second. In a fit of panic, Brandy reached for the door-handle to get the window open. I shouted at Tom sitting in the back to shut the window quickly, as there was nowhere to stop and we were driving too fast with a big queue of cars behind us. Brandy was sick out the window of the car. Later, on inspection of the car, vomit had travelled some distance, splattering all the way to the back of the boot of my car. Its colour and texture was quite unrecognisable to my untrained eye. The thing that pissed me off the most was that Brandy never offered to clean the car afterwards. Getting hammered the night before our first expensive recording wasn’t a great idea, but it was nice that the whole band was out in effect. There were streaks of vomit painted over my car until I had it scrapped.

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

Having previously only recorded in a tin-pot-shed, Nam Recording Studios were a revelation. Most recording studios are full of big expensive gadgets, with flashing lights and knobs that impress men, this was one of those studios and we were impressed. Nick, the owner is a genuinely nice guy, who loves music like you wouldn’t believe. His mum on the other hand doesn’t, but the good news is that she likes making cups of tea for people and seeing they’re okay. The scenery around the studio was aw-inspiring, the cottage and swimming pool were awesome. Ian, our sound engineer and producer for the recording, was a lovely bloke with a wicked sense of humour. Ian and Nick made us feel very at home over the three days. Then again, they would, as we were spending money at their establishment. Nam Studios was a professional establishment. The studio comprised of three separate rooms: one gigantic room for recording, big enough to live in, used for drums and bass, another room for guitars, and another huge room where Ian was based with the mixing desk and, most importantly, the kettle. With the exception of Tom on his drums, the rest of us could plug our equipment in and stand in another room playing our guitars, as long as we had our headphones on. With only three days’ worth of money, we had to set up in record time, tune up all our instruments, warm-up and get the songs recorded. Ian was so efficient that he’d pretty much set up round us before we’d finished ourselves. Ian had even tuned the drums with Tom, and gave numerous suggestions to improve everyone’s overall sound. Ian was easy going and seriously knew what he was talking about, which was nice to know that someone knew what they were doing - someone who would actually listen to what you had to say. The sounds Ian captured through the recording desk managed to capitulate everything Kenisia had hoped for. It sounded the same in the car as it did on the stereo at home. Shame about the songs! Tom wanted to emulate a big drum sound like John Bonham’s work on the Led Zeppelin album he had given Ian to listen to (not asking much then?). Luckily soundmen have to deal with drummers demands all the time, but they end up doing what they feel is best at the time. And our measly budget allowed us three days! Tom borrowed drums from Scott Caines, for the recording sessions. Luckily his drums didn’t need too much tuning, which saved time, however, Ian and Tom sat blissfully playing with the drums for what seemed like forever, but a few well-chosen tweaks and we were almost there. This recording was cheap to us at £22 per hour. And worth every penny; still cheaper than a hooker, I hear. Brandy started pacing

like a demon over his next victim when stressed. Money’s a big stressor for the young man - it produces the ‘fight or flight’ response within him! It’s funny on occasions to watch him pace. It genuinely relieves your own stresses, plus taking the piss out of your friends is always fun! Poor man! Simon was good to go and chilled out, as always and was Tom settled, after a smoke. Simon and I tweaked our levels between the clean traditional sounding guitars to the dirty nasty sounding distortion noises we’d become so accustomed to using to hide our own incompetence of playing. The priority of the day was to get the drum and bass tracks down properly first, then worry about everything else after, if time permitted. Last up, the vocals mutilations. Simon and I were only playing along to keep the track going, plus a rough vocal guide for momentum. When Simon, Brandy and I were laying down the final guitar recordings, we had the luxury of recording our tracks down in the mixing room, which was different and a little confusing at first, but this technique eradicates noises from recording, such as moving and farting, or string holding noises. The three tracks we recorded were, ‘Disco Bitch’, ‘Space Cake Eyes’ and ‘Friends’ (live version). These songs represented Kenisia’s sound at the time! A mixture of subtle blends of sounds from each individual band member’s tastes contributed to its unique sound. We hammered through the recordings, and where Ian thought necessary, we did additional takes for continuity. Each song took three or four takes to get the drum and bass down before we were all happy. Finally Brandy and Tom sat listening to the tracks with Ian checking for imperfections. Brandy noticed a few bum notes here and there, and Ian just patched his bass into the recording desk and he covered over a mistake or two he couldn’t live with. We were stoked with the sound so far, and it was only day one, time to increase the intake or beer and Jamaican woodbines. Ian knows some funny stories about bands, music, and life in general. He treated Kenisia like a retarded friend, keeping us at a safe distance. He’s a productive person to work with and a fun guy to be around and he would give us positive and negative feedback on what we were doing throughout the whole process. He also told us if a local sound engineer at a certain club pissed us off, to ask him why he dyes his hair? By the end of the second day almost everything, had been recorded to the majority of the band’s satisfaction. Simon and I had taken no time to put down the guitar tracks, and likewise with my vocal tracks. We had gotten all the basics down with plenty of time to spare. Ian pushed us like crazy on the effects, which is the opposite of most people you meet, who’ll let you use one or

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

two here or there. Was this Ian’s nice way of saying ‘Kenisia were shit?’ The use of sound effects kept Ian’s street credibility with the band, and managed to keep everyone reputation in tact. After all, if Ian produced something sounding shit, this reflects poorly upon his reputation. Perhaps it was the quality of the recording, and a little to do with Ian’s own ingenuity but this recording, in terms of sound quality, still to this day is the best Kenisia have ever had (not the best performances), and had shown remarkable improvement in the band’s confidence and ability in our own material and abilities. We’d come on leaps and bounds. When I’ve finished recording; I listen to the music until I’m sick of it. This recording was so good it was hard to believe it was us. Nine years on, I can’t stand the songs, but I can’t fault the recording. We have Bob to thank for our introduction to Nick and Nam - He had really come through for us and got us a cheaper recording. However, Bob now had an interest in the band and I couldn’t get rid of him. ***** Radio Bristol had been running an unsigned band section and thanks to a tip we sent in a demo and got accepted for a weekend slot. Brandy, Tom and I took the DAT tape to get three songs from the two Nam recordings mastered onto a CD for the Radio Bristol show. Like TV, the experience was over really quickly. We arrived at the BBC Radio studios, sat and waited before being ushered into a room for the interview. I must add that the BBC had a lengthy list of requirement and screening of the band, along with the tracks in case of bad language not to upset its three listeners. Now, Tom’s usually a bit of a motor-mouth that you normally couldn’t shut up but now given a microphone and asked a decent question, he froze on the spot. After a moments silence, Brandy saved the moment, nattering off for most of the interview. The interview barely lasted 10 minutes, in which two Kenisia songs were played. ‘Disco Bitch’, and ‘Lunar Buggy Riot’, were played on the BBC with thousands of watts of amplifying each song. The BBC were highly efficient and professional. We were ushered out of the BBC faster than most sane women can reject me; I was impressed. We’d been given a tape recording, which we listened to and laughed at on the way home. You forget what a twat you sound like until someone plays your voice back to you. Got to love the Bristolian accent, were all so proud of! I thought seeing myself on TV with the band would have been more exciting, but music’s original medium is radio, and radio can be accessed anywhere. Hearing our music being pumped out from a radio was an exhilarating experience for me. It was like

being in bed with my two favourite FHM girls at the same time. Even if no one new hooked into Kenisia as a direct result of the BBC’s unsigned band sessions, I was truly euphoric as a result of the experience. My ego had been seriously boosted and Kenisia got awesome feedback from the station, friends and onward listeners. It’s a shame that there was no Internet at the time to promote any instant recognition. ***** Steve, Brandy’s brother, was in Exeter doing an art degree! Steve had an Apple Mac and was pretty f’kin hot with his graphic design bollocks! Steve developed a proper logo for the band (F’king sweet!). Steve worked relentlessly on a tape cover for Kenisia’s first real demo tape (why wasn’t he doing his uni work?). I’d found a local company that would produce 100 copies for £70, for a double-sided cassette. Simon, Brandy, Tom and I took photos in a local underpass for the demo. In the end, a photo of the band taken against my garage doors ended up on the tape cover (making funny faces as normal). I still love this photo! I miss using 35m cameras and old film, (awe). It wasn’t long before we had the artwork and the tapes. We’d sold most of the tapes to friends before we ever made it to gigs for sale. A few had been sent to venues, and more promoters. This was the first time we were happy to put ourselves in a public forum and promote our music to the buying public. For bands starting up, I can’t recommend stickers enough. You never get any money back, but a good band sticker in a venue’s toilet, is a superb advertisement (and quality entertainment). Just like a telephone number that resides on the wall in a pub or clubs toilet, saying ‘I’m Rick, give me a call if you want to bum me any time day or night!’ Bands compete, trying to get their-Sticker’s found in the weirdest places, and as far away as possible. I’ve seen friend’s bands stickers in venues as far as Aberdeen on the ceiling of a venue, immortalised, for perverts and nomads! ***** With a new recording that we were really proud of, we continued to send our music to anyone who would listen. The only break in this was a week’s holiday in Andorra for the whole band with a bunch of our friends, snowboarding. A couple of days into the trip, Brandy broke his wrist being a pussy jumping off a snow-covered rock. He got the speed, he had the line, but when it came to actually jumping, Brandy dove headfirst, waving his hands in front of him and flapping like a bird and ultimately landing on his wrist. My view was obscured by Brandy’s pathetic bird impression and

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

the group’s combined laughter. The jump couldn’t have been much higher than three foot into deep snow. It was a spectacular dive, which Brandy’s football heroes would have been proud of. At the bottom of the slope you could see our friend, Big Frank waving at us to come down. There was no chance of doing the jump now as brandy was in a heap underneath the rock/jump. I shouted out to Frank ‘Is Brandy alright?’ Big Frank just shook his head, meaning the prat wasn’t okay. After walking down the mountain and finding the first-aid centre, Brandy was whisked off on a snow cat to the hospital. No one fancied telling Avril about Brandy’s heroic dice with death. She would not be happy. That was the end of Brandy’s snowboarding career/holiday. Brandy couldn’t practice or gig for the next six weeks (prat!). Luckily, Martin Smith (original Kenisia member) agreed to play a one off gig at Bath Moles Club, to help us out whilst Brady was an invalid. Although Brandy couldn’t play bass that night, he jumped around on stage occasionally for some backing vocals. Brandy was happily bollocked and he could do what he wanted, without any repercussions from the band. Nights at Moles Club gave us some memorable occasions. A few months previous we were unfortunate enough to be the recipients of a barrage of abuse from a rather drunk audience member. We knew he was called Colin, because his friends kept asking him to stop. He was so drunk he couldn’t stand up straight and he kept falling into me and knocking my microphone stand. Soon enough he got bored of that and poured some beer on my head. Then he walked off, turned and threw his beer glass at my head (which I didn’t see), which luckily just missed me. I knew we sucked but there’s better ways of expressing yourself. Karma got its vengeance on Colin later that night. A friend saw Colin fall down the stairs in Moles Club, then Tom and I saw him lying in a pool of his own vomit and then after the show, I ran him over (the last part isn’t true). I used to run up to Colin when I saw him in Bristol and scream ‘Colin’ at him, then embarrass him and his friends by recanting the story to the girls he was with. He honestly had no recollection of the event. I have it all on video footage. YouTube, here we come. Colin was not the only punter ever to heckle us. Once in a while it would come from our friends. A notable shout out to Chris G, for a memorable gig in Bath and a short-lived venue called Joe Banana’s. We played like shit, but Chris (our friend), decided to heckle the band all night. When he got bored of a verbal assault, he started a physical assault, pelting coins at the band whilst we were on stage. By the time he moved on to throwing food condiments, he was physically pushed down the stairs and ejected from the

venue. He’s my best friend, so what can you do? Yes, there was a lot more to the story. I did find it amusing! We came across many a foolish guy in our time. In the early days, before vegetarian girlfriends, ethics, and Phil (our soon-to-be trombone player), occasionally we would frequent the establishment of McDonald’s. In the later years the big corporate machines were a no, no, yeah right! My favourite memory of this shit establishment was early afternoon before a gig in Exeter. I’d picked up Tom and Steve with plenty of time to spare, we decided to head for the McD’s before hitting the motorway. By the time we’d got our food (if you can call it that) and stopped to eat it the car park, we were being treated to display of stupidity by two numb-nut boy racers, trying to impress a crowd of jailbait nymphs. The numb-nuts had been practicing their handbreak-turns around the big open car park. The boy racers revved-up their Skoda as they drove across the car park. They obviously meant to break, skid and turn, but they didn’t. The car plummeted straight into a huge fence post going at least 35 mph. The ricocheting sounds resonated across the business park, stirring employees from McD’s and other retail outlets, running out of their shops to see if they were okay. We knew the boy racers were okay when they simultaneously jumped out of the car. One of the boys screamed at the other boy, ‘You idiot, that’s my mums car’, with that, just about everyone who’d witnessed their escapades, either laughed or clapped simultaneously (a proud moment –a film moment). The angrier the boys got at each other, the funnier the incident became. We couldn’t wait to tell the rest of the band what we’d just witnessed. It was a lot funnier in person of course. ***** As soon as we’d made enough money from gigs, we were back in the studio to record a few more songs, ‘She Knows’, ‘Boris’ and ‘Lunar Buggy Riot’. For some reason, ‘She Knows’, was recorded way to fast musically, but it didn’t sound like that to us at the time in the studio. When it came to the recordings the vocals, my vocals seemed hurried, so when I listened back to the track, it’s like I’m on helium. ‘Lunar Buggy Riot’s’ recording was awesome! At the time we were amazed at the production. Later, I surprised the guys with a new rendition of ‘Boris’s’ middle eight vocals, which confused everyone, but at the same time, it got the thumbs up. In hindsight with going back to Nam, we had too much fun. We’d relaxed too much and let our guard down. Ian let us do what we wanted! Nick the owner, came in and out frequently and enjoyed the sessions. There was a good atmosphere. I’m guessing

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

there was much beer consumption that day, because Brandy was bouncing off the roof when it was his turn for backing vocals. The production quality was still good, but Kenisia’s overall performance and consistency wasn’t fantastic this time round, Nick was in love with the songs, especially ‘She Knows’ (he can have it) and tried avidly to get us to re-record the song to make it into a single. As a direct result of the Nam recordings, Bob’s new musical venture with two friends, forming Clock Tower Internation, would be Kenisia first contact with a so called record company. We wanted a CD quality master of the two recording, which Nam couldn’t provide for us at the time. Bob took us to a small studio run by people he knew to get three of the six songs put onto CD. What we really needed was someone to point us in the right direction (like the grim reaper) stopping us from recording for the sake of it. Stop wasting money is studio’s we couldn’t afford. Let other people waste their hard earned money on us instead. ***** Lots of ‘dicks’ are promoters, who get followed around by ‘assholes’, and the occasional ‘pussy’s’, too. But you can guarantee where there’s an ‘asshole’, you’ll find a ‘dick’ but you’ll be lucky to find a ‘pussy’. But when you do find a ‘pussy’, you’ll wish it was an ‘asshole’ or a ‘dick’, because you know where you stand with dicks and assholes. For the average band, there is more money in playing cover songs, than writing your own material. That’s if you’re prepared to compromise your artistic license. My dad always laughed at me when he found out how much money Kenisia got for our shows. My dad’s covers band was earning 10 to 20 times more on average than Kenisia each gig. My dad could never understand why we carried on barely scrapping by, and you can’t blame him for questioning us. The most Kenisia every made for one show was £220. There are lots of shitty promoters about, and lots of overly enthusiastic first timers, too. The bane of our early existence relied on gigs that incurred ‘Flyer deals’ (bad idea). The promoter pay each band £1 per flyer handed in with your bands name. You’re not allowed to give friends the flyers outside, or in the venue on the night, and the chances are your friends always forget their flyers after you handed them out at the pub last Friday. Trying to explain to every friend, the concept of your band getting paid per flyer, handed in (even if it saves your friend money too) doesn’t compute. And if you don’t get a high return of flyers with your name on, the promoter probably won’t invite you back. For years Kenisia survived

gigging all over the country off of £50 a night per gig (for the whole band), if we got paid that much. Sometimes venues would happily argue with you over £50, saying that you didn’t deserve to get paid at all. Some, decent promoters are prepared make a loss on smaller bands like us, and still happily booked us, because they liked our music regardless. Some are prepared to task a risk, adding a local band to the bill to help you out in numbers. The only time I’ve felt like hitting a promoter was in High Wycombe. The promoter tried offering us £20, instead of the £120 we’d previously agreed on. He gave us £40 in the end. What a F’ker! Promising us £120, the next we player for him, Hmm? In Bournemouth a promoter gave Kenisia £50 for the gig and gave us £150 afterwards for DJ-ing for him (we’re in the wrong business) Great night out. The financial difference between touring American bands, then bands like our selves was massive. A band like The Mad Caddies, might command a minimum of £1,000 each gig, whilst also taking 70% of the door money taken on the night, too. You could live off of £1,000 between seven of you quite comfortably for sometime if you’re smart enough. In 2002 at the Camden Underworld, London, a 14 year-old schoolboy managed to secure a night at the prestigious venue through bullshitting, he neglected to promote the show at all. He relied on the bands to do all the promoting. We were one of those bands and this strategy didn’t work. We were excited to be playing such an important venue, but the lack of any professionalism, or even the slightest clue what a promoter such do, made this a night to forget. There was a massive 12 people in the audience that day and he ended up owing the venue a lot of money. Even though we never got paid, we got to meet Lil from Household Name Records, that night. We didn’t realise how important that chance meeting would end up being.

CHAPTER FIVE

Clock Tower International Enter our Lives

It’s good that we can look back at the monumental mistakes we’ve made in our lives and laugh! In late 1997, Bob had established his label, Clock Tower International (CTI). Bob kept hounding Kenisia with his ideas for making a music video for our song, ‘Lunar Buggy Riot’. So far just talk, no one expected anything to come of it and consequently nothing ever materialised. Bob meant well. Bob

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

introduced Kenisia to his new ‘business partners’, Jackie and Rowan, both claimed to have experience in the music industry (which to a certain degree was obviously true). If CTI had known how much of a headache I was going to give them, they would have run for it. Rowan’s musical background and expertise gave Kenisia some great insight into a bizarre and unusual industry. Rowan was younger than Bob and Jackie, but lacked enthusiasm or passion for Kenisia. A genuinely lovely bloke though! I built up a semi descent relationship with Rowan at the beginning, until he became weary of my relentless questions, and enthusiasm. Jackie was the serious side of the company, dealing with the legal aspects of everything; contracts, dates, what ifs, the buts and the what-not-to-dos (which there were many of). Bob was the entertainer. When Kenisia and CTI had meetings, you could see the fear in Rowan and Jackie’s eyes, when Bob went off on a tangent, telling us stories of when he knew musician, Seal, from hanging out on a street corner in London with him? I liked Bob; a bold man with a ponytail, you got to love that display of craziness! One evening we’d been invite over to Jackie’s house for a ‘meeting’ (as Bob calls it), to talk about a contract for the video and a single. Yeah right! Jackie dominated proceedings explaining the purpose of the contract and the functioning capacity of Kenisia’s involvement (which none of us really understood). We decided that we would have to take the contracts home to look at them, which really seemed to fluster them. Kenisia didn’t have enough money for a solicitor, and the good news I suspected CTI, didn’t either. The contract was a three year development deal. Weird when you take into consideration their soul purpose for working with Kenisia was to make a music video and release a single. Now, I’m no music connoisseur of Del Boy proportion, but three years to make a video for a single release sounds a little ‘special needs’ to me. I suspect the contract had been photocopied, then someone added the CTI logo to it, quality! The contract never made sense! It was meaningless jargon which God, couldn’t translate. With no money and very little common sense, we made what we could of the contract and made a group decision. Should the production of a single and video materialise through CTI’s efforts great, if nothing happened, the management team would have breached their side of the contract. After all, a contract is legally binding. Yeah right! For a nominal fee, Kenisia joined the Musicians Instituted, sending them a copy of the contract and asking for their legal advise (which we knew would take some time). CTI were impatient and wanted to get the ball rolling, so we caved in and signed the

contract that would hang over the band for the next three years. We had nothing to lose, nor did they! ‘This has been the hardest chapter for me to write, as for legal reasons I probably should leave it out, or change names (but I haven’t). I don’t intend to upset people, I’m just offloading my thoughts and how I saw the situation’. I spent all my spare time organising gigs, finding new contacts, calling venues, promoters and networking ideas with other bands, spending at least an hour on the phone each night. CTI wanted us to let them do everything. But our gigs dried up, and we ended up do very little, frustrating and disappointing the band. Brandy and I had located a fault on the recording of ‘Lunar Buggy Riot’, which was nagging us. Three quarters of the way through the track, Brandy and I could hear a weird noise that neither of us could identify. Once the rest of the band heard what we talking about, we were no longer happy using this version of the song for future Kenisia releases or promotions. First of all we checked that the noise wasn’t on the original copy, which it wasn’t. We informed Bob, who then listened and found the glitch also. It was agreed we’d go back into Nam to kill the problem. Although we’d paid for the original recordings, management team had been prepared to pay for remixing as long as it wasn’t a technical error missed when originally mixing. Back in Nam, Ian the sound engineer who’d recorded and mixed our demo listened to the recordings. Instantly he noticed it and stated that it was categorically a fault with the original DAT tape. He was happy to remix today for us, as long as we paid. They weren’t happy using this version of the song, for advertising purposes, and CTI had agreed to pay for a days mixing, so why not, we’ll remix. Ian’s a great bloke, plus we got free tea and coffee brought to us every now and then. About two hours into the mix we all started to notice the sound again, to our surprise, we could still hear it. We hadn’t heard the noise when Ian first started the mix as most of the tracks were switched off, including all vocal tracks. Once Ian had started to punch the vocals into the mix, a light bulb sign flickered on in our heads. Even Ian noticed it! Ian switched off all the band feeds into the mix leaving only vocals coming through, a scary experience in its self. Ian pin pointed the area of the original tape, where the glitch was most prominent, until the problem became painfully obvious. We all immediately knew where the problem was as we turned to Brandy, as we recognised the offending noise! During the original recording, whilst Brandy sang his vocals parts, he had been dancing around, on the side of brandy’s trouser, hung his exceptionally long

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

chain, which his keys hung from, ultimately causing our problem. Ian apologised for not picking up on the noises whilst working on the original mix. Now we had located the source of the problem we could get on with the mix, at the studio’s expense, which made CTI happy. Although we had ascertained the problem with the original version of the song, we got home and listened to the new version, minus the dangling keys. The new mix just didn’t have the same punch, as the original. We had been too embarrassed to say anything to Bob and Co., and didn’t want to go back to remix again. Brandy and I buried our own person disappointments. Aside from that, nothing else was happening and I was getting fed up of doing bugger all. I had been going out with a Dutch girl, called Tessa for a year whilst she was studying in England. But her time here was up and she went home, upsetting me greatly! I missed her loads, and started to learn Dutch, and visited her at any given opportunity, in Maastricht. Whilst I’d been spending so much time in Holland, I thought I might as well try to sort out a gig for the band. I had mentioned the idea to Bob and Rowan, who thought it was a great suggestion. He had played in Holland several times, and said he still had contact with promoters, and to leave it to him. So I did and Rowan’s word was good. He spoke to a few promoters in Holland and got things moving. In passing I mentioned to him, my idea of taking Dayshine, another band that had signed with CTI. Dayshine had been my favourite local band at the time, and although they never knew us, we really liked them musically. Within a few weeks CTI came up with a proposal for Kenisia and Dayshine, to play two shows in Holland over the course of a weekend. Providing we took two coach loads of people with us, at roughly £80 per head. This had never entered the equation, taking friends with us to the shows, but Rowan stated that as we were unknown, and had little material to promote a tour, this would be a sure fire way of getting us into some of the big venues. I asked whether it was pointless taking people all the way to Holland when friends could see us down the road in Bath or Bristol. Rowan insisted that we would be playing on local club nights in Amsterdam in a big venue with a huge target audience. We liked the proposal but needed time to think, scouting round our friends getting a rough idea of numbers. We told CTI, that 26 or 27 friends were happy to go but they didn’t seem happy with that figure, which confused the hell out of us, as we’d worked our asses off. They stated that if both bands didn’t get enough people to fill up a coach each, the deal was off? Kenisia were pretty pissed off, the next band practice was more like a meeting than anything else. My main issues

revolved around explaining why we may or may not be going to Holland now. We wouldn’t let this happen. The whole band’s pride was on the line. Personally I wasn’t happy about looking a twat to my friends. Especially calling everyone back and saying, ‘Sorry, we don’t have enough people to fill the coach, so we can’t go.’ That sucks, what’s that all about! Rowan reiterated that in order to entice the prestigious Dutch club with an unknown band from the UK, the club insisted that it was the physical number of people going to the show that was important. At the band meeting I told the others, who were also slightly bemused, thinking this was slightly strange. I asked Rowan how Dayshine, were getting on with numbers, and I was told that they were having the same issues as us. I wasn’t allowed their phone number? How rude! I was going to get 50 nameless people off the street in Amsterdam to come to the show, even if I had to pay for them myself - I’m thinking homeless people. This was getting weirder by the day. The band agreed that looking the fool was not an option, and one way or another we were playing that weekend! Kenisia hadn’t been asked to pay for the trip at all, if we paid the equal amount this could get four more people who couldn’t afford to go, or eight if we paid half their costs. Defeat was not an option and coughed up the money for some extra friends to go, giving our final figure to CTI very close to proposal total, but not quite. With a lot of persuasion (and constant begging), we had managed to intimidate enough people, including offering to pay for one person completely, all under the condition these people never told anyone else. Our total was up to 45 people. I decided to go behind CTI’s backs and get hold of Dayshine. We met up with Dayshine, and talked things over. They had been desperate to find people and again had offered to pay for friends in order to play in Holland, their total was around 25 people. But they had no idea that if they didn’t fill the coach neither band or friends, would be going to Amsterdam. We kept in contact with Dayshine over the coming week before finally meeting with CTI. We told them how many people we’d managed to get and that included us paying for a number of people too. CTI looked shocked that we’d gone to such efforts, and said they’d take this into consideration and have a rethink. They said what we already knew about Dayshine and their issues and two days later Bob called and said that CTI had managed to make arrangements that for both bands to play in Amsterdam and Rotterdam. Now with one coach and a mini bus, all we had to do now was sign a contract and ensure all moneys were collected in time. I could have kissed Bob! But I’m not into Hobbits! We picked up the paper work, posting it

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

to everyone going. You’ve never seen a group of necrophilacs so organised. Once CTI confirmed we were going to Amsterdam; I nearly took a shit in my pants there and then! I had pissed of Rowan again, by contacting the venue in Amsterdam to find out some information about the show as my Dutch girlfriend and her friends were coming to see the show, and wanted to know some info. Rowan didn’t like this, and told me all future communications with the venue would be dealt with through him. So they were! In an attempt to further their connections with Amsterdam, CTI bizarrely dragged Dutch band, Journey’s End, over for a one off gig with Kenisia and Space Kadet; a band formed by guitarist, Ben Chivers (later of A-ko and now playing with Sister of Mercy) and featuring our friend, Scott Caines on drums, before he was sacked from the band for refusing to sign to CTI. Something they did soon after this gig under the name, Dis-rupt. The audience only comprised of 20 people. I had a great night, I just felt bad for a band that drove most of the day and night to play to a handful people. Here’s a good tip: Dayshine, wrote to ‘The Princes Trust’ asking for money to record a demo, so that they could get gigs. They received £500, I believe! That was worth a stamp, an envelope and a piece of paper. Sure you can just email them these days. You’ve got to love Prince Charlie for that. ***** One of our favourite venues to play was one that we had admired from afar for a long time until we finally got our chance. Our first show at TJ’s was memorable for many reasons; TJ’s is a venue filled with character and a lively owner. Unlike most venues that have huge ceilings and are generally big oblong rooms, TJ’s ceiling has been moulded into a cave dwelling experience, uniquely sculpted to its surrounding, and the hall has been cornered off so the venue appears to have more than one room. The stage is cunningly on the side of the room instead at the back of the room, so you can stand in any corner and watch the bands, even from the sides of the stage. The promoter there, Simon, would always guarantee you a hot meal and payment no less than £50. Most venues you’d be lucky to get a bag of crisps and a soft drink. Covering each wall is decades of posters and photos, reminding the patrons of TJ’s astonishing past - bands that influenced every member of Kenisia.

So, our first appearance was supporting Canadian punk band, DOA. They had been around for sometime, releasing their first album back in 1980. They were part of scene that kept company with such bands as Bad Brains, Minor Threat and Black Flag. These bands are often been referred to as the ‘founders’ of hardcore punk. I was sure nerves would get the better of all of us that night, as we were playing in the presence of greatness! But the fear never came, the guys from DOA, were welcoming and funny. It was one of those great nights and it was a real pleasure being on the bill, you just wanted your set to be over so you could stand in the audience and just be a fan. We were on stage and off again stage before I knew it. DOA were staggering, they lived up to the hype and their reputation! When I stopped dancing and being thrown around by audience members I was as sweaty as I was on stage earlier. Bob and Rowan, came to see us play (Bob and his kicking ponytail), but neither looked out of place at the gig. Half the audience had Mohicans and the other half had no hair or dyed hair. They watched us play, said hello and left the building. DOA and their fans may look rough, but the band has been actively contributing to issues, including anti-racism, anti-globalization, freedom of speech and the environment. Bob and Rowan made several comments regarding our target audience! Bollocks to that! They wanted us to go more ‘mainstream’, whereas we wanted to go more balls out. After the show, Joey and Kuba, from DOA harassed us for Kenisia merchandise. Joey liked us so much he even mentioned the possibility of publishing some of Kenisia’s music on their Label if the recording was good enough. I was blown away by the experience, and my own ego had been given an awesome boost, along with my confidence in what Kenisia had been doing all this time. We said our goodbyes to the band, and thanked Simon immensely for the gig and the foot in the door. After the show Tom desperate for a piss made us stop on the Severn Bridge to urinate. As Tom pee’d the wind was so strong the urine spray was being blown back all over him. I smiled. Bloody booze! ***** There was a death in the family; Bouncer, my goldfish. To be honest he’d been looking pretty shitty and I think the noise and vibrations front practise in his bedroom, killed him off. The flat that I was living in had no garden to berry my friend Bouncer, and after such a close relationship I didn’t want to flush Bouncer down the toilet. So what do you do? I removed Bouncer’s lifeless floating body from the fish tank and moved the tank. Underneath was a hideous bum bag I’d been given for

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

Christmas. I may be retarded but I’m not legally retarded yet. I had an evil-plan! Next to the flat was a lane that expanded a few hundred metres. I placed Bouncers lifeless fishy corpse in the bum bag left it outside in the lane, along with a few pieces of paperwork in the bum bag to make the contents look more authentic. It was dark outside so it genuinely would be a shock or surprise to find the bum bag again. I watched through my window, as people got off of the buses. One by one, they’d find the bum bag and looked inside it, to see what treasures they’d find. After the third person found the bum bag and investigated it, I couldn’t watch any longer, as the screams and horror of people finding a dead goldfish was just too funny for me to take any longer. The next morning I found the bum bags 100 hundred metres away from its original place. I took Bouncer out and laid him to rest finally. I am going to Hell, I know this, but my last memory of Bouncer will make Hell an enjoyable experience.

