Did I ever tell you about the time....

I was in Costa Coffee when Janick Gers came in with who I can only assume was his son. He looked at the menu and left without ordering anything.

I had a mixed berry fruit cooler.

I was backstage at an X and the Blasters concert during soundcheck. It was my final night seeing them for the 4th time in a row. I had had the band members sign my leather jacket the day or two before, ushered around by Exene. I had my back turned while John Doe was singing acoustic hours before the set when a voice behind me says, “hey, you got some ink on your jacket….” I responded lazily, “yeah I got this real cool band, X, to sign it-” I turned around and Billy Zoom gave me a half-smirk/half-sneer and walked back into X’s dressing room. I still had trouble recognizing him in his older age. “O-oh, it’s you Billy, w-” but the door was already shut.

Before a sold-out Faith No More show at the Living Room in Providence, Rhode Island in 1990–which I never did get in to–I met some guy who let me in to the band’s tour bus. He showed me Mike Patton’s bed, which was neatly made. Balanced on the pillow was an upright CD leaning against the wall, and balanced on top of THAT was a postage stamp, also upright. I tried to slightly move the CD to figure out whose it was but it then the stamp fell back behind the CD and the pillow and I ran out of the bus.

I met Jon Foreman, lead singer of Switchfoot, at a festival one Summer. I told him how much I loved the band’s performance on Guitar Center Sessions (I only saw the preview) and told him I was a fan (I knew 2 songs). He smiled and said “Thanks, bro.”

Saw him again at a show after I became a real fan. Patted him on the back as he walked passed me.

Motorhead were doing an in-store appearance at a small record store in my hometown. In those days, friendlier bands would usually stand behind the checkout-counter area of the store, and the fans, lined up all the way outside, would file in one by one and have a chance to exchange pleasantries or get autographs from their favorite band members.

At this time in Motorhead history, Lemmy was the remaining original member. It was February, cold outside, and when I walked into the brightly-lit music outlet, I couldn’t help but stare at Mr. Kilmeister. The other members seemed insignificant at that moment. Lemmy caught my gaze for a second and (I like to believe) he could sense my rock-star awe when I ambled up across from him. Or, (more likely) he was drunk and wanted to mess with my head. Anyhow, he leaned over the counter, motioned to me as if to tell me some great musical metallic truth, and whispered: “blmmpfftblahblarg” or something to that effect. It was AWESOME.

Later, walking into the venue, we saw Lemmy playing Asteroids in the lobby. He didn’t even turn around to acknowledge people filing to see his band. A true rock legend I will never forget…

I saw Rod Stewart eating dinner at a restaurant in Studio City in 2004.

Me and some friends were playing hoops on an outdoor basketball court. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw James Chance and some other dude passing by across the street. I shouted: “Yo, Mr White, wanna play some ball?!” as hard as I could, which made everyone cry from laughter, even the dude James was with. James himself didn’t look that amused though. I can’t blame him.

I met Debbie Harry and Chris Stein at a garden party when I was 10. All I cared about was that their drummer had just met Metallica.

In 2012 I had the pleasure of attending Africa Express, Damon Albarn’s train full of international talent and music, when it stopped in Cardiff.

As part of the event, a handful of musicians did a secret performance in the tiny record store Spillers before the main show. I was on decent terms with the staff and found out ahead of time. It was brilliant, and introduced me to Marques Toliver, an incredible African-American violinist.

One of the other musicians was Carl Barât. He entered the crowded record store late and immediately stepped right on my instep in his pointy fucking cuban heels. I am a small person, and it hurt a lot. Carl Barât said sorry to me. I said sorry to Carl Barât.  But it was definitely his fault.

In 2009 I saw Thom Yorke shopping for guitars at a vintage guitar shop on Sunset Boulevard. 

I was enjoying some quality time with my son at a soft play area, scampering round the obstacles and slides like a good ‘un. Climbing through a tunnel became a portal into a surreal experience, as I exited to meet Bez, Freaky Dancer Extraordinaire, from the Happy Mondays, who was enjoying a similar experience with his young son.

Running round in your socks is a great leveller, and I had a thoroughly nice chat with Bez

And he just walked out with it in his hand, no case. 

Neil Hannon once came into the convenience store I worked at when I was 19. 

The Divine Comedy were playing at the bar next door that evening but he came in around mid-afternoon. He attempted to buy $60 or so in European fashion magazines but for some reason his card was declined - he didn’t have enough local currency on him to pay in cash. 

I mumbled my apologies and eventually he and a gentleman who I presume was his bodyguard/security dude left the store.

That’s it.

We were at Edinburgh Airport on the way to/from my Auntie’s wedding. My Dad asked him if he was Brian May, then went on to tell him that his father in law (my grandad) was a fan of his music.

Back in the 90s, a few weeks before Ride released Carnival Of Light, I saw their drummer, Loz, smoking a rolly outside HMV in Oxford. I asked him what the new album was like and he said it was great and, half-jokingly, that the one song he had written on it was the best song on there. 

Sadly for Ride, this comment proved to be true. It was a great song though, and Loz was a lovely, friendly chap, bearing in mind I was a 17 year old major Ride fanboy and probably made a twat of myself, in hindsight. 

I also met Mark Gardener around the same time, he looked a bit terrified at being recognised. I also met Andy Bell, but he didn’t acquit himself well at all. 

I never met Steve Queralt.

Peter Buck gave an interview around 1991 where he said that when people would ask him in the street “Do I know you?”, he would reply, “I don’t know, maybe.”

A few years ago, while wearing an REM t-shirt, I saw him in downtown D.C. I said “Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” 

He looked at me and said, “You should. You’re wearing my shirt.” 

I guess he doesn’t remember that interview.