Silver Ch. 10-12

The big interview of his fledgling career came Nick's way the following month. Having now enjoyed three successive Top Twenties and a sophomore LP that grazed the Top Ten, the Thunder Cracks were riding on the crest of a wave. As down to earth as ever, Joe Donnelly provided the interview of the year, articulate and full of memorable quotes. Spike Sanders and Dave Bishop added insightful observations and, even before what happened subsequently, Nick knew he had something special. Tony Cage was AWOL, apparently out on a bender with new best mate Richey, the enfants terrible of the rock world.

With the baby due any time, Nick was in a heady state.

That was, until the following day when the tragic news filtered through of Joe Donnelly's death in a car crash. Drummer Dave Bishop survived but would be fated to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair and, in what would become one of rock's enduring mysteries, a third occupant – the driver, escaped and fled the wreckage, never to be identified. Providing masses of press speculation for months on end, several high profile names were touted around, though survivor Bishop was either unwilling or unable to name a name.

Bringing the curtain down on the Thunder Cracks' illustrious career, perversely it provided Nick and Rock Week with a valuable piece of currency: the last recorded words of Joe Donnelly. In a bumper edition, tagged 'The Black Issue', sales ran the NME a very close second that week.

Their first meeting since his departure, Nick and Richey exchanged awkward glances at the funeral but no words. The first of several funerals, the shadow of death would rarely stray far from the band. For Nick, he lost a close good friend in Joe, the man that had helped retain his sanity during the low points of the tour. It was only fitting therefore that the son Nick craved should be named in his honour, Joseph Robert Silver being born on 9th July 1984.

When the dust had settled, Tony Cage became a permanent member of the Speeding Hearts and a second single for Stigma, a tribute to Joe entitled 'Dust' and pressed on brown vinyl, was released in October. Peaking at 63, it failed to build upon the modest success of 'Sun Street', an idle bass and depressing drone of lyrics endearing it only to the most diehard fans.

'Snow' released on white vinyl in December 1984 helped to re-establish the band in the indie hierarchy, if not the charts. Heavily rotated on evening radio, Peter Powell's record of the week, a debut slot on the Old Grey Whistle Test and a continued loyal following helped maintain a month long run. Regrettably, however, any further progress was hindered by a lack of funds to make a promo video and, combined with the usual lame batch of festive releases, the song stopped agonisingly at 41. Seven releases without a Top Forty, in its end of year appraisals, Sounds proclaimed the Speeding Hearts: 'The greatest band in Britain without a hit'. It was a tag that would prove hard to shake.

The paranoiac 'Envy' released on green vinyl in February 1985 stopped at 52 whilst 'Sky' on blue vinyl two months later made 60 and would become the last song recorded for Stigma. The lack of chart success counterbalanced by a growing prowess on the live circuit, major label interest never seemed far away. Sensing the end of the rocky relationship, Stigma packaged up the five singles and their b-sides, releasing the unimaginatively titled LP 'The Speeding Hearts' on clear vinyl. Disowned by the band and without promotion, it bombed as even the diehard fans saw right through it.

As the band hit a flat spot, Nick's profile continued to rise. Trading on the 'last man to interview Joe Donnelly' label, by now he was a familiar face in the world of rock journalism, gaining interviews with Live Aid heroes Queen and Status Quo, as well as Dire Straits and the Rolling Stones in 1985. At the same time, Rock Week had assembled a loyal and discerning readership that ensured its continued success.

Moving on would prove tougher for Richey and co. Aggrieved at the treatment by Stigma and with months of frustration building like a boiling pot, Richey and Tony Cage took it upon themselves to trash the label's studio and were promptly arrested. When all the fuss had died down, they were facing 1986 with no record deal and prison sentences hanging over their heads.

With no new music to offer promotion, only the ongoing publicity in the column inches of the music press kept the band in the public domain. In an era when the majority of his peers were clean-cut purveyors of throwaway pop, totally unworthy of the accolade rockstar, Richey's antics could always be relied upon to sell magazines. As a result, rarely a week passed without reports of a drunken or drugged-up brawl.