CHAPTER SIX

Bristol to Amsterdam to Rotterdam and Back Again

It’s a long way to Tipperary, but it’s even further from Bristol to Amsterdam. The Coach and the minibus taking us to Holland arrived at my flat in

Warmley, at 3am. It would be 21 hour journey to Amsterdam. I said that everyone was more than welcome to find a place on my floor to crash for the night. Or they could leave their car across the road across from my flat, as long as they showed by 2.30am, with no exceptions. Dayshine had to get their friends to meet at 2.00am in Hanham. Some of our friends decided to make a night of it, and had a few, (sorry a shit loud of) drinks at the flat, whilst others tried to sleep. By 2am, the flat was swamped with bodies! Each nook or cranny in the flat was filled with someone sleeping or standing up drinking. I had to fight to get in the kitchen, just to get near the kettle so I could make a cup of tea. There were a few too many friends and band members, all intoxicated at this point of the trip. An uplifting atmosphere had already been created. It was great fun! The coach arrived fairly promptly. We had to store all of the band equipment in the main coach hull, along with everyone’s baggage. Rowan was the only person from CTI to join us on our trip, to keep one watchful eye on the proceedings and the other eye on us kids no doubt. Rowan’s organisational skill had been pretty damn good, and things went very smoothly considering that over 70 people were on this trip. As everyone pilled on the coach, trying to get a spot for themselves, Rowan stopped us and announced that the bands would be travelling on the minibus separately. This was something to do with the paper work that may be needed for a band to play in Holland. The girlfriends of the bands were not very pleased at this point, and a few had to sit on their own on the coach with people they never knew. The journey from Warmley to Hull was long, frantic and tiresome for all the people in the minibus and the coach alike. The band’s minibus had Rowan’s friend Winston driving and listening to the worlds worst R&B compilation album as loud as he could to keep himself from falling asleep. Now, I’m no racist, but Winston’s music choice was shit! I sat in the front of the van to keep him company as I was not tired, and I felt like being sociable. Rowan’s friend had a wicked sense of humour, he just had an awful taste in music, which kept everyone in the back awake as it was so LOUD, putting everyone in a bad mood. My kind of guy! Forget everyone else when you’re driving people! My only concern was the lack of Tea drinking facilities. It wasn’t much better for those trying to sleep on the Coach either; the poor bastards had been subjected to the same videotape of The Simpson’s cartoon on a constant loop, at an excessively loud level. What kind of sick drivers do they employ! Life long fans of Homer and his

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

dysfunctional family, were quickly being turned against them, due to the groundhog day nature of the coach trip. Every time someone would wake from a drowsy sleep, the same episode would drift in and out of their consciousness. By the time we’d arrived at the ferry port people were elated to know they had two hours ahead of them without R&B or The Simpson, waking them like an auditory nightmare. The crossing was pretty bad, with the boat’s constant side-to-side motions triggering more than a few people gag reactions. In the end people had been happy to get back on dry land and the safety of the transports. The Simpsons tape was stopped, under protest and on the minibus our tape had been changed for our sanity, too. From the Hook of Holland to Amsterdam most people managed to get a few hours sleep. As we pulled up on the street outside our youth hostel, The Flying Pig, most people let out a sigh of relief as the long journey had taken its toll on most of us. Checking in was more of a nightmare for the people working in the Hostel than us. The first thing the guys noticed upon entering was the vending machines, which sold beer. The vending machine sold out in an hour! Once everyone had found their rooms and before any of the bands could lie down for a minute or two, Rowan showed up to spoil the moment for us. ‘Right we’re off to the venue so we can drop the gear off, then you can have a break’. We had to walk whilst our equipment had the pleasure of being driven, although it was only a five minutes walk the venue. The Paridiso, was huge! Posters were stuck up for The Buzzcocks and Roni Size, the week after us. Other bands that played her were the likes of Nirvana, The Offspring and Ash. It was a big deal for us to play in such a prestigious venue. The Paridiso, was so swarve they even had a lift to transport all out equipment up the three flights of stairs, which is a novelty. Most places we knew would make you carry your stuff the three stories just to make you suffer. Rowan, with his contacts had done us all really proud. Without him we’d have been playing in a pub filled with English and German tourists getting stoned, no doubt. The Paridiso is a beautifully converted church, which lends the musicians such incredible acoustics. After dumping the gear we were told we had to come back at 6pm, this had been a relief because some of the band members had been in some serious need of sleep. We arrived on Thursday and the plan was to play later that day and have Friday in Amsterdam. Saturday, we’d travel to Rotterdam and play in the evening, and leave for home in the early hours of Sunday. Whilst the bands either slept or hung round the Hostel bar, most people went out and enjoyed them selves whilst a select few

ventured no further than exploring the hostel’s bar. By the time we’d got back from the venue a few friends were in full drinking mode and looked highly unlikely to make it to the venue. Who could blame them? Bearing in mind, only rich people had a mobile phone in 1998, getting everyone to the venue could prove quite entertaining. I had arranged to meet my then girlfriend at The Paridiso at 10.30pm, even though I knew we weren’t playing until 12am. Tessa was staying at a friend’s student digs in Amsterdam for the weekend, and was out enjoying the evening already. Our reunion was all I’d been thinking about for the last 20 hours. This is probably why I didn’t get any sleep earlier. Tessa and I had discussed my band playing in Holland during the time we’d been together, but Tessa always made fun of me, and couldn’t see Kenisia making it. This was my way of proving to Tessa I was a man of my word. Hopefully my actions speak as loud as my words. And as much as Tessa pretended to hate Kenisia, her friends had told me that weekend how Tessa had been really proud of the bands accomplishment, and had practically invited all her friends at college in Genk, Belgium, as well as other friends from Holland. Little did I know that this would be my last weekend together as a couple with Tessa! Tessa loved Dayshine, becoming a big fan that night. There was lots of foot tapping and head nodding but no one was dancing. Even in Holland people still shy round the edges of the dance floor until the night warms up. You could see people’s bodies were trying to move, but in the large room slowly filling, people tend to feel awkward when they’re out in the open? Although Dayshine were knackered after a very long day but they gave everything that night. I don’t remember them ever playing so well. Both bands had motivational problems with our friend that had showed up to the gig as they were absolutely exhausted. I don’t remember which friends showed up to the gig, there was such a big crowd. There was another room with alternative and dance music, people filtered in and out of the rooms all night. Only one country apart and yet as nations we dress so differently? People looked at us and knew we were foreign. We’d been asked to play a much longer set than normal, which I was a little apprehensive about as a few songs in the set list weren’t quite ready. I’m very selfcritical after our performances (sometimes leaving a lasting effect on the band) and it’s not uncommon for me to hear someone say they enjoyed the gig, only for me to respond with, ‘I thought it was shit’. Not a trait I can say I’m proud of, either. I tried to suppress how I felt, depending on how much fun I had along with the band had,

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

and how much the audience were into the gig. I’m a simple man with simple need (sometimes specials needs) the rest of Kenisia might agree with that statement. It wasn’t for affect, or to appear cool, I’m just an asshole, unfortunately. The dressing room in the Paridiso was unbelievable; we’d had our first real experience of rock stardom! We had two fridges filled with all kinds of weird delights. We’d already been given snack food on the tables, then the door opened, and a Dutch man came in with ten Pizzas, the size of space ships. We only managed to get through four pizzas between the bands as we’d already started on the other food. Not wanting to waste it, we handed some pizzas out to our friends. By the time we played I was so full I thought I would puke if I over exerted my self too much. The way Kenisia played in Amsterdam was a leaps and bounds above our normal capabilities. I’d never been so proud of Kenisia or more found of Kenisia’s band members. The newer songs that we’d worked our arses off to get the perfect sound. The ambience on stage was as good as it was off stage, which is pretty rare. Rowan insisted on taking a Bristolian sound engineer, Ken, who knew Kenisia’s musical vibe well. He was a great bloke, very easy to work with, making a huge difference. The combination of great acoustics and an inexplicable performance from Kenisia, I was on cloud nine. The faces in the audience really seemed to dig the music, too. I periodically get flashbacks of a few snapshots from the hour we played; sweating, sexy women dancing in front of me, making me smile and causing Tessa to cast an evil frown at me. And memories of throwing my guitar around the room causing lots of feedback at the shows finally, making Tessa frown at me again. Also my attempt at break-dancing with my helmet on, and not really succeeding, all contribute to making this a great night. It was a very cereal experience (and we weren’t drunk or stoned). We’d laid down the law before this ‘one’ gig, after the show anything goes. Playing in such a prestigious venue in Holland was an honour. After our set, loads of people ask if we had any merchandise. We had bugger all, not an album, single, or even a badge. We had about 50 Kenisia stickers to give away. Our only previous small release on tape, had sold out, we had zip, squat, diddly. CTI hadn’t got it together to put a promotional pack for the tour, even though we’d talked about it, nothing actually materialized. I shouldn’t moan, they took us to Holland. We had an email list to get people to sign, this deflated proceeding, as people genuinely appeared disappointed they couldn’t buy a momentum (something to work on at home). We

had been so busy organising people to go with us, and practising that I hadn’t spared a moment thought on merchandise. After packing up, the majority of people who’d come to the gig could be found down stairs in the main club area, boogying away. I joined Tessa, Sarah and Kristy, my Dutch friends, for a touch of break dancing as well as some broken Dutch. Sarah and Kristy went home, somewhere in Amsterdam, leaving Tessa and I back at, The Flying Pig. I was cream-crackered and desperately in need of sleep. Shortly after getting comfortable, my elusions were shattered by a very drunk Tom and Hannah coming through the doors. ***** As friends of the band had taken over the whole hostel, you could hear various English people drunkenly staggering and bouncing round the corridors of the hostel in the early hours, with increasing velocity. I’m sure the hostel’s bar would only close if there were no customers to serve. By 9am I couldn’t sleep any more and I fancied a cigarette and a cup of Tea, but knew I was more likely to get a coffee. As I walked out the front for a cigarette unsure about the code to get back in, a friend, Matt Langley, was strolling along the road. ‘Hi Matt, good-night? You’re up early?’ Mat looked as though his brain was juggling for information, to relay to me, but struggling to remember where he was, who I was, and possible who he was, too. ‘I just got back, Alan!’ He said. ‘Where have you been? Has the club just closed?’, I asked, to which he replied ‘I met this girl at the club, she took me back to her flat, buy before we got it on, I asked her for a coffee, then I fell a sleep, woke up about 5am, confused to where I was and a little embarrassed I’d fallen asleep and blown it. I’ve spent the last four hours walking non-stop, trying to find our hostel. I know the club you played at last night, but not the hostel’s name. ‘Matt we’re only a street away from the venue?’ I couldn’t help but laugh-out-loud, this was pretty typical tern of events for Matt. The two of us went to the bar to get a coffee, and Matt recounted his night’s events to our friend (who were still drinking at the bar) to much approval and laughter. I was really proud of Matt. As no one had any particular plans for the day, we all did our own things. Most of our friends headed off to get some lunch in the centre then hit the coffee shops. I spent the day with Tessa looking around Amsterdam, occasionally bumping into friends on the way, hearing snippets from people having fun. That afternoon, Tessa and I managed to get locked in a shopping mall that the police closed off as a man contemplated committing suicide by hanging himself from the top floor. People started getting annoyed, and started shouting

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

‘jump’. The police managed to grab hold of the would-be jumper, before any serious damage was done, and we could all leave the mall. From what I gather my friends went to the Sex Museum, the Red Light District and Anne Frank’s house. Some friends took a leisurely cruise on a paddle boat towards the dam (not realising there was a dam). Whilst others ventured over to the market by the river (which Tessa and I always visit in Amsterdam), or even saw some of the fine art galleries Amsterdam has to offer. One of two friends (who will remain nameless) went back to the Red Light district to spend more pocket money than they could afford. I’m glad they were ripped off, twats! The majority of the men that came spent the better part of their day in the pubs and coffee shops getting wasted. By the time Tessa and I got back to the hostel, we were both knackered. I went round the rooms to see who was about. AJ a close friend was sat outside his room and on closer inspection he was pale as a sheet. AJ had turned in to a real white boy; apparently he’d been sat there for hours in this wasted state, paranoid, and too afraid to move from the spot. Whatever he’s been smoking hadn’t agreed with him and he wasn’t looking right at all. With some encouragement and sleep he’d recover, eventually. Unlike AJ most people had seemingly enjoyed their time in Amsterdam. Whilst walking around someone had been handed a flyer for a ska show at the Melkweg, another wellknown venue in Amsterdam. While everyone else was enjoying there night out at the Melkweg, Tessa and I spent what time we had left together talking the night away about our future, or the lack of it. After two years our relationships had come to a screeching abrupt halt, as distance and time had taken its toll on both of us. We just tried to enjoy the last few hours we had together before saying our final goodbyes in the morning. Tessa’s goodbye wasn’t teary, or sad even, at the time it didn’t feel like a conclusion for either of us, it was more like stalemate. Bit by bit the Flying Pig, became alive with the sounds of friends coming through the doors, some heading for bed and some for the bar. According to friendly sources that night at the Melkweg, a huge fight broke out on the dance-floor. I was gutted I’d missed the fun! Rotterdam wasn’t very far away so we didn’t have to leave very early; we had until 2pm to do whatever we already hadn’t done Amsterdam. We left the hostel and Amsterdam on time. The journey from Amsterdam to Rotterdam was anything but flat. People lied to me about Holland.

Originally I had planned to go back to Maastricht with Tessa, and I was going to make my own way home, while everyone else went to Rotterdam. Kenisia would only be playing the Amsterdam show because of this, Kenisia were not on the Rotterdam bill, but Dayshine were. Because the way things had panned out I was now free to go to Rotterdam after all, although for some reason Rowan insisted he wouldn’t try and alter things with the venue for Kenisia to play, although the venue would still feed us? I say feed, when really I mean, try to kill us with food, not by poisoning us with food but the sheer volume. There was a bloody banquette, which would have easily fed 20 people. Indian, Italian, Chinese and Dutch food lavished the table, then the lining our stomachs, whilst our friends sat in the other room with chips, and crisps. The venue in Rotterdam was called Rote-Town. It was a much smaller, modern venue that held maybe 150 people. With our friends alone the venue looked pretty full with the already big crowd of people in the pub. I was annoyed we weren’t on the bill now. Dayshine were playing a long set on their own, no support bands, this pissed me off a bit and I felt as if I’d let Kenisia down. They played a blinding set thus pissing me off once again. So much awesome talent went unnoticed in the UK! The crowd were really into Dayshine, or were being extremely polite. Rowan had made a deal with Rote-Town nearby sister-venue, Night-Town, which was a nightclub that seemed to have no closing time, to allow all our guests in after the show. As included in our itinerary, this would save us money on accommodation before we caught our early coach back to sunny old England. Nothing’s ever so simple. Let’s put it this way, the club in Rotterdown was messed up! I still affectionately recount stories of what I saw that night in Rot-Town after 11 years. The two previous nights had already taken its toll on most people and staying up till 4, was a little too much but our only options was go to the club, or to stay in RoteTown. We would see our coach for another few hours yet. Most people opted for Night-Town. Little did we know before entering that it was Drag Queen Night! No wonder we couldn’t find Rowan anywhere! These creatures of the night obviously put a great deal time and effort into their elaborate costumes, make up and hair. My friend from Bath College, Jason, was putting a little too much time and effort into getting to known a cross-dresser. The alcohol and beer-goggles had clearly clouded Jason sexual judgement on this occasion. It’s legal, so why not? I loved the club full of dragsters. Personally I thought it was one of the funniest nights I’ve ever had at a club. As a newly single man, had I not been so tired who knows

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

what delights this night could have brought me? The club wasn’t just people in drag watching a drag show, there was lots of regular gay people there, too. The club had more rooms than the Tardis, thus confusing all of us. Some of our friends seemed to be having the time of their lives but others were obviously uncomfortable in these surroundings. The novelty was wearing thin, the English contingency were tired, wanting safety and warmth back on the coach. Round about thirty of our friends had gathered them selves up in the balcony section of the main hall, with a wicked view of the outrageous drag acts on stage below us. Unfortunately, no amount of transvestites or beer could fire up the group’s enthusiasm, except for Brett and Chris, who were fuelled by the festivities below the balcony, lavishing the moment. After 2am all I wanted was a cup of tea! A small group stayed but most people headed back to Rote-Town for piece and quiet. As I left, I’m sure I saw one of my friends getting a lap dance from a chick with a dick. Before leaving Night-Town, I made my way round the club telling friends we were leaving and reminding stragglers what time we had to meet at the coach. Easy enough you’d think, yeah right! The group of us who’d gone back to Rote-Town were a shambles, trying to sleep on the stage in Rote-Town, or anywhere else we could find. The majority of our friends had arrived back to the coach in time but we were still missing 10 people. Nine of which showed up in drips and drabs, but one person didn’t show up at all. Hannah couldn’t find her friend, Ian, from college anywhere, and no one could recollect seeing him for at least an hour. Rowan was starting to get a little unnerved about his disappearance. I went back into the club with a few people who knew what he looked like, in hope of finding him, with no luck. People seemed really annoyed that he wasn’t with us. We couldn’t wait any longer or we’d miss our ferry, with Ian’s passport and bags in hand, we left Rotterdown without him, for the Hook of Holland. Hannah was upset, Tom was upset, Rowan and I were pissed off! Then Hannah dropped a Bombshell, Ian, was on parole and had left England illegally. I felt terrible for leaving him, but at the same time thought it was his own fault, especially when he shouldn’t have left the country in the first place. You’d think he’d have the sense to get back on time, and could find his way 400 metres from one road to the next, obviously not. Ian remained the topic of conversation all the way to the ferry port. Ian will remain infamous forever. The minibus stopped quickly for petrol on the way back, and as we left the petrol station, half asleep, I noticed something peculiar. ‘Fuck, we’re driving on the wrong side of the road!’ and had been

for several miles now. ‘Oh, cheers mate’, the driver didn’t seem that bothered he could have killed us all. As we drove the last 50 metres into the ferry terminal and were slowing down to queue with the others vehicles, Ian, appeared from out-ofnowhere and started banging on the side of the minibus. We stopped briefly to let him in and people on the bus turned on him, hurtling off well-deserved abuse. As he tried to explain what happened, Rowan shouted ‘sit down and shut the fuck up’, which made a few people laugh, and feel a bit better. Ian’s explanation of events would reveal that he was stoned and lost track of time. Panicking and realising he was nowhere near the venue, he decided to steal a car and make a break for the ferry port. I bumped into Ian a few years after the trip, and he claimed he’d gone off with some Dutch people offering him drugs. They took him somewhere, mugged him and left him stranded, which is why stole the car and legged it fearing being in violation of his parole. The ferry ride home was choppy and as the waves bounced the ferry awkwardly side to side, people scattered to various corners of the ferry in search of refuge that suited them best. The adrenaline was still buzzing inside of me from the unfolding events. A large group of friends took-up a large portion of a bar’s floor space; if someone hadn’t been tired when they’d got on the coach, they were now. Brett managed somehow to fall a sleep on the edge of a bench with an open box of chocolate in his hands. He would periodically wake for a brief second, look at the chocolate and try to put one in his mouth. Before the chocolate could reach his mouth he would fall asleep again. Chris and I sat across from him bewildered and amused at Brett’s actions, surprised that our own laughter didn’t stir he from his sleep. I was most as amused that Brett had bought the monstrous chocolate bar as a gift for his mum and when he finally woke, he looked down at the half eaten chocolate bar in his hand and said, ‘who’s eaten my mum’s chocolate?’ Chris and I laughing harder at this point and collectively said, ‘You have!’ confusing a disoriented Brett even more! Back on the coach I slept all the way back to my flat. Still disorientated upon arriving home, we unloaded the band equipment, and said goodbye to the stinky coach! I don’t recall saying goodbye to the Dayshine contingency or to Rowan and his friend Winston. A crowd of people wanted tea at my flat, but with no fresh milk the crowd turned on me. I vaguely remember drifting off to sleep with a full flat and waking with

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

an empty, peaceful flat, smiling to myself as my brain has squeezed in a lifetimes worth of memories. I was so tired; I lost my car, but that’s another story in its self! ***** After we’d spent 12 hours travelling overnight from Amsterdam, I was knackered. So tired in fact, I’d practically fallen asleep seconds after entering my flat as I lay on the sofa. Later that evening the band and a few other friends had arranged to meet at the pub, to round off the weekend’s events. As I went to get in my car, I was surprised that my car wasn’t there. I thought perhaps I’d parked it across the road and was too tired to remember. The car wasn’t there. I checked everywhere I normally parked my car, until I’d come to the conclusion the car had been stolen. Fair enough! I left the matter to the police, and called a friend to come and pick me up to take me to the pub (which he did). On the way to the pub, we passed my car. Relieved I jumped out and hugged the damn thing. Under closer inspection there were no visible signs of breaking and entering anywhere. Then it hit me, for some reason I woke up and drove to the post office to send some postcards (I’d forgotten to send in Holland) I didn’t admit to my friends that it hadn’t been stolen, although I gave the police a courtesy phone call to let them know that I was an idiot, my car was in tact and not to arrest me when driving my car. As the evening went on, the story became more elaborate, until I cracked. I felt like such and arsehole. At least the car was okay.

CHAPTER SEVEN

New Job, New Friends, New Seven Inch, Old Problems

When you’re bored with porn you’ve become a slave to its industry. Chris, a long-term school friend rang me, and asked is I wanted a job where he worked? I uhm’d and ah’d, a little then said ‘Okay’. I was sick of working for agencies, so why not? I started work that day at 6pm. The shifts were 6pm-1am, Monday to Fridays. I was working twilight shifts, in a magazine distribution warehouse in Bath, then later Bristol. I worked with a mixed bunch of characters, some awesome guys who I still get on with, and some real pricks in management! It’s amusing the crap people read! The most popular magazine in England is a cross-stitch magazine? What kind of a sick twisted nation are we? I was more interested in all the free porn I could look at, but like the 6pm-1am shifts, I grew weary of porn! I saw so many naked bodies I became immune to it. What was wrong with me! Also working till 1am was starting to affect my social life, and more importantly band practice and gigs. Eventually, a day job came up and I took it. Now I had money to pump into the band. I wanted us record an album and I heard good things about a recording studio in Weston-Super-Mare, called The White House. In the summer of 1998, in a hilltop house overlooking the sea just outside of Weston, Kenisia took a week off of work, in order to record an album. Martin, our engineer for the week, had tea waiting for us as we trekked up his steps and into his studio, a good start in my opinion. Martin listen to several albums of bands we liked whilst we set up our gear in order to find out what kind of sound we were trying to achieve. Tom brought his entire CD collection with him, just to confuse Martin. It took the best part of three days to record 11 songs: ‘Spit on Your Grave’, ‘You and Me’, ‘You Do It For Me’, ‘My Bloody Valentine’, ‘Wowie Zowie’, ‘Indifference’, ‘Give it Up’, ‘Can’t Get it Up’, ‘I’m So Happy’, ‘A Kiss the World Goodbye’, ‘My World is Falling Down on Me’. This would be my last full guitar appearance on any recording with Kenisia. I’d been suffering flu like symptoms and with a combination of tiredness and Martin pushing me to get my best performance, I told him to ‘Piss off’. Martin coolly suggested I come back and start afresh in the morning. I knew Martin was being subjectively honest. He’d given us good advice on speeds of songs, continuity

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

and lyrics, as well as suggestions for song structures. I couldn’t falter Martin’s logic: I was just worn down! The week recording had been the most regimented week the band had spent together. Some of my favourite band photos were taken whilst in session at the White house studios. Tom was given a massage from Martin (due to his stiff neck) but insisted he was still stiff. Martin suggested Tom went into the woods for a wank, to loosen himself up. I can’t repeat what Tom said back to Martin. The mixing process felt like being in a time-warp, almost two days of relentlessly hearing the same songs over and over until its completion. Mixing is a testament of will and strength. Martin probably has reoccurring nightmares about our songs. The recording cost just shy of £500. We were happy with what we’d achieved, the recording was great, but on the band’s behalf there was something that didn’t quite sit right on certain tunes? Several songs just didn’t feel as though they paid justice to our energetic live performance. I’d always put this down to a lack of time, limited money and knowledge, but I am excruciatingly self-critical! We liked our songs, but our live performances and music was about to change so much that only a handful of songs recorded ever carried on. ‘You and Me’, an ‘X-ray Spex’ still pops up in every set list. ‘Spit on Your Grave’, left the live sets when I left the band, and the rest of the songs fizzled out over the years. Our poor friends were repeatedly subjected to the recording, as we marvelled in our own stupidity, and celebrated our own mediocrity. ***** ‘We almost made it’. No, I’m not talking about sex! But If I had a new girlfriend for every time I heard a band saying ‘We came this close to making it’ I would probably be living in the Playboy Mansion right now. And that’s no exaggeration! You hear it so often from bands you end up getting really sarcastic. ‘Wow’, ‘really’ or ‘that’s sucks!’ But the reality of the situation is that most bands have a higher probability of becoming homeless. If an A&R person isn’t stalking you every five minutes, and your phone doesn’t stop ringing, they’re not interested. A record company can come and see you 10 times and they still might walk away: especially in this financial meltdown, and technological era. For all I know about the current record market, record companies may endlessly search ‘Myspace’ looking their future artists! On paper ‘Recoupable’ deals are better than ‘Repayable’ deals, but I keep on hearing ‘50/50’ or ‘75/25’ splits deals are getting really common these days. How do you know if record

companies are only interested in you as a one- hit-wonder? They only talk about one of your songs! But the really sad part of relying on that phone call or that meeting, that paperwork to sign, is the record companies can change their mind right up to the end, keeping people guessing! Crushing your dreams at any time! Do they care? The harsh reality of the music industry is that you could end up being a tax right off at the record companies’ expenses. On the occasions when I’ve sent off contracts for legal advice, most of the feedback given, has been, ‘don’t sign anything’! Do and it’s at your own peril, which most young and enthusiastic people do, if they even read the contracts at all? ***** I sent the album off to long-time family friend, Ralph Baker. Ralph has been Black Sabbath’s manager since they started, and if I was going to get an honest opinion that mattered I knew I could rely on his objectiveness. Half of the album was alternative rock, and the other half was ska. Ralph insisted ska wasn’t a financial option, with a niche market; it’s had its day twice and gone twice, whereas alternative rock had some scope. At no point did Ralph say he liked Kenisia’s music. He said the band should make up its minds. ‘Simplify’ he said, ‘you’re either a ska/punk band or an alternative band.’ So I did, writing more ska music, even against his advice. He told me ska was a very selective target audience and to give it up. I didn’t listen to anyone else, so I wasn’t going to listen to him either. But I appreciated the advice! ***** Had Kenisia’s management been doing their job, perhaps we’d have sorted this out a long time ago, but since returning from Amsterdam, the video concept had progressed no further. Bob and his magical ponytail was become more and more elusive. The big dreams he described to us were leading to nothing more than dreams. Like a virgin on prom night, they disappeared leaving a group of horny men felling vacant. This created uncertainty and stress within the band and just added to list problems I was dealing with. I had more debts than I cared to think about! At a time where I had recently become single, I was as unhappy as I hope I’ll ever be. My job sucked and most of the people I worked with sucked even more, but I needed a regular income to pay the bills, whilst I carried on with the delusional dream of the band becoming my profession. I was stuck in a job I hated for three years, even though Chris (a friend who got me the

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

job), never expected me to last three months. I was late everyday to work for six months, and they never fired me. I was abusive, I showed a massive lack of enthusiasm for the work, but they still never fired me. When on my own in a flat in Warmley, I just stopped paying certain bills after a while because I couldn’t afford two peoples rent on my own. I owed about four grand! I took my car for an MOT at the garage next to my mum’s shop, and of course, it failed! The man from the garage was so worried about me he went to visit my mum (as he knew her) and told her that I looked like I was going to top myself when he told me how much the car was going to cost to repair, which mum mentioned to me. And I remember telling her that I thought killing myself was the only possible way out of my debts. Banks had refused to lend me money and I knew my mum couldn’t afford to lend me anything. My sister overheard the conversation and offered to get a post-graduate loan from her bank. She came through and this saved my ass, literally. If she hadn’t been able to lend me the money at that point, I think I would have killed myself. There was no other way out in my head, so, to my sister, Claire, I shall always be grateful. Thanks! In the mean time to help work on my situation I agreed to sell what crap I had to salvage some funds. Collect what debts the band owed me for various things and to find a better paying job. I was ashamed that I needed to borrow the money but humbled, too. Trying to describe your own personal depression to anyone who’s never been depressed is probably as complicated as recounting what it would feel like to be a fish. It’s practically impossible. You have no comprehension of any possible future, because you cannot focus past what you’re struggling to achieve at that moment in time, however simple. Someone could tell you that your house was on fire, but you would budge a muscle. Your mind is consumed by personal thoughts, obsessions that control you from the minute you wake each morning. It’s not that you don’t care about anyone or anything; it just doesn’t cross your mind! You isolate yourself from family, friends and work colleges, because when you’re depressed, there is nothing worse than seeing people who are happy, that just want you to be happy too. Only when every negative force, every fear, every element of doubt has been resolved or erased from you brain, you’ll live a normal fulfilling life. ***** In the space of a year, three people I’d known had killed themselves. I decided people who kill themselves were assholes. Seeing the devastation and carnage

created by their untimely demise, I felt even worse knowing this is how I’d felt not so long before. After a long time feeling awful for the families, I had to pick myself but up, I became consumed with anger. As I sat writing a song, the words ‘I Spit on Your Grave’, formed in my head. Of all my songs, this is the most heart felt song I’ve written. Occasionally when I sang it, my voice would go horse as I was holding back the angst and tears. Everyone deals with their own pains and sorrow in different ways. For me, I expressed it though my lyrics and used the stage as forum to convey my anger. But I never told the band. ***** Happiness can be found in the oddest of place. Simon at Newport TJ’s, offered Kenisia a support slot with The Specials, and The Suicide Machines, whom I’d never heard of at the time, but Simon insisted that I’d love them. My friend AJ, lent me a copy of their album ‘Destruction by Definition’. I’d never been so emotionally provoked by a band’s lyrics before in my whole life; I nearly creamed my pants. I discovered their second album, and with this new found love for this band and my distasteful, sick sense if humour, I found the genius that is Kevin Smith. His movies steered me towards rehabilitation (there is something about dick ad fart jokes). I’d also managed to find a job working in mental health. I find that helping people with their problems helped me take my mind of my own issues. It’s selfish but it worked! ***** Simon moved out of the flat in Warmley, followed by my brother Paul briefly, for a 12 months, leaving me on my own in the flat for a while. If someone didn’t move in soon I’d have to move out. If someone new moved in surely we’d have to stop practising in the flat. But not if Alun Brown moves in! Martin had a close friend moving to Bristol, who was in need of somewhere to live as soon as possible. Martin picked up Alun from Cardiff and took him to the flat in Warmley. There was a knock on the door, I opened it and Alun moved in, I thought he was just checking the place out, why not? We’ve been friends ever since! Since Alun moved in, relations with Martin improved, as a direct result of my friendship with Alun. Furthermore, he didn’t mind us practising in the flat, once he knew the songs he’d come into the lounge where we practiced and sing along. We were loud! My brother would go out for the night when we practised. *****

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

Lee and Scott Cotterell are a familiar couple of characters from the Bath punk scene who are two of the most genuine guys you’ll meet. Together they make quite the double act! For a long time I didn’t know they were brothers, but over the years, the two of them did more than their fair share to keep the local music scene alive and exciting. Together they formed Might Joe Young, a band we would form a close kinship with in the early days. Kenisia had occasionally played with them in Bath, but more often than not, we went to their shows because we enjoyed the music. After acrimoniously parting company with his previous band, MJY immediately recruited Scott Caines as their new drummer to replace their original drummer who had just announced he was going to leave. MJY knew Scott as a local promoter, and also through their mutual friendship with Regicide - An example of how networking can unite bands and musician with a common interest. In all the years I’ve known Scott, joining a band that he respected, made him the most elated I’ve ever seen him. As a direct result of this new line-up, Kenisia and MJY were gigging together on a regular basis. Soon into this new line up, Scott and I plotted against our own bands, in hope to making them more pro-active. If Scott could convince MJY to record some new material; the two bands could combine their cash flow to release a split 7inch single; like the cool bands did! Vinyl is a collectors’ mark of notability. People buy vinyl even if they don’t like the band! 7inch Vinyl is a gold medal, whilst 12inch vinyl is a silver medal and cassettes are bronze. CDs… Thanks for watching. MP3s are the Special Olympics mark of attendance. Mighty Joe Young recorded a new demo at a friend’s home-studio, Joe Short, who played bass for The Girls. He also added a touch of oldschool synth noises to the mix as they played about with the recording. After negotiations went well with both bands, I had to call CTI to see where we stood legally? Communications had practically evaporated, but there was still confusion, some grey areas along with contentious issues unresolved! I called Bob. ‘Alan, I’m in a meeting!’ Later that day, Jackie and Rowan both assured me that Kenisia could consider the contract as null in void! My mentor at Rockaway records Simon, recommended Key Productions, a UK based company and a more expensive option, but far more reliable than other options to us. Apparently Eastern European countries offered cheaper pressings, but with varying degrees of returns in quality, and products not showing up at all. One draw back with 7inch vinyl is the time constraints. The songs quality deteriorates once the songs physically go over 7-8 minutes (I think), in length at maximum quality.

