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Authors: Andy Taylor
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order to create a certain type of sound before anybody else could do it.
Years later, when Simon wrote the lyrics to “The Reflex,” there was a lot of speculation that the song was about Nick. According to the song, “The Reflex is in charge of finding treasure in the dark.” That’s what Nick would do: he was a genius at finding little bits of treasure in a song. (Nick’s also an only child like in “The Reflex,” although Simon denies the lyrics are about him.)
My own little piece of genius was working out how to reinvent the way I played guitar in order to integrate it with all the new technology. We formed at a time when most bands were removing guitars in favor of synthesizers, so I had to change the way I played to work alongside the new type of sound.
I’d been around enough musicians in the past to know it’s not easy to get something special going, and I had a sixth sense that I’d just met a bunch of people who were going to make it. I had great respect for them because they all had the ability to think outside the box—and I was convinced that I could help them build that box. There was a certain magnetism around the band. It felt almost like a foregone conclusion that we were going to do well—although it wasn’t particularly well thought out to begin with. One thing we all agreed to do very early on was to split any future royalties five ways, because we felt everyone’s contribution was strong enough to justify an equal share. We were all young, and to us it didn’t matter who wrote which bit; we’d all share the credit.
THE crowd in the Runner loved us from day one, especially the women. Ironically, the fact that we wore makeup turned out to be a great chat-up line. We’d end up discussing cosmetics with the girls—I’d been a fan of Bowie, who wore a lot of makeup of his own, so I wasn’t at all fazed by the idea of wearing it—and it wasn’t long before I was dating a gorgeous model. Mike Berrow came over to me one evening and pointed out a beautiful blonde on the other side of the club.
“There’s this girl over there called Janine, who wants to meet you,” he said, smiling.
She was a model named Janine Andrews, who at the time was one of the UK’s most famous pinup girls. Sexy photographs of her were published in newspapers on almost a daily basis, and the British public were obsessed with her in much the same way as they are in a model called Jordan today. Janine was five foot ten, tall, well over six feet in her heels—a lot taller than me, anyway! At first I didn’t believe Mike, but Janine turned out to be a smashing friendly girl and we got on well. It wasn’t so long ago that I’d been a penniless nineteen-year-old in the North East and here I was, in a champagne paradise with a model for a girlfriend. I remember thinking,
If the boys could see me now!
The Rum Runner turned out to be a great setting for the band. We had a ready-made headquarters with its own support base. A similar cultural thing was happening down in London at the Blitz Club, where Spandau Ballet were creating a stir. Certainly for us, being based in a club was a godsend. When you took all the hormonal and creative energy that we had and combined it with all the girls and the socializing and drinking, it brought out the best in us. I guess it had been like that for bands ever since the sixties, with the Beatles and the Cavern Club being the ultimate example.
We were soon belting out new material at our jamming sessions all the time, and within about five or six weeks we had cracked most of the ideas that would eventually form our first album. At the same time we were making plans for our debut performance in front of a proper live audience, and it was only natural that our first gig should be at the Rum Runner. The Berrow brothers were determined to make it a huge success, so much so that Mike suddenly announced that he’d be making a guest appearance onstage.
“I’ll be playing saxophone
Years later, when Simon wrote the lyrics to “The Reflex,” there was a lot of speculation that the song was about Nick. According to the song, “The Reflex is in charge of finding treasure in the dark.” That’s what Nick would do: he was a genius at finding little bits of treasure in a song. (Nick’s also an only child like in “The Reflex,” although Simon denies the lyrics are about him.)
My own little piece of genius was working out how to reinvent the way I played guitar in order to integrate it with all the new technology. We formed at a time when most bands were removing guitars in favor of synthesizers, so I had to change the way I played to work alongside the new type of sound.
I’d been around enough musicians in the past to know it’s not easy to get something special going, and I had a sixth sense that I’d just met a bunch of people who were going to make it. I had great respect for them because they all had the ability to think outside the box—and I was convinced that I could help them build that box. There was a certain magnetism around the band. It felt almost like a foregone conclusion that we were going to do well—although it wasn’t particularly well thought out to begin with. One thing we all agreed to do very early on was to split any future royalties five ways, because we felt everyone’s contribution was strong enough to justify an equal share. We were all young, and to us it didn’t matter who wrote which bit; we’d all share the credit.
THE crowd in the Runner loved us from day one, especially the women. Ironically, the fact that we wore makeup turned out to be a great chat-up line. We’d end up discussing cosmetics with the girls—I’d been a fan of Bowie, who wore a lot of makeup of his own, so I wasn’t at all fazed by the idea of wearing it—and it wasn’t long before I was dating a gorgeous model. Mike Berrow came over to me one evening and pointed out a beautiful blonde on the other side of the club.
“There’s this girl over there called Janine, who wants to meet you,” he said, smiling.
She was a model named Janine Andrews, who at the time was one of the UK’s most famous pinup girls. Sexy photographs of her were published in newspapers on almost a daily basis, and the British public were obsessed with her in much the same way as they are in a model called Jordan today. Janine was five foot ten, tall, well over six feet in her heels—a lot taller than me, anyway! At first I didn’t believe Mike, but Janine turned out to be a smashing friendly girl and we got on well. It wasn’t so long ago that I’d been a penniless nineteen-year-old in the North East and here I was, in a champagne paradise with a model for a girlfriend. I remember thinking,
If the boys could see me now!
The Rum Runner turned out to be a great setting for the band. We had a ready-made headquarters with its own support base. A similar cultural thing was happening down in London at the Blitz Club, where Spandau Ballet were creating a stir. Certainly for us, being based in a club was a godsend. When you took all the hormonal and creative energy that we had and combined it with all the girls and the socializing and drinking, it brought out the best in us. I guess it had been like that for bands ever since the sixties, with the Beatles and the Cavern Club being the ultimate example.
We were soon belting out new material at our jamming sessions all the time, and within about five or six weeks we had cracked most of the ideas that would eventually form our first album. At the same time we were making plans for our debut performance in front of a proper live audience, and it was only natural that our first gig should be at the Rum Runner. The Berrow brothers were determined to make it a huge success, so much so that Mike suddenly announced that he’d be making a guest appearance onstage.
“I’ll be playing saxophone
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