Forced into a curfew, inevitably the heroin came out. Little surprise to learn, via the NME, that in just over a year Cage had managed to blow all of his Thunder Cracks' royalties. Turning to dealing to make ends meet, the new guitarist's arrest in January 1986 cast further doubt on the band's future.

Salvation arrived in the spring when manager Ted Perry reluctantly stumped up a hefty to compensate Stigma and the criminal charges were dropped. Tony Cage received a warning for the drugs misdemeanour, and a new deal struck with another independent label, the ironically named Criminal Intent Records, aimed to put the band back on the map.

The coupling of 'Silver' and 'Irresistible Charm' released as a double A-side in August 1986 was greeted with curious interest in a music press that recalled its brief love affair with the band from the early days. More importantly, 'Silver' marked a turning point. Not about Nick as might have been surmised, it was the first time Richey had confronted his spiralling heroin addiction in song:

'I wear my veins on the outside, nothing on the inside, Just a hollow, empty vacuum in a seedy, darkened back room, Now my life is in turmoil, I reach for the stars, But get carried away, get carried away...'

Despite attracting a new legion of angst-ridden fans, as ever vinyl failed to capture the live verve, the song stopping at 45. Ironically, with Richey's private life in temporary repair and the heroin use curtailed on the back of the single, so the dormant stage fright returned. An all-consuming, deep dark phobia that no amount of counselling could put right, all but two of the dozen gigs lined up in the latter part of 1986 went ahead. As a consequence, the new dawn of the Speeding Hearts once more failed to materialise.

With no live presence, 'Heaven's On Fire' released in March 1987 made 55. The trend continued when two months later 'Poisoned Paradise' made 57 and the tally reached a dozen releases without a Top Forty hit. With the Sounds' tag continuing to weigh ever heavily, Nick was more convinced than ever that it had been the right decision to walk away.

The time ripe for a change, after another arrest for possession in May 1987 resulted in a spell inside, Tony Cage was kicked out of the band. Quickly replaced, guitarist number three was unveiled in the summer as Doug Perry, son of manager Ted. Drafted in to help bring stability to a band surely down to its last life, an accomplished musician, Doug had been in several rockabilly bands, his beefy style signalling a rockier sound.

A year of writing punctuated by short bouts of pained touring, the band re-launched its recording career in the summer of 1988 with an LP entitled 'Before Our Time'. Arriving to critical acclaim from a fickle press, after a sustained climb it peaked at a respectable 23. A solid fan base and intermittent airplay helped the resultant single, 'Sweet Something', climb to 42 on its second week of release. Fingers firmly crossed, the breakthrough at long last seemed at hand.

Choosing not to leave things to chance, Ted stumped up the cash for a video and, following an appearance on The Word, at the thirteenth attempt the seemingly impossible was achieved: the band celebrated a chart hit. Sneaking in at 37, admittedly it fell back out the next week. But a hit was a hit.

The turn of fortune in the band mirrored in Nick's parallel life, he and Jan were finally able to escape the confines of Crossbow Hill, moving to an upwardly mobile three-bedroom end-of-terrace in Croydon. With a regular wage coming in, the future looked rosy for the Silvers.

Yet there was one thing Nick could do nothing about: a raging out-of-control beast called the Speeding Hearts. The Top Forty having finally been breached, anything was now possible. Though no further singles were released, the LP did hang around for four months and came to be regarded as one of the albums of 1988 in Rock Week's end of year appraisals. As the year drew to a close, Nick sat a little uncomfortably, wondering what the following year might hold, particularly now that the Sounds' tag had been consigned to history.

* * *

Like teenagers on a cheap foreign package holiday, Matt and Pete were keen to get the weekend and the drinking started and, having roused Kelly, the trio joined Richey in an otherwise deserted bar. Her head a mass of thoughts, Kelly gulped greedily at the pint, hoping sufficient alcohol might crystallise her boldness for what lie ahead. All a bit too quiet for her liking, the jukebox on the wall craved attention. Disappointed that there was nothing this side of the Millennium, she keyed in the code with tremulous fingers, the angst of Radiohead filling the air: 'What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here.'