This stretches the vinyl pressing limits. There has to be a maximum number of groves the record press should produce on a 7inch for maximum quality, after which, if the songs are longer the quality of the record goes down. The production process is lengthy. Steve England, with his Apple Mac, set about making our one-sided cover as well as insert. If you can recall what the South Park figures look like, then you can imagine how Steve adapted band member images, to look like the adult-humoured animation. When we saw Steve’s final artwork we laughed our asses off. Steve captured and caricatured Kenisia perfectly. Simon’s dreadlocks, Tom’s long hair and stoned look, my Beanie head, and Brandy’s spiky hair. He’d immortalised us all. Steve’s artwork for Kenisia half of the 7inch is still my favourite piece of art I’ve seen him create! MJY had kept to their side of the bargain and created an awesome cover for their side of the 7inch too. Happy with the music and artwork chosen, we went back to the White House to tweak the songs, equalising the levels slightly for pressing at ‘Key Productions’. The day the white label 7inch showed up at my house, I was massively elated, once both bands agreed on the test pressing, we contacted Key Productions who made the initial run of 500 7inch singles. Both bands had opted for a Black & White cover and it looked astonishing! Kenisia and Mighty Joe Young, had a release party in Bath: The start of many joint celebrations between the bands. After releasing our split 7inch, all of a sudden the old school bands took us more seriously. Anytime an old punk looked at the merchandise they bought a 7inch. Vinyl is like a pair of sparkly shoes in a shop to a punk, they buy it even though they don’t ever intend to wear it. Vinyl has one-massive-floor in its aesthetic perfection: Other than old-people (like us) who owns a record player these days? Distribution and marketing were easy for the 7inch. Cargo Records (recommended by Simon TJ’s, again) accepted it straight away. Local shops had been happy to put the record into their stores on a ‘Sale and return basis’. You tell them how much you want for the product and they mark it up with VAT, then profit. Cargo Records send a monthly magazine to the shops, and they send back their requisitions, which was an initial 100 copies. I was disappointed with the figure, but I was assured in the current CD market, 100 copies for an unknown band was exceptional. Apparently the first Harry Potter book test pressing was 100 copies. No shit! Ours didn’t sell that well unfortunately, we probably didn’t even make the top 1000. That reminds

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

me Brandy, I don’t remember invoicing Cargo Records for any Kenisia releases; you could be sitting on a small fortune for Vinyl and CDs! We sent copies to NME, Kerrang, and various Radio stations, as well as ‘John Peel’ on Radio 1. We also sent to some Fanzines, collectors’ magazines and Bristol’s own Venue Magazine, as well as the odd record company and promoter. With the exception of the late great ‘John Pele’ (as far as we’re aware) and N.M.E, most people gave the split 7inch reasonable reviews, and extended both bands air-play, slightly. Both bands’ artwork was taking most the credit though. ***** Kenisia and MJY played together at the Wunder Bar, in Midsomer Norton, where the accent is thick and locals are colourful. Perhaps the smallest venue in the UK, and the most fun! The venue’s main room excluding bar was slightly larger than the front-room of the flat I lived in. The walls and ceilings covered in band photos and weird artefacts; there’s a unique and homely feel to it, the noise levels are so deafening, even to hardened band members with ear-plugs! With no room to dance or swing a cat, the Wunder Bar puts the whole band, smack bang in the audience’s face! After a lively and sweaty show we sat at that bar chatting to Charlie and Kathryn, from a band called ‘Little America’, who’d been watching the gig. They both studied at Bath Spa University, but lived near Midsomer-Norton, enjoying the vibrant and lively music scene. Little America, offered us a show in two days in Croyde, Devon. I’d been chatted-up by a girl at our show, and I jokingly asked if she fancied coming to the gig with us this weekend? She accepted? There is definitely something in the water in Norton, and I was never clear in my mind if I loved it, or feared it? Croyde, Devon is the most desirable holiday destination in North Devon, and I could see why, beautiful beaches, and what appears to be a sleepy little village. We walked into The Manor pub and set up whilst surrounded by families still eating gourmet meals. Not again?! Kenisia opened the festivities to now a hostile crowd of crazed lunatics. From the second Kenisia started playing I feared for our safety. Chairs we used for audience members to propel themselves in then air, some one else would later pick the chair up and throw it, smiling at the person who was the intended. Beer was thrown in every direction, including at the band. People were running and jumping off the bar onto people’s heads. This scenic picturesque pub had turned into the ‘Titty Twister’ from the film ‘Dusk to Dawn’ (but no one in Croyde had the excuse of being a crazed vampire)! When Little America played I was surprised the

police weren’t called, things got even crazier! My date for the night, Anouska, was going nuts with them. I still wonder why I’m not living Croyde (probably because I’ll never leave)! LA, a pop-punk band, were incredible live, and amazing people, their geographical surroundings held them back. If A&R personnel had been at that show they would have snapped up. The night was so awesome, we totally forgot about the looming prospect of sleeping in a tent in early November. We did freeze our asses off, but then again we didn’t pay for camping. This was the start of a long-term relationship with Kathryne, Charlie and Croyde!

CHAPTER EIGHT

Steve, Phil and Mr Zippy Join the Family

Steve England in one word; Aardvark! Steve joining Kenisia probably didn’t help find Kenisia’s identity. You need to see a photo of Steve to understand why. Steve England passed his degree summer 1998 from Exeter University, and headed back to Bristol for some of his dad’s homemade rocket-fuel, and to find work. Steve, an excellent guitarist, probably hadn’t gone over a day without playing his guitar, even at university. I’d been toying with the idea of not playing the guitar in the band so I could run around singing, and Steve was my excuse for quitting. I knew Steve was up for it, he came to every practice whether we liked it or not. A bit like my piles, I couldn’t get rid of them either! One day at practice I asked Steve to play a song so I could sing. I knew he knew the songs. Brandy, Steve’s younger brother, had a disapproving, disconcerted look on his face. Steve started out playing a few songs in our set instead of me, whilst I sang. I liked it, and couldn’t wait till Steve was playing the whole set. For a while we were known as the band with too many guitarists, and that’s exactly what we were. Now there were three guitarists in the band and one bassist. Too much amplification for one stage, we had a phat sound though, but Steve and I were playing the same things. Soon enough I had the whole gig to run round and strangle people with the microphone lead and Steve had full rains of the stage. One of my favourite band photos is in Croyde, Devon, one summer where all four guitarists are lined up like Status quo.

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

New Years Eve 1998 at my flat, Steve drank him self into a coma and barely saw in the New Year. Steve walked outside to get some fresh air. Through the window looking out of the flat, you could see Steve’s silhouette clearly as he swayed from side to side helplessly in the cold winter’s air. Steve obviously over compensated one way too much, as his silhouette disappeared. You could only hear his moans and groans of pain in a Homer Simpson fashion as he bounced down a flight of metal stairs to the concrete floor. A few of us rushed out to find Steve smiling crumpled in a heap on the floor. We picked him up and aided Steve back into the warm flat and sat him on the sofa between his carers Craig and Big Frank. Steve turned to them both to say, ‘I love you,’ before he vomited over them both. He continued to there their along in his own vomit, smiling to himself (not a trait I posses myself). That year on a snowboarding excursion to Andorra, whilst Steve lay asleep in his sleeping bag in our hotel, Big Frank had been drinking absence for a few hours straight. Big Frank came into the shared room, seeing Steve asleep in the Sleeping bag and with no way of protecting himself, leapt on to Steve and beat the crap out of him. You could hear the punches and screams through the room’s thin walls next door. By the time we got to Steve’s aid, Big frank was sat on the sofa smiling to himself, while Steve lay crying stuck in his sleeping bag. I believed this to be Big Frank’s revenge attack for the New Years Eve’s vomiting incident. After jumping the fence at 1998’s Glastonbury festival I ended up sitting up all night in Steve’s and Craig’s tent freezing my ass off, covered in mud up to my knees, when a nice man came into the tent holding me at knifepoint whilst Steve, and Craig slept. I was so pissy and started shouting at the would-be mugger, increasingly getting louder and louder, that even when two other men popped their heads in, I still told them to piss off. The most annoying part of the ordeal was after they’d left Craig and Steve turned over asked who it was and went back to sleep, and still didn’t believe me in the morning. ***** I’ve so many fond memories of visiting the England household, where I always felt welcome. I’ve never heard a serious argument from the brothers, even when they were in their early twenties and had to share a room. I’ve only ever heard playful banter from the England’s, which has left me mildly to brutally jealous of these three England brothers. The only dysfunction I can imagine in this family revolves around alcohol toxicity and sex. But that’s an uneducated guess based on the amount the

boys drink. Brandy and Steve’s parents have never been anything less than overtly welcoming and friendly every time you walk in the house, with mum always offering a cup of tea. Just for the record Mr England senior, really is a rocket scientist. Jammy bastard! ***** Steve, Brandy and I had talked about putting together a compilation album featuring local Bristol and Bath bands, and together with our school friend, AJ, we felt the time was right. AJ had recently joined MJY, playing trumpet along with Jackie who had replaced original and one-time legendary Knucklehead sax player, Alex. The four of us understood and were involved in the local scene and saw too many great bands go unnoticed. A compilation CD is a cheap and effective means of promoting and advertising each other’s bands at shows. Money or a lack of it was our main areas of concern. Bands interested included, Mighty Joe Young, Mr Zippy, Tweaker, Panic Button, Citizen Fish, Origin, Skant (who’s singer looked like a sexy, young Zoë Ball), Cow Tipper, and Surfing Turnips. We got as far as mastering 14 songs from various artists. Money, legal matters, record companies, and egos (From other bands) got in the way. We sent copies of the compilation albums to the artists as a nominal gesture but no further, which was a shame as I thought this venture would have done well. AJ was getting harder to get hold of, and for some reason he’d left MJY for a career in B&Q (after a stunning TV appearance in one of their commercials). I really miss AJ he had a wicked sense of humour and he’s a talented musician. Regarding the compilation album, I felt like we’d let the bands down, when thing didn’t go as planned financially, along with AJ’s disappearing magic act. Kenisia got so busy, I stopped caring and there was no commitment on anyone’s behalf. Essentially the main flaw with the compilation album was it just wasn’t that good! Two years later, it would have been vastly improved with all the bands that sprang up, like Five Knuckle, Adequate 7, Exit Wound, and A-ko. After Raging Hormones died down, Steve started up promoting gigs and DJ-ing skapunk at a local gay friendly venue. Shame, I though the concept of owning a record company was awesome. I still exaggerate that I do! ***** Whilst sound checking at a gig in Taunton I wanted to show Steve a new guitar part I’d worked out and I picked it up (playing another mans guitar, is a little like fingering

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

his girlfriend). I took Steve’s guitar but I hadn’t noticed the strap was twisted on it. When I put the guitar over my shoulders, the guitar dropped to the floor. You wouldn’t believe the facial gurning, and moans as the band felt the pain for Steve. It’s a vintage Gibson SG and Steve wasn’t impressed. I wasn’t either. I said sorry, then tried to explain what happened, as I felt so bad. Rightfully so, Steve was a little upset (understatement) as I knew how much it meant to him, and how hard he’d worked and saved to get the guitar in the first place and now I dropped it. Steve rarely shows anger, unless he’s really pushed, and he didn’t this time either, but his face said it all. In the end, I snapped at him for no real reason. Maybe it was because I felt so distraught internally? Steve, I’m still very sorry about dropping your guitar and losing my cool with you. I walked out of the venue in a huff and went for a skate for half an hour trying to calm down, as I knew I was completely and utterly in the wrong. On the few occasions Steve and I have quivelled I’ve felt terrible, he’s such a genuine guy, it’s hard to even provoke him. Before the gig, a local Taunton based TV crew had pre-arranged to show up and interview us, and to later film the gig for what I believe was called, Channel 6, who I never heard of before, and never heard of it since. We all blew off some steam at the gig and showed off a little for the cameras. They promised to send us a copy of the gig, which they never did. But a friend who lived in Taunton at the time saw the airing of the newly forged Kenisia’s debut! He said the recording was as dodgy as the show itself. ***** Little America had just split up much to my disappointment. Distance and commitments elsewhere took its toll on this promising band. But core members Kathryne and Charlie met a bass player who lived locally to me, our friend Big Frank (real name, Mark Francis – who is large in stature, hence the nickname) and started writing new material, calling their new band, The Merics. Cunning! Despite the compilation fiasco, a newly forged relationship with likeminded fellow Bristolians, Mr Zippy evolved. Kenisia, Mr Zippy, Mighty Joe Young, and The Merics, gigged on a regularly occurrence. Even friends of the bands seemed like-minded, leading to many messy parties. Madds, John, Darrel, Pete, and Greg were the line up for Mr Zippy when we first met them. This may not have been the original line up, but it was the line up that we got to know pretty well. Darrel left the band in 2001. As a result of my bad memory I’ve merged the two shows: The Salthouse Christmas gigs in Clevedon – Mr Zippy’s home. This remains my favourite gig of all time. After

the bands ate a huge Christmas dinner together drinking enough to make a man legally blind, we played a packed show full of energetic youths, hornier than Ted Bundy. I’d never seen so much punching, kicking, and dancing, with such a friendly enthusiasm, armed with smiles on their faces. Mr Zippy, single handily are the most energetic band on stage I’ve ever seen. Even drummer Pete, gets up and runs around when possible. Pete ‘drinks and drums’, at the same time (luckily, it’s not a criminal offence)! These guys had their album on sale at the shows, which made me eager to catch up with these guys and get our own CD out. We didn’t expect Mr Zippy to ask us to play a small set, and I was delighted and embarrassed that they did. Tom was so drunk by the time we played it was anyone’s guess what would happen. He had that ‘drunk person’s’ glare on his face that said, ‘What’s going on?’ and he played like it too. In Tom’s head he was playing the best performance of his life, but back in real time, he looked and sounded like he was playing in slow motion. He was so drunk we all couldn’t help but laugh our asses off. I thanked the lord we were only playing a handful of songs. By our last song, Tom seemed like he was playing backwards, but he looked so proud of himself. The audience looked on in horror as if to say ‘Awe, let the special kid play’, we only played for 15 minutes but I swear it felt like an hour. After a few songs we thought Tom would say that’s enough, but he was taking requests and murdering each song. Still, we got a lot of laughs! ***** There was a creature that crawled from the dark side of the moon, from here on it will be known as Phil Barns. Phil and Jackie were the newest additions to Mighty Joe Young; Phil on trombone and Jackie on the saxophone. I vividly recall meeting Phil out the back of the Porter Butt at MJY’s summer party. If all police officers looked like Phil, there would be no crime, just fear! Phil seemed like a genuinely nice bloke and Jackie a gorgeously cute, shy woman, wearing a shocking leopard skin skirt. After the show we negotiated future plans for Phil and Jackie to jam with Kenisia on a few songs that could do with brass section, especially if we recorded them. With a very similar, sick and disturbing sense of humour, music and comics, Phil and I became close friends. I loved listening to Phil’s stories of a decade in the army. Kenisia borrowed Phil and Jackie for the purpose of recording, but the pull of gigging with us proved to be enticing too.

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

Phil’s a scary looking f‘cker with his gimp mask on! I loved it! Phil wore his awesome flight-mask at gigs for about 12 months. He reminds me off the character ‘Leather Face’ from ‘The Texas Chain Saw Massacre’, with the mask on; a little scary for our younger target audience me thinks. I met the character that played Leather-face in Bristol along with David Prowse, probably the most famous Bristolian ever, who played ‘Darth Vader’ in ‘Star Wars’ signing autographs in Forbidden Planet in Bristol. Both characters portrayed/played on-screen bad-asses, in real-life they’re big softies. Unlike Phil, who’s an on stage ‘psycho’, real-life serial killer! Probably the only active serial killer in the city of Bath and we’re proud of him, he does good work for the local community. Phil is covered in awesome mayhem coloured tattoos. Phil remains the only Kenisia member to have a tattoo, unlike most punk bands covered from head to toe these days. ***** The following is compilation of events, which transpired over the course of two parties in my flat, in 1999 and 2000. I had arranged for Kenisia, Mr Zippy, and The Merics to play at the parties! Due to the lack of space for the party we had to compromise, no hookers! The bands minimised their equipment, as long as someone brought drumsticks for Tom. We’d be okay! The neighbours didn’t mind (I did ask), and my flatmate, Alun thought it was great idea. The Merics would open, followed by us and giving the Zippy boys the headline slot. The Merics’ singer, Kathryn took the piss out of me by wearing my skateboard helmet, when they played. Between band members, they usually spent more time making jokes amongst themselves between songs than actual time playing. Kathryn had a way of talking to drummer-boyfriend Charlie which was always embarrassingly funny to watch, but so worth it. Kenisa played in fancy dress. Brandy went as ‘Spok’ from Star Trek, Simon and I both wore a dress with uncomplimentary wigs (you don’t see to many women with beards these days?) Phil came with his usual gimp mask and Steve went for a nasty shirt! Mr Zippy decided that they weren’t going to be upstaged by a bunch of monkeys so they played in just underwear. There are many things that bring mankind together, men united by underwear being one! There’s nothing more fun at a gig then seeing a man jiggling his balls at you. Mr Zippy’s two drink rule was not applicable this evening, and it was nice to see them play bollocked! They covered a Kenisia song ‘X-ray Spex’ which was amusing. Afterwards their singer, Mads, had

been showing me his parkour skills, running up a wall then jumping a 5ft gap, hanging off the tops of the stairs, pulling himself up. It was awesome until I saw the wall wobble so much I thought he’d break his neck. One of the Zippy boys got lucky (not with a Kenisia member I’d like to add), but where did they do it? I had bigger pressing issues, Anouska (now just a friend) was so drunk she could barley walk or talk. We carried her upstairs to my room, and put her to bed. Several hours later I went to check on her. Incredibly, she some how managed to knock my window out of its frame, but was still lying in bed. I poked my head out of the hole and saw on the roof below the window frame, and could see and smell vomit everywhere. I put her in the recovery position and checked on her periodically. Back at the party and Greg from Mr Zippy was playing Black Sabbath tunes on his guitar, whilst friends Joe and Mark were singing along murderously. At 12.30 I unplugged the amps out of respect for my neighbours. Simon borrowed a projector and screen from work, so we could enhance the delights of playing ‘Tony Hawks Skateboarding’, on the Playstation and watch porn. I was concerned that the games console was more popular than the porn. Some people stayed up all night playing that game. Phil was playing a tequila drinking games with two hippies that gate crashed. I’d never seen Phil drink, like me he’s not much of a drinker, just the occasional pint at a gig or on New Years Eve. He was perfectly fine one minute, then the next he looked like Michael Jackson in the thriller video. Phil soon crashed, snoring like a bear (shaking the house), then periodically would bolt upright, and emptied his tequila insides, in the kitchen sink which was full of cups, glasses and plates. The fun was only just getting started! Bodies scattered everywhere, sleeping in every nock and cranny, only to be woken by the up chucking sounds effects of ‘Tequila Phil’. Those grunts and groans of Phil vomiting haunt me still. The noises followed by a ruckus of laughter echoing round the house, then Phil retaliating ‘fuck off, you bastards, it’s not funny,’ which instigated new laughter. I had stitches from laughing so hard. Phil graciously cleaned up the contents of the sink, unlike most houseguests and their antics. In the morning Tom decided he wanted to cut his long hair, so I shaved off one side and refused to shave the other until I taken a photo. I then made it into a Mohican and took another photo before shaving it all off. Anouska, was alive in the morning, I think? Phil and I went for breakfast. On returning Mark and Joe were doing the ‘Jane Fonda Workout’ video on fast-forward. I put on the kettle, drank a cup of tea, slept, and

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

when I woke again, thankfully, no one was there except for my flat mate Alun. Years later, looking back over the parties photos, before my friends had houses, careers, children, cats and dogs, you can see the carefree happy content looks on each friends’ face. Something I see rarely from them these days, understandably. And when I do, there’s a lot of baby talk! ***** This particular argument started whilst Steve, Brandy, Simon and I were waiting for the rest of the band to show up so we could head to up Ipswich. Everyone seemed to be taking two bags for a day road trip plus their own band equipment. This was stupid as I was only taking a small rucksack. I know I’m just a singer so I don’t have an instrument, but I was a little miffed at how and why we everyone needed so many bags (I do enjoy a good wine)! At this point we didn’t have a van so we still drove in two cars to gigs. Now, it’s unlike me to start an argument (yeah Right), but I was a little ticked off that I’d managed to pack, two t-shirts, a sweatshirts, pants, socks, sleeping bag, a book, CDs and CD player, and God-knows what else in the bag. Brandy and Steve laughed at me in disbelief, telling me ‘I was full of shit’. Actually, Steve probably said ‘There’s no way’ come to think of it. ‘Well, I’ll bet you, say £5? That I’m not kidding’. Brandy and Steve both agreed to the bet. Simon kept quiet, perhaps he was indifferent either way, or perhaps he was skint and didn’t fancy coughing up £5 to this arrogant twat. I emptied the bag’s contents onto the table, and lifted each item so Steve and Brandy could see as I put each item in, and my minute little bag. As I packed all said items, Steve and Brandy weren’t happy as there was no sweatshirt (this is as I remember it) so I took the sweatshirt I was wearing and rammed it into the bag with the other items with no space left, I had to sit on it, to get the remaining air out of my poor squished bag and finally got the remaining sweatshirt in, phew. Like all good Steve and Brady bets, Steve refused to pay up, and painstakingly if you bug Brandy, all day everyday when you see him, he’ll yield and give you the money to shut you up. Unless he’s drunk, then he’ll bet his wife away. I haven’t seen Brandy paralytic since he’s been married. The day will come, and I will get him to bet his wife away. She’s worth a lot of camels (all blonde attractive women are). The bet made bugger all difference as everyone still took a multitude of bags to the gig, and I still managed to prove to the guys that I’m an asshole; that’s what counts! *****

When we played in Salisbury one night, a young female audience attendee starting talking to Brandy and Simon, whilst setting up on stage, now for some strange reason she decided to tell the boys she had her tit pierced, so I asked if we could have a look, she didn’t seem to mind, so I took a photo, as you do. Not realising some of the guys’ girlfriends were watching, and they weren’t impressed. It wasn’t for their amusement: it was for mine. If she didn’t want to show us her nipples she wouldn’t have offered them in the first place. There was no sexploitation involved. Simon loved it though and I’ve got a souvenir snapshot! The worlds a cruel and twisted place full of hardship and trauma, but moments like that can lift your soul and appreciation of life. I was just upset she didn’t show us her…. Ring. ***** Until Kenisia had been offered decent support slots in London we stayed well away from gigs there. Sure Kenisia wanted to play in London there were just so many bogus opportunities from rip of merchants demanding that you bring a minimum of fifty people to the gig on a pound a flyer deal, which is pointless when your friend can see you in Bristol. Bollocks to that, that’s why we saw sense and took our time biding decent offers. Crooks, the lot of them, but there’s so many bands prepared to do it as they presume if they get a gig in London, record deals are going to flow like lap dancers in Soho. ***** I left Steve at Kandi Klub, Bristol with 20 minutes left before closing. Steve didn’t want to leave probably because he was so drunk he couldn’t move. As I left Steve he wondered over to dance floor in an incapacitated state. The next day I found out Steve fell over whilst paralytic, dancing like a retard, a girl felt sorry for him as he was lying in a pool of broken glass and beer on the floor and walked him home. They stayed together for about five years! That couldn’t happen to anyone else I know? ***** Tom practically lived in my flat in warmly at one stage in the early days, sleeping on the sofa, when he slept. Tom ‘tried’ to have a one-night-stand when kipping on my sofa, but they girl was a little bit deranged. According to Tom the next day he’d had an out and out, freaky experience. Every time Tom and this girl would get physical, all of a sudden she’d stop, look at Tom, and say something weird, like ‘I really fancy a cup of tea’ and she’d go and make one. Leaving Tom perplex. The third time it happened during the throws of passion, Tom was more than confused and his ego

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

was slowly shattering (for the night anyway). And sure enough, she went and got a Banana, mid backstroke. Perhaps Tom thought she’d rather roger the Banana? Perhaps she did, too. I was mainly annoyed as Tom was trying to have sex in my front room, which I needed to walk through to have a pee, and I couldn’t because they were at it. I have to compromise. I used my initiative and pee’d in a ??????? There was the odd occasion when other band members would have to deal with Tom on a night. One night he slept on Steve’s sofa and in the early hours of that morning, Steve and his now ex-girlfriend woke to an unfamiliar noise in their bedroom. Tom was sat naked on the end of their bed! When they asked what the hell he was doing, he had a full sleep-conversation with them. They realised he was sleep walking and guided him carefully to where he was sleeping. Why he was naked, even Tom doesn’t know. I’ve had many a strange conversation with Tom in his sleep, and seen him make tea, drink more booze and stare at a picture on a wall, as if it was the answer to life itself. Shame I never abused my power over Tom, whilst he’s sleep walking. ***** Like a tornado sucking life from the world the attacks on New York on September 11th 2001 stopped most living people in their tracks. I was glued to the TV at work; as I watching the live TV coverage in horror that day; for once my brain couldn’t believe what my eyes were showing them as planes hit the Twin Towers in New York. Eventually, American bands started coming back to tour the UK. There was a distinct noticeable difference in people attitudes for some time. By the end of 2002, many American’s on holiday in the Europe were wearing Canadian flags on their bags out of fear of persecution; this is still true today and it’s 2011. On July 7th 2005 when bombs exploded and devastated parts of London, one friend, Little Massy, was on one of the other tube lines at the time. The same morning Scott Caines left for work in London 20 minutes earlier than usual and missed the Edgeware Station explosion by the same amount of time. According to the Documentary ‘Bowling for Columbine’ by Michael More, 11,000 gun related deaths occur in the US each year. On 9/11/2001, 3000 souls were sadly lost in the attacks on America. Statistically you’d think America & England would be more compelled to go to war against them selves, rather than Afghanistan and Iraq with stats like that! On 7/7/2005 my brother and his wife’s first child was born, Amir, so it was a mixed day of emotions for my family. Most people returned to work a

day later in London. Life had to carry on. When President Bush came to the UK in 2003 over a million people showed up in protest of the war!

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

CHAPTER NINE

People are Sound at the White House

As a band, it’s rare when you feel you can trust someone whom has you best interest at heart! Martin from The White House randomly phoned me to inform me that people sound.com were paying people £100 for demos, singles and albums to put on their website. There were some stipulations (which we never read), and the money was non repayable or recoupable. But the music you uploaded was exclusive to People Sound. Martin acted as their pimp/vender, and the £100 would be deducted of recording costs. We desperately needed to catch up on the modern day technology, as tapes and 7inch vinyl had a very limited audience, and supply and demand was getting on top of us. We record nine new tracks: ‘Gimme Your Sista’, ‘Labamba’, ‘X-Ray Spex’, ‘Shawn Kemp’, ‘King of the Hill’, ‘I’ve Just Fallen Over’ and ‘ I Want You to Hate Me’, We also recorded ‘Sometimes’ and ‘If You Ever’, with saxophone and trombone, courtesy of Jackie and Phil. Very nicely I might add. I think I upset Jackie whilst recording, as Martin asked if she could add a bit of ‘Umph’ into ‘Sometimes’, I translated this as, ‘Give it some bollocks, Jackie’. She didn’t seem amused. I went deadly silent. Phil joined in with the group vocal shouting on a few songs. We hammered through the songs in one or two takes, with ‘Shawn Kemp’, requiring three takes but we still weren’t fussy about it. I wrote the lyrics to ‘Gimme Your Sista’ in the studio, I hated it then, and I still can’t listen to it now. Having two people onboard that were more professional in their musical upbringing, injected more excitement into the project, the overall sound that had been added to the original tracks by Jackie and Phil was phenomenal. Since our last time at the White House, Martin had built two new rooms, to separate the noises so we could record most of the instruments simultaneously saving a lot of time. Martin worked his ass off, knowing we only had three days in the studio. The majority of the music was being recorded live. This was Steve’s first recording session with Kenisia and played guitar on all songs except ‘Labamba’, which I selfishly insisted on playing myself. Although this recording never achieved the continuity of sound compared to the last White House session, the general flow and brightness in sounds surpassed it monumentally.

