Interview taken from HermAphrodite #10

So. We’ve covered the new album, drum-kit fashions, and video directions; soon we’ll be approach the heady topic of pigeon-paranoia. Now, however, I think is the right juncture to ask of Rick whether he knows of any kitchen-deterrents, to dissuade pesky house-mates from snaffling my edibles. I’m fed up of losing milk ‘n’ butter ‘n’ cans of cream to cupboard raiders.

Rick – “I’ve never had that.”

Lucky sod.

me – “You’ve never lived such a community of people?”

Rick – “No.”

Although…

Rick – “A friend of mine used to live in a student house. And when he and his friends came in from the pub at night, they used to play this game called Hide The Shit. One of them would go and hide their shit somewhere in the house…”

me – “Wrapped up or just…?”

Rick – “Not wrapped up.”

Urgh.

Rick – “One week they were playing it, and they couldn’t find the shit. For about three days. Until this guy was making his tea, getting the butter out of the fridge, scraping through it, and found the shit. People had been eating that butter for three days. Not knowing there was a big shit underneath it. (pause) So that’s one way you could do the job.”

I think it’s my last resort option.

Eeek.

Over the last few days, thinking up questions, I’ve slowly realised my favourite rock stories of the 90’s seem to be the Ash ones; that one newly included. Steve Lamacq ringing up Tim for the Evening Session’s weekly ‘Where Are You Right Now’ pop-starr intimacy, to be told ‘In my bedroom revising’. That when they toured America they were too young to be allowed into their scheduled drinking-den venues to play, let alone get served there. That after one particularly addled hotel stay there were presented with a bill for a couple of thousand, not for a flying television set or missing towels ‘n’ soap, but rather because they’d decided to, ahem, ‘rearrange’ (remove) one of the walls. And then there’s Mark’s semi-legendary fear of fish, utilised on the ‘1977’ tour by Ash’s crew to stop Mark tearing into the onstage equipment by taping fish to it.

Rick – “That stopped him dead.”

me – “So is it the smell or is it the appearance?”

Rick – “I think it’s the appearance of them, especially when dead.”

me – “So can he cope with the alive version?”

Rick – “Not very well, no.”

Aaaw.

Rick – “He’s left restaurants in floods of tears because someone who doesn’t know about it orders fish.”

But it is decided that he could cope with a singing fish on a wall-plaque.

Rick – “He’d just think that was a bit silly.”

Particularly as it blatantly isn’t realistic enough to be worrying. (Such singing piscine creatures are worrying for a far greater array of reasons. Even allowing for tolerance of a Big Mouth Billy Bass however, Mark’s IS the biggest of the band’s phobias.

Rick – “I’ve got a bit of a weird thing about pigeons, but that’s about it. They always seem to try to attack me.”

Chi – “I’ve noticed that they’ve got FAR more aggressive over the last few years. Definitely.”

me – “Or maybe you just smell good. To pigeons. Some sort of pheromone thing.”

Rick denies this strenuously. We move on. To Charlotte’s love of tornadoes. Chasing them is, apparently, a seriously considered alternative career for her.

me – “So don’t you have anything like that? No dream you want to fulfil?”

Rick – “Nope. I’m happy here.”

Bless.

me – “That’s probably a good thing. You’re in the right job. You can’t see yourself becoming a milkman?”

Rick – “No.”

Damn.

Think of the cover-version potential…

But still. It’s all for the best. They love what they’re doing, and are happy to keep doing it. Which is a good thing. As they can entertain more than just our ears. And particularly as their line of work allows them to be ranked above Jedi Knights for stamina…

Last revised: 26/07/01