The Brits now casually joke that global warming has been going on for a very long time because it always rains during the May Bank Holiday without fail. And so it was on this May 28th like all others before it. Wet and dark and miserable. Unfettered, I stayed in bed until 12:30 PM and awoke to a rather charming BBC2 show about Englishmen (and women) buying bankrupt properties in London, fixing them up and reselling them for incredible profit margins of barely 5,000 pounds or less. Nice hobby, but I’d hardly call this sound investing. But, I digress. Of course, the late waking time also meant missing the buffet breakfast I’d come to enjoy in the hotel restaurant. What was worse was that the didn’t serve a lunch menu….you had to come back at dinner time. So I was off in search of food before having to hit the stage at 2:45 at the Cavern Club. Down at the end of the Albert Dock was the Pumphouse Inn where I’d eaten supper several nights before. Sure enough, they had an all-day menu. Now for those unfamiliar with British pubs that serve food, it’s a do-it-yourself affair. You pick a seat. You mull over the fine choice of cuisine: "Steak & Sheeps Brain Ale Pie" or the "Clotted Blood Stew"?. Then you take your request to the bar tender, pay your tab in advance (including drinks – the J20 has become a favourite….which is a mixture of two fruit juices in a cooler bottle), tell him/her your table number which is bronze plated to the top of your table, and wait. And before you can say "Fanny’s Your Aunt", the meal is being brought to you by strikingly buxom bar-maid with poor dental coverage. While sitting for food I continued reading Spencer Leigh’s biography on Liverpool music sensation Billy Fury and wondered how/why someone as prolific and a founding father of British rock and roll has never been afforded the notoriety he so richly deserved? A tragic figure whose wealth of recordings escaped the scrutiny of North American audiences because his manager, Larry Parnes, never took him to America (nor his brief backing band the Tornadoes even after THEY went to No.1 in the US with "Telstar"). And Fury’s biggest faux pas….rejecting the Silver Beatles as his backing back. They, instead, would go to Scotland with one of Parnes’s other protégé’s Johnny Gentle. At the completely opposite end of Albert Dock from the tourist extravaganza that is the Beatle museum – where the tour leads directly into the gift trap….I mean "shop" – is a forlorn bronze statue of Billy Fury donning his famous arm-swinging pose. A British Elvis with the mood of James Dean, Fury did have the notoriety of having the first statue as one of many historic Liverpool figures placed around the city…even before The Beatles (Lennon’s famous pose from the cover of his "Rock And Roll" album came later and currently resides steps away from the actual site of the posturing by the doors of the Cavern Pub itself.) I noted this reverentially as I passed by on my way back to Mathew Street for my show. I must get my hands on some Billy Fury material. Never has a book about someone I didn’t know enticed me to find out more about them. Contrary to my own tastes in not revisiting the passed I’m curious to hear Fury’s influence on the Brit sound….pre-Skiffle….pre-Beatles. I was greeted at the Cavern Club by David Bash upon my arrival about 45 minutes early to watch a set of beautiful folk-inspired pop songs by Liverpudlian lass Liz Hunney (I believe that was her name…she replaced another MIA act in the billing). Meanwhile, I was growing nervous not only for my debut at the shrine of the Mersey Beat, but because the guitar I had arranged to borrow for the occasion from Jeremy Morris hadn’t yet arrived. I scoured several of the other clubs to see if he was checking out other acts, but nothing. It was getting real close to showtime now and I gave organizer David Bash the panic button. He quickly found members of Endbutt Lane still in the house and whose guitarist and second vocalist Jed was willing to lend me his acoustic. On stage I went to line check this beast and arrange my copious notes that I need now that my cluttered corporate mind and advancing brain damage suffered at the hands of child rearing with my wife has taken its hold on me. I relate a story often about Payolas frontman Paul Hyde telling me at IPO New York in 2002 that it was quite alright to bring notes AND a music stand on stage because once you hit 40 as a musician you’ve earned the right ! As I was preparing to go on stage a wondrous sight appeared….Dave Slater from the Liverpool ‘60s group Focal Point who are not only on the verge of a comeback but are working with a fellow Canadian friend of mine, Peter Foldy, on a film about their life story. Dave and I briefly emailed months ago and I wasn’t sure he was up to coming out and seeing my set. But there he was. A friendly face in the otherwise small audience on this soggy bank holiday. Then, like the arrival of another long-lost friend, Jeremy arrived with the other guitar. I was embarassed because I’d begged him for use of his blue plated electric machine before I left Canada (the airlines to and from Canada do not allow for a third piece of luggage so bringing a guitar was not an option). But Jeremy let’s nothing get under his skin or sour his day. Instead of being annoyed at bringing the guitar that I no longer needed, he offered to accompany me on stage. I was grateful but leary because he knew none of my material. However, I was terrified of going on stage all alone and he would be a welcome relief and was confident he’d pick up cues from my cheat sheets strewn across the front of the stage. So off we went. It was all a blur and some 30 minutes later, after plodding my way, unrehearsed, through my songs "Time Enough At Last", "Turn", "Give Me Your Hand", "If Paradise Should Fall", "Don’t Blink Too Long’ (a new one), "Turn On The Radio" from my Moving Targetz days and a musical tribute to Paul Hyde with a version of his 1989 song "America Is Sexy" we left the stage. CDs got sold. I was soaking wet from the hot atmosphere of the stage and took my leave to return to the hotel for a shower, a nap and another meal before my return show that night at the Cavern Pub. It all somehow seemed anti-climactic. The dream of every musician who ever wanted to be a Beatle (or at least as rich as them) is to grace that stage. My nerves were in anticipation of the event. But after completing the songs I wasn’t jubilant or ecstatic. Just relieved and disappointed that more people weren’t there to see me flail away, un-musician-like through tunes I still can’t remember by rote. NEXT TIME: LET’S GO DOWN THE PUB Jaimie Vernon, President, Bullseye Records http://www.bullseyecanada.com SWAG: http://www.cafepress.com/bullseyecanada BULLSEYE LIVE 365 RADIO: http://www.live365.com/stations/bullseyerecords Author, Canadian Pop Music Encyclopedia http://jam.canoe.ca/Music/Pop_Encyclopedia/ http://www.myspace.com/jaimievernonsmovingtargetz _________________________________________________________________ Upgrade to Windows Live Hotmail for free today! www.newhotmail.ca?icid=WLHMENCA151