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

Off the back of our first recordings, several Bristol based punk bands recorded with Martin. He had become more used to the chaotic sound of Bristol, and that’s why our musical essence has been captured better this time round. I was annoyed that our previous recording (which we’d spent three times as much on) now sounded naff! I secretly wished we had the funds and to rerecord a few of the older songs. We now had an album’s worth of material and we contacted Peoplesound.com and subsequently sent the recorded tracks, band history and photos. The People Sound sessions ended up being called ‘Blown Out!’ - A fairly quick and painless experience due the nature of the website. We signed some paper work and the album was up and running. The tracks needed to be exclusive to people sounds as part of the deal, so we couldn’t use previous songs available on MP3.com. Steve revelled in his own geeky-ness and got everything up and running in no time. Peoplesound.com and MP3.com led the way for a new breed of Kenisia fans. This also led to a new type of communication with listeners/fans from all over the world via the websites message boards - even if it was for people to voice their dislikes to our band. People left messages from America, Canada, all over Europe, Russia, China, Australia, Cuba and Costa Rico. It was an awesome feeling responding to listeners across the globe. They could buy our music from anywhere, and some did! We still lacked a product to sell at gigs though. Some of the following text is exaggerated for effect, but you’ll get the idea… ‘Right you c**ts, I want an album released, or I’ll burn your houses down. Ok, maybe that’s a bit harsh; I’ll just piss in your beer and tear the heads off your Star Wars figures’! That’s how serious I was! It’s cool to have Vinyl, it’s cool to have stickers and CDs, but nothing says I’m a loser like a person wearing their own bands T-shirt, and for the immediate future, that’s what we did. Brandy and Steve had perfected several designs that everyone loved. Finally the band had T-shirts and hooded sweatshirts for sale. The only real snag with our initial run of T-shirts and hooded sweatshirts was the cost factor. For a small printing run of T-shirts and sweatshirts there was hardly any return at all. In fact I think we decided to break even. But it was a small test run, yellow, green and red Tshirts. The T-shirts disappeared very quickly from the merchandise stands, along with the Sweatshirts. I don’t know why we never made the commitment and got a big order, cutting down the over all cost and return. The sweatshirts were a one offs as the cost was stupid, but we repeated a small number of T-shirts here and there. A

few years later Brandy worked on The Kenisia ‘Hoover’ T-shirts, which our record company paid for us. Sadly my T-shirts and sweatshirts have seen better days. ***** In 1999 Shawn Fanning and Sean Parker changed the course of music history, in an unprecedented evolutionary leap in technology, making it possible for anyone with a computer and internet connection to upload their own personal music collection for anyone, anywhere in the world to download or listen to. Taking music from CDs and compressing them into MP3 files, smaller in size easier and faster to download. MP3 files made it possible to cut out the record companies so that any band across the world could be heard, with a detrimental effect on the music industries revenue’s for big recording artists, with plummeting profits. People just want to listen to music, and now the Internet is a forum where everyone can be heard. So what if Metallica only earn five million dollars a year instead of 15, they’re still ugly and shit in my own opinion. Along with Napster, MP3.com paved the way for future generations of musicians and fans alike to find one another. Now ‘Myspace’ is the new forum in which artists showcase share their music. This medium allows fans/artist/friends of the musicians to converse on a level plain. I always used to get ‘Myspace’ and ‘Facebook’ muddled up, I sent an invitation to a girl I liked, asking if she wanted to come on ‘Myface’! I never heard back from her. Funny girl! ***** Music turns humans into animals - A primal urge to dance and mate; an old ritual that’s existed as long as there have been drums. Do musicians want to make music so they can prove their beat is that fattest and most enticing to women? Like a caveman shaking his big stick to impress the most women? Sending them into afrenzy for that man and his stick? That’s all Kenisia ever were; a tribe of shit cavemen, trying to impress women by shaking their small sticks! ***** Steve’s warm up party for the Millennium was a cracker. The night started off with Mad’s From Mr Zippy coming out of the kitchen with a wox on his cock, to the surprise of a big audience. As friends from every corners of my life combined with Kenisia, Mr Zippy, and The Merics all congregated in Bristol to see the Millennium in! Myself, Mark Lerwill and Joe Edwards left the party early intending to meet up with Mark’s girlfriend in the city centre, before heading back to the group. She had other ideas. She opened the door for us: looked at us then shut the door in our faces. Nice

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

girl! Joe and I sat on cold wet steps outside her apartment blocks, whilst waiting for Mark to get his psycho girlfriend out of the flat, or to just let him in. After an hour Joe and I convinced Mark that it was a lost cause; psycho-chick can stay a psycho, and we can get back to our friends and see in the New Year. Still, Joe and I bonded for the first time this night. We went to the centre of Bristol with our friends and watched Mark kiss half the teenage women in Bristol! 2000 started off with a laugh, but 1999 had already proved to be very memorable. Everyone else had drunk themselves blind, or into a coma that night, and why not? We will only see in one Millennium! ***** After a mind-bendingly funny gig with The Merics in Croyde, and an even funnier night with close to 30 friends staying in a rented house meant for five or six. No one got much sleep, some people had a naked race, and the poor house, looked like a crime scene after a night of drinking. My favourite place in England became the shitist place in the world very quickly. At 10am the next morning, Kathryn and Charlie showed up. Kathryn asked when I was going to take the speakers and PA system back to Bristol, as it had to be there by 4pm, which I knew nothing about, plus I wondered why on she was asking me? She then explained that they’d borrowed the equipment from the rehearsal rooms in Bristol, under the condition that it be returned today. I’d planned a day of surfing, eating and purving at beautiful women in bikinis on the beach. Kathryn had other plans for me, obviously. I pointed out Kenisia had our own equipment, which they knew, so why didn’t they ask us to bring that? And why didn’t Kathryne kindly think to ask me before we left if I minded returning the equipment? I know people take advantage of my retarded nature, but this time I was standing my ground for this argument. Charlie and the rest of Kenisia walked off, leaving Kathryn and I standing in a cul-de-sac having a full-blown argument. A friend, Jeremy, offered to take the PA back to Bristol to resolve the issue, which they thought was great compromise. I ended up taking the equipment back because I couldn’t stand being around anyone after that. That was the end of Kathryn’s and my friendship. And my holiday! ***** Alone the way, we crossed paths with virtually all the prominent local bands. One of which I particularly enjoyed playing with was Farcu. Have you ever gone to see a gig and been confronted with a man taking a CD out of another man’s asshole? If you

have you’ve probably seen Farcu! And you probably spent a lot of time laughing at one of the nicest guys in the business. I’ve seen this singer/drummer make audience members do worse things on stage, trust me! Then there was 4Ft Fingers. I’ve never seen anyone manipulate an audience and change the mood of a gig in the way that Rob from 4Ft Fingers can. Rob Fingers is quite possibly the funniest front man I’ve seen in my life on any stage of any size. Rob radiates positively and charisma. Rob is a real gentleman, too. I was never keen on his fashion sense though. I can see Rob being an awesome comedian, I’m not kidding! Another band we came to love was, Shootin Goon. By now we knew them fairly well, and and day they showed up for a gig in Bristol without their singer. They thought a replacement was going to come along, but it never quite transpired that day. I was up for the challenge, so I free-styled my vocals all through Shootin Goon’s set list. They gave me a CD cover to read the lyrics. But I’ll be honest, the print was so small I couldn’t read and sing at the same time. I knew the tunes of the music and melodies, so I made up vocals as I went along (it sounded really good). The guys were so happy with my improvisation that they asked if I would sing full time for them, or at least for the next few shows. As tempted as I was, I knew I was just too busy with my own music to share my workload with another bands. I tried to refuse payment from the guys, but they made me keep the money as they thought the gig was a cock up on their behalf. They’ve always been the nicest bunch, every time we’ve played with them, and they’ll talk to you for ages. In a way I hated playing with them because they always showed us up! They’ll show anyone up! I’ve got to admit I was tempted to play with them, but I just wanted to stick with my own band and the music I’d written. I liked the idea of walking into a signed and established band though. ***** A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I went to watch Babes in Toyland, at the Anson Rooms, at Bristol University. Wool, the support band stopped their set making a short announcement; ‘These little guys bugged us, until we let them play. So here they are, Head Case’. Two very short, skinny twelve year old boys walked on stage, cocky as hell, picked up the guitars accompanied by Wool’s drummer, and created one hell of a sceptical. I was blown away! So was Simon Edwards from Heart Beat Records. This Bristol based label produced artists like, Vice Squad with infamous singer, Becky Bondage. In recent years Heart Beat had released artist like

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

Flying Saucer Attack, and The Heads. Head Case would join this label, releasing several 7inches. Cow Tipper, formed years later as a result of Head Case disbanding, and gave us a song for our consequently doom compilation album. Toby, from Cow Tipper, was an original member of Head Case and I recognised him at gigs as well as seeing him occasionally at Kandi Klub, although we weren’t yet friends. That changed when in June 2001 when I moved in with Matt from a band called, A-ko, and Jon his housemate, in Horfield, Bristol. Cow Tipper was short lived, and A-ko rose from the ashes, with Toby, Matt, Ben, and Tom. Originally named, Project A-ko, after a Manga cartoon character, these guys were unequivocally the most talented band that’s come out of Bristol, bar none. My home life went from being none-existent to ‘messed-up’ over night! Matt, and Jon both in bands, well embedded in the local scene, introduced me to a host of colourful character. The three years living in Canvey Close, Horfield, led to bizarre rituals, and six different metamorphoses of housemates, deserving a book in its own right, or a ‘sick-com’. Dave from local grind-core band, One Dice (whom I’d never met before), was sat with housemate Matt, on our sofa bollock-naked, smiling at me when I came home from work, why not? Dave was dating a lap-dancer, and was obviously proud of his girlfriend’s stripping abilities, so much that he used to carry a semi naked photo of her in his wallet, and at any given moment he’d whip out the photo to show people his pride and joy. He used to say (when showing friends the photo), ‘When she’s lapdancing, she can get any man hard!’ I like Dave! On another occasion, the bass player from Jon’s band crashed on our sofa, as many people did. The following morning, as I was making a cup of tea before work and I could smell something really bizarre coming from the kitchen sink area (which was full of our dirty skanky things in need of a wash, as you’d expect). After finishing my cup of tea I investigated further and to my own astonishment, I found a saucepan full of vomit! (I will never forget that smell) I had to throw the pan away! He never stayed again! Jon was in disbelief when I told him and we had mixed words. This coming from a vegetarian that was eating my chicken when drunk! In every house-share certain things, like washing up and general household cleaning can lead to the occasionally confrontation or ‘contact sport’ if you’re all men. Toilet paper will remain an ongoing argument, too. After three months of being the only sucker buying toilet paper I went on strike. However, this backfired on me one day. Waking up in the night desperate for a shit, I ended up practically pissing shit. When

I’d finished and reached for the toilet paper, I realised there wasn’t any! After such a violent and disgusting poo, I wasn’t going to risk walking to the shops, with poo drips down my trousers. I did the only thing that I could have done given the situation - I improvised. One of my housemates left a towel on the radiator. I knew what had to be done. I picked up my buddy’s towel and did what any man would have done: I used my housemate’s towels to wipe my own ass. If you think I was disgusting, what would you have done? I did the decent and honourable thing and I washed the towel. When my housemate asked why his towel was on the line later that day I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth, so I lied. It was an Academy Award moment. I never told any of my housemates because I knew I couldn’t keep a straight face. Once again, I am sat in a room filled with naked men, I’m not in a strip club or at a Chippendale’s show, it’s just another evening in Canvey Close. Mike takes a piece of cardboard from the cupboard, cuts a hole in it, leaves the room and then comes back with an airgun. Jon puts his penis through the hole in the cardboard and Mike takes aim with his airgun at Jon’s penis and begins to shoot. Between us it took 10 minutes to hit his penis (mainly because we were laughing so much). At any given time in the living room at Canvey Close, you were likely to get shot for no reason (I’m glad I left my clothes on) and it bloody hurt! After one particular A-ko show, some of the band members stayed at our house. Toby thought it would be funny to leave some dog or cat shit in our fridge, neatly on a plate. It did make me laugh! The next time they collectively left their pubic hairs in a tub of butter in an un-artistic fashion. My girlfriend at the time discovered the pubic hairs, whilst making her morning toast. She was not amused! I was! She now had a personal vendetta against this band. A-ko left a box of hooded sweatshirts overnight out side our house in the street, so I helped myself to one. Toby got me back by showing me video footage of him grabbing another man’s penis. On Jon’s birthday night out at Kandi Klub, I gave him his present; a blow up rubber sheep, with a rather large hole. The following morning I asked where the sheep was, only to be told by Jon, that he’d popped it bizarrely during the night. I never asked how! I came home one day, and our fence had been destroyed in a drunken fight. On several occasions, the window pain from the front door was missing and broken glass was all over the floor. We hadn’t been robbed, rather someone had forgotten their keys and phone, and thought breaking in was the best option. Mike joined in

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

with the puking-out-of-the-van-window-revolution, retching whilst I was driving, spraying the side of my van with a liquored purple concoction. He did this on purpose. I wish I was joking! When we left Canvey Close there was an outstanding bill for gas and electric for £4,000. I’m not kidding, for three months! We’re still wanted men! ***** Brandy is a quite and gentle soul, or he was at least until he did a bungee jump at our local pub anyway. I’d consider paying Brandy to jump again because I’ve never seen him so animated; - hypo-manic is the world. He went from being dead quiet to possible mental in 30 seconds. After the jump, he was like a man possessed, his facial muscles resembled that of someone who’d been on the NASA space program training and pushed to G-Force Five or whatever you call it. With the adrenaline still coursing through his veins he looked like a sweaty toothed mad man. Brandy couldn’t keep still for hours. I think he had an adrenaline gland malfunction. Brandy managed to get a year’s worth of conversations into an hour. Now for a brief intermission! (Please listen to some music, other than Kenisia) The average band in the UK lasts 18 months! Kenisa aren’t your average pricks - not statistically anyway, I think they’ll last 18 years, at this rate! Kenisia’s music, and performance was still evolving, all the time, soon, things would change even more dramatically for us. Most bands start off ‘Hardcore’, then sell-out by writing pop music. Kenisia had gone backwards, we started off as a soft Indie-alternative band, and day-by-day, our tunes were getting heavier and heavier. ***** Toby White, from A-ko suggested sending our new recordings to Simon Edwards from Thrash City Records aka (Trash Shity Rekids). Simon had seen us play on several occasions, whilst he sold merchandise for A-ko, and we’d built up a steady relationship. Toby loved the copied CD I’d given him, and thought ‘Spit on Your Grave’ was groundbreaking. Toby’s dad (RIP) thought this song was a song fit for stadiums; bless him (A truly lovely man). It’s nice to own an album from a band you’ve just watched on stage, with personal information in it, even if it’s a load of crap and ends up in a charity shop after six months, it’s just nice to own something from a band that encapsulates a moment in time you loved, and a CD of a band

keeps the festivities going, long after the live experience. A generation of kids now, may never own a CD or cases, just music in cyberspace! My new campaign of terror carried on, the CD from the White House recordings were played at every friend’s house and party, until I was sick of it. Now I really wanted a CD to sell at gigs. We still had a 7inch singles to sell at shows but sales were drying up, due to the lack of record player ownership. Thanks to Toby’s persisting, I sent Simon Edwards a copy of the latest recordings. Simon called me, and asked us to come and have a chat. Simon is very cut and dry, getting straight to the point, ‘I want to put out a single’, ‘I want to use this song’, ‘I don’t expect to make any money’, a man after my own heart! Simon originally wanted to release ‘Spit on Your Grave’ as a single, however, we were unhappy with the previous recording and I asked if it was possible to rerecord. Simon declined unless we coughed up the funds ourselves, but understood where we were coming from. Simon had worked out an edited version of the song cutting about 30 seconds from the five minutes plus song. Simon mainly dealt with vinyl releases, and couldn’t be persuaded to go for a CD release. Simon has many funny stories to tell from his years of supporting local artists and you won’t meet a more genuine person in Bristol’s music scene. We compromised on another song, ‘Sometimes’ with the B-sides, ‘Shawn Kemp’ and ‘Indifference’. Phil’s brother Jerry, a tattoo artist whom I admired, worked on a Manga-style concept for the singles cover – and doing an outstanding job, if you ask me. The initial artwork was just a little graphic in nature for possible commercial distribution. The first draft depicted a girl on a skateboard, ripping the penis off of a demon! (You got to love that kind of display of affection). Jerry (bless him) came up with an alternative option for the artwork, which blew us away. See photos - I can’t explain the artwork! The master CD from the recordings, along with the artwork, was given to Simon from Trash City Records, as promised, everything came back like clockwork. Simon was indeed a man of his words. Pretty soon we had our second 7inch single waiting to be collected from Simon’s, where we were becoming regular houseguests. The quality of this pressing was much brighter & louder than our previous one. The whole band were really excited when we got it, but a shame we didn’t all have record players, to play it on.

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

Four months after releasing this second single, something inside me snapped, frustrated with people at gigs asking us for a CD or an album to listen to. I was prepared to get a bank loan to release our combined sessions as an album. Off my own back! We mixed 12 songs together, and ended up making our own album covers, inlays and labels, and socked up cases (probably stealing them). We sold the 100 we made ourselves in our first few shows for £5 each. Coming up with a decent album title was a nightmare! My flat mate, previous Alun Brown, a big Kenisia enthusiast suggested a variety of names, one of them being ‘Crash Helmet Hoopla’. It grew on us, but where he came up with the suggestion I’ve no idea. Like ‘Kenisia’ itself, a random name. People often ask the meaning of the band’s name and the album title, I often lie on the spot and create a random story for fun. I used to wear a crash helmet, so perhaps that encourage Alun’s creativity? The artwork process for the album brought several arguments; I wasn’t overly keen on Steve’s initial art for the front cover, I but liked the general feel. I thought the band photo should be larger but Brandy wasn’t happy because the photo was out of focus (which is why I liked it). But we got there in the end. When I get my groove on I think I can piss everyone off and I tend to be a real asshole at times. I’m not proud of it but hey, step one to recovery is accepting that you have a problem. The new Kenisia logo was really cool, as were the rest of Steve’s graphics he’d been working on. I called Simon from TJ’s, who gave me loads advice on CD production. Then I called Simon Edwards, just on the off chance that he might recommend a cheaper option. He said nothing for a minute, and then said ‘I’ll get back to you’. It took him a week but he called me back and offered to release ‘Crash Helmet Hoopla’ on CD through Trash City Records. We hadn’t expected that! I’m glad he did as the bank probably wouldn’t have lent me the money, and I was more likely to get enrolled at the NASA than getting the band members to fork out that kind of money. A 1000 CDs cost roughly £850 at the time, so to me that was a no brainer. We’d make more money that way surely! Brandy was especially happy as his house didn’t look like a CD production line anymore. ‘Crash Helmet Hoopla’ was distributed though Pinnacle. Suddenly having copious amounts of CDs everywhere, along with records seemed a little daunting. We didn’t want to let Simon down so we stepped up our gigs, and sent off promotional copies to every magazine and radio station we could think of. ‘The Lock up’ on Radio One,

was the first national exposure Kenisia and our album received. They played ‘Spit on Your Grave’, ‘You and Me’, ‘X-ray Spex’ and ‘Sometime’. The album was given varied reviews from the little press it received, from ‘Awesome’, to ‘Don’t waste your money on this shit’. Any press is good press, right? For an album consisting of demos made for £500, it wasn’t all that bad. We knew it wouldn’t make us rich. The album gave Kenisia much wider scope, fan-base and respect. Our support slots, as well as our own shows, got more people though the doors, and secured Kenisia much bigger profile gigs supporting established touring bands, and interest from record companies. In the UK, bands such as Capdown, Spunge, 4ft Fingers, Five Knuckle and Shooting Goon, had really made a name for them selves. The buzz from the internet, and just playing with some of these more well known bands was enough to make some kids come through the doors at shows, as well as various radio exposures and CD sales. Rumours popped up all the time from different bands and towns across the country. Shooting Goon on Moon Ska Records, congratulated us on being signed to Moon Ska, too. I called the record company out of curiosity and I emailed them several times and received promising replies but our connection with them went no further. They were very nice about letting us down, even though we were never really in negotiations with them in the first place! More importantly, Kenisia had been working on mounds of new material, so much so I was making everyone’s head spin. I was starting to get itchy feet again and wanted us to do more. The band was beginning to spend more time away from Bristol than ever. You’d think that girlfriends would enjoy the time and space to their selves, I would!

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

CHAPTER TEN

More Gigs, More Cities, More Misbehaving, Less Sleep Sometimes there’s just not enough of me to go around. For just over a year in my spare-time, I’d been playing guitar for the band, Caddyshack. This band had emerged from Mighty Joe Young, who were looking for a change in musical direction, after several members (including our occasional saxophonist, Jackie) had left. They had also recruited guitarist Chris Stenner, formally of Bristol indie rockers, Panic Button. This was the one time Scott Caines and I played in the same band. With new blood the band experienced a new phase of excitement, and I enjoyed playing guitar again them. However, as much as it was refreshing to play in their company, it became obvious that eventually I would have to leave as Kenisia’s schedule was so busy I found it hard to even give them part of my time. But I was keen to honour the two outstanding gigs we had; an awesome gig booked at Newport TJ’s with American ska-punk band, Mustard Plug, and finally a Christmas show, which was easy enough as Kenisia were also on the bill. Caddyshack was short lived and disbanded soon after, as Phil’s commitment to Kenisia also became a priority. Scott and Chris left to focus on their side-project, FT Marinetti, which left the Cotterell brothers to concentrate on their newly conceived fanzine, Trailer Park Trash. Along with Phil their local punk scene oriented publication would support many of the best bands around. They also became prominent promoters in Bath, mainly at The Porter Butt, under the same name. ***** If your drummer showed up to a gig paralytic, threatening to beat you up, to quit the band, and refusing to play the gig, what would you do? We chose to ignore him and carry on with proceedings! December 2000, and Trailer Park Trash were hosting their first Christmas show at the St. James’s Wine Vaults, in Bath. This would be my

last performance with Caddyshack. The evening would also feature Mr Zippy, so a fun night was expected! However, our ‘drummer extraordinaire’ Tom turned up drunk, after downing a bottle of whisky before leaving home. He had obviously been meaning to quit the band for some time, and chose tonight’s gig to reveille his unhappiness. He refused to play, but hung around to drink, telling us to find a new drummer. As Tom progressively became more inebriated, he became more comically abusive by taking the piss out of us. We thought our gig was up. Both Scott and Pete, drummers already playing that night, offered to stand in as Tom insisted he wasn’t playing. However, he started to set up his equipment to our surprise, and eventually did play that night with great reservations. It wasn’t Kenisia’s worst performance but pretty close. It was more amusing to us and the crowd as Tom barley made it through songs and complained profusely. Tom did his best to stay upright on the drum stool as he made the minimum amount of effort to perform that night. My flat mate Alun sang punked up covers of Belinda Carlisle’s ‘Heaven on Earth’ and Whams ‘Last Christmas’. Alun knows most the lyrics to the last 20 years’ top 20 hit songs. I’m sure someone escaped that night with a shred of dignity, but it wasn’t Alun. You’d have to have been at the gig, to understand how funny it was. For some reason Alun was screaming his head off, when he could really sing. The venue seedy, dark and dingy cellar-look, added to the environment’s hostile proceedings! To make events more cheerful, the guys from Mr Zippy thought they would make light of the evening festivities by getting naked. Tom’s abusive behaviour spilled out of the venue later into the early hours of the morning. It was freezing cold, and thick snow covered the city of Bath. Tom carried on being rude to me, so I left him in Bath in the freezing cold (I didn’t feel bad at all). Tom claims to have walked back to Bristol from Bath in a sweaty T-shirt and trousers. The following years’ Christmas party wasn’t quite so dramatic, but fun all the same. I fondly look back at these photos of our faces (all paint), and wonder about the length and shape of Mr Zippy’s Greg’s tongue. ***** There’s no doubt, being in a band with Tom, was at times a pain in the ass. Some times it would take its toll on the band. But I have to say, if it hadn’t been for him, Kenisia may have been officially one of the most boring rock & roll bands in the world! Tom’s unpredictable, drunken belligerently incoherent performance’s sometimes ended in awkward squabbles between the two of us. He could be a little

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

git, but when compos mentis, he made the band experience worthwhile. Occasionally, you could politely talk to Tom, but the rebel in him said, ‘Bollocks’, and on more than one occasion he could barely stand up before our performance – including when we the opening act. There’s a difference between ‘Pepsi Max’ and ‘Pepsi & Shirley’, Tom just needed something to level him out! Tom still couldn’t drive and was being chauffer driven by everyone else. And to top things off, he was the only band member that was getting the whole bands quota of free sex, drugs, and drinks of the back of the band, whilst we sat back and watched. Here’s a few found memories of Tom at his best, that I’d like to share: Exhibit One: After playing with one of my favourite bands, Reel Big Fish, at Newport TJ’s, I got a little star-struck when their singer, Aaron, came up to me, and told me how awesome, he though we were, then he proceeded to show me the Kenisia album he’d just bought. I mainly nodding my head (like a cock) and said, ‘yes’ or ‘thanks man’, so I don’t know why I said what I said next. ‘Oh man, you shouldn’t have bought that, it’s a piece of shit!’ I wish I’d said ‘Here’s you money back, you can have a free copy, glad you enjoyed the show’, but I didn’t. There were momentary awkward exchange of glances from my smiling self, and Aaron looking dumbfounded at what he’d just heard. I kept quiet about that one with the rest of the band, they’ll never know. Aaron and I never spoke-again, it’s a sad story! I have no moral barometer sometimes, and I can be socially retarded! On the journey-home, whilst over-taking a lorry on the motorway Simon noticed a funny noise coming from my car. He looked out the car window and indeed I had a flat tyre. I didn’t have all the right equipment in the car to change the tyre. ‘Bollocks’! I had the wrench to unloosen the tyre but not that jack. To save time wasting instead of waiting for the RAC (Random Anal Cross-dressers), to come we decided to try and lift the car our selves between us, to swap the tyre over. It was pretty evident early on that there was no way that we could lift a car between the four of us. My car wasn’t a ‘Smart car’. Tom decided to let go of the car (whilst we’re lifting it) and climbed underneath the car to lift the car up like he was doing push ups, not realising how drunk he was. Not wanting our drummer to be crushed, we eventually (in the process of breaking our backs still lifting the car) convinced him to get the hell out from underneath the car. Why do drunken people believe they have super-powers? Tom then decided to make matters worse by running on the motorway, up to the phone box, to call the emergency services. I intercepted the tail end of the phone

call from a very concerned onward listener. ‘The police are on their way sir’! ‘The police, bollocks! When Tom was incoherently drunk, he’d told the operator, he was the driver, they sensed he was inebriated and dispatched the police. By the time I’d walked the thirty metres back to the car, the police were there in time to witness Tom urinating. The police officers requested to speak to the driver and owner of the car. They took me off to one side and gave me the once over, claiming the emergency services had been concerned that the driver was drunk, hence their arrival. I convinced the police I wasn’t drunk, and pointed to Tom proving once and for all whom the drunken buffoon was. They left on the condition that Tom stayed out of the road. Tom still refuses to believe that the Police had been sent out because of his drunken phone call. This was the first incident that made Phil weary of Tom. Tom had a natural ability for periodically making a cock of him self, whereas I was just a cock, as my interaction earlier with Aaron that night, no doubt proved. Exhibit Two: Tom was so drunk after a night out in Bristol and couldn’t open his own front door with his key (my favourite part of the night out was watching Tom struggling with the door). Tom has no recollection of what happened next but his dad on the other hand will never forget. According to Tom’s dad he was awoken by an almighty noise, his son! He came out of his room to investigate the disturbance and came face-to-face with his drunken son, stood on the landing, shouting obscenities at him. Tom then pushed his father out of the way before going upstairs to his bedroom. Later on, Tom’s dad was awoken again to the sound of further obscure-noises, coming from the downstairs. Tom’s dad was now confronted by the bizarre imagine of his own son, pissing on his telephone at the bottom of the stairs. He interjected, asking, ‘What are you doing?’ ‘Taking a piss what does it look like?’ replied Tom, pushing his way past his dad again, before heading to his room. Tom finally woke the following afternoon (very hung-over), now confronted by his dad. His dad said, ‘Tom, I think we need to talk about your drinking problem’. Tom replied ‘What drinking problem?’ Tom’s dad was prepared for this, walking into the kitchen and returned with a bucket a sponge and some cleaning products and walked to the phone by the stairs where he left the bucket. Like a bullet hitting him, he realized with embarrassment, knowing this wasn’t the first incident of this nature. Exhibit Three: A now respectable Martin Smith, was persuaded by our Tom-ass to go out for a few drinks after work, on the pretence that he would pay for the Taxi home. 50 meters away from his dad’s house Tom insisted the driver stop the taxi.

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

He then bolted from car, all of 50 metres to his front door, where he let him self and went straight to bed (bearing in mind taxi driver could see Tom’s house). Martin looked at the taxi driver pitifully, explaining that Tom-ass promised to pay for the taxi. Once again, Tom’s dad was woken up in the early hours unexpectedly. This time by someone claiming his son had bunked taxi payment. Tom’s dad didn’t argue and he paid the taxi driver. Tom’s dad and Martin were not amused! Occasionally Tom can be a fucking liability, but you can’t help but love him for it! ‘Tom, we seriously need to talk’! ***** We’d been surprised to hear from a fan that Radio One’s Lock up, had been playing tracks from our album. Luckily BBC Online gives you the option of listening to certain shows and viewing playlists up to a week after the live broadcast. This show started in the early hours of the morning, too early for most of our old ears but we could catch up afterwards due to the online experience. It was an honour to be on the same play-list as bands like Rancid and Less Than Jake. They obviously had good taste! It was a massive achievement and a great boost to our egos. This show has now been put forward to a more user-friendly time of 9pm. No one else takes risks like these guys on Radio One these days. Half the bands played on the Lock Up are either unsigned or on really small labels that no one’s ever heard of. Big ups to Mike and The Lock Up, as no one else is, or was crazy enough to play Kenisia. ***** I find it easier to write a new song than learn someone else’s songs or music. When I write lyrics they’re on a need to know basis. Why should the songs be set in stone? I’m more interested in a phonetic sound of words, rather than the actual words them selves. I tried to keep the verses the same, but if I get a better idea listening back to the songs, I’d change it and especially if I this improves the hook-line of the song. You bet your sweet ass I changed it! The only time during the writing process I keep a rigid account of lyrics and their structure is when it comes to recording. Even after that I may get a better idea, which I’ll use in our live act. Often before recording, I’ll keep the lyrics to myself until the day. I like to keep everyone including myself guessing, right up to the last minute (because I don’t know myself). A few weeks before recording I used to sit down with a Dictaphone and listen to the music we recorded at practice and sit at home and try and work out my favourite combination of lyrics. Maybe some of my shyness/awkwardness in revelling the lyrics

were due to my own insecurities as a lyricist? If you could change something to make it better, wouldn’t you? Even when in the recording studios, listening to the music coming out of the speakers, right up to the last minute I might get a flash of inspiration and change the words at the last minute. The song ‘You & Me’ was a classic example. As I was singing the words for the middle eight, new words flashed into my head. And I asked for a retake. ‘My love sees no colours, my love for your brothers, your sister I missed her, you know I will fist her’. Martin the producer actually stopped the recording because everyone was laughing so much, and asked me if I wanted to change the lyrics because no one would ever play let those lyrics be played on the radio. He was wrong; it still gets airplay occasionally, and has received the most radio plays of all our songs; perhaps due to its subversive nature, and shock value. Again at the last minute I changed the lyrics to ‘Dress like a pimp’, and ‘Girl’s Got Nothing to Say’ but the guys through me off in the studio when recording ‘Nothing to Say’ mid flow of recording the song ‘Enemy’ by changing the way I was singing the chorus, that I never would have thought of, which really worked. It took me ages to get into my head the way they wanted me to sing it; but it works. Tom had tendency to change his drum patterns when he got a feeling for something new, too. Mainly during practice, and occasionally during gigs, Tom would do the most incredible drum fills that either fitted the songs structure or sounded outrageous. The only time it scared us is when he’d play something new when we were playing live completely throwing everyone. I’ve never understood people who say they’ve got ‘writers block’, because this is something that’s never affected me. I can understand that people get pressured into writing and this can cause stress and when people are stressed they may not be able to function productively or effectively as they could before. Personally I strive on stress; even more so on deadline, I feel I write better, and creativity is as prolific as sweat for me. And I am sweaty Bastard! Everyone suffers from lack of inspiration at times; you just need to change your own parameters. I write more when I’m excessively happy, but I think the better lyrics I’ve written have all been from heartache, chaos, and misery dug deep from the bottomless soul I inhabit. I can equally get as much inspiration for writing a song from watching a porno as I can spending the night in a police cell again! I don’t write as many songs as I used to; but when I sit down, I write three or four songs in a day. More if I’m horny! I doubt no

