One day a new boy joined our merry crew: Eddie Pumer, tall, thin, blonde, little nose, cheeky grin, and no sense of fashion whatsoever, resplendent in an old bloke’s suedette driving coat with the required fake wool collar. PETER: In late ’64, I started work at ABC Television in Hanover Square in London, just a hop, skip, and a flip from Oxford Circus. Where did you and Eddie first meet? What about Steve and Dan? His hero was Julian Bream, not Chuck Berry! PETER: My older brother is a very good acoustic guitar player – as well as being a remarkable painter. Well, not unless it’s “Tom Dooley”! But with modern computer programs, it’s possible to build a track from scratch simply by playing the parts on a single keyboard. But I couldn’t sit down and play you a song. With synthesized sounds, I can play a bass line, pick out a melody, add string parts and mess around with sax, flute and accordion overdubs. Let me say here that I don’t consider myself a musician. I eventually bought an electric clavinet. It had a great sound but was out of tune so could only be used sparingly. You had to pump away at a couple of pedals to push air through the bellows. And I bought an antique harmonium in Chelsea. Steve brought in his recorder and then took up the flute. Dan bought a marimba, a sort of ethnic wooden xylophone. We wanted to augment our sound with additional instruments. I took up the keyboard when we became Fairfield Parlour. The greatest regret of my life is that I can’t play the bloody guitar.

Seven notes of “Tom Dooley” ain’t going to get you the girls. It didn’t impress anyone because as soon as I was asked to play something the game was up. I used to hang around the youth club trying to look cool with this cardboard guitar that I couldn’t play strung round my neck on a red cord. I could play the first seven notes of “Tom Dooley” and that was it. PETER: My first instrument was a cheap guitar from Woolworth’s. What was the first instrument you picked up? After what must have been a heated discussion in the wings the show started again - with Fury slightly less furious in the pants department. And his very tight trousers! My God! What’s that!? The management pulled the curtain on him. His genuine rock voice: cool, broken, aching. The boys are open-mouthed, not believing what they’re seeing. He’s wearing a bronze silk Italian suit that ripples like holy water. The announcement, the plush red curtains pull back, the band kicks in – and there is this glimmering dazzling blindingly handsome creature: Billy Fury. The night we saw Billy Fury is engraved in gold lame on my brain. So now he had to drag it around like some death trophy, a constant reminder of the night the Grim Reaper took the great Cochran up the three steps to heaven. Old Gene, he busted his leg good ‘n proper. Vincent had been in the car the night Eddie Cochran got mashed. Greasy quiff, chiselled craggy white face, baby blue satin shirt, tight black pants, and a shimmering metal brace holding his leg together. Then the spots came on and there was Gene with his trademark crooked-man pose hanging onto the mic stand: “Be bop alloola, she’s ah my baby…” What a cool guy. He was announced to a blacked out theatre we all cheered and then we heard this scraping sound. An electric, palpable hum of expectation preceded Vincent’s appearance. I know we saw people like Chuck Berry, Del Shannon, Dion, and I can’t forget two acts in particular: Gene Vincent and Billy Fury. I would love to recall the acts I saw, but they’ve vanished into some dingy corner of my soggy cerebellum. Each would do their hit and a couple of other songs and then scuttle off stage to make way for the next latest sensation. You’d see five or six acts on the same bill. PETER: My mate Les and I used to go to see the rock shows that toured Britain, appearing at the cinema chains. What are your earliest musical memories, such as the first musical event you attended? Thanks to Joe Viglione, as always, and my friend Jack Rabid. Peter did a great interview, and there are lots of fun stories herein. They were conducted by email and the good old postal service, and Eddie was sick at the time, so I wasn’t even sure I would get to communicate with him. I thought given the news that Eddie is gone from us, and Peter’s heartbreaking post on Facebook, that I would bring these interviews back. I stupidly took down both interviews as I was harshly criticized by a fan for not interviewing Danny, the band’s drummer. I also interviewed the sadly passed Eddie Pumer, the band’s guitarist and songwriter.

I interviewed Peter Daltrey for Issue 74 of Big Takeover Magazine.

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