It’s Monday, yeah!
Very excited about this week. It’s a big one. Yes, I know there’s an absolutely brutal, insane war waging in Europe right now and chances are we’ll all be sifting through the nuclear ashes of our lives before Spring arrives, but. Big week for us. We’re announcing some exciting New Cue business-time stuff this Friday, so we’re focussed on the bigger picture. Stay tuned for that. Let’s hope everyone survives until then.
Today, we have an interview with man mountain and bass titan Jah Wobble, aka John Wardle, the UK’s greatest ever bassist. Yeah, we can say that. He played and wrote the bass lines on Poptones with Public Image Ltd and Higher Than The Sun with Primal Scream for starters. That puts him 2-0 up before kick-off. What have you got? He’s had a 45-year career plucking away with everyone from Can and Brian Eno to Chaka Demus and Ginger Baker, from Pharoah Sanders and Natacha Atlas to the Pagoda Chinese Youth Orchestra, which is run by his wife out of Liverpool…
Ted rang him up to speak about all that for a Lost In Music Special, but they spent quite a lot of time talking about football instead. So we’ve turned it into a Start The Week. You can read this tale just after those tempting little red buttons below. Oooh, what are they?! Gosh, I just want to press them. Don’t you?
Ted, Niall and Chris.
Start The Week With…Jah Wobble
John Wardle was born 63 years ago in East London, within the sounds of Bow Bells, a Cockney who grew up on the extremely mean streets of Whitechapel about forty years before gentrification began lapping at its heels. He was raised on the rugged Clichy Estate, the son of a postman.
In the mid-70s he formed a gang of friends notorious on the London pub and squat scene and dubbed The Four Johns, as they included Wardle alongside his pal John Lydon and two other Johns: John Grey and John Simon Richie. Lydon would become famous in the Sex Pistols as Johnny Rotten, of course, and Richie would join him in that group under the name of Sid Vicious. It was Richie/Vicious who first gave John Wardle the name of Jah Wobble. It stuck.
Although a face on the original London punk scene, Wobble was not in a band until after The Pistols split, when he joined up with Lydon in Public Image Ltd, having taught himself bass in his squat, inspired by the playing of Bob Marley’s bassist, Aston ‘Family Man’ Barrett.
Wobble’s life and career is hinged thereafter upon the moment he quit drinking and other substances in 1986. Before that moment, he was chaotic and prone to regular acts of violence, such as the time he set fire to his squat mate’s belongings in a tit-for-tat row that included a wild-west style pub brawl and his near-fatal bottling. After Wobble stopped imbibing, his spirituality and productive creativity increased massively (but not before a stint working on the London Underground). His bass-playing CV tells the story of music’s evolution after punk, including session work such as this…
And solo work such as this (CHECK THE BASS LINE!)…
The first time I (this is Ted, I can’t do third-person the whole way, I’m not The Queen. Not yet), interviewed Jah Wobble was for NME in 1994. He insisted we take our clothes off and go for a Turkish massage, steam and bath in Old Street together. My only naked interview. The last time I interviewed him, in 2019, he seemed to have grown about two feet taller. Probably all those old Turkish men stretching out his back on marble tables.
He’s always surprising. A tremendous raconteur with a lively turn-of-phrase and incredible memory, I’d hoped we’d spend this interview talking about his career in depth. Instead, we spoke about football quite a bit. Next time, I think we’ll attempt a Story Behind The Songs special with him. That would be good, wouldn’t it? The tales he could tell. Ah well. Next time.
Hello John
Hello Ted?
Hello John
Hello Ted? Can you hear me?
I can hear you, John…
Oh, nice one mate. Sorry about that. Let me just switch this fucking Bluetooth off unless it connects me to next door’s Hoover or something again. I’ve actually got the phone to my ear, old-school, like in the movies. I’ve had to turn all the bluetooths off.
So you don’t come out of a speaker somewhere?
Yeah, had that. Hugely embarrassing. I’m a bit of a Larry David character anyway so it’s a recipe for disaster. How are you anyway? Happy with QPR?
Well, are we ever happy with our team for long? Are you going to see Spurs down the road from you in Burnley tonight?
No, I don’t do many away games. Not since I sent my season tickets back to [chairman] Daniel Levy in a fit of pique. One of those ‘AND FURTHERMORE’ letters of protest, you know. What the fuck was I thinking?! As if Daniel Levy is worried what I think. ‘Oh yes, John, very good point…’ It was a proper indignant letter. Embarrassing. Please don’t tell anyone.
Of course not.
I do go to some away games, but I’m playing football later anyway. I played last night. I play too much, I’m aching all over. It’s fucking crazy, actually. What am I doing?! I sort of enjoy it, that’s the problem. It’s an obsession, I guess. So, I’m playing this afternoon. It’s proper old man’s football. Last night was with younger people, but today’s is old man’s football. It’s up north and it’s fiercely competitive.
Oh, I thought you were going to say it’s easy-going!
No, very competitive. Yeah. Every ball is contested. So for me, at the age of 63, a lot of it is a serenity test. “Is that a ball!? Is that a fucking ball?!” You know, all that. So I’ll do that, come back, watch the Spurs game, then I’m due to play again tomorrow and Friday. In fact, the only day I don’t play is Saturday. Minimum five days a week, different games, different pitches. It’s mad.
You must be very fit.
I am due an injury. It’s too much. I am an obsessive character, Ted.
“Here’s me with my player of the season (footgolf). I got four holes in one in a year! The geezer on the far left with the Mr Grumpy award is Albert Morgan. You would have seen him sitting next to Fergie at Man Utd for years back in the day.”
But you still have time for music, though.
Yeah, we’re touring again, which is nice. It’s been really good, because we were very concerned when Omicron happened. ‘Oh shit, is that it?’ I’m not poor but I do need to earn a few quid. Also, you miss it. It’s what I do. I’ve spent a lot of years grafting and the wolf is not at my very presentable door. But for younger guys it could be life-changing. Very good musicians might jack it in to work in local government or something. Once they cross that divide, that’s probably that. So it was quite nip and tuck. But now it’s been fantastic. Full houses. Ronnie Scott’s was great, not a spare seat and a real shot in the arm. I have found doing some back-to-back shows are hard, because we do two and a half hour sets…
Wow!
The audiences won’t let you go. That’s fine. We’ll play. But doing three on the spin, fuck me. I’ve got one of those step counters and I’m coming off having done eighteen thousand steps. Prowling about like a tiger, running on the spot…but all for a good cause. By the way, commiserations on Q mate.
Thanks. All things must pass though.
This is true. Print is similar to the decimation of the music industry after the advent of illegal downloads and so forth. I used to say it when I reviewed books for the Independent. I’d say be careful to the editor, I’ve seen it rip through music and they thought I was being too pessimistic, like a sandwich board geezer on Oxford Street…"the end is nigh!” But print’s been hit. Now, though, music is kind of bouncing back a little, even with streaming which is the worst, so maybe there’s hope for print. Music is almost viable again, even if you can’t make the kind of living you could once.
You’re getting by?
Oh yes. I’m fine. I’ve got lots on. I also go down to London, to Merton, every week for this thing, the Tuned In sessions we do. We’ve got some great players.
What’s the story behind it?
A few years ago I thought I should do something of use. My natural inclination is to be entirely narcissistic. I’m not a full-scale narcissist, but I am narcissistic. I am however self-aware, so I think I redeem myself and take actions, and not be a black hole sucking everything in. I noticed that there are a lot of old blokes who are lonely. Possibly drinking too much, unhappy. You see it on social media. I thought that if there’s an issue I’d like to alleviate then it’s loneliness, especially with old blokes who shut themselves away. So the idea was to start this music workshop with old guys who are into playing and low and behold, we have women too. Young people as well. Then we realised that there was more to it. It was great for all. Very inclusive. Everyone can come along and there’s never been a nasty argument.
What happens there?
We play music together. All kinds of people. Some with mental health problems, some from tough estates, as I was from originally, some from leafy parts of South-West London. Jon Klein, who used to play guitar with Siouxsie and The Banshees and is an incredible musician, he does a lot of the technical stuff. We’ve built a studio, we’re making a record. We do it on a Monday, 7-10. We do courses in the studio on Thursdays but we’re going to start doing voice recordings on every other Tuesday as well. We’re rolling. We’ve had 450 people come through.
Incredible.
I was told that and apparently it’s true. We have a lot of regulars. We have a stage set-up as well as a studio so it’s tight for space, we could do with more. That’s the only issue. It’s a lot of work stripping it back and everything, it’s like putting on a gig every week, but I love it.
Sounds like good, worthwhile fun.
I think it’s quite unusual. There are no rules. It’s not an institution. Everyone is just accepted. For a while, we had a lot of Japanese people. For some reason they were very into the Miles Davis electric period, it was really engrained in them as they were big in Japan those records, heavily promoted by Columbia. We had some heavy Bitches Brew sessions. We’ve had all kinds of music. There’s a guy called Alan who is one of the best reggae drummers I’ve ever heard. He could come on the road, no problem. Two singers came the other night, lovely vibe. They got on the mic, harmonising and we got a killer groove going and it turns out they were from that band Senser. Their harmonising, oh my. Very good.
You’re a very busy man.
I am. Before lockdown happened my missus said, ‘Fucking hell, are you sure?’ Actually, she doesn’t swear, I do. When I get her to swear I feel triumph. She said, ‘Are you sure?’ And I said, No. Before lockdown I was in London three days a week, renting a flat there, working up here the rest of the time, on the road, and it was a seven day week. I was feeling it. And I feel it now. Right now I am sitting here very tired.
Are you working up to cancelling football?
There’s a 20 per cent chance that I might send the dreaded ‘sorry lads’ text. I’ve never done it before, but I feel entitled. So instead of playing I would do the old Lucy Wyndham-Read.
Sorry, you’d do the what?!
She’s one of these YouTube gurus. Very girly, but I like it. It’s a workout. It’s low impact but it is a workout. Twenty minutes, you get a bit sweat on if you do it properly, you know. No squats, that’s why I like it. I could get stuck into that.
How’s your book coming along?
Well yes, it’s an update of the original that came out on Serpent’s Tale a while back, I think 2009. This is now coming out on Faber. I got the rights back, basically. I’m going to add a long afterword and it will be released the way that I wanted it to be. It’s a bit like a football match where you score too early, I may have written it too early as some people are wont to tell me. Grain of truth in that, maybe more than a grain. It’ll take a little while, as it does with books. We’re probably looking at the end part of 2023 to be published.
How will it differ from the original?
It’ll be repackaged, look different. A few changes here and there, a very long afterword. As Dan Papps from Faber said to me, “The only thing I don’t like is the title.” I had to stop him. I wrote the book, but I didn’t think of the title. Couldn’t think of one at the time and someone in my band was joking saying why don’t you call it Memoirs Of A Geezer, after Memoirs Of A Geisha. It’s a joke! But it conveys the wrong…the wrong book, you know? So we’ll nullify that so it sounds less like I’m cashing in on football hooliganism. I need to update it in terms of the politics, fucking Brexit, as well as in terms of the personal stuff. Literally people dying, like Holgar [Czukay, of Can] and Jaki [Liebezeit, Can’s incredible drummer]. I’m so happy it’s going to come out.
You sound content.
I have a full life, mate. Very good family, both my boys play music and we made a family album last year [Guanyin].
They’re good players. Went to see them play together in Liverpool recently and I was really surprised. They’re called Tien, their group. I came up here [to Stockport] originally so we could be with my father-in-law’s orchestra. He’s dead now, but that’s why we’re here. My wife [Liao Zilan] now runs that orchestra.
My older son, John, lives in Liverpool, he plays with her - a very good player, too.
Charlie, my younger boy, is an excellent footballer – he was professional with York City when he left school. He still plays but he’s got a job in London now and he wanted also to make music, which he does under the name GZ Tian. It’s rapping, got some guys on the grime scene with him. It’s good. There’s a little underground scene in London of kids from Asian heritage, mainly West, Pimlico. Every now and then I’ll see a photo of them with their shirts off in a club or something and I think, Oh OK. Alright.
Anyway, I’m saying that because I did not know what the pair of them would do in Liverpool. Would it be rap? I don’t know. It’s Krautrock! I’ve played them lots of music growing up but I’m not sure I’ve ever played them any Can. I really loved it. I had to say to them, You know I played with the original geezers? I sent them Neu, Can afterwards, all that. But they killed it. So good. I recommend it and not just as their dad. So yeah, it is a busy life, fulfilling, but the most important thing is to relax, be as open and as spacious as you can and not take it too seriously.
So you’ll be playing football this afternoon in other words.
Seems the most likely outcome, really. When it’s the younger geezers you really put a shift in. You make sure you close people down. Good off the ball, so you deserve your place. When you get the ball, keep it neat and tidy. You can’t run with it, you can’t chase back. Position yourself, know your role. With this game, with the veterans, I impose my personality on the game. Looking for the ball all the fucking time. Dominating. I think I might have a couple of espressos first. Sometimes I have to, half hour before, just to kickstart me.
“Here’s me with the Stockport community walking football team . It’s not the Stockport County walking football team, although I do play with them too! Dr Mike who was the Man Utd doctor plays with us as well as Andy Ritchie, the old Man Utd and Oldham player …all good geezers.”
Anyway, lovely talking to you, Ted.
And you.
When’s your next game with QPR?
Blackpool, tonight. Not confident.
I’ll watch the highlights later. Don’t worry, it’s going to be 2-1 to Rangers. I sense that.
I doubt it, but thanks John.
Look after yourself, Ted.