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

one will ever hear them; and they’re shit! But at least I still write! I get moments when I feel like showing up at gigs of friends’ bands and asking if I can open the night with a few songs, then I can’t be assed. I don’t like to think I’ll play a few more shows before I smash my guitars up forever. Don’t worry Phil, not that one! ***** Kenisia had been working on new recording material in former, Onslaught guitarist, Nigel Rocket’s rehearsal room, which was in an old wooden cabin in a farmer’s field. For a brief period of time another trumpet player showed up at the studio to jam with us, but sat playing his trumpet on his own, un-mic’d and happily doing his own thing for four weeks, until he came in one evening to tell us he’d sold up, bought a van and was going to move to Portugal to run illegal raves, this seemed to suit him more. We practised there until one day the farmer took away the stairs connecting the floor with the studio. The band equipment had to be lifted down with a forklift truck. You couldn’t make this shit up. That was one pissed off farmer! Perhaps, Nigel or Phil had been interfering with the livestock? We practiced for a while was the Porter Butt. Handy because we had given Trailer Park Trash our PA system, which they stored in their backroom, so we can still use it ourselves. Simon would also occasionally get roped into soundman duties their shows and best of all, we all got into the gigs for free! ***** James’s introduction to our circle came via Scott, who first heard from this American whilst auditioning singers for his new band, FT Marinetti. The two met and listened to each others recordings, with James playing his album ‘Suma Holiday’, with his previous Californian band, Klipspringer. However, by this time they had committed to a singer/bassist for the band, but Scott was very impressed by James’s singing and also his trumpet playing, and so suggested we increase our brass section and talk to him. James was born in Oklahoma, USA and decided to come to England to study at University for his degree. I sent James a copy of the ‘Crash Helmet Hoopla’, and after a week I invited him to a rehearsal, which he was keen to do. Phil wrote the music scores for the songs we hadn’t yet recorded for James to learn so we could jam the songs at practice. Now there were two professional type musicians in the band! The rest of us watched aimlessly as Phil and James compared notes and even wrote things down for each of the songs. James learnt the song titles before Simon did! James was not only a dab hand at the old trumpet, he was a darn-tootin singer,

too. Helping to fill valuable spaces with his unique vocal ranges I couldn’t fill and creating a new musical-essence with his falsetto voice. ***** Now James and Phil were on board we needed to get a bigger vehicle, not because they’re fat, cause they’re not. Seven people don’t fit into one English car, especially with band equipment. I bought a Toyota space-cruiser for the band - an 8-seater mini van. With barely an inch to spare, we could just about get everyone and basic kit in, but with a lot of effort. But if we’d crashed we’d be buggered! I’d compare it with trying to fit a frog in a matchbox (which Phil is a dab hand at) or your cock in a coke bottle (a story for another time). When the Space-cruiser failed its MOT, I decided to drive a van fulltime, as we couldn’t go back to two vehicles for gigs, it was a logistical-nightmare with all the shows we’d been clocking up. The band kitty was looking healthier and we needed a vessel not unlike the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars - an old banger that would get us anywhere eventually. That’s exactly what we got! It was the same colour as the Falcon, too, but sadly had more holes. For the first time ever we could sit in comfort with everyone in the same vehicle, plus all equipment, too. This was a recipe for disaster. Getting a CD player for the van would start arguments like you’ve never experienced before (new swear words were invented). I loved it! The van was a silver ford transit minibus, with more rust on it then I care to think about. It looked like shit, but it was our piece of shit. For me the van was the best £700 investment the band has ever spent! Because I was using the van as my main vehicle, I started using it to sleep in when I went on surf trips to Croyde. My housemates and I, would occasionally drive down late at night, hit a club and then hit the surf in the morning, before heading to work. This raised a little ripple in the band, but then again I was insuring the van and using it as my only vehicle with no alternative. And more importantly I did 85% of the night driving! The van encouraged Kenisia to spend more time on the road, plus the new jolt of enthusiasm created by James with its new dynamics busting out on stage, our lives performance had over-stretched my own expectations of the band. Jaz (formally known as James) joined the band at 36, and was showing everyone else up, especially on enthusiasm, he was making us look like a bunch of slackers. Jaz, would talk to me in the van, using music specific terminology that I knew nothing of, and I’ll be honest, it took a few weeks before I had the heart to tell him I didn’t understand a word he

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

was saying. Partly because I was embarrassed but partly because I enjoyed the conversations I didn’t’ understand! But fundamentally, I don’t speak American! Sometimes when you’re driving late at night and everyone’s asleep the only thing you can do is count the road-kill. It really can be that boring, so new and fun games to keep yourself awake are a must. My other favourite game was drinking a litre of water and seeing how far I could drive before needing a piss-break. You can’t sleep when you’re desperate for a piss. You’ll do anything to take your mind of the rest of the band snoring as you’re driving home. I’ve come close to falling asleep driving, but I never have, thank God! ***** Steve and Simon used to own small compact all-in-one guitar amps, but for some reason one day Steve went out and bought a separate head amp and a speaker kit. I was annoyed because we didn’t have enough space in the Falcon (our van) as it was. I understood that separate amps and speakers are much higher quality and more importantly for Steve, louder but Steve’s logic was he was saving space, because he only had to take the head to gigs on tour, this made sense to him, but not to me. Soon afterwards Simon and Brandy followed suit (obviously a gay man’s thing). The next stage of evolution in Steve’s gadget collection was a radio wireless-kit, so he could run around on stage not get tangled up to his leads. The band was going all ‘Star Trek’ on me! Still it kept them happy. All we needed on stage now was a water cooler and a coffee percolator. The stages we played weren’t really big enough for wireless kits, perhaps Steve liked to play his guitar on the toilet at home? ***** Twice Kenisia escaped thousands of pounds worth of equipment being stolen. Once from my car being broken into outside the Blue Mountain Club, in Bristol, the thieving bum-lickers took Steve’s leather jacket instead. He was most upset. I was relieved, it could have been much worse. And once when the Falcon was broken into outside my house in Canvey Close - this time it was personal - the thieves took my skateboard and about 20 pence in coppers, leaving drums, amps, and guitars. We have a high class of thieves in Bristol, obviously there’s a code amongst thieves where they don’t steal band equipment. I patrolled my local streets just in case I saw my skateboard, so I could rape and pillage the pilgrim who took it! *****

Throughout my term within Kenisia certain things grated on my nerves, mainly our untoward professionalism on stage - everyone included. Okay, we had our moments of greatness, but we had monumental gaps between songs, leaving dead air and awkward silences, which led to anger and swearing on my behalf. 30 seconds can feel like a long time when people are staring at you, but when the inevitable 4-5 minutes of fluffing around on stage happens, this doesn’t look professional, and you look like a bunch of C?+!@. Admittedly as the front man, I should have dealt with the silence, offering talk, plugging the band and when possible bad jokes. But when I’m pissed off, I’d just stand on stage and make faces, looking embarrassed. As a whirlwind of anger engulfs me, I concentrate less on the holistic approach of the band and more about my own coping mechanism not to embed Tom’s on own drums sticks up his nostrils. But that’s why I love him! I miss his tiffin breaks on stage. Each argument we had was band related and not on a personal level. Tom and I emptied more than a few rooms and filled the band with doubt and fear on occasions with out bickering, passion for music and opinions that run deep in our souls and relationship. It was nice when Phil and Tom took over the arguing, it gave me a break from being the prick in the band. Although Tom and Phil appeared to get on better after I left. But before my untimely demise, when we were on tour stuck in the van, you got the impression that Phil or Tom might kill one another. Tom’s CDs dominated our musical selection on road trips across the country. The contrast of death metal and hip-hop were detrimental to Phil’s health and brain waves (because Phil hated both types of music). Fortunately they tended to sit either end of the van, so neither could see the other’s twisted facial expression. Then again Phil’s serene, and obscure delightful music taste was more than a penance for Tom. On a professional level the two got on, but each ‘schoolboy’ knew how to push the other’s buttons. You couldn’t have had two more polar opposite human beings in one band, unless you had David Hasslehof and Flavour Flav. ***** Late 2001, Kenisia, experienced a first; an offer of a paying gig as well as the promise of B&B lodging for the night. When Lisa, the promoter in Huddersfield told me I nearly poo’d my pants with excitement. We were close to Phil’s old neck of the woods and that night his mum came to see the show. She was the most enthusiastic person at the gig that night (and our only dancer), and was really lovely. As we were only staying across the road in a nice room, it was okay to let rip and have a few

Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

drinks. We went back to Phil’s mum’s the next day for a cup of tea, plus I got to see Phil’s old Tony Hawk Skateboard, which Phil couldn’t skate. ***** Like many promoters before him, Mick had e-mailed Kenisia on at least six previous occasions, inviting us to Ipswich, all of which we couldn’t commit to. This tends to piss off a lot of promoters, who end up considering you unreliable or just a bunch of assholes. But organising gigs around seven people isn’t easy. Fortunately Mick was both understanding and keen to put us on in his club, the star in Ipswich. There’s nothing worse than going home from practice and telling your girlfriend your gig dates and seeing that look in her face, and you know instantly, you’ve forgotten something; her birthday or an anniversary? Or maybe some insignificant engagement; like your own wedding? I will say that the band’s partners, have been very understanding over many years, so you can’t blame them, can you? I loved our weekend excursions together, spending time with the guys. Mick is a rare breed of promoter, as he will pay you (always a good starts) and put you up for the night. Also, while he’s suffering from a hangover in the morning, his wife lovely cooks a beautiful fry up. Mick’s shows gave us the best and most welcomed hospitality imaginable by far! A brand spanking new skateboard park had been erected across the road from the venue. After setting up all the equipment and sound checking, Simon and I ran over to the skate-park with a video camera in hand, to play. Boys and girls, I had an erection for this skate-park! It is top notch, 9.5 out of 10! My skateboard’s the one luxury item that comes on tour with me everywhere! It’s the most enjoyable way to kill time. Phil and I went to find a non-McDonald’s food solution (unlike the rest of the band). Phil usually sulked when everyone went to McD’s, and I’ve never liked it so I generally accompany Phil somewhere. The gig itself was as humorous and entertaining as the last time we played Ipswich. The town has a big punk community, and people generally come out to see bands they may not be familiar with. Our support band, The Filaments (now signed to Household Name Records), sported more hairspray than the girls I fingered (when I was at secondary school, when hairspray was big in the 80s). They had big Mohicans and big hearts! The Filaments heckled us for our entire set, doing their best to put us off. It worked! These guys were funny as hell. They weren’t just a talented band, but a friendly band too. Much alcohol was consumed over the course of the evening. Even in the early days the

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Filaments played their nuts off each performance, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the boys’ Mohicans when they played! These guys were proud to use glue! About this time, Phil and Jaz had developed a synchronized routine on stage, which never ceased to make me crack-up! Although I did wonder why Jaz wore shades through every performance, especially at his age and his style of dancing, I was concerned he’d fall off the stage and break his hip. We played our asses off in return and we were all rewarded with audience participation. We carried on drinking with The Filaments after the show. Luckily Mick saw us flagging and retired us to his humble home. The Filaments would have carried on all night, why not they’re young! Back at Mick’s house, we started to show our ages, and our R&R lifestyles kicked back in. We listened to music and watched videos with Mick and his wife, until she decided Mick was ‘pissed as a fart’ and needed some sleep. Mick’s music collection was huge, and Tom decided he had to get as many CDs out of the cases to look at as humanly possible. Phil fell asleep before everyone else, much to our amusement. He started snoring so loud and sporadically we all cried with laughter! Then fear! I’ll play you the video footage if you don’t take my word for it! I don’t understand how Phil can carry on sleeping, when so many people are laughing uncontrollably around him? The thing I love most about Mick is his enthusiasm for Kenisia. He’s one of the few people who believe we should have made the big time (bless him). With a more deeply seeded belief, Mick’s more passionate about my band than I am. The next morning, I woke up with a really-shit sour throat. My first thought was, would I be able to sing at tonight’s gig? I’d never faced this dilemma before! Personally, I put it down to the rest of the band farting during the night after eating at Mc Donald’s! Overnight I woke up to a mushroom cloud of nasty noxious gases, gagging as I fell back to sleep and wondering if I would ever wake up again? Waking later, to the smell of a cooked breakfast was far nicer! After breakfast and computer games with playing with Mick’s son, we put our equipment back in the van, said our found farewells, and slowly made our way to Cambridge. By the time we made it to Cambridge I could hardly speak at all. I started to grumble, begging that we didn’t headline. That way, hopefully, I would just about be able to make it through the show if I didn’t speak or sing before hand. The rest of Kenisia, and the very enthusiastic promoter, insisted we played last. For once if felt as if the band were getting their own back on me for being an asshole! Did I mention, this was probably the smallest box-shaped room I’d ever seen, let alone

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played in. I knew that I couldn’t sing, and by sound check I’d proved my point. When I tried to sing, I was hitting all sorts of odd out-of-tune notes, the band had a good laugh, but the promoter on the other hand had the look of fear in his eyes. You could see he was really worried now. I couldn’t sing tunefully, but for some reason, I could make shouting-raspy-noises, as long as I kept the tuning flat. Perhaps due to the humour of the situation, and the small room filled with crazy young kids, my attitude turned from nasty to hysterically funny, very quickly, as I wanted to see how this was going to pan-out myself. There was an unusually charged atmosphere that you only get when there’s a younger audience; a care-free manor, no shame, no embarrassment at all. Adults won’t dance until they’re drunk, whereas kids will dance, skank, mosh and throw windmills, because that what they’ve come to do! The sold-out, tiny venue was bouncing, and so where Kenisia! It’s not very usual a band starts off a show in fits of hysterics, especially if no one in the audience is in on the joke. As we stomped through the first song, the vocals were coming out of me, almost like an outer body experience. It’s not uncommon for a band to start playing and there is no actual noise coming out of the PA. Before the bands start playing, to save the microphones from feeding back, and creating a wall of screeching noises, the sound engineer turns of the vocal microphones, but forgets they’re turned of when the band starts playing, as the sound engineer is usually drunk by this time! So the audience, bands, and soundmen, wonder why the singer appears to be singing, yet no one can hear them. There becomes a stand off between the band, the audience, and the sound engineer for who’ll starting waving first at the other parties, admitting there is a problem (this really is quite common, and you can see both singer, and sound man waving at each other, to say it’s okay now, thanks). Sometimes the monitors on stage haven’t been turned on so the band can’t hear everything, but the sound engineer can! Paul our sound man in Bristol is always guilty of this but then again, he’s always running to the bar in between songs to get his pint, or for piss, because there’s less people at the bar when the band plays. Or sometimes you can catch him chatting up someone and when you wave at him he thinks you encouraging him, until he realizes you’re on stage. He’s a good man! On occasions my pitching was so badly out that the band couldn’t keep a straight face (and me neither)! Minus the dodgy vocals, the gig was awesome, thanks to many screwed up teens! My vocal performance was a bit like hearing the really bad

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vocalists on the audition phase of the X-Factor TV show - fucking dreadful! After the show a few band members confessed they thought I might only make three or four songs. I was more surprised than anyone else. Amazingly we sold loads of merchandise that night and the young promoter’s fears we laid to rest. Usually after a show, the monotonous drive home can be as much fun as watching a coffin. On this rare occasion no one slept and we laughed the whole way home. This was Jaz’s first weekend excursion with us and he fitted it perfectly. None of our childish antics upset, or put him off the band, not even Phil’s snoring. Tom and Jaz, both got on really well, and as they were both living in Bath had developed a drinking relationship. ***** I hate charity gigs; you always get robed! Based on prior bad experiences, we only played one gig for charity a year (if someone persisted). We were invited to play a gig in aid of Caner Research: A tribute show to the late Joey Ramone, who’d just died. At practice the guys suggested we played a Ramones song to fit with the theme of the night. I admitted to the guys I wasn’t a massive fan and I couldn’t be assed to learn a song I didn’t like, plus we knew some of the other bands were playing tribute songs, so why bother? When we showed up at the Fleece and Firkin, in Bristol, the posters advertised Kenisia as a Ramones tribute band. We pleaded with the promoter and owner, to stick up a warning to people coming in, explaining the misunderstanding, so punters wouldn’t be so disappointed. The promoter wasn’t interested! We were all really pissed off! In hindsight we should have pulled out of the gig, but we played. Before we started playing I made a statement to the crowd, apologising for the false advertising of the gig and pleaded they took it up with the management. You could see frowns on people’s faces in anger. One guy made his way to the door and didn’t return, as I wouldn’t have. Everyone stayed and made the most of the gig. We were never offered a gig at the Fleece and Firkin again under the same promoter. I was always anti the anti groups mixing with benefit gigs. Like the anti animal cruelty or anti racism groups, not because I’m racist or I don’t like animals, but the people who go to these gigs aren’t racist or are already informed about animal cruelty, and probably shag their pet rabbits in front of their friends just to prove how much they love animals. So you’re preaching to a crowd of people that aren’t inbreed hillbillies in the first place (so the gigs do nothing in terms of awareness). Whose minds are

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they going to change? Not the rabbit that gets it in the ass! It’s good that people care though but sod you and your charities, stop harassing people in the streets who want to buy none vegetarian clothes and Marlboro cigarettes, thanks. ***** On the way to a band practice Tom shared my favourite reason ever for him being fired! Tom worked in a call centre, which he never massively enjoyed. A caller was getting irate with Tom because the computers were slow and he was in a hurry. When the caller started to become abusive Tom kept his cool saying, ‘I’m ever so sorry sir, I’m doing my best considering I only have one arm!’ This embarrassed the caller enough to shut up and he even apologised, neutralising the caller’s anger. Later the line manager plus some new trainees (who’d been listening to Tom’s call), came to see the person who’d dealt with such an irate customer so eloquently and to offer their support and appreciation. Only to find Tom sat at his desk with both arms accounted for. Although they found it humorous, Tom was dismissed, in case the caller ever came in to apologise in person!

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

A New Album and a New Label Mr Zippy were like my illegitimate children I never wanted, but I loved them all the same! The Zippy boys have infested Kenisia’s lives for almost ten years. They’re at every party and wedding I go to, and I love ’em! They’re like a onenight-stand that won’t leave you alone. Mr Zippy and Five Knuckle got banned from playing the Louisiana, Bristol, after Five Knuckle fans went a bit nuts at a gig, swinging on a rotating fan breaking it and pulling it off the ceiling during the show. Although Mr Zippy weren’t involved they were guilty by association. Toby from A-ko and I witnessed it happening and we could kind of understand the venue’s logic (they shouldn’t blame one band’s fans, for another band’s fans’ behaviour). It was a guy called Fod, who pulled it down, a friend of Five Knuckle – naughty boy! Once an audience get a taste of vandalism there’s nothing that can stop them, I’ve seen isle seats being ripped out of the ground and thrown, bins flying and burnt, bottles turned into missiles and physical violence that has left me baffled. Not at Mr Zippy gigs, I’d like to add. On a random note, one day Mads answered his front door, to find a young Japanese man standing outside waiting to greet him with a smile. Now if I’ve got the story

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right, the Japanese man was stalking Mads. This guy was on holiday in Paris when he heard a copy of their album, and decided to get on the Eurostar, and headed to Mads’s house in Clevedon. Some bands do leave their own addresses as a form of being contacted, I used too. Then again, I don’t ever recall a fan turning up on my doorstep, from Japan. He was very adamant that Mr Zippy must visit him tour his home land of Japan. Which they did! Now how often does that happen to you? He could have been an escaped mental patient for all the band knew. But they took a chance and came back with many enjoyable tales of the Far East. Something, I wished we’d done. We got invited all over the world, if we fronted up the money first. Tom and I were always up for anything, but for the others, money was too much of an unstable calculated risk. How can having fun be a calculated risk? Despite being offered a deal with Household Name Records, the inner workings of The Merics, dissipated. Charlie went back to Croyde to surf everyday, Kathryn stayed in Bristol working for Aardman Animation and Big Frank became a porn star! You may have seen his collective works (Spank Me Big Frank). That didn’t work out so he joined the Zippy camp officially in March 2002. Big Frank had shown an aptitude for drinking and could cope with the rest of the band’s lurid misconduct, public scenes of nudity and profanity. In my own opinion Mr Zippy were at the height of their performance career at the time Big Frank joined. Here are a few more of my favourite memories of the band I love so much! •

When Greg left Mr Zippy; I could finally hear the rest of the band playing their instruments for the first time; he liked his guitar amp louder than everyone else.

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Mr Zippy summed up in one word, that word would have to be ‘Naked’, or ‘Nuts’.

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Human-bowling with 4ft Fingers and Kenisia, at Sam’s bar in Cardiff. On the tour we decided instead of bowling with a ball like normal people (we didn’t have), we would bowl our selves at stacked up beer cans.

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Countless house parties, including a beach party in Clevedon.

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My favourite memory of their drummer, Pete was seeing him step out of his convertible car, which had the top down, after driving for two hours, tshirtless, in the 30C sun. As Pete released his seatbelt and exited of the car, all you could see was his scorched bright-red body, minus the Z-

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shaped white body marks, where the car seatbelt had been covering him. Luckily only 20 people were there to witness it. •

Pete’s naked balls resting on my thighs as he hugged me on stage.

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Every gig we played with these guys, one of the band would come on stage and have their photo taken with me whilst singing with their thumbs up.

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Competitions on tour aren’t uncommon. One prize was to christen their van, which Pete won by masturbating in the van outside of Newport TJ’s (strange when he only lives 40 miles away).

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The Zippy boys pretending to be superman on a rotating clothes line in a rented house in Croyde.

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The boys oh so very gay shirts they’ve worn over the years.

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My favourite story of all involves an ex-member of the band sharing his sexual mis-adventures; apparently during sex, a member of Mr Zippy, would ask his girlfriend to shove a candle up his ass. Every time I hear the song ‘Candle in the Wind’ by Elton John, I can’t remove this tainted image out of my head. Shame really, I used to love that song.

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After a gig and night out in Croyde, the following morning seeing Big Frank with a black eye and a bruised and scratched face, apparently he was having an argument with a wall.

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Returning from a tour of Japan, skint because beer was £7 a pint.

The naked images of band members will be etched into the back of my memory forever. I’ve seen the Zippy boys naked more than I’ve seen myself naked. Even when I’m tied to a chair in an old people home suffering from dementia, I’ll still be able to crack a fond smile for those days that made my life worth living. Thanks guys! Apart from being the funniest band I’ve had the privilege of knowing, Mr Zippy are easily the most genuinely honest, least pretentious, all-round diamond geezers. They give everything to each performance, even when there’s only 10 people watching in the crowd. Energetic, professional musicians, playing catchy eardrum bursting enduring music, I’ll be fan of Mr Zippy as long as I can still hear. I’ll be a life-long fan of the Zippy-boys until I die! ***** I’d had enough new material to record two albums, but the main issue we had was time. With constant gigging and work commitments, we felt we needed some time away from playing shows to concentrate on practising new materials, most of which

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seemed more technically complicated, and took longer to learn. Given more time there were a few songs I would have liked to replace. Steve was responsible for writing 95% of the music on ‘Know Who I am’, ‘Dress Like a Pimp’ and ‘Enemy’. Kenisia’s first attempt at collaborative song writing since ‘Lunar Buggy Riot’! If I’m honest, these are three of my favourite songs we’ve ever produced, nice one Steve! James and Phil implemented new dynamics to our music, we hadn’t thought of before. Phil can break down a song with his face alone. Kenisia had a decent budget from all the shows we’d played but work commitments meant that we had to rap the recording up in a week, more or less. Martin had made considerable changes to the studio with many digital improvements, which would enhance our sound. More man toys for us to piss around with - just what we didn’t’ need! We had a nightmare recording ‘Girls Got Nothing to Say’ and ‘Cut the Crap’ as the speeds altered massively. We’d been belting them out so fast at gigs, but now we were trying to record the song, Martin was adamant we needed to slow it down considerably. Oddly enough the songs we thought we knew the best were the hardest work, and songs we’d just written flowed perfectly. ‘Blood on Your Face’ and ‘Breakdown’, sounded wicked, even just as rough, guide-tracks. Simon was having a head-benny recording the day’s last guitar intro. Knowing how frustrating the agony is, we rapped for the night with the prospect of a start fresh next morning. You could see the look of defeat in Simon’s eyes, the anxiety and lack of willpower, as he couldn’t make his guitar work for him. This was the only time I’ve seen Simon let his guard down, and look so utterly helpless, beaten and fed up. He nailed the guitar part second take in the morning! The song, ‘Klit’, sounded great, but as I was listening back to the track recorded, I couldn’t help feel a glimmer of shame, wishing I’d rewritten this song that was totally, un-arguably stupid. I sank further and further into my seat as I listened to the lyrics, embarrassed and ashamed of myself. Jaz, Martin, and Phil spoke in a form of alien language at times when discussing the music, bewildering the rest of us. Jaz, sang a variation of backing tracks to ‘Breakdown’ in different octaves (whatever that means), however he did that? It was awesome because he sounds like a screeching cat! On the Thursday during the week of recording, we’d been offered a gig supporting, The Mad Caddies (another US band we all loved) at the Irish Centre, in Birmingham, and playing to a 600 capacity sold out show! This was unfortunate timing, but an opportunity we could not pass.

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Steve has only ever lost his cool twice that I remember, and he lost his cool composure in the dressing room before the show. I don’t even remember what the disturbance in the Force was about but I enjoyed it. The lighting that night was so blindingly bright on stage that the audience faded into dark until the auditorium was illuminated and the sight was over whelming! So many people! Bouncing off the energy of the overly enthusiastic crowd, we played our asses off. The release of energy was so euphorically intense as the sweat drip of our faces, combined with the heat produced from the audience and lights, I felt like I would faint! But adrenalin kicked back in pushing me forward like a crazed mad man. Tom was in awe as he had his own risen drum section, and the rest of the band and I couldn’t stop smiling. It was the best feeling and memory I have from a live performance. We shifted a record number of CDs after the show. It was an awesome gig and testament to our hard work, letting out any frustrations of the week and enjoying the fruits of our labour. Plus we got to see the Mad Caddies and Farse for free. All the new songs we’d recorded in the studio seemed that much tighter playing them live now. The collection of old and new material in the set list flowed amazingly. We had an air tight set list. As I’d sat and watched the Mad Caddies from the merchandise stand and chatted to their roadies, they gave me a free hooded sweatshirt, which I was going to buy any way. My smile was more like an erection! Nice guys! After this welcomed interruption, we got straight back in to the studio. We had two full days of mixing with Martin, with the last day as me on my own, as the guys couldn’t afford the time off of work. So if the recording sounded shit, it all came down to me, cheers! I was sick to death of hearing the songs after two days mixing, but the first thing I did when I got home, was listen to our new album! Martin made a hysterical comment about Brandy as I left the studio, one I can’t repeat, but you can ask me. Much to our annoyance, close friends were divided about the recording. They fell under two categories; Friends who preferred heavier music, thought it was a massive leap in the band’s evolution, and the friends, who liked the bouncy, happier feel of ‘Crash Helmet Hoopla’, hated it. This divided fans, record companies, music press and critics alike. People who’d seen our recent live shows would have been more used to the newer style of material. The initial feedback we received was just as

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confusing. It was so frustrating, when we thought we’d created our best work yet. But despite the confusion, this would turn out to be Kenisia’s biggest turning point! At Tom’s house one evening we recorded some spoken thanks for everyone that had been useful over the years, which was later added to the album. It’s an unmarked track that comes on when you least expect it. It still makes me jump every time I hear it! At the end of the mixing session with Martin, he gave me a rough un-mastered copy of our album, which was complete but may need tweaking a little before the final pressing, and the track listening wasn’t finalized. When I got home I made a cup of tea, whilst waiting for my computer to boot up, then I made 12 copies of the album on my iMac - a copy for each band member, and anther five to post to record companies (without consulting the rest of the band): Household Name Records, Moon Ska, Trash City Records, Jam-Down Records and Good Clean Fun Records. The albums went in the post on Friday, and the following Tuesday I received an email from Matt at GCFR. Mat said then and there he was up for putting the album out for us. Jam Down Records had also sent a similar email, indicating they were very interested in the album and wanted to arrange meeting. Moon Ska had also made contact but this was the shortest and weirdest of all: ‘Thanks for the album, didn’t enjoy it as much as the last one, good luck!’ Sod em! Simon from TCR had also shown interest, which was great, as he’d put out our first album. He knew that I had sent the album off to several other labels, and was interested to hear their responses. We have a great relationship with Simon and Trash City Records, but we wanted to see what else would be on offer from other labels. Selfish as we are! The only label that hadn’t replied yet was Household Name. Out of all the labels we’d this was the biggest at the time. The label was growing at an extraordinary rate! The buzz factor alone, created by word-of-mouth was expediential and their artists forged our target audience. For the genre of music in British sub-culture, the punkunderground, there wasn’t a bigger or more respected label in the UK. But where was my reply? I’ll tell you were it was, nowhere! Because they hadn’t bloody sent us one! Feeling a little smug from the other replies, I decided to make a pre-emptive strike, and I emailed them, saying, ‘Hi this is Alan from Kenisia, have you had a chance to listen to our new album yet?’ Five minutes later I received a reply saying, ‘Love the album, listened to it four times already’. And that was it! Bastards! That’s more confusing than ‘The Times’ cryptic-crossword. Feeling cockier, I emailed them

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straight back, asking, ‘When are you thinking of putting it out?’ I also briefly explained that we had no obligations with TCR. The second email I received ten minutes later said, ‘I’ll have to get the others to listen to it, then I’ll get back to you’. He went on to say, ‘I’d like you to play a show for us in London when I can arrange one. I am very interested!’ At band practice I explained how I’d sent of the CDs, and that three out of the five showed interest, including Household Name. Tom’s reaction was like my own, Bollocks to the other companies, why isn’t Moon Ska interested? (Just kidding… kind of). Sometimes it pays to be proactive and now I kept the band in on the loop by forwarding the replies that I received. We’d arranged a London gig, and a meeting with Jam-Down Records (just in case). We knew and respected artists on both labels. At the London show, Lil, Kafren and Al from Household Name, wanted to know how we stood with touring and gigs in general. Explaining the normal dilemmas that seven band members have juggling their full time jobs and relationships, it was not easy but we are all very committed to our cause. We said that we could make at least two weeks of touring, and we could make most weekend gigs, and whatever school-night gigs within a certain mile radius of Bristol. They seemed happy to chat for a while to get to know us a little. After the show we left none the wiser regarding their intentions to sign us to their label. Although we had decided between us that if Household Name were serious, so were we, as they seemed liked genuinely nice people. Even if Al was freak! A few days later I called Lil, and yes, they were going to put the album out! There were a few formalities, which this label would explain in time, but for now Lil was working on an email for us to look over. Get this, none of their artist are bound by any contracts, and each band is expected to do what they must to promote the band and CD released by Household Name. Similar to Trash City Records, the artist is given CDs and when you sell them at £8, Household Name keeps £5 and the band keep £3. I like this system, as it’s plain and simple. The label sell 200 copies they’ve made their money back on the first pressing and the make £600! ***** I was ecstatic to be a newly forged ‘Household Name’ artist! We’d been invited to join the summer their tour, but I was confused how we’d got there? Our first encounter with Hidden Talent Booking Agency, came after I sent them a copy of our first album, followed by an emailed. They emailed me back saying, ‘Great CD, shit

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band name, regards, Ian’ and that was all he’d said! I presumed, we’d had yet another let down from another corner of the music industry. A few weeks after the word had got round we were signed to Household Name an email from Ian, popped up in my hotmail account. ‘Hi Alan, now you guys have signed to Household Name, I’m your booking agent!’ Personally, I was furious! I wanted Kenisia to make an impression from our talent, not by association. From 1995-2002, we’d worked really hard as a DIY band and part of me wasn’t ready to give that up yet. Perhaps I didn’t like our previous rejection from Hidden Talent and perhaps part of me was a little control freak, not prepared to let someone else do most of the groundwork. I enjoyed talking to promoters, and the alliances we’d forged, but like always I over reacted like an ass! Like troupers the rest of the band humoured me. Despite my reservations, Ian turned out to be a nice bloke once you got to know him. First and foremost, until you know him a little, he’s a businessman. Around this time I started to build external anxieties: along with copious amounts of un-relinquished adrenaline coursing through my body. A culmination of social factors were converging, grinding me relentlessly to my knees. I was snapping at everyone, my parents, the band, friends, and my housemates. I wasn’t fun to be around! ***** ‘Are you the singer?’ Occasional at gigs people would confound me! People would ask, ‘You’re in that band that played aren’t you? ‘Yes I am’, I’d reply. ‘What do you play?’ ‘I’m the singer’, I’d say. ‘Oh! You don’t look like a singer!’ ‘I guess that was people’s nice way of saying I was ‘forgettable’ or ‘ugly as fuck’! **** Phil has an inspirational taste in his infectious Mayan tattoos that cover his body. Phil’s art showed great attention to detail, magnificent depth of colour and than blows most people’s tattoos. Sadly, Phil’s taste is music is pretty bizarre! Phil started producing his own music on his Mac then bringing the CDs to practice hoping we could transcribe his idea into the bands arena. Because Phil put so much effort into his ideas, we tried with varying degrees of success. Phil’s prolific, unique workings included guitar chaos and home tuned, partially contrived digital mayhem. To start

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with I didn’t know what I was listening too. The inner workings of the CDs were good but Phil’s timing was like his dancing skills, not quite in tune with other earthlings. We needed to concentrate on songs for the upcoming tour with Household Name Records. (The last time I went over to Phil’s house and he played me an album of material, in 2009 I genuinely loved it!). **** Both Jesse James and Spunge, were regularly slatted as musicians for one reason or another, but both made a career out of their music and people were jealous, it’s as simple as that. Equally, both bands were great at what they did. Both bands made one or more videos that made it to TV and were requested a fair amount at one stage. Spunge were ‘named and shamed’, in Kerrang magazine for scripting their setlists, jokes, and even their crowd banter between songs. Not that Kenisia had any rivalry with Spunge, but I did get a laugh of out the article. The guys I met from Spunge were nice! I do like their song ‘Kicking Pigeons’! Every time we played Cheltenham, their guitarist would come along and tell us how shit we were. I liked him! Jesse James were nice guys too, and we played with them on a few occasions. Each time they gave a nice reception, and big shout out. They were fun, mature guys, who were very easy to get on with. Their video for ‘Shoes’, was as low budget as videos get and that’s why it worked well. I also liked Jesse James because they put Tom and me on the guest list to see The Suicide Machines in Bristol when they toured with them. ***** After a long drive back from a gig, I finally got into my bed at 3am. I was knackered, and to make things worse I stared work at 7am! Not good! Unfortunately I slept through my alarm and woke to the sound of my telephone ringing. I was in shit, my work was now technically under staffed and breaking the law, which could lead to a massive fine. I forgot my car was exceedingly low on petrol to make matters worse. Even though I was late I had to stop to get some petrol on the way in or I would be really screwed. As I was putting petrol in my car, a woman came up to me and said ‘help me’. I panicked thinking she was in serious distress so I asked her how I could help. All she repeatedly said was ‘help me’, over and over. Now I’m thinking she’s either got mental health problem or is a drug or alcohol abuser. I went into pay and asked if they could help with the crazy woman but they said she’d been annoying costumers for a while, and wouldn’t help get rid of her for me. Great! After trying to

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calm her down, and getting nowhere, I panicked about the time, and got in my car and tried to drive off. She now stood in front of my car, wherever I turned. I reversed and drove out of the petrol station the wrong way and onto the road. The woman jumped in front of my car on the main road forcing me to slowly grind to a halt. At this point she led down in front of my car, and remained motionless. As I got out of my car she refused to leave the road and started to tell passers by that I’d hit her with my car. A man came out of his shop swearing he’d seen me hit her with my car, too. As people called for an ambulance and the police I figured, sod it, and sat on my car bonnet, now blocking one of the main roads into Bristol. The police were on the crime scene first and started questioning the women who still insisted I’d hit her. Members of the public were now swearing I’d hit her, too. I just smiled and said ‘I’ll think you’ll find she’s an escaped crazy person.’ As the police started to put her on a stretcher, but when she overheard the police saying they were going to take me in for questioning, she jumped up and ran over to me, giving me a hug recanting her previous statement that I’d hit her. She said ‘I’m ill, please help me. It’s not his fault he hasn’t done anything.’ When I arrived to work it turns out someone else had been late to work too, causing even more mayhem. Staff looked very concerned as I walked in the door, and I asked, ‘What?’ Another late co-worker had passed the incident on a bus, and told everyone that I’d run someone over! I was very annoyed! The full storey of the crazy women saved my ass at work with my boss, but I have to think twice about out-of-town gigs the night before an early shift. The band didn’t like this and we had quite a few falling outs over the scenario. Just like every avenue of my past-life, my one real grip with being so passive and laidback, no one used to take me seriously about anything. After stating anything for the ninth time and with no one listening, I’d lose it and so I start shouting, then everyone thinks I’m a nut case. At least people listen then. ***** The album had been mastered and dusted, we’d collectively worked on various pieces of artwork for the cover, and agreed and disagreed on various things. I tried a few cover pieces that weren’t up to scratch, whilst Phil went on with a concept we’d thought of. I can barely draw a stick man, even with a computer. We met at the Porter Butt, in Bath, to finalise the album, and touring specifics, however, I soon realised that I’d been conspired against!

