Rock Art

Rock Art and the X-ray style

And it was chaos.

Ants could be unpredictable, and the sessions could go anywhere. But to me, the whole thing was super exciting.

I’d gone from flea-ridden mattresses and burning through money to sitting in a studio, contributing to Joe Strummer’s comeback.

I don’t know what happened before I got involved, but the album was mostly written — maybe three or four songs left to sort — and we added, edited, and vibed out on it.

At first, I was just hanging around — soaking it in, watching. But soon I was playing drums on one track, bass on another, doing backing vocals.

I’d realised back in Bond that I could actually sing. As self-conscious as I was…..

I had a voice.

I could blend with people.

I actually had quite a good voice.

But my insecurities stopped me from using it — from really singing.

I was terrified. Nobody was allowed to hear my voice. I’d sing in private, but even then, I was scared someone might hear me through the wall…

I got more and more involved in the whole process. It seemed like Ant liked having me around, which gave me confidence — and again, as before, I put on my mask.

I started to hang with Ant. I was fascinated by him. He was charming, confident, funny — and completely unpredictable. But he was friendly, easy to like. I hung around with him when the band had time off, and I got to see for myself what it was like to be around someone struggling with addiction. It was intense, but I couldn’t look away.

We spent a while in rehearsals — learning, trying things out.

Martin had never played guitar in a band before either. I’d taught him in my bedroom in America as we sat, laughed, and planned to change the world.

Joe was nervous — terrified, really.

He hadn’t played live in ten years, and suddenly the world wanted him back. He’d been hidden away, off the radar, and now the fans were demanding their hero. It was a shock to his system.

We had photographers and journalists coming in all the time, and you could feel things starting to pick up.

Our first gig was at The Leadmill in Sheffield.

I’d played there plenty of times before with other bands, but I’d never actually stood on a stage. I didn’t know what to do with myself.

When the buzz of “London Calling” started — first song, first set — I was lost in a whirlpool of emotion. I didn’t know how to behave, standing up front. I’d always been the drummer.

Smiley’s drums started pounding — Smiley in ecstasy — and my first thought was: POGO!

Yes, pogo.

So I started jumping up and down like the Sex Pistols, like all those punk bands. And then I…

Everyone else was being cool, standing still — and there I was, bouncing around like a total twat.

Right there, mid-song, I realised:

NO!!! — this is not how you behave on stage.

I was excited — over-excited — and right there and then I decided to change.

That was it. Enough.

I wasn’t going to make a tit of myself again.

No more jumping around like an idiot.

No dancing.

No fuss.

No fucking pogoing

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