we’ll have Rod Stewart singing about us every time the Faces play a gig.’ He took out a pouch of tobacco.
‘Don’t be fucking daft, man.’ Paul Scott was less than impressed. ‘If we’re going to use somebody else’s song titles, we should use something by Free.’
‘Like what? Go on, smart arse, give it your best shot.’ Tom tore a strip from the flap on the Rizla packet and rolled it up.
‘How about Hunter?’
‘Lame.’ Tom flicked his Zippo into life and lit the paper twist, then drew smoke into his lungs and held it there.
Paul took the joint from his fingers. ‘The Brother Jakes. Soldier Boys.’ He took a drag.
‘Why not Catfish?’ suggested Colin. ‘You know, Rory Gallagher, Taste.’
‘I know,’ said Tom, through a haze of smoke. ‘I’ve got the perfect name for us.’ The joint continued its rounds as everyone turned to look at him. ‘Rivendell,’ he said, with a theatrical flourish of his arm.
‘Fuck off,’ said Colin.
‘No way, I am not being in a band called that,’ said Paul.
‘You and your fucking elves,’ exclaimed Andy. ‘You’ll be on at us to change our names again next.’
‘You are Legolas,’ laughed Tom. ‘You can’t fight it, you are what you are.’
‘Yeah? Well that makes you the fucking Balrog.’ Andy took the joint from Colin.
Tom laughed again. ‘And Col’s Bilbo Baggins.’ He smirked at Colin, aware that he was sensitive about being the least tall member of the band. ‘The adventurous little hobbit.’
‘I’ll Bilbo fucking Baggins you, you cocky cunt.’ Colin launched himself at Tom and they rolled on the floor, Tom laughing and Colin punching.
Andy shifted to one side to make room for them. ‘How about The Brown Bombers?’ he suggested, referencing Led Zeppelin’s second album.
‘How about sticking with Free?’ said Paul. ‘We all like them, what’s the problem?’
‘We all like Zep,’ said Andy. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘No problem at all,’ said Johnny. ‘Heartbreaker. They’ve both got songs called Heartbreaker.’
‘Actually, that’s not a bad name for a band,’ said Andy.
Paul hauled Colin off Tom. ‘Listen up,’ he said. ‘We’re called Heartbreaker, alright? Now let’s go for a fucking pint.’
***
‘So that was it, the band was named and we all went to the pub to celebrate,’ said Johnny. ‘That was April ’73. We played our first gig as Heartbreaker a few weeks later. The extra guitar, plus the option of keyboards from either Tom or Colin, rounded out the sound and we started to get a solid reputation around the clubs and pubs we were playing. We even had a little squad who’d follow us around.’ He smiled. ‘In fact, we entertained them from the back of the van, sometimes.’
‘Oh yeah?’
Johnny laughed. ‘No, nothing like that. Not as far as I was concerned, anyway. I’m not so sure about Tom. No, they’d hang around the van after a gig and talk to us while we loaded the gear. Sometimes we’d get a couple of guitars and a harmonica out and do an acoustic set in the car park just for them. We all loved Hot Tuna’s first album, we covered a lot of their acoustic blues stuff.’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘We were writing our own stuff and really gelling as an outfit. If one of us went off on one when we were playing, the rest would just keep up with what was happening. Then, when we needed to be back together, we’d all be there, bam, and the whole thing would take off again. Andy and I would challenge each other as to what sounds we could make; he’d sing and I’d have to play, or I’d play and he’d have to sing. You know?’
Alex did. She loved the interplay between Ian Gillan and Ritchie Blackmore, Robert Plant and Jimmy Page.
‘It was such a blast. On the business side, we needed a manager and Andy Airey’s cousin, Dan Cross, seemed to fit the bill. He’d been sorting out bookings for a cut of the take for a while, so it was just a matter of making the
‘Don’t be fucking daft, man.’ Paul Scott was less than impressed. ‘If we’re going to use somebody else’s song titles, we should use something by Free.’
‘Like what? Go on, smart arse, give it your best shot.’ Tom tore a strip from the flap on the Rizla packet and rolled it up.
‘How about Hunter?’
‘Lame.’ Tom flicked his Zippo into life and lit the paper twist, then drew smoke into his lungs and held it there.
Paul took the joint from his fingers. ‘The Brother Jakes. Soldier Boys.’ He took a drag.
‘Why not Catfish?’ suggested Colin. ‘You know, Rory Gallagher, Taste.’
‘I know,’ said Tom, through a haze of smoke. ‘I’ve got the perfect name for us.’ The joint continued its rounds as everyone turned to look at him. ‘Rivendell,’ he said, with a theatrical flourish of his arm.
‘Fuck off,’ said Colin.
‘No way, I am not being in a band called that,’ said Paul.
‘You and your fucking elves,’ exclaimed Andy. ‘You’ll be on at us to change our names again next.’
‘You are Legolas,’ laughed Tom. ‘You can’t fight it, you are what you are.’
‘Yeah? Well that makes you the fucking Balrog.’ Andy took the joint from Colin.
Tom laughed again. ‘And Col’s Bilbo Baggins.’ He smirked at Colin, aware that he was sensitive about being the least tall member of the band. ‘The adventurous little hobbit.’
‘I’ll Bilbo fucking Baggins you, you cocky cunt.’ Colin launched himself at Tom and they rolled on the floor, Tom laughing and Colin punching.
Andy shifted to one side to make room for them. ‘How about The Brown Bombers?’ he suggested, referencing Led Zeppelin’s second album.
‘How about sticking with Free?’ said Paul. ‘We all like them, what’s the problem?’
‘We all like Zep,’ said Andy. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘No problem at all,’ said Johnny. ‘Heartbreaker. They’ve both got songs called Heartbreaker.’
‘Actually, that’s not a bad name for a band,’ said Andy.
Paul hauled Colin off Tom. ‘Listen up,’ he said. ‘We’re called Heartbreaker, alright? Now let’s go for a fucking pint.’
***
‘So that was it, the band was named and we all went to the pub to celebrate,’ said Johnny. ‘That was April ’73. We played our first gig as Heartbreaker a few weeks later. The extra guitar, plus the option of keyboards from either Tom or Colin, rounded out the sound and we started to get a solid reputation around the clubs and pubs we were playing. We even had a little squad who’d follow us around.’ He smiled. ‘In fact, we entertained them from the back of the van, sometimes.’
‘Oh yeah?’
Johnny laughed. ‘No, nothing like that. Not as far as I was concerned, anyway. I’m not so sure about Tom. No, they’d hang around the van after a gig and talk to us while we loaded the gear. Sometimes we’d get a couple of guitars and a harmonica out and do an acoustic set in the car park just for them. We all loved Hot Tuna’s first album, we covered a lot of their acoustic blues stuff.’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘We were writing our own stuff and really gelling as an outfit. If one of us went off on one when we were playing, the rest would just keep up with what was happening. Then, when we needed to be back together, we’d all be there, bam, and the whole thing would take off again. Andy and I would challenge each other as to what sounds we could make; he’d sing and I’d have to play, or I’d play and he’d have to sing. You know?’
Alex did. She loved the interplay between Ian Gillan and Ritchie Blackmore, Robert Plant and Jimmy Page.
‘It was such a blast. On the business side, we needed a manager and Andy Airey’s cousin, Dan Cross, seemed to fit the bill. He’d been sorting out bookings for a cut of the take for a while, so it was just a matter of making the
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