The bell over the door jangles as the last customer leaves and the lock is clunked into place. I sweep the floor, retrieving a discarded penny from beneath the table near the window and tinkling it into the old jar full of penny tips on the end of the counter.
Behind me, quietly, the boss flicks down the lights leaving only those above the counter seats and the otherworldly neon glow of the jukebox.
As he stands in front of the music machine, I prop the broom up, undo my apron and hang it neatly on its hook, pour the last of the day's coffee into cups for each of us.
As the machinery whirs, clicks and secures his selection he turns and smiling with a distant light behind his eyes comes and takes the seat next to me, both of us perched at the counter as the song begins. I stare at the swirling clouds in my coffee and wait for the proprietor of the Greatest Diner That Never There Was to begin. For tonight there will be stories...
******
Tim Burgess has been telling me stories most of my life. In his lyrics, in interviews, in blog posts and in tweets. Not just me of course, anyone who happened to be listening in but now we can read the blanks between the stories we've heard before, with the release of his autobiography.
Telling Stories covers all the things you'd expect - the highs and lows of The Charlatans, the people he's met along the way, the exceptional drug use and associated debauchery, life on the road, and the things that get lost along the way.
It is not these stories, which many of us who've had an ear out for Tim for a while will have heard in some form or other before but the bits between the stories that make this book so compelling in its genre.
In the first few pages Burgess warns of how his mind works: "I don't think like a book, in chronological thoughts; it's more a question of ideas invading my head and inviting others in. I suppose I think more like a magazine or a website: in short bursts, with pictures, charts and lists."
And that is exactly how this tale plays out over the next 230 pages. There is a rough chronology in that he pretty much starts with where his relationship with music, the Manchester scene and forays into songwriting and bands begins and ends with where he is today. As it meanders along this course the memories and anecdotes skip back and forward in time as one spurs off another in his mind.
It makes for a lively read with a strong voice. There is energy and enthusiasm, wisdom and reflection, sadness and honesty. While it's a good history of the band and the various scenes they've been associated with it's real strength is as a touching personal memoir of friendships, love and an obsessive passion for music.
Then passages talking through The Charlatans albums track by track, his influences and discoveries, his own collection and inspirations make my insides bubble and pop, excitement making me trip over my own thoughts as my own monologue "yeah, yeah, yeahs" and I mentally reach to make the needle hit the groove.
It does what any good music memoir should do in that it makes me want to listen to Tim's own music again, his notes alongside me, to hear what I've heard before and yet find something new (yes, do this again, even though we did it on Twitter at his listening parties).
But it also does something much more, it makes me want to delve into Tim's personal collection but also head to the record shop and discover something new all for myself. In the words he has written he has imbued the magic of music, in that this story is as much about the future as it is the past.
There is melancholy, there is joy, there is a feeling of intense spirituality, of happiness, kindness and acceptance. It's the blustering bravado of rock 'n roll excess which will draw most readers in but it is the quieter stories, almost between the words, which should make you smile, put on a song and wish Tim well until he brings us the next installment.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment