It’s fair to say that no group of men have shaped my soul and musical learnings more than The Wildhearts. Ever since they appears on Top Of The Pops in 1995, I have had my own drug addiction to the highs and lows of Ginger and The Wildhearts
Every time they split up, it was like they were splitting up with me. I read one time that Ginger had died for 12 minutes before being resuscitated. In reading that, my heart stopped. That and the fact that Danny had lost a leg after suffering from a brain haemorrhage, it was too much for my little corazon.
So when “THE” lineup had reformed, and we doing signings a few hours before a gig close to me (of which I already had tickets to), it may have been my only opportunity to meet this volatile outfit.
I travelled by train to Reading and ran through the town centre and searched high and low for the music store. I felt rushed because the train was delayed and had also stopped mid service.
I arrived with about 10 minutes to spare.
Most people had purchased the new EP and were using that as the thing to get the bands to sign. But seeing as I had sold all of my possessions, I used the stub end of the ticket for the gig.
I waited patiently and watched and observed the band as I edged myself closer, as the queue diminished one by one. I ran through in my head what I was going to say to them all. Here I was, at 42 years of age, feeling like that balding 17 year old all over again.