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First on the agenda, was a song title, ‘Got a Suicide Machine Inside You’, which was a simple word play on my favourite band at the time, relative to the song’s underlying issues. Harmless! No, apparently not. Anyway, I was outnumbered and the song was changed to ‘Know Who I am’. I was more annoyed that the band had obviously discussed this before hand and felt they couldn’t talk to me about a song title and chose a public place where they thought I wouldn’t go nuts. I didn’t care, I lost the plot with the guys in the pub, mid afternoon, whilst families enjoyed their Sunday roasts. I used the rather strong words to convey my emotions, such as ‘assholes’, ‘stupid’ and ‘retards’, I’m used to making a twat of myself on stage, so a pub wasn’t going to calm my fury or vengeance. I had years of biting my lip with Tom and some of his antics, so I let it rip. (Tom was my only friend that I wanted to kill one minute then hug the next. I’m sure at the times Tom felt the same about me). I knew I was out of line but I didn’t care. I sat throughout the rest of the meeting stewing in my head. Later on, Jaz called me and expressed his regret for not backing me up. I thanked him, and asked what the rest of the meeting was about, as I’d been fuming with anger, I couldn’t remember a thing. The band kind of kissed and made up, we just stabbed each other in the backs, when no one else was looking. Once I’ve lost my temper, I find it hard to let the subject go when I’m passionate about it. Most arguments I can walk away from in seconds and calm down, then I move on with my life. This was different; I couldn’t calm down, I didn’t want myself to calm down, I wanted to stay angry. Why? Because I was an asshole! ***** I needed to blow off some steam with my housemates, so we headed into Bristol later on that evening for a full-scale assault in one of our favourite haunt. Mike came back from the bar with a tray full of drinks. He’d spent £60 on 60 vodka shots, something tells me this night was going to turn wrong very quickly! There was only four of us, and I was meant to be driving. I sought some form of release, though. It had been a tough weekend with too much time spent around other bands as well as my own, with of course Tom getting up to his usual antics. When the band started out I had shoulder length hair, within a year of Tom being in the band (and the stress he caused me) my hair started thinning! Okay, it wasn’t his entire fault. I shaved it all off one day at party to most the part dwellers amusement. Back in the club I had spotted an old school friend Paula Found (I hadn’t seen since

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leaving school), I was overcome with excitement. I burst into conversation but she pushed me away saying, ‘Who the fuck are you? And how do you know me?’ Charming! She didn’t recognise me, even though I’d known her since I was five! When I told her she blushed every possible colour from embarrassment. I guess I looked funny as a skinhead. It’s good to have a release, thanks to Paula and Mike I felt a lot more light-hearted after mutually enjoyable evening.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Household Name UK Tour Every band has its goals. Our time had come! As the newest recruits to the label, we were invited to join the Household Name UK Tour. This was an ambition of mine, to play across the country with like-minded bands, and not be responsible for organising it all. All I’ve got to do is show up and fight! Day 1: Gloucester. We had a pre-tour warm up show with 4ft fingers and Mr Zippy the night before the tour, which started in Gloucester. We played a sold-out show to an all-ages crowd, which went mental. Mads surfed the crowd on a guitar case whilst singing. However, I had something far more sinister in mind. We stopped playing, and I asked the audience if two friends were prepared to beat each other up for a free album or T-

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shirt. A young audience member called David Brent (Yeah I know, ‘The Office’) and his friend got on stage, and unfortunately for David, he got the shit kicked out of him, much to the amusement of onlookers and bands. Even security got a good laugh at David’s expense! (He remains my friend today). I made them wear boxing gloves, so it’s kind of okay. We were all hyped for the tour, despite only having 50 copies of the new album on us. This was our longest stretch of tour dates in a row, with 12 days, even though we were doing much more shows than that. Shit when you compare it to our label mates’ bands that tour non-stop for months at a time. In one year alone, Capdown managed an incredible 300 gigs out of a possible 365 days. Unless that year was a leap year! But as ‘Weekend Warriors’, what can you do? Day 2: Manchester. Whilst on the motorway around about Birmingham, Steve, who was driving, noticed smoke coming from the driver’s side tyre. We stopped in the nearest service station to take a look. It was obvious that something was up, but we couldn’t work out what it was? So we opted to keep on driving like the idiots we were. A few miles on the motorway, and now there’s black smoke coming from the tyre! I made a call to the RAC and they informed me someone would come within the next two hours. We sat and waited, chatted and played card-games and took the piss out of each other for nearly three hours. I called the RAC back they made their apologies, and assured us we would be attended to as soon as possible. At this point we rang one of the other bands who were playing that tonight, and informed them we were running late. We waited for another two hours. Thankfully I’d told the RAC that the van wouldn’t be fixable on the side of the road and needed to be towed to a garage, in Manchester, plus there was seven of us that needed to be transported as well. There was a huge sigh of relief as the RAC van showed up, five hours after we initially called them. The RAC man jumped out and explained that he’d indeed tow the van, but most of us would have to travel by car. Which was good, but it now meant some of us still might show up late to perform, because of the separate transport. We called the other bands explaining we could make it by 9pm, and were told as long as we arrived by 9pm we could still play (they’d move forward one of the other bands to fit us on the bill). We didn’t want to miss our first night of the tour but if the van conked out completely, that might have been the end of the tour all together. We arrived with 10 minutes to spare, relieved. We set up in record time, and played a set in record time, too. Pretty good considering how knackered we all were by then.

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We sat back, drank and enjoyed the rest of the bands, then drank a little more to celebrate the start of the tour. After the gig, the promoter offered to put us up for the night, which was a relief that it wasn’t too far to walk now the Van was temporally out of commission. We could leave our equipment at the venue overnight, which was a heaven send. The RAC had left the van outside the venue on a single yellow line. I knew if we didn’t want the van towed away, we’d have to be there before 8am, which I was adamant about. I fell asleep within minutes of arriving at our host’s house, within minutes of arriving. Our host was an awesome guy, why Brandy chose to take a shit in his bin, I’ll never understand! Curry? Day 3: York. We said our thanks to the promoter for putting us up for the night, and all his help. He was a nice guy. As we just arrived back at the van, a traffic warden popped his head around the corner, I explained our predicament to him, and shrugged my shoulders a few times. He stated that as long as someone stayed with the van whilst it was immobile, there shouldn’t be a problem. He also pointed out something we hadn’t seen during the night, a hundred metres down the road there was a garage, which was just opening. The man in the garage informed us they were really busy, and he didn’t think they could help us today. We explained that we were on our second day of the tour, and without the van we were screwed, basically. We begged him kindly to do the work for cash in hand, which eventually he agreed to, saving our collective asses (as long as he actually could fix the problem). He said it may take a while, and to make it cheaper for us, once he’d diagnosed the problem, he would see if he could go to the local scrap yard for second hand parts. He rang a short while later to explain that the van would need serious work, and if he could sort it out for today he would call us later to let us know. We’re in one of England’s finest cities and we all had time off, so we explored. Phil was raised near Manchester and Simon went to university here, so they showed us around their favourite haunts, after we treated our selves to breakfast. Since Manchester held the Common Wealth Games, it’s had serious renovations. We went shopping, looking like America tourist in our shorts and baseballs hats, killing time. I enjoyed looking at baseball hats, so much a bought one! We sat in a park, and let homeless people harass Jaz, we all enjoyed him squirm. Then finally, many hours later, Steve’s phone rang, it was good news. The van was ready!

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We got the van, got our equipment, and then we buggered off. Next stop, York! Tonight was our first night playing with, Da Skywalkers, Five Knuckle, and Red Lights Flash. The first shock of the night was seeing members of Lightyear seriously drunk, whilst everyone else was still sound checking. We hadn’t expected to see them at all as we’d been told that instead of playing tonight’s Household Name gig, they were one of the support acts on for Green Day, in Newcastle. However, they got there only to be turned away at the door. Obviously pissed off and confused with the mix up, they worked their way back to York, only to be told that someone else had been fitted into their slot in York as well. So they drank them selves stupid instead. When we got to York we found out that the label had decided to send a baby sitter to a few of the shows, by the name of Al. Al’s a funny man, a good laugh and he’s probably the only person from the label who could put up with Lightyear, on a regular basis. We finally got to meet Red Light Flash from Austria, and Da Skywalkers from Sweden. All the bands were told that the venue had put on a buffet for all the bands. As it happens there turned out to be a lot of vegetarians on tour, and far too much meat, and like on any other occasion where there’s a buffet spread, all the vegetarian food is taken first by the meat eaters, by shear bloody mindedness and protest alone, and all the vegetarians had left was meat. This became an ongoing tour issue to some of the hardcore vegetarians, and an amusing game to the carnivores amongst us. Vegetarians can get really shitty! It was like ordering a female prostitute every night for two weeks only to find a gay man shows up every night in their place. The awesome power and ferocity of Da Skywalkers left most of Kenisia spellbound. It’s rare to see a band this intense. They were fantastic! They looked like a bunch of skinheads but were all real softies. Da Skywalkers had a roadie/merchandise-seller/friend on tour with them called Mad Mike, whose English seemed to be a little better than the rest of the band, and his confidence was much bigger. Mike asked me why English girls weren’t very pretty? According to him, 40% English girls were pretty, whereas in Sweden 90% girls were pretty. He was disappointed. I didn’t have an answer for his question. Note for myself, ‘Need to move to Sweden’. I’ve obviously got low standards, as I’ve always been partial to English women. Red Light Flash were probably the most professional band on tour, and the least heavy sounding, with a great rock-classics songs. Before Five Knuckle played I was chatting with a women who had the sexiest birthmark I’ve ever seen, she was sweet,

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and funny! After the show I never saw her again, I bottled out! I was gutted! The night was topped off with Five Knuckle’s brilliance, throwing down their moves, in the only way they know how, by giving it everything. They were high jacked on stage, by naked-dancing- drunken members of Lightyear. There were so many naked men on stage at one point that owner of the venue came up to the stage an informed Five Knuckle that if Lightyear didn’t put their clothes back on soon, the plug would be pulled. Al had wanted to speak to Kenisia about a few things tour related, outside away from everyone else - this was a standard procedure as far as we were told. The talk was very short lived, Al had high expectations of Kenisia, being the veteran band on the tour (we were the oldest buggers in other words), and at that point we were cut short, as Chas, the singer from Lightyear, burst trough the door, whipped his dick out, and tried to piss on Jaz, or Phil’s leg. He missed the leg but carried on urinating anyway. Al laughed and moved from the flowing stream of piss! Everyone from inside the venue had seemingly spilled out of the venue. Chas, had heard from someone, that I had brought boxing gloves on tour with me, and was challenging anyone who would listen to a fight. Ian, from Hidden Talent, seemingly had revenge on his mind. Ian had had a skin full and saw this as an opportunity to get back at Chas for all the time he had tried to piss on him, while also keeping up the façade of being a bad-ass businessman. This proved great amusement for RLF and Da Skywalkers, as news of the fight had got inside the venue, bringing everyone out to see this friendly gripe match. Chas, threw the first punch at the crowd behind him, not at Ian in front of him. Ian suckered punched Chas, and took refuge in the adjacent car park, where the mob followed, now equipped with cameras and video. The venue’s car park was now York’s most popular tourist destination. The fight went on for a lot longer than I imagined, Chas being young and physically fit, Ian being older and plump-ish, each man as stubborn as the next, equally taking a beating to the face and upper body region. Both camps took a no retreat, no surrender policy, i.e. drunk and stubborn as hell. They used up half the car park, running around like a couple of fairies. Both eventually stopped from exhaustion, after nearly five minutes of entertaining the crowd. They both looked knackered, but unfazed, I’m guessing Ian was going to feel the pain more in the morning. Ian looked like he was trying harder, but Chas looked as though he was punching harder. (Funnily enough, they refused a rematch on another night). Al our baby sitter looked the most amused! The lead singer from the

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headlining band could have been taken out of commission. But did he care? All the bands stayed at the same house that night, and I slept with one eye open in case Chas got any funny ideas. Chas is the friendliest retard I’ve ever met but I wasn’t going to let him stick those boxing gloves up my ass anytime soon! A lot happened in that house overnight, I can’t repeat what happened, mainly because I can’t remember. I’m starting to think Chas spiked my drink with Rohipnal! Day 4: Middlesbrough. We arrived in Middlesbrough, with a sense of excitement, as it was a new town and a new venue for us. But nothing could top last night’s stupidity. The venue was big and rammed with crazed teen girls, just as Simon likes it. All the bands played really well, but you always find the more gigs you play in a row, the tighter you become as unit, and by now most of the bands had found there momentum. Whilst Kenisia were playing, I noticed something strange about the way the younger members of the audience were dancing. (Apparently it’s called, ‘skankin’) The weirdest thing about skankin, is that kids appeared to be skankin in a line. For the rest of the tour when this occurred, I couldn’t get the bizarre imagine of line dancing out of my head. I’d often ask on stage, ‘Why are you line dancing?’ to bewildered on looking kids. This became common practice, I’m not sure if I wanted to be hailed as a line-dancing band? Jaz and Phil had a mock fight onstage whilst we were performing. I don’t know why this annoyed me, something in my autistic nature wasn’t happy about it. I wasn’t very polite to Jaz or Phil about it either. Sorry guys! Watching their intense performance, I realized how much Five Knuckled had progressed. I don’t recognise this band before me! Although Lightyear were bringing in the crowds on this tour, Five Knuckle proved the audiences’ biggest heroes. People either love or hate the singer’s vocal styling. Dan has a unique way of singing, technically it’s terrible (sorry Dan), but it sounds great for a punk band. With Dan’s stage confidence, and years of touring under their belt, and with their new guitarist, Saul, Five Knuckle’s live show is a force to reckoned with by any band in the world. After the gig Tom and I went back to Middlesbrough University Halls of Residence with a few nice young ladies. Student nurses & social worker students, I can feel a pattern emerging here! Nothing happened, and for good reason, they went to bed. Shame, the girl I liked had a Mohican. I’ve got a skinhead, what a combination in bed! Even though I wasn’t happy in my relationship, and my girlfriend was out of the

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country for three months, I still couldn’t bring myself to cheat on her. Six years on, I really wished I had. Long story! Day 5: High Wycombe. This was the first night of the tour for Captain Everything and The Foamers. Five Knuckle and Lightyear, had an alternative gig at a different venue together. Kenisia had heard great things about both bands and were looking forward to meeting them, and more importantly watching them play. About a mile before we reached the venue, the Millennium Falcon started to play up again. I dropped the rest of Kenisia off, and waited for the RAC for half an hour (a vast improvement). The nice RAC man tells me a screw had fallen out of the van causing the problem, but luckily he had a replacement screw that fitted (What are the chances? even Mr RAC was impressed). Back at the venue, everyone had converged around Captain Everything’s Van. They had installed a TV but more importantly a Playstation inside. Bastards! We had an excellent selection of food and drink for our rider for a change. The band divided up my beers happily, and my food, too. Both Captain Everything and The Foamers were the most openly friendly bands on the tour so far. Brandy and I delegated ourselves the task of selling merchandise, I wanted to do it because I was knackered and there was nowhere to sit except the merchandise area. The singer from The Foamers and I chatted all night, what a genuinely nice guy, we exchanged merchandise later on (whenever I wear my Foamers T-shirt, someone always asks me why I’m wearing a T-shirts saying the Farmers on it?). Both bands lived up to expectations. Adequate 7 where also astounding that night as well. The venue was small, with a cellar/dungeon feel about it, very enclosed with a low stage, playing at a close level to the crowd. I chatted a lot during our set as we seemed to have a night of technical difficulties and I wanted to fill the dead air. On stage I went into a rant about how bands on tour were living off on £2-5 after expenses from each show, no wonder they were all so skinny. At the time Lightyear and Five Knuckle’s full time jobs were their bands. I wasn’t purposely plugging the merchandise but I’d say, It’s important that small bands sell merchandise, as it’s their only means of making money. Money from the shows just covers you daily fuel, and if you’re lucky food and drink. After our set quite a few audience members chatted to me, most of them wanting to know if what I said was true. Of course it was, a lot of people think that because we’re signed to reputable label we’ve made it so to speak. Household Name was, and still is the largest, most respected punk label in the UK, however, if one of

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their bands was commanding each member £50 a show, that’s still sod all to live on and barely minimum wage. Lightyear might have commanded that towards the end of their career. But not for long! This show with The Foamers and Captain Everything, was a one off as each band had only just signed to the label. It would be a while until our paths crossed again. We had to drive home that night as our next show was in Cardiff, a mere 40 minutes drive from Brandy’s home and 80 minutes for me. Brandy calmed down after his second crash. He now drives at 100 mph instead of 120 mph. On the motorway home, the lights in the Falcon stopped working, although it was still plodding along. We had to stop, as other drivers couldn’t see us. A police car pulled over to see what was going on, just as I had finished having a piss. First of all the Police stopped because they thought we were too lazy to stop at a service station and use their toilets but they were obliged to stay with us until the RAC came, as we had no lights. The police used their car lights for us until were rescued 30 minutes later. The Falcon’s alternator had gone, so they towed us to a garage that would be open in six hours time. Tom and I sat outside and exchanged banter over our messed up relationships till about 4am when tiredness kicked in. The whole band slept sat upright in their seats. The van had never smelt so bad. The man in garage didn’t appear at all concerned that six grown men were sleeping in a van, in front of his work place. He told us a funny story about a car flying off the motorway and landing in a tree. He had that car in his scrap yard - it was totally wrecked! They saved the Falcon by commandeering a new alternator and we soon made it home. After a cigarette and cup of tea, I showered and slept. I was exhausted! I woke in time make a cup of tea only before picking up the others. Day 6. Cardiff. The band, Adequate 7 all met whilst studying music at Cardiff University studying music, a nice bunch of guys but I hated them! Why? Because they’re just too talented for there own good. In the last few years I have seen them grow so strongly as a band. We would really have to be on good form to play on the same bill, and it was good opportunity as these guys bring in big crowd. Later on in February 2004, I would see Adequate 7, supporting Suicide Machines, in Berne, Switzerland. Their live performance made one of favourite US bands look Shameful! Back in Cardiff there was a huge crowd, and an even better atmosphere. Kenisia always had a good fan base in Wales. They never let us down, always enthusiastic and

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healthy purchaser of merchandise and beer. The music scene in Wales is very prolific, although the financial backing of Welsh bands in the mainstream is fairly poor compared to the abundance of talent there. The audience was chaotic and enthusiastic as ever, supporting every band. This is just what you need when you’re knackered, an uplifting event to spur you on (like stoning Jesus). I enjoyed dancing to Adequate 7, as much as they enjoyed playing. With the absence of Lightyear stealing the spotlight, there was much more emphasis on the labels smaller bands, giving us all chance to shine (Although I was missing their antics). We’d been managing to shift a decent number of the new albums at the shows from our performances. New prospective buyers would tend to go for the cheaper, older album as it was £5 not £8. But they both sold consistently. After the show we drank, chatted, laughed, and eventually ran to the comfort of our own beds. Adequate 7 and Lightyear had a competition going on: bad hair does and facial hair. Adequate 7’s Tom Pinder’s (now a session musician who’s played on TV with Jools Holland amongst others) afro was now the size of his head. Nell from Lightyear’s moustache looked like a proper old man’s. It was hard to look at either of them without laughing. I noticed something tonight. The ferocity, the passion, and more importantly the length of time people talked about music started getting on my nerves a bit. I found myself challenging other touring artists to talk about anything other than music. Odd considering I’m in a band, I know. The weirdest conversation I had on tour was with Five Knuckle. To start with I thought they were winding me up. Apparently the boys claimed they change their guitar strings after every show. If you talk to anyone about guitar strings you’ll know they take about a week to settle in. What weird and wonderful, world-of-delusions are keeping these boys imaginations running! Other bands got involved in the debate, but no matter who spoke to them, they were adamant they were keeping to their regime. I wound Saul from Five Knuckle up about something: It wasn’t difficult as this boy was wound tighter about politics than a Swiss Swatch watch. I don’t mind people playing the political card, if they’re real believers but I get wound up when people just sit and talk about the problems of our country and out system and then go back to eating McDonald’s and claiming dole money! Like Saul! He’s a great guy that bites so easily. Day 7: Derby. The venue in derby was new to us. It’s a bit like our local venue in Bath, The Porter Butt - it smelt like shit too. The venue looks like a disused skittles alley, with a stage

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at the end of it. Phil’s tattoo artist brother Jerry, came to see us as he lived nearby, and we all met for a drink in city centre before the show. Jerry and Phil are complete polar opposites; luckily they’re not both bipolar. Tonight’s gig was an all ages show, and an energetic one at that. I hadn’t spoken a great deal to Da Skywalkers before tonight, so I made up for it. DS were obviously getting their share of the veggie burgers, as they seemed more relaxed now. Mad Mike was on the merchandise again and on behalf of my nation’s women, I was determined to show him how beautiful English women are and committed him to a night out at a club after the show to demonstrate how short sighted he had been. I was ‘Lost for words, but far from speechless’ I changed the subject to the pride and joy of Sweden, Sven Göran Eriksson, but I think I’d hit a raw nerve with one of the band, whilst onlookers were others amused with the banter between us. I then assured Mike the English don’t like ‘Sven’, either. The gig was awesome and the enthusiastic mixed audience went crazy for the first few bands, but completely mental for Five Knuckle, who stole the show. There’s something about the energy in a smaller venue that makes people enjoy themselves more, and the bands too. People can’t hide anywhere and once people start dancing or throwing themselves around, you get involved whether you want to or not. We sold a fair amount of merchandise that night and Mike and I enjoyed ourselves in the process. Mike was becoming my partner in crime for the tour (he was a sick man, too)! Phil’s brother had been kind enough to put us up for the night, but not before every one went to a club. You could still smoke in clubs in those days but it was a hot night and the club’s music wasn’t great, so we spent most the time outside chatting. Mike seemed to forget his previous statement about English women, now hot for their blood to our amusement, but with no success he went home with Da Skywalkers. Perhaps English women found him unattractive? But, I still found him funny! Phil’s brother was a great host and good laugh, making us feel very welcome. In the morning we had some time to kill before setting off back to Bristol for our show there. I popped in to Derby indoor skate park for a session. If you’re a skater, and you’ve never been there; it’s bloody fantastic, 10-10 ramps galore, unlike most parks which cater more for street skaters. Not wanting to look a pussy, I headed for the vert ramp. After showing off, then falling off, I headed for the mini ramp having been shown up. Then I headed for the fun box, where I nearly killed a Bmx-er. I left with my pride in tact. Not many people can say that. Like a one-night-

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stand, Derby’s skate park left me hungry for more, hoping one day our paths would cross again. Day 8: Bristol. To tell you truth I was a bit pissed of that we were the opening act. People showing up to see Kenisia would miss our set (and they did). I didn’t expect to headline but I didn’t expect to play first either. But apparently the running order of the tour was determined by the length of time each band had been signed to Household Name. The Full Moon (now a backpackers as well) was full of backpackers when we played. The gig was expensive, and many people complained they’d missed us, and had paid £8 for the privilege. But the venue was still heaving by the time we played. Lightyear played an astonishing set and entertained in the best way they knew how. They’re renowned for their on and off stage antics. Singer Chas, pissed in a pint glass before the gig, and gave it to an underage member of the audience telling them it was beer. They also have a lot of gags that they throw into the middle of their songs. You have to see them to appreciate it, on paper they just wouldn’t sound funny. It was nice to see our friends, and to let them in on all the happenings on tour. This was out first night at a Bristol show with the new album on sale. We had to stop friends from buying the album because we didn’t have that many copies on us. Tonight the promoter Saul from Five Knuckle gave me £125 for the show. Phil, James and Tom who all live in Bath crashed at my house so we could get an early start for next day’s gig. We passed a fast food restaurant that was my favourite haunt, Miss Millies Fried Chicken, (She’s a dirty woman and I love her) and we treated ourselves to a meal, courtesy of the band funds. We were hungry! The next day Brandy was mad when I only gave him roughly £110 instead of £125. I didn’t realize he’d spoken to Saul, after we’d left. I thought he’d been happy with £110 as that was the most we got paid the whole tour. Those who knew looked sheepish but no one confessed, good boys. Day 9: Brighton. Brighton’s always a long drive round the M25, which can be a nightmare so we left early and decided to spend half the day their. This always makes me happy as Brighton has one of my favourite skate parks in the country - it’s rare to get an outdoor wooden park these days, and this one kicks ass. Although we had a gig it wasn’t part of the tour as the bill was already filled, so we arranged a gig with local promoter, Buzz, to fill in our gap that night.

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He’s a great guy, who’s been promoting for years, and treats you like family as long as you’re not complete arsholes. Buzz has a collection of great stories to tell, usually band related. He told us a funny anecdote about our label mates, Capdown. Whilst in the middle of a tour, they were on the way home and whoever was driving had dropped the rest of the band off in London, and proceeded to drive to Brighton, instead of his home (which it wasn’t). The driver ended up knocking on buzz’s door in the early hours of the morning. Buzz was confused why the Capdown member showed up at his house, as they weren’t playing in Brighton anytime soon. The Driver was so tired he went into autopilot, thinking he was driving to the next gig. Buzz took pity on the man and let him crash until he remembered where he should be going the next day. The amount of times I’ve almost driven in the wrong direction on the motorway, or driven home, to stand at my own front door with the key in the door, wondering how the hell I managed to get here at all is scary! I don’t know how truck drivers do it (I’m guessing speed)? At the venue in Brighton, we couldn’t set up until families finished eating their meals. Because we couldn’t sound check until we scheduled to perform that evening, so it was a relaxed atmosphere. We set up and I went for a skate, whilst the guys drank. We were staying close by that night, so we could all drink and walk. That’s punk rock! We’d been given our first hot meal of the tour and I wanted to ‘spank’ our host by means of appreciation. That was someone else’s job. I have to say, in my own selfish way, it was nice to be the main band and to play a longer set. The usual 25-30 minute support act set is barely enough to get into the gig. Now having a full hour, we had time to relax and play what we wanted. Personally I thought we played a blinding full-set in Brighton. I don’t ever recall having a bad gig in Brighton. We drank with Buzz, the other bands and the promoter at the venue. Now this normally doesn’t happen to fat, bold, ugly and stupid men like myself, but after the show I was chatted-up/stalked by the girlfriend of the promoter at the venue. Usually if a woman talked to me at show, it’s because I’m selling the merchandise, or they wanted to know if Tom or Brandy were single. I also told the girls the truth; Brandy and Tom are a gay couple. Even though I wasn’t single, it’s great to flirt isn’t it? If you say no you’re a fucking liar, or an endangered species. So, for such a beautiful woman as Alihya to even give me the time of day was like winning the Irish Lottery. Tom and I stayed at the venue chatting to the promoter and her friend, whilst everyone else drank them selves silly before getting carted off with Buzz. They just left us there

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without even so much a goodbye. I wish I’d cheated on my girlfriend that night. If you’d seen Aaliyah, you would have understood. I genuinely liked her, and that’s why I didn’t cheat on my girlfriend, because that’s not showing a good image of myself. Aaliyah and I talked until 5am the next morning when I declared I was going to sleep, much to the confusion on this poor beautiful woman. I merely took her for breakfast in the morning, before meeting the rest of the band. Aaliyah must have thought I was a real freak, and I felt like a freak, too. As we hugged goodbye, no one believed me when I told them nothing happened, and if you’d seen her you wouldn’t believe me either. Tom called me Brighton’s newest member of the gay community for a day or two, until he forgot about it. See, I told you Kenisia weren’t your average rock and roll band. A few weeks later I broke up with my girlfriend but I couldn’t get hold of Aaliyah, no matter how hard I tried. I was gutted, and I’m still remorseful, as our ‘shared moment’ was now, a fading memory. But watching Simon and (school friend) Keith, pushing each other around in a wheelchair outside the venue half made up for it. A member of the public decided to leave a wheelchair unattended outside the venue, and Simon and Keith couldn’t contain their curiosity, so they took it in turns pushing each other as fast as they could then letting go. Simon failed to notice he was on course to hit a parked BMW. I don’t know how he missed it. Now as legends go, the night of the tour we were in Brighton, we missed out on playing a classic. After the show Lightyear, Five Knuckle and Adequate 7 (I believe) were involved in an exhibition of street fireworks, requiring the police to respond to a 999 call concerning the antics in the vicinity. As I didn’t witness the event I don’t know if it’s true, but I wish I’d seen it as the boys from the bands said it was most amusing. Then again, Aaliyah was too! Day 10: Tunbridge Wells. The Forum is renowned for being an old converted Victorian toilet. In the summers months the pumping heat builds condensation up the forums walls the stench and sweltering smells, comes back with a vengeance, as hundreds of years worth of aroma filled urine comes back to haunt its new patrons. We were lucky enough to show up early again as it wasn’t that far from Brighton. All the bands except for Adequate 7 (who were driving from Cardiff) were already at the venue. It was a glorious day, close to 30C, and all bands played football in the field outside the venue, on the grassy verge (except for Phil the miserable c***). At one stage Chas from Lightyear tried to piss in the van when Phil, and I were having a chat. Phil was

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feeling low, and seeing Chas get his cock out, cheered Phil and I both up. Adequate 7’s van had been held up in traffic and they were a long way from Tunbridge Wells, so to help them out the order of the bands was changed and we started our set early. I bought a beach ball that I was kicking off the stage into the crowd, but after a few songs it was causing damage to the venue, the band and stage equipment. The ball smashed a light in the main hall at one point and I could see promoter was getting a bit pissed off. Luckily the ball broke pretty shortly afterwards. I thought I’d do my best to cheer Phil up, so I did the Phil competition. It’s a simple game, which no one has ever won. I address the crowd between songs, and say ‘If anyone in the audience is as ugly as Phil, you can have a free T-shirt, or an album,’ Of course no one ever wins! I know it’s a cruel game to play, but we always get loads of crowd participation, and a lot of laughs. Too many bands take themselves far too seriously. Adequate 7 were still many miles away, so Five Knuckle had to go on earlier. They were outstanding that night. I hate them for that! But even after they’d finished there was no sign of A7 and there was now a gap between the bands, but come 10pm, Lightyear had to play. Half way though their set, a very deflated Adequate 7 finally walked through the doors. They’d been in their Van for six hours and driven half way across the country for a gig they’d never play. These guys were pissed off! Who could blame them? Even worse Adequate 7 had to drive home the same night, as the next gig, was back passed Bristol on the M5. They deserved a few beers and I believe they weren’t paid, as they never performed. Day 11: Bridgewater. The Yeovil show originally scheduled for tonight had been cancelled last minute and as we hadn’t sorted out a show, we’d having noting to do. We all taken time off work so I called a friend in Bridgewater, and asked if he was keen to host a gig last minute, he said ‘FUCK YES’. I called round and explained the situation and everyone was up for it except for A7, who were in two minds, as they were still exhausted. With some persuasion Adequate 7 agreed to play. Considering that promoter only had eight hours notice there was a great turnout. Each band playing sent out various emails to entice further crowd participation. That night was my favourite night of the tour, there was a different atmosphere to all the other gigs. The played pool and killed time together for hours before the show. When Kenisia played Bridgewater six months prior to this gig, Jaz, Tom, and I nearly got in a fight with the bouncers

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from the club we were about to play (thank God we didn’t). On this occasion the bouncers came out of the venue to tell us to move the van (in a very impolite manner), calling us all kinds of names. I’m not a physically aggressive person, and I don’t believe in violence but I was damn-near close to getting my skateboard out of the back of the van, and pulling a face-plant on those pricks. Back in the real world, the gigs party-atmosphere in Bridgewater was astonishing. Due to the flow of the tour, Kenisia couldn’t have played more harmoniously if we tried. Adequate 7 let out all their latent hostility, as they performed as if their lives depending on it. They had just landed themselves a massive tour, supporting Californian cult-heroes, Fishbone (a band Simon and I loved as young skaters). Five Knuckle charged the room like they’d been given an unlimited porn account. We all sold loads of merchandise after our whirlwind performances. We thanked the promoter for doing such a remarkable job, on such short notice. We half expected the venue to be empty, but it was rammed. There was no air of anxiety in tonight’s gig, just a will to play for fun and our selves. When you have no preconceptions or no one to please, you can’t go wrong, just have fun! Day 12: London. Tonight’s leg of the tour was the last time I’d get to see Da Skywalkers play or to hangout with them. I was gutted! I finally bought myself a Da Skywalkers T-shirt and I now own T-shirts from all the touring bands we’d toured with (I still wear it five years on, but my Foamers t-shirt has fallen apart, much to my sadness). We arrived early in London to soak up the atmosphere. July 28th 2003 may not have been the hottest day on record, but it sure as heel felt like it to me. There was a park just behind the venue, which consisted of all the touring artists playing tonight. Everyone sat drinking whilst getting sun burnt. Lil from Household Name gave us some pocket money for food that night. I’m pretty sure Brandy would buy a chocolate bar and spend his pocket money on beer, despite the free beer we received anyway. The tour had been a real working holiday, with lots of sweat, lots of men and shit loads of beer after the shows. If it wasn’t hot enough for our taste outside, when we walked in the venue it felt like someone had turned the heating up to 111C. This was amplified greatly when the venue filled with people and their extra body heat, which made the room’s sweltering heat unbearable. Da Skywalkers played a blinding set. All of Kenisia had become genuine fans of this shy, witty Swedish band. They had been the only straight up hardcore punk band on

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the bill, and they did it with style. It was so hot, that when we played, Phil, Jaz and Tom, all had their tops off, not a pretty sight. Apparently for the first song, no one in the audience could hear me sing, although we could hear the vocals on stage in the wedge monitors. Despite suffering from heat exhaustion, we gave our performance everything we had and the crowd were going mental. The band and audience were feeding off of each other. With each song I felt at any moment I might pass out. Running around on stage was kept to a minimum but I thought this was our best performance of the tour, although not my personal favourite. Forgetting we weren’t going home that night I hadn’t brought a change of clothes with me. All I could find in the van was an old T-shirt that was pretty smelly, but at least it wasn’t wet. Then I remembered my new t-shirt. I felt pretty smug knowing I had a fresh new top to wear and poor Tom didn’t. Tom had nearly passed out from exerting so much energy. We all sat outside and tried to cool off. Brandy was cooling off with a cold beer. We were unanimously pleased with ourselves. Five Knuckle had the biggest crowd frenzy of the evening. They played like gods, and were treated accordingly. Lightyear performed brilliantly as usual. Chas gave a two-litre bottle of piss (disguised as cider) to an underage drinker in the crowd, and the poor bastard started drinking it. When will kids learn never to accept gifts from strangers, especially one that looked like Chas? Lightyear entertained the crowd with a rendition of the theme tune to Hawaii 5.0, whilst running around the stage with a makeshift boat, which looked like a stage prop. They even had paddles. But my favourite stage antic still, is when the band pick up baseball bats and plays to the beat of one of their songs, and semi Morris dancing. If you wanted to make your band look stupid on stage, it’s too late, Lightyear have already cornered the market. Da Skywalkers and Mad Mike were making their epic journey back to Sweden the following day! Poor guys! Whilst packing our band equipment into the van, Simon realized his spare guitar had been stolen. The venue had heavy security all round, you couldn’t get in or out without a pass. We’d already asked the other bands if they had it by accident. It looked like an inside job. Although we played up, no one listened to us, and Simon’s guitar was lost forever, but with he’s attitude, you would have never known he was pissed off. After the show the grown ups went to stay at friends of Jaz’s somewhere, deep in the heart of London. They were lovely American’s who weren’t very happy with the state of the President Bush administration. In the morning we played in Camden market, before heading to Reading.

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Day 13: Reading. For reasons unknown to me, Kenisia have a very active following in Reading, even more so than Bristol. Lil, Kafren and Al from the label were all present at this show. Lil is an incredibly enthusiastic man with a serious passion for music, so passionate I’d never heard of most the bands he talked about. Kafren is just a great person all round, every time I talk to her, I always end up chatting shit! And Al’s just a freak with a very bad hair cut, a nice freak though. In Reading, spirits ran high, and the bands were pretty relaxed and kicked back. London had felt like the last gig of the tour to me, so this was now a bonus. The party atmosphere carried on all through the night as the bands played and messed around, entertaining more so than ever. By the end of the night nearly everyone was paralytic, minus some of the drivers. Thankfully I had a day off before going to work, as no one was in a hurry to leave. We exchanged emails addresses, phone numbers and alcohol. Household Name were happy, the bands were happy, a great night all round. Guess what Brandy spent his pocket money on tonight? The material from the new album had paid off! It had done us proud on the tour. This was a definitive tour for Kenisia. Things were never going to be so easy again for the band. I wanted my life to always be like this, but it was an unrealistic, unachievable goal! Driving home in the early hours of the morning, with no cars on the road, as natural light slowly rises, driving feels like such a privilege. Changing the van’s oil after the gig before we drove home, I forgot to put the oil-cap back on. On the motorway the lights started flashing and oil was bubbling out everywhere, which we only noticed as we stopped and looked in the services. Luckily after letting the van cool, and replacing some more oil, the Falcon was fit to fly again. Two days later whilst getting ready for work, I felt depressed. I feared this awesome experience would soon fade into another distant memory. All that was really left to do now was wait for Brandy to tally up the past few weeks, and to see if we made a profit. Minus the van and its breakdowns. I used to see the Five Knuckle boys around at the gigs in Bristol, then later promoting shows. One night I went into the Carling Academy in Bristol, at the time a new alternative spot, and Jo-Jo from the band was running up to pretty women (pissed as a fart) shouting, ‘I’m a tiger’ then running off. After petrol money, fixing the van (twice), money spent on food and porn, we then added up the bands performance fees and any profit from sales of merchandise, and

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we actually managed to make a small profit. Had the van not cost the earth we would have made a decent profit. You can’t put a price on a life changing, unforgettable experience! ***** Things I left out because I can’t remember which day on tour it happened: Occasionally on tour, we couldn’t leave the equipment at the venue overnight, or we may have been offered a place to crash, but not in the same Town. If there hadn’t enough room to store anything more than the basic kit with us in someone’s house, one of the band members would be elected to sleep in the van. Although this only happened a hand full of times, and depending on sharing the van with someone else, this could sometimes be a more peaceful option, guaranteeing a better night’s sleep. Unless the van was parked somewhere built up, where you might get a bit jumpy in the night! We would take it in turn to sleep in the van, to protect the bands equipment. The weirdest thing I ever saw driving home after a gig was two-men having sex over a hedge! I couldn’t believe my eyes. I never mentioned this to anyone before; probably because I was so tired I’d thought I was hallucinating for a while. I did chuckle to myself! There were lots of places on tour that I knew had kick-ass skate-parks, so I made sure I took my board along with me. No matter which city you play in these days, you can guarantee the local councils have whipped up some concoction for their traffic problems, and generally coming up with a ‘pure evil and twisted’ one way system. I’m not proud to report this, but due to the nature of unloading heavy equipment outside the venues we’ve had to break the occasional one way system rule, and drive against the flow of traffic for a few hundred feet, now and then. I figure if you reverse up a one-way street, you’re not technically breaking the law as you’re still facing the right way!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Making the Video and North of the Border

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For most, a wedding is the greatest day of your life, for me it becoming a video star. Most people would say that having a baby or getting married was the most memorable day of their lives, but I haven’t had that luxury yet. However, on the 16th of February 2003, Kenisia made a video which turned out to be the best day of my life so far. A close second place was the day I saw Great White sharks, then surfing with dolphins, two days in a row in Australia. We’d originally had a bunch of concepts that ended up being a logistical nightmare to organise. A mock up of ‘Fight Club’, was one idea, which never happened. Shame! However, Jim and Ben, university friends of Steve’s made the video, and they’re a damn site more organised than we were. They seemed to know what they were doing. I didn’t. I was more preoccupied with enlarging the stage at the Porter Butt, as it was tiny. Only American inches and English inches are obviously different, as Jaz seemed to be working on US Imperial measurements when cutting the wood, and I was using Europe’s metric system. An extension to the stage was erected but I’m surprised it never killed us by collapsing. Still, I laughed. The majority of the filming was done without an audience. Tom was surprisingly uptight today. We played ‘Know Who I am’ on the PA and mimed over the top (so to speak). Tom insisted he was having nothing to do with this miming malarkey, making things awkward as the rest of the band couldn’t hear the music over Tom playing the drums. Eventually he realised he couldn’t hear anything either and we had another classic altercation about miming. We all needed a time out to chill before recommencing with ‘Project Mayhem’. We had a basic story outline, which we filmed without the audience along with a few sequences and volunteers, including an audience member pretending to be me in the crowd recognisable by my beanie hat and sweatshirt. Cunning! Friends, family members and freaks found on the Internet came in the evening to help provide an audience for the live band sequences. With the extra lighting rig we’d borrowed and the crowd of bodies jumping around, the room was at sweaty critical mass levels. From the second we played the music, everyone went berserk. As far as audience participation goes, there were as many people dangling upside down in the crowed as there was standing on their feet. A red headed girl was giving me seriously dirty looks all night and it was killing me. There is one sequence filmed with myself in the crowd (being thrown around), where I couldn’t stop laughing, because I can’t stand up straight. After boring the crowd to death with ‘Know Who I am’, ten times, we played a live

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set giving us a break too. You had to be there to appreciate the boundless energy, enthusiasm and spunk filled atmosphere created that night. My jaw was aching from smiling so much. I can’t praise or give enough thanks to the people who gave up their evening for filming. Young and old together, collectively everyone went nuts! We filmed more scenes after people left for our made up storyline. For some reason I was dead! Ed and Stu, Welsh fans that ran our fan-site, came along for the evening but they missed the last train home, so I put them up for the night in Bristol. I made them watch some homemade videos of my housemates and myself, forgetting they were only 16. I think I freaked the boys out with our naked and pathetic childish antics. The boys feared for their own safety that night in case my housemates came home and pissed on them in their sleep! Ed and Stu were lovely guys, and did an awesome job with the Kenisia fan site and it was a real honour to have them as part of the video. Sadly the video never finished being edited, although Brandy made a rough edit and posted it online for the fans that made the effort to help us make it. We never made our small screen debut with the video as the TV station that the video was being filmed for, went out of business. Bollocks! Although the video never made TV, the memory still lingers deep in my conscious. Big ups for Ben and Jim for their hard work, and everyone who came and helped for the day! ***** Before going on tour ‘up north’ soon after our video shoot, I’d never seen a Morrison’s supermarket. No major biggy, but when we popped one day to pick up food supplies, and we were surprised to hear that Morrison’s was the north’s equivalent of Asda. Within a year, Morrison’s had popped up in Bristol and a balance was restored to the universe. We headed up the motorway to perform several shows we had organisied ourselves. It would be the furthest north we’d ever played. Day 1: Newcastle. PPM were a crazed Spanish band that could sing in English but couldn’t speak a word of it. Don’t you love it when that happens? Absolute nutters! We all stayed at the promoter’s flat, and despite being unable to verbally communicate PPM didn’t want us to sleep, they just wanted us to drink all night with them. Day 2. Aberdeen.

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The drive up to Aberdeen along the A and B roads was astonishing. Snow, frost and ice set the perfect scenery for the perfect landscape. However, once there, the venue was a real bugger to find, as was accommodation. I’d worked my charms on a young lady to take me on for the night, but the appeal of seven grown men was too much for her. The promoter was in real shitty mood that night, so we kept a low profile. Jaz, being a very patriotic American, decided to announce on stage, that ‘Bush is another word for cunt’ (I hope his mum doesn’t read this). Still it probably was nicer than me saying, ‘I’m sweating like a rapist’. Perhaps, the promoter thought we were assholes? Aberdeen has an awesomely cute monster theme pub, which we hang out in; killing time. Day 3: Abroath. Segaboy and Slaphappy were young, enthusiastic and damn right dirty. One of the young men knocked me to the floor and tried to shag me in front of the rest of the band. It was too funny to stop him. (I had clothes on, no harm done). I drank as we were staying in the venue (a hotel) over night. Probably not a great idea looking back! Later that night, I played a pretty shit practical joke, which went tits up, putting us in more than a few people’s bad books and seriously jeopardized our musical career. Not a proud moment on my behalf, but I made every effort to try and rectify the situation. This had dramatic effect on the weekend’s proceedings. Even when you’re 27, you’re still not necessarily grown up! In the morning I got a further kick in the teeth when I went to the bank to withdraw some cash, only to see my account was overdrawn, which wasn’t possible. I later discovered that a man back in Bristol had used a cloned credit card to buy two expensive new fridge freezers on my account (I did get the money back). Luckily the band could lend me some money. Day 4: Glasgow. Even a fellow band member recalling his sex-scapades from the previous night didn’t cheer me up. Before the gig, looking for cigarettes I stood and watched the most incredible thing I’ve seen in Scotland; a man dropping off a prostitute outside a police station in Glasgow. He drove off only to stop ten metres away, wound the window down, then shouted out the window, ‘I’ll be back to pick you up at 6am! Get shagging, I love you!’ Now that’s love! Said with a gleeful tear in his eye. In Glasgow to protect prostitutes from being attacked or murdered, they are encouraged to stand outside a police station. I think that’s incredible; at least they’re safe! AT the

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gig, we met up with Shattered Hand; a band we played with six months early. I loved this warm and friendly Scottish band. I’d previously sent Lil at our label, their CDs trying to pimp them out but with no joy, sadly. These guys lightened the mood, along with the support band, Almighty Me. You had to like their music otherwise they might have eaten you! These guys were f’ckin humungous! Even Phil commented on their size! Two brothers with a fucking hysterical outlook on life, on and off stage; they took the piss out of the state of the world, tree hugging hippies and punk bands. The type which claim they care about the disasters in the world and the state of the government, from the safety of their arm chair, and do nothing about it other than moan. The large venue may have only been half-full, but trust me, every single person was laughing their socks off. AMs observational comedy, with a dark and twisted, got a reaction from everyone present. Something I’ve only ever seen Rob from 4ft Fingers do before. I swear I’ve seen one of them touring on the comedy circuit since. Even though it was a Sunday, the promoter wasn’t going to let us rest. We said goodbye to Almighty Me, and Shatter Hand, dropped our band equipment off at his apartment, then the bastard took us out till 4am. Apparently in Scotland they enjoy a good night out! Until recently the club had been open until 6am, when people used to go straight for breakfast. Now I was single not a single woman would look, or talk to me at the club. It’s odd how that goes. We danced and drank like freaks. We got just short of two hours sleep before dropping Jaz off at the airport. I wasn’t particularly tired, so I decided to drive, and used the time to ponder on the weird and interesting short tour. I reflected on the past few days, my life, and meaning of Kenisia to me, as rest of the band slept. Some of the most dramatic and beautiful scenery passed by me. The sunset seemed like the best sunset ever, as I passed the Angel of the North. I smiled to myself, listening to the collective snoring contributions of six hung-over adults. It was a long but easy drive home, and strangely relaxing, shadowed only by the thought of my impending financial problems to solve. ***** On average our set lists only lasted 45 minutes, but when you’re playing with such ferocity and intensity, that time can feel like a lifetime, especially when you’re unfit. I’ve nearly passed out more times from exhaustion and overtly exerting myself on too many occasions. By the end of a tour you can play an hour easy without killing yourself. If you finish playing and every poor in your body isn’t dripping with sweat,

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you haven’t given a performance, you’re just going through the motions, or you had meningitis as a child and you can’t sweat now! Kenisia are real sweaty bastards! I used to sweat as much playing a gig as I produced during a two-hour gym session. Tom’s clothes were usually so rank after drumming, he’d throw his clothes away after a few days use on tour because the stench was unbearable. Tom would leave his clothes in the back of the van and forget about them, by the next morning the van stank. Perhaps Tom was trying to kill Phil as he slept in the van the most.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The End of an Era Like a real life game of Cludeo, there was a mystery to be solved, Tom was smartly suited, but who did he murder? From time to time, Tom would appear at band practice in his work suit, which always made me laugh, spoiling any elusion of his laid back rock star image. Shortly after people arrived, like a real-life game of Cluedo, we tried to figure out what was going on, until moments later the host Tom, reveals he is actually a murderer! We all sat on the edge of our seats as we eagerly awaited Tom’s deliverance. But instead of being a killer, Tom revealed he’s going to be a dad! There was a brief moment of silence, before he composed himself and started again. If this was a prank it was very real! The suit really threw me. ‘This means I am going to have to make some serious changes in my lifestyle fairly soon, this will effect my home life and obviously the band. The band has been important too me for a long time, but now being a father is going to be paramount. I will meet band obligations up to a certain point in time, then after that I obviously have other more important commitments’. Now, I have seen Tom serious a few times previously, but never on this scale, everything that Tom said, you could tell he meant, this was as serious as anything could possibly get for Tom, and he was going to step up to the responsibility of being a father. You normally don’t get to see the exact moment someone changes from boyhood to manhood as it just kind of just happens, but right then in The White Hart, the whole band fell witness as Tom transcended from a boy to a man. After Tom told us, we looked at each other for a few moments, then collectively shared our support with Tom on his new journey. I was still waiting for Tom to pull a gun from his suit and shoot everyone dead, as that was just as likely. I look back on this snapshot of Tom with great fondness as a definitive memory in my own life! Here is Tom Shorland, a man who can’t control his own nocturnal walking or urinating habits, soon to be a role model for a future generation. I felt like a slacker! I’ve always been proud of Tom, even when he causes the trouble. If I ever got in a fight, Tom would back me up. Then again 95% of the time Tom, the bastard caused the fight in the first place! And that’s why I love him.

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After nine years of being his taxi driver, Tom learnt to drive. Nine years of lifts, Tom! You owe me some Badussy! ***** I started a band with two friends. When I left the band I felt like I had six brothers. Six months before I played what would be my last gig with Kenisia, things had been going really well. We were being offered more shows than we could physically represent, and were getting steady attendances, all on the back of two reasonably well-selling albums. New songs flowed at practice, and I liked the direction of the new material. In many ways, I’d say this was the height of the band’s career. Not to say that I wanted to go out on a high note, I was just itching to do even more, all the time. After Tom dropped the bombshell of having a Baby, I knew commitments, relationships, and financial matters would now have maxed out Kenisia as a unit. It was obvious that the years of hard touring, had taken its toll on most the band members and placed more strain on personal relationships. We’d never again be able to commit to that level of intensity, which I selfishly wanted. We were bound to become ‘Weekend Warriors’. I hadn’t come to terms with that part of my life, just yet. I respected it, but I wasn’t there myself. Household Name never put any pressure on us to be out every night touring, however, due to the fact they released our album, I personally felt an obligation to try and impress. I think we all did. We’d now fulfilled our obligations! Personally I felt as if my own life was one game of chess and I’d reached stalemate. I didn’t know where to go from here. I fancied going to University to study either Mental Health Nursing, or Social Work, but couldn’t decide on which I was going to do, and didn’t quite feel it was the right time. In my social life, I loved sharing a house with the friends I was with, but minor rifts had opened up from time to time there as well. With my care assistant income, I couldn’t afford to own a house in the current market, so I might as well be anywhere in the world right now. For a few months I’d been dating a Swiss national, Alexandra Bachmann, and I had a crazy notion to surf round the world in search of sharks. Alex wanted to come along to see if the sharks would eat me. I didn’t want to let her down. I was going whatever the outcome, and the sooner the better! I needed to get as far away from Bristol as I could. I was aware that most of my band mates knew something was up. I didn’t want to practice as much and on a few occasions I didn’t shown up at all (this wasn’t like me). Instead

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I’d go watch other bands play, or worse, just do nothing at all. This wasn’t acceptable behaviour. Kenisia didn’t deserve this. Something had to give. Arguments were flaring up more and more often and my behaviour was becoming unacceptable. Brandy organised a band meeting in a pub in Saltford, near Bath. We had an up coming gig with American band, Big D & the Kids Table, to organise as well as discussing the ‘Know who I am’ video we’d filmed. Plus the website and merchandise needed to be addressed, along with other things. We sat in the pubs garden, in the sun, drinking. The promo video for was buggered, the TV station we’d filmed the video for, had been taken of the air, due to lack of advertising. It was doubtful the other channels would touch the video, but I thought it was worth a try. But as everyone considered leaving, I blurted it out, ‘After I’ve gone travelling, I’m not intending on coming back to join Kenisia. I’m sorry, it’s nothing personal, and there’s no ill feeling from me, I just feel this is the time for me to leave the band’. From the look on most of the faces in front of me, this hadn’t been what they’d expected me to say. The only other time I’d seen Brandy look so upset, was when his multi-coloured eye’d dog Skip, died. I was genuinely surprised by the silence from the rest of the band and overly emotional myself. I agreed to honour my band commitments until the end of the year, then any dates I could do before leaving for my travels next year. What could I say? What could they say? Jaz was up for the singing role. We chatted a little before making our own ways home, I still feel as if I have done the right thing for myself, but I felt like shit in the process. Who knows, I could change my mind in the time I was away, but at the moment I didn’t know how long I was going to be away for, and what was the point in keeping the band guessing. I’d intended on emailing or speaking to Household Name after my weekend break to Basel, Switzerland to see Alexandra. When I returned, I had a cc’d email response from Lil. Tom couldn’t wait for me to return to inform the label myself. I was gutted, but I understood. I never did say goodbye! ***** In the meantime, I was going to fulfil my commitments with the band. Although I’d lost some enthusiasm, the upcoming mini tour had the making of a fun few weeks. May 22-1st June. June 20-29th 2003. Day 1: Aston-Under-Lyne. Big D were a US band from Boston that we supported in a small and cosy club in Aston-Under-Lyne. Before the first show we got mobbed by a group of fans, with

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questions about the apparent absence of the headline band. A couple of kids wouldn’t let go of us. The evening started badly for them; they were running late and when they finally showed up they seemed tired and subdued, due to having just flown into the country, and collecting their van and equipment for their tour. The biggest impression the band made on me on tour so far, was the huge side burns that bassist, Steve was sporting. Shawn’s Afro was lovable. The whole of Kenisia seemingly became very animated onstage, moving more and more. Phil and Jaz became lethal, shaking their little instruments. Phil, Jaz and I jumped around aimlessly turning the stage into out own little playground. Often the stages vibrated so much that if you were stood still the force of other people moving made you bounce. By now I had developed a new hate; Phil’s saliva. Every 4-5 songs Phil would empty the excess saliva carried in his trombone, and trust me when I’ll say this, Phil’s saliva glands are more than healthy. Talk about wet spots in the bedroom being a problem, Phil’s wet spot on the stage, was more like a natural disaster area! An area I stayed well away from. Jaz, was for more dignified, I think he swallows! Every now and then I’m reminded what it is I love about being in a band. The most serene experience on stage is the moment you feel like you’re going to pass out from excursion. Sweat is dripping down your face, your heart rate is pounding, pumping blood and oxygen around your body faster and faster to compensate the levels of intensity. You think and feel like you’re having a heart attack and this gig is going to end up killing you (and it might). You feel like you can’t go on, your brain is numb with exhaustion; it’s like an outer body experience. Everyone around you onstage and offstage is bouncing in time with the colours & shapes of the lights and music. Their feet look as though they’re permanently attached to a pogo stick. You want to stop, cry, or give up, but you get caught in the moment, you actually say to yourself ‘Fuck it’! If I die, I’m going to die doing something I love. Then everything around you snaps back into real time and you’ve fought through the hardest part. From here on in, it’s all sweat and fun! Day 2: Derby. Both bands played enthusiastically to big crowd of people. Steve from Big D has a unique ability, being able to contort his face, pulling the most mind-boggling and vast amount of facial grimaces (not unlike gurning), when he’s on stage. Big D’s driver and roadie, Ben had proved to be the most entertaining person on tour so far. His cockney tongue and stories were very amusing. He had taken the boys on tour

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before and was featured talking on the end of their latest album. Both drummers had buddied up by this point with their similar tastes in music, mentality and herbs. Although Dave and Tom were enjoying the delights of each other’s hip-hop, Phil was not. He had reached boiling point in the van every time Tom got a CD out. I miss that look of pure hatred on Phil’s face. Day 3: Leicester. We gave Big D a game of football in the park around the corner from the venue, not sure they understood the rules, as they sucked but it proved a good exercise for getting to know each other. Later that night, their touring drummer, Dave a young college student, opened up and we chatted about snowboarding for a long time. The tour had started to loosen up now, and both bands were starting to share some onstage banter. Steve had a novelty pair of underwear with a lion’s head dangling over the penis. We had been given a decent rider that tonight and for once everyone was happy (including Phil). I started to fall in love with Shawn’s floppy Afro, then again, I’m jealous of everyone with hair! Day 4: Newport. By now I knew all the songs from Big D’s set list, and I couldn’t get my favorite tunes out of my head. On the way to the gig we drove by a car that had flipped upside down on the motorway seconds before. Pretty freaky! We didn’t stop as 20 others cars had already stopped to give aid. The gig started off well, with good food and plenty of beer. The audience were just as hospitable tonight. A good night all round! Day 4: Rugeley. I found a little skate park round the corner and sessioned it whilst everyone set up camp. It was the first time I’d heard Paul from Big D speak tonight, and we found we had much in common in our musical tastes. Sean and I got on well too. The women loved his Afro like hair, and were envious of him. I would be envious of 10% of his hair. Our first time at this venue and it was a hopping night, I was enjoying the youngsters Line-dancing. Bandy was feeling swish with the band money, and used it to treat us to a night at the Premier Inn. Before we left I found an awesome skate park across the road from this hotel. If you ever get the chance to visit ‘Holidays in the Sun’, in Morcombe, for the punk extravaganza, go, it’s stupendous! This, our second visit was as entertaining as our first. We showed Big D round the cheesy streets lined with amusement arcades and watched the mud rolling in, off the seafront. Like our local beach in Western-Super-

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Mare, there is more to fear than there is to shout about, but I am very found of Morcambe Bay. Both bands played early sets in the day, to less than enthusiastic audience. Not enough people we drunk at 2pm to dance, understandable. Someone enjoyed taking photos of us playing, and kindly posted them online for us. Probably the best live photos of Kenisia we’ve got. Despite the weird and oddly sparse crowd, we played balls out and to our best abilities. I missed Big D’s set, and they missed ours, we couldn’t find the each other’s stage at the right time. You’ve got to love a yearly parade, of old-school punks, with their dramatically multi colored hair and their zimmer frames in one hand, with a can of cider in the other, to help keep them balanced. Before we left morecambe, we made sure the Big D guys tried some proper ‘fish & chips’, seaside style, rapped in a cone, walking along the promenade fighting the elements. We didn’t stick around long, and headed home to get a decent night’s sleep in our own beds. Day 5: Tunbridge Wells. I honestly don’t remember this show. Perhaps from all the driving we’d been doing. I did enjoy singer, Dave’s story of his grandfather beating up five kids that tried to mug him. Which is the title of one of their songs! Day 6: Exeter. Pippa didn’t look very pleased that we were playing tonight. Probably the best gig we’ve ever played in Exeter. It’s weird how you become so accustomed to another band when you’re on tour. You show up at the gigs separately, then you gravitate to the characters that match your own personality. Steve, Dave, and Dave were the extraverts of the band, whereas, the others were just scared of Phil, and treaded carefully when they spoke during the tour! When the Cavern clubs crowd kicks off, it’s enough to make any hardened criminal feel like they’re back in prison enjoying the small, confined spaces. Just enjoy the rhythm, because you never know who’s going to cum all over your back. Day 7: Birmingham The academy was a huge venue, shame we played in the small upstairs room. There’s something about all ages shows, and crazy teens. Psychos the lot of them! The small room was packed, and filled with energy throughout the bands’ performances. This was my favorite show of the tour. Not for the badass performance, but because of my badass ability to get us a free bed for the night. I was selling the merchandise as always, when two really cute girls came a-looking. I said ‘I’ll give you both a free

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album or t-shirt if you put us up for the night’. They said, ‘Yeah okay, but we live in Strafford-Upon-Avon’. So off we went to stay at Lora and Steph’s mum’s house. Mum waited up for us as we came in the door to size us up. She offered us tea, coffee, and toast, which we obliged. We all stayed up late in their large conservatory with the girls drinking. They saved us 250 miles, and a lot of money. I sat outside with Lora and chatted for some time. I just couldn’t bring it on myself to try anything, as she was only 18. She was gorgeous, but I felt it wasn’t right, even though I was single. One of the Big D guys also met a really nice lady that night too. In the morning our new mum made us drinks and food. We were very appreciative of the lovely family. Stratford is grand and beautiful place, if you’ve never been, go! Seeing where Shakespeare grew up, I can see how he was so inspired. The guys went in search of beer, whilst Simon and I went in search of the skate park. Fuck my ass, this place was wooden heaven, perfect and oh so beautiful! Every kind of ramp imaginable, I was ecstatic! Simon was in pain. We dropped off flowers to the girls’ mother, showing our appreciation. I had the worst case of the shits whilst we were there, and I must have been in their toilet for half an hour. I couldn’t look their mum in the face when I left. The flowers didn’t make up for the smell. If Lora had fancied me before, she wouldn’t now! Thanks God she never showed up at our gig after that! Perhaps that’s why! Day 8: Cambridge. A refreshing gig, as the stage in the hexagon shaped building was massive. With seven people in a band, the stage size makes such a difference. Howard’s Alias put all the other bands to shame; another band that are massively underrated and understated in the UK. They’d improved massively since seeing them last. The venue and the crowd were huge. A lot of energy poured out of our souls that night on the humungous stage. Day 9: Swindon. Something about the venue’s multiple levels, gave this gig an extra edge. Amber, a Kenisia fan who convinced us to play at her 18th birthday party, came to the gig. I liked Amber, she’s very feisty and sexy. A photo I took during Big D’s set, makes Steve the Bassist look totally demonic. It’s one of my favourite photo’s I’ve ever taken. There seemed to be more fans in our dressing room after the gig then there were left in the venue. No orgy sadly. Steve from Big D’s, kinky underwear probably scared the girls off!

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Day 10: Sheffield. We’d never played in Sheffield before. Uncle Brian who were super-nice guys and The Peacocks, made tonight a very special occasion. Buzzing, knackered and crazed, the bands went as mad as the kids in the audience did. The legendary quirky venue lived up to its reputation. It’s rare that gigs up north are dull and this was no exception. An inspiring venue and an inspiring crowd too. We stayed at Phil’s uncle’s house where he introduced me to the work of Peter Kay for the first time. Day 11: Camden Underworld. It seemed like a long drive to London and Camden’s Underworld. If you’ve never been to Camden and you live in England you’re a twat! Even though it wasn’t the last night of the tour it felt like it. The energy was there in the band and the audience too. If it wasn’t sold out, it was bloody close. The girl that Dan from Big D met in Birmingham was there. She sat in the back stage room all night. Very weird! The pit in the Underworld was the biggest of the tour. A huge conversion of alcohol consumed youths, pumped their hearts and souls into going nuts to each band. Equally, the bands retaliated giving back in enthusiasm as means of appreciation. The Household Name guys were on form for tonight’s show. Half of us stayed at friends of Jaz’s in London that night, and the rest stayed with Lil, and Kafren I think? Day 12: High Wycombe. High Wycombe was a sad occasion; knowing it would be the last night I could hum along to songs from Big D, which I’d grown to appreciate so much. The gig went well but compared to a big show in London, most gigs are going to seem low-key. After the gig we went back to the promoter’s house for a bit and drank with the Big D guys for a while. Along the tour, the guys had bought a CD from the band, King Prawn, and they repeatedly played the song ‘Smoke some shit’, more or less until we left. I loved Big D’s merchandise and subsequently bought a substantial selection; Tshirts, a baseball cap and hooded sweatshirt, along with both albums. Brandy gave Big D all free albums. It was reflecting on the tour, the late night late night drinks that rounded off the proceedings perfectly. A nice mature band, with similar tastes in life! An American Kenisia fan, Kaylan, from Detroit, emailed me a few weeks later to tell me she’d bumped into Shaun, from Big D on the US ‘Warped tour’, and he was wearing his Kenisia T-shirt. The final note of the tour: for some odd reason, Brandy had turned into a sex god. Perhaps everyone else on tour had just turned ugly, but Brandy was swamped with

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women or women asking about him. Brandy was a one-woman man, and Avril, his now wife was that woman. I would have killed to be Brandy on that tour. Perhaps his persistent happiness and unavailability made him moderately more attractive and unattainable then rest of the band. On all the tours we’d been on recently, I don’t recall playing with a band I didn’t like. We met some sound people, shared some laughs, and played our fat asses off to the best of our abilities. ***** Sometimes being in a DIY punk band, things can get a bit on top of you, I know that many bands don’t last the test of time due to the lack of financial gain you receive for all the hard work and effort you put into playing. There’s nothing more heart breaking then traveling across the country for 2/3/4 hours to get to a venue, set up, go out pay for you own food, come back and find out that you’re playing to what is affectively you, and the other bands on the bill, the bar staff, the sound engineer, and one or two people. This is common for new bands starting up, as no one has heard of you. In many cases a crap promoter will presume that you’ll bring people with you, especially in London, even though you live the other side of the country. Often promoters won’t advertise the gigs and then will refuse to pay you due to the lack of attendance, even though you’ve just spent £80 on petrol between two cars. When we signed to Household Name Records, this scenario changed. We automatically became property of Hidden Talent booking agency. How I feel about that you don’t want to know, but we always got paid, and usually more than we would have if we’d arranged it our selves. Kenisia had been a very self-motivated outfit throughout our career, even with the help of minor record labels putting out our music we still did all the leg work for it our selves and fronted most of the costs. One of the things I’m most proud of is our long term working relationship with other bands, venues and promoters. Before mobile phones I could recall most of the promoters’ numbers off the top of my head I called them so much. We knew family members, and on numerous occasions stayed at a number of really genuine peoples’ homes. After Household Name took our broke asses on, things changed. I couldn’t be a control freak anymore. And some of the other DIY bands all of a sudden took on a disapproving stance towards us, now were no longer art of their crew! After getting a lecture from a member of a local die-hard punk band, another band member came

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up to me later and told me to ignore the earlier comments and jealousy. Some people’s ethics of signing to a capitalist organisation/cooperation isn’t going against the true punk ethics. Just do what I wanted to! Working with Household Name Records, didn’t bother me, but I had to learn to take a step back and let Hidden Talent do most of the work and deal with the promoters I knew. Being a DIY band is the only 100% guarantee that you’ll make all the money back and have control over the creative process. It’s the hardest option, which requires faith in ones self but it’s the most rewarding journey too. However, I did enjoy getting a rider with each Hidden Talent show.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

This is the End I started Kenisia with two friends and when I left in early 2004, I felt like I had six foster brothers (I loved them, but I was still ashamed of them, too). The nine years in Kenisia, were one hell of a rollercoaster ride. The time spent in Kenisia was the most self-indulgent, years of my life, and I look back at those years fondly as the most remarkable period of my colourful life. We ended up in some strange situations, went to a multitude of inspiring places, met some intense, and beautiful people, who enriched our lives and outlook on life; Challenging our own perceptions and becoming better people for it, thanks to the kindness of stranger watching Kenisia play and the people who let us stay in their houses unconditionally, and the people who supported us to play music in the first place. I don’t ever remember sharing so many intense, uplifting, crazy, insightful, exhausting, and life fulfilling moments with such a nice group of people. When I’m in my 80’s I can look back at my time in the band, knowing I put my balls on the line and gave it all. My time in the band was selfish and self-serving, my ego was the healthiest it’s ever been. I’ll never replenish the enjoyment and camaraderie I once had in Kenisia. How much longer will Kenisia Carry on? Will Kenisia still be playing in their zimmer frames? They’re not too far off achieving this goal now! We laughed, we cried, and occasionally we nearly killed each other, but Kenisia still remain friends. That is until they read this shit, anyways. I think I did my friends and Kenisia a massive favour in leaving the band. The arguments were becoming more frequent, more heated and less forgiving. I always took the band too seriously, it wasn’t a hobby for me, it was my life, it was what I dreamed of doing for a living, but

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in the romantic idealism, I lost sight of the most fundamentally important thing. Kenisia are the band that would never become famous. Even the occasional bands that hit the mainstream in the UK and America weren’t making life-changing amounts of money. Bands like us rarely do! Leaving Kenisia was the most constructive thing I ever did for the band. They now collectively write all the songs instead of me dictating music to the guys. I needed to leave, to understand what a twat I had become. The band seems more united since my departure, there is more scope for original material and experimentation. The guys all seem contribute to songs, harmonies, and all get involved in the intricate working of the new song dynamics. Perhaps my dictatorship stopped this previously, I don’t know, ask them yourself! Personally, I don’t think leaving the band, travelling the world, living overseas and starting university at 31 was my mid-life-crisis. I’ve still got that to come. I know who I am, I’m that freaky friend who shows up to your wedding or the free food and a chance to dance with your niece or granny, and possibly shagging her. If it wasn’t for Tom’s escapades, there would have been very little to write about. And this would have been the second most boring musician’s biography after Michael Bolton. Kenisia was a massive part of my life for nine years, but tales of Tom, will live on forever! If I didn’t have none years of happy memories I wouldn’t be writing this! Never hold back, never give up and play balls-out every show, like it’s the most important moment in your life. If you convert three people in that audience you’re worth listening too after the show, you’ve done you’re best! Go home and have a wank! Would I have done things differently with the band? Yes. Would I change the things the band did? No! ***** Kenisia moved on. Band members were becoming focused on their careers and personal lives. The days of putting the band first and having fun at the expences of laying roots looked as though they were a thing of the past. The enthusiasm to spend time together and have this creative outlet was still there and the band continuesy. The equipment given to Trailer Park Trash for their shows was later given back, with interest, as they stopped promotions after many years of shows in Bath and Bristol. Kenisia now have their own practice space, with a mound of equipment and enough resources to record their own material. Should they choose to.

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If for some reason Jaz left Kenisia tomorrow, would I consider rejoining Kenisia? If you’d asked me last year, I would have said no. If the band considered changing their name, I’d think about it; ‘K’ instead of Kensia, perhaps? ***** After almost a year of travelling, the first thing I did when I got home was check my emails. Not a lot other than people offering to enlarge my manhood, so I checked the Kenisia website, and they were playing Bristol that night. I thought I’d surprise them. I rang Avril, Brandy’s girlfriend, and asked if she knew what time they would be playing, thanked her and informed her not to tell Brandy that I was coming. As I walked through the door all of Kenisia were standing just in front of me, looking surprised. Some of the people who’d come to see Kenisia looked even more shocked though, and I had a few funny conversations through the night. Did I miss being in Kenisia and was I rejoining the band? People asked me if I thought it was weird to see Kenisia, but for me it was a pleasure. As I walked into the room where Kenisia were about to perform, I hid at the back of the room, where Paul the sound engineer, who’s known me for a long time, looked very confused! As the first chords of the intro song were being played I felt a massive rush of pride towards my friends whom I’d shared so much with over the years. I was proud that Kenisia had decided to stick with it and were going fullthrottle. The new songs were great, they suited Jaz’s vocal style. Jaz has a confounding sidepiece were half way through a song he manages a one handed handstand, whilst resting his legs on Phil’s back, and sings with the microphone as he’s upside down. I still regard my years with Kenisia as the most enjoyable part of my life so far. The others may agree. I hope they realise the impact the band has made on people’s quality of life. I still get emails from Kenisia fans, and I still talk to people about the band I love. ***** Since then I haven’t played music in as part of a band. Perhaps one day I’ll pick up my guitar again, and decide that the music I write isn’t a piece of useless shit, but for the moment I don’t care what I have to say. I enjoy nursing, even with its frustrations and limitations. Will I see my days out as a nurse, who knows? Will I become Bristol number one serial killer? Only time can dictate/conclude that answer, I can live in hope, you can live in fear. I can say that I’ll never be one of those people who’ll sit in

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a pub telling stories of how I was close to fame and fortune. Kenisia realised its dreams, and potential. ***** After leaving the band in the early days, original member Martin went to Australia for a year, then later visited Alun Brown, my ex housemate in Thailand, whilst Alun was teaching English as a foreign language there. Martin is now married, and has two children. August 2009, Martin and I have jammed twice for old times sakes. Jaz took over my vocal duties, and now spends countless time on stage doing onehanded handstands, whilst singing. Impressive! Along with Tom, he got his driving licences, but they never drive me anywhere! January 2004 Kenisia did a session for BBC Radio 1 at the legendary, Maida Vale Studios. Recording three songs for Radio 1 show, ‘The Lock up’. This was Jaz’s first recording session for the band. I was a little jealous of this achievement! They recorded a third Album, ‘Prototype’, which was released in May 2006. Oddly enough my two new favourite songs weren’t on the album. Tom left the band due to fatherly commitments, which no one begrudges him for. He has two super-intelligent, beautiful, illegitimate children, Jake and Alicia. Rowan made Tom as respectable as he’ll ever be, considering he’s from Hanham! I’m prouder of Tom and Rowan than all my friends combined. Because they’re not married! Good on you guys, don’t do it. Jaz went on the BBC’s Weakest Link in February 2006. He didn’t win; he got very far though, and only answered one question wrong (something about Jamiroquai). It’s on Youtube if you want to see it. He also pops up as an extra in the BBC’s Casualty, Being Human, Doctors and Torchwood, as well as Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with Johny Depp, although I’ve never seen him in that. My favourite cameo appearance was in the low budget, Afro Whores, he wore a wig in that though. The drummer from Bristol based band, The Spartans, Stuart, replaced Tom on drums, and the poor man can’t seem to get away from Kenisia. I believe Stuart plays for a number of bands and is a multi-talented drummer. On Stuart’s Facebook page there is a photo of him with Pat Smear, ex member of Nirvana, The Foo Fighters, and The Germs. I’m very jealous! Steve, Stuart, and Simon have their own recording space in an abandoned warehouse, which is remarkably like the ending dramatic sequence from Silence of the Lambs. I wouldn’t go there on my own late at night; bugger that!

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Kenisia have played several shows with my favourite band, The Suicide Machines, without me, sadly! Although when I went to see them in Switzerland with Adequate 7 supporting, they had nice things to say about Kenisia. However, they couldn’t understand how animal-rights-groups hadn’t complained about Phil being in the band! Kenisia albums pop up on iTunes along with The Digital National duke box in your local pubs, and also on Spotify (an awesome online music collection). In May 2005 the Millennium Falcon, went to the scrap yard in the sky, RIP! Hopefully angels will have as much fun shagging in the van as I did. I did a one off show with Kenisia supporting The Voodoo Glow Skulls, as Jaz was in America visiting family, which was awesome. When you have so many found memories and funny stories where do you start? If I wasn’t limited to time and pages, I’d write more about the bands we played with over the years, many of which deserves far more notability than they ever received. In 2008 Phil managed to convince his local council to let him have an allotment to burry his bodies. They’ll live to regret this, in ten years or so someone will stumble upon the biggest mass grave since WW2. He finally learnt how to work his timing out on the Apple Mac and the songs he writes on the computer are now audible. The last time I went over Phil’s house, I nodding my head, and tapped my toes in approval. 2009 Kenisia and Mr Zippy played a friendly game of paintball. I fought for my old team and loved it. Until, I got shot in the face, at close range by a 12 year old. I’m going to pretend that I don’t remember who won the game. Steve married Lorna this year, and a lovely wedding it was. Needed more grit in the speeches boys. If I ever get married, I will shame all my friends! Jeremy, friend of Kenisia, went on tour dressed in a monkey suit, dancing on stage. Why, when they’ve already got Phil? Brandy, Steve and I enjoyed watching school and class mate Marcus Trescothic playing cricket for England on TV, especially the Ashes series in 2005.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I’d like to say a big thank you to the following: My siblings, Paul and Claire Cains. Thanks to my mum for her constant financial and emotional support; Kenisia had a drum kit: a PA system, a place to practice and store equipment. I’m truly thankful for her years of support and words of wisdom. A Big thanks to Albert Ogg for offering encouragement and words of wisdom at times when I needed them; you’re truly missed every day, but never far away from my thoughts. My dad for his support and advice about the music industry! Get a job! Our friends; the people who’ve supported us over the years, without help we’d never have done anything: Avril, Tessa, Sian, Mark, Georgia, Brother Mike, Craig R, Craig T, Alison, Keith, Paul, Chris, Big Frank, Dave, Charlie, Massy, Pete, Greg,

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Darrel, John, Madds, Andy, Dave B, Mike, Alun, Joe, Jon, Mat, John W, Liam, Ryan, Julia, Peaches, Ben, Toby, Sam. Promoters, Lora and Steph in Stratford, Mick in Ipswich, Simon Edwards, Simon at Rockaway records, Alihya, Lee and Scott, Sully, Scott C, Scott’s parents. Pipa in Exeter, Key Productions, Jamdown Records, Matt in Cardiff, All the promoters who gave us shows and let us stay who’s names escape me. I’d like to thank Lisa in Huddersfield for some amazing shows, Mick in Ipswich, Simon at TJ’s, for never hanging up the phone and sharing his wealth of knowledge. Simon Edwards, for being such a nice guy and believing in us in a time when no one else did; people like you who take risks putting a smile on miserable gits like mine faces. Lil, Kafren, Al at Household Name Records for their endurance skills. The promoter at the Cathouse Glasgow for trying to kill us! Segaboy in Arbroath and night of mayhem I’ll never forget. Why we had a drunken ladder climbing contest, I’ll never understand, but it was funny! Amazing bands I’d personally like to thank: Douglas, Shootin’ Goon, No Comply, Dem Brooklyn Bums, Catch 22, Reel Big Fish, Little America, The Merics, The Spartans, A-ko, Once Dice, Exit Wound, Big D, Baby Head, 4Ft Fingers, The Girls, Those Mighty Minnows, Dayshine, Might Joe Young, Regicide, Caddyshack, Tweaker. Bands that deserve a mention that Kenisia played with over the years: Link 80, Voodoo Glow Skulls, Mad Caddies, Farcue, Kill Van Helsing, Pop Tarts, Junkie, Victor. Fundangle. Segaboy. Farse. Spunge. The Slackers. Buster Friendly (I hear Ben is know playing with Take That). Last but no means least, Mr Zippy! ***** Most of all I’d like to thank Scott Caines for spending a great deal of time over the last year working effortlessly on this book, unpaid. Scott came to me after I sent him a rough copy. Without his persistent hard work, this wouldn’t look any more than a bunch of notes on a piece of paper. That’s what I call a definition of friendship! Hopefully, one day I’ll be able to return the favour.

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THE UNFINISHED CHAPTER

Deleted Scenes

The following is a collection of things I’d like to have mentioned in the book, but just didn’t sit right. I guess you could say this is the equivalent of deleted scenes in a movie, albeit a book version. ***** Managers! A friend of Tom’s ran a garden centre (growing copious amounts of weed in the garden centre in the process) and one day he offered to manage the band. He looked like Fabio. I wasn’t a fan Fabio. Funny cause, I don’t remember him ever doing anything for the band, but I do remember Tom showing up at my flat with a black bin liner filled with home-grown ‘weed’, which was so shit it should have be been called ‘Twig!’. Apparently you needed to smoke 10 joints before you got stoned! But it was free. Like most people, he liked the idea of managing a band but had no idea of where to start or what to do. Lots of people liked the idea of managing Kenisia, but the harsh reality of managing a band is that it’s thankless, hard work for very little in return. ***** The band was my life; my addiction, for nine years; like a drug addict trying to detox, leaving the band, I had to find out what my life would be like without my addiction?

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***** A worthy shout out goes to Jessie James, a local guy who fixes any guitar or amp for £5 excluding most parts, sometimes with the parts! A true local hero! He has a habit it calling you Love, Dear and Darling! But it’s worth it for the quality workmanship! ***** The most carefree time spent in the band was the Trash City Records era. No hassles, no commitment, and a lot of fun. Simon tells it like it is, and is a genuine soul. He made us do the hard work, and footed the expenses. The kind of thing a parent would do, offer support and words of wisdom and sends you off into the world to make it happen on your own. An expert in a world of amateurs! ***** Question and Answer time! (Q)How many member of the England family have been sick out the window of my cars? 1, 2, or 3. (A) All three of them. (Q) How many member of the England family cleaned the vomit up? (A) 1, brother Michael. (Q) How did Michael clean the vomit? A with his hands B with his tongue C with his own urine It’s a trick question, because Michael started to urinate on the car, but he lost his balance and using his hand to stabilise him-self (on the car) he slide down the car, using part of his hand & face to cleaned off the vomit. Often when I recount the story I tell people Steve pushed him. (Q) How did Steve meet one of his ex-girlfriends? A He knocked her over in a club B Through a friend of a friend (yeah right) C He fell over dancing when drunk, and she felt sorry for him (A) C, And a bit of A ***** You’d think being in a band would be 90% fun and 10% boring. It’s actually the other way round; it’s hard work. And that’s why it’s hard work!

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***** I think one of the members of Kenisia was abduction by Aliens: If anyone can shed any light on the situation, I’ll gladly pay a healthy ransom fee? ***** One day I went to pick the guys up for a gig, and something was different. Oh yeah! The windscreen was fucked: scratched to pieces. You could barely see through it. When the sun was shining in your direction; you couldn’t see anything. They weren’t very impressed, but I never told them what really happened. On my way out in the van one night, the windscreen was frozen inside and outside. Nothing I tried worked, warm water, de-icer, scrapers, I was running late for a date, so I had to think on behalf of my penis. I found some skateboard grip tape in my cupboard with all my cleaning products, if you don’t know what it’s like; it’s a little like sand paper; used for heavy duty removal. Suffice to say: The windscreen was fucked! Still, I got my end away, Job done! I couldn’t see driving to her house though. ***** I’d heard a rumour that Steve had put loads of old demos on the Kenisa website; so I just checked it out. Too my horror, Brandy wasn’t lying. Why? There is some seriously cringe worthy old tunes on their. My one regret is we never had enough money to record ‘Crash Helmet Hoopla’ again. ***** I hope many more of the bands we’ve played with write their own accounts of the years they toured, and played their asses off. I can imagine some incredible stories far more twisted and elegant than my own. I still think Kenisia are capable of so much more. Lightyear, Five Knuckle, Capdown, Burning Skies, Adequate 7, 4Ft Fingers please write me a story I can read. Writing this book has been the hardest thing I have ever done; and the most rewarding, reflecting on my fucked up past, it’s been my own therapy. I’ve spent as much time editing this book as I have writing it; probably due to the nature of my own foul language. I’ve cut over 200 pages. Too many Tom stories I just couldn’t repeat I’m afraid! There was so many funny stories that I wanted to write in this book, but I don’t want to fall out with the guys completely, I feel I may have said too much in some cases already. There may be a hint flavour here and there for good measure.

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It’s been six years since I’ve left Kenisia. My band T-shirts are all starting to fade. I now have to make the decision to buy new ones or come to terms that the sequence of events that created a happy past for me, have ended and I need to move forward in my life. When I finish writing these words I need to forget I was in a band and move on from stories about the glory day. Na, fuck that! Two questions I always get asked! ‘How could you leave a band that you were once so passionate about?’ ‘You came so close doesn’t it piss you off that you never made it?’ I wouldn’t change a thing! I needed to walk away to get what ever was in my system, out, through travelling or expressive dance. I was wound tighter than a Swiss cuckoo clock and I’d lost the ability to commit, even with simple things like practicing. ***** PS who ever I lent my Household Name catalogue of CDs for six years; please can I them back now! ***** A great T-shirts encompasses a life-line of your collective thoughts; a bold statement to the pivotal society around you; informing people who and where you are in your life and what you represent! If anything at all? Looking back at band photos, each members’ t-shirts unifies and identifies something about that person’s personality. Brandy wears all the Joke T-shirts, Simon wears all labels T-shirts and Phil’s all have meaningful symbols. Mine were mainly other band T-shirts that I can’t bare to part with even though they’re fucked now. ***** Avoiding bottles being thrown at you? Enjoy the free beer that has landed on your head; make the most of the free alcohol and lick it up. Being able to see the band when some one 7ft stand in front of you wherever you go: Call them a Cunt; blaming someone else and hopefully they’ll start a fight and you can watch the band. If a sexy woman passes out in front of you, from the heat, kiss her, and get a photo taken with you and her by your friend on your mobile phone. Always stand with your elbows crossed in front of you, with both elbows sticking right out as some kid will always dances himself into you at least twenty time in a show. And if you need a shit make sure you’re the first in the toilets at a gig, after a few hours and hundreds of people later the toilets will look like a festival. Bristol is my home! This is where I was born. This is where I’ll die!

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Stoke Croft, Bristol is home of amazing artwork, eccentric people, awesome venues, and my favourite Banksy piece, ‘The Mild Mild West’ across from my favourite Bristol venue The Croft. Although these days the Croft is full of skanky anorexic emo kids, the venue is still kicking it. I saw Lightyear on a reunion tour at the Bierkeller, were everyone was naked, the band stopped playing as a naked man on stage was dragged out of the club and Lightyear were sticking up for him. He was outside with no clothes on. Brandy and I bumped into Chas at the Old Duke, Bristol 2009; he didn’t get his cock out for me once! Thanks Chas. ***** If memory serves I think the biggest show Kenisia sold-out the Cheese and Grain in Frome (although I believe people went because there was nothing else to do). The capacity of the venue was 300. It was one of my favourite shows ever. Big tip. Don’t stage dive after eating a real hot Curry; when people start poking you, you feel like you’re going to poo on them. ***** My favourite fleeting memory was when we’d just got the second 7inch from Simon at Trash City Records. I’d gone into Bristol taking both 7 inches into shops, trying to get them on the shelves, and I got talking to a Japanese tourist. I offered him a free 7inch as random gesture of kindness, and he backed away (probably thinking I was trying to exert money from him). But I insisted it was free, he insisted I leave him alone. The more I tried to explain myself the more confused and scared he looked. I ended up, chasing him round the shopping mall with my 7 inches. I was eventually escorted from the shopping centre from a very nice security guard. The Japanese man never took the records off me. 7 inches were clearly too much for him. ***** It’s odd to think that I left the band 5 years ago; in my head I’ve never really left. I’ve done so many weird things since leaving the band, Travelling, Surfing, University, Salsa and writing this book! Last week I found a whole ‘pigs head’ in the street, I won’t tell you what we did with it.

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This book is dedicated to me. Any time I mentioned writing this book, no one took the slightest bit of interest. So this is my ‘Fuck You’, to every one. It’s not big and it’s not clever, but it’s not small and it’s not stupid either! ***** My most pensive and collective reflection of Kenisia exists in my head; from the moment the band walked on stage, until the moment the band left the stage. I can live without soup; but I can’t live without performing! When the band was throwing down their moves on stage, Phil would make me laugh internally and externally, as he danced like the scary fucker he is, he’s a big built man, that most sane men would run from if the occasion arose for a fight. His bark, is bigger than his bite, as Phil’s a big softie. He just provokes a natural inner response, called ‘fight or flight’ which most when they encounter Phil, chose flight. When Phil, Jaz and I used to jump as high as we could in the air, bouncing around and across the stage, trust me, the stage physically moved a few inches in every possible direction. It’s the laughs on stage and the evoked emotion, sweat and crazed-adrenaline-rush that I miss more than anything. Combined with your friends, creating twisted musical noises that you’ve created, you’re working each other into a frenzy. Playing off of each other. But, no one in the crowd can see this. This is something that only exists between the band, on stage. Nothing else exists other than the selfish centred moment, and it feels so good. With Brandy and Steve it’s visually obvious they’re enjoying themselves. As each brother hops and bops on the spot. Brandy, used to sing out-loud, not near the microphone though. This always put a smile on my face. Steve would just bop his head on the spot, as his hair mopped over his face, along with the velocity and ferocity in which he played his guitar. I used to love trying to encourage Simon to sing on the Mic; he can sing, you won’t catch him singing anywhere near a microphone though. Even when he’s join in with the group shouts, the fucker stands behind everyone else, or on the side, where no one could hear him. Simon’s enjoyment and performance escalated over the years, sometimes you’d see him move and others you’d see him bop. Jaz never really stops moving, even when he’s playing the trumpet. It’s like he’s got ‘Alien Limb syndrome’ he’s got no control of the action which his body can be held accountable for, he looks good with it, but I still question why the man wears shades in a dark room, what’s he hiding? As for Tom, I’m thinking ‘Animal’ from the Muppets, and he enjoys playing even more. Every one comments on his drumming and the ‘Ferocity’ and natural skill in

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his effortless performance. And when Tom’s finished performing, you don’t want to stand any where near the man. Smelly, stinky or disgusting, don’t express the emotional responses of his odder enough. It’s funny the things you remember when you think back. Brandy’s chain; Steve’s mop-head; Jaz’s shades; Phil’s frown; Tom’s sweat; Simon’s facial expression of genuine surprise that he’s playing the right song. My Blue, Red, and Yellow ‘Beanie’, and my green ‘Skateboard helmet’. ***** Get off your ass and go and watch some unsigned/unheard of bands. Make the effort, even if it’s only twice a year, to see a new band you’ve never heard of. There are thousand of great bands in this country waiting to be discovered, without a fan-base a band is nothing. The collective-creative talents have been let loose in our back gardens, with such passion and conviction, creating raw beautiful untamed music, but most people wait until they’ve heard of a band to see them or to buy their albums. Plenty more bands become defunct than bands that make it. Take a chance be adventurous occasionally. My favourite bands get minimum airtime or exposure, and will always try their hardest to impress never losing their complacency. ***** Being so fond of the Cavern Club in Exeter, and wanting to relive old memories, in August, 2009, on Steve from Kenisia’s stag do, we ended up there! Unfortunately, Pippa the promoter, wasn’t there, we were all most upset! But the artwork decorating the characteristic venue was still the same as it was when we started going 12 years earlier! ***** So what next? Will I start another band? Maybe in the short term, but I’m more interested in managing a band or starting up a record label. I think I’d make a badass manager who puts up with no shit! I’ve seen a couple of bands I liked; but not enough to dedicate my time too. If you want me to manage your band be warned I come armed with a baseball bat! Why haven’t I written that many funny stories about myself? I prefer when other people tell the stories of my own stupidity; it’s funnier that way, I’m hoping the guys do add pieces to the book them selves. Last of all, I hope if you’re reading this you haven’t paid anything to read it. If you have hopefully it’s only been a few quid!

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Kenisia: The band That Will Never Be Famous

***** In January 2011, I qualified as a mental health nurse. God help you all! The End!

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