Richey ambled over to stand before her, dispensing small talk and acting in a wholly inappropriate flirtatious manner. Kelly went to speak but deemed it too early yet, caught in a distant state of mind and not really hearing what Richey was saying. As ten more minutes elapsed, an inch of amber liquid stared back from the glass. Okay, she thought. 'Richey...' she called out before hesitating and losing her resolve. 'Um...can we have another round, please?'

After pints were pushed before Matt and Pete, once more Richey came across to stand close, seeming to read her thoughts, or at least some of them. Or, was it just a case of crossed wires? The appreciative looks he continued to issue caused her embarrassment. 'Was there...something else?' he entreated, causing Kelly to blush a deep scarlet and shake her head dismissively.

Richey wandered off to converse with the lads, finding a more receptive audience, the talk ranging from music to football and inevitably on to women. After the second pint had quickly evaporated down the glass, filled with newfound resolve, Kelly went to beckon Richey over. It was at that moment that Spencer and Lee appeared inopportunely at her shoulder, asking for top-ups. When they went to take a seat on the sidelines, Richey ordered: 'Drink those in your room.'

Obediently the boys trotted away, having taken with them Kelly's moment.

A third pint materialised and, as Kelly looked up Richey was there once more like a shadow, leaning on his elbow, saying how much he admired women that drank pints. She smiled awkwardly at the innocent flirtation but said nothing, still unable to draw forth the words. Once more Richey sloped away to talk with Matt and Pete.

As five more silent minutes passed and the pair moved away from the bar to refill the jukebox, drawing a deep breath Kelly decided it was time. Richey looked up at her as if awaiting the words. Kelly was about to blurt it out when the front door swung open. A middle-aged man with a shaven spherical head and a goatee beard in a black leather jacket stepped inside, leaving Kelly to exhale painfully as once more Richey slipped away. 'What the hell brings you out this way?'

'Just passing through, wouldn't ye know?' the newcomer replied in a cod-Irish brogue.

Brother of the late great Joe Donnelly of the Thunder Cracks, 'Diamond' Dave Donnelly was an erstwhile member of the Speeding Hearts, more in the Tony Cage mould than the Nick Silver mould. Unlike his brother, he was born and bred in Kilburn, about as Gaelic as an Irish theme pub. Removing his jacket to reveal a faded Guns 'n' Roses t-shirt and a pair of hirsute arms dripping with diluted tattoos, the his eyes were drawn appreciatively to Kelly, before diverting to the other two. 'Well if it isn't St Matthew! What the devil brings you out here?'

'Just passing through,' replied Matt, aping Donnelly's words.

His gaze returning to Kelly, Donnelly beseeched: 'And who might this adorable creature be?'

Though his lanky frame wasn't designed for confrontation, Pete stepped in between the pair territorially.

'Let me buy you guys a drink,' Donnelly offered.

Despite a collectively polite refusal, Donnelly's insistence saw a fourth pint materialise, the newcomer moving close to Kelly to Pete's consternation. A conversation struck up and she responded with a flick of the hair and a pout. Not only that, the newcomer was touching her. In three minutes he'd achieved what Pete had strived three days to achieve.

Pete's body tensed, a dark shadow having suddenly been cast over the entire day. Wishing he were bigger and tougher, like in his fantasies, he envisioned nailing Donnelly with a couple of left hooks, before throwing him out of the pub. Pete's heart fell further as Donnelly took hold of Kelly's hand on the premise that he could read palms. 'Well wouldn't ye know...you will meet a bald man with a large...personality,' rang out the stentorian roar.

Pete growled under his breath.

'So Dave, how's the book coming along?' enquired Richey.

Donnelly raised his eyebrows as if surprised Richey should know about the secret project. 'It's going just foin.'

Suddenly Pete's attention was drawn – a book? Donnelly was writing a book? Surely not about the band, he hoped. He was to be left rueful seconds later when Donnelly added chirpily: 'Just waiting for the foinal chapter...you know, the end.'

Richey shot back a snarl. 'You'll be waiting a long time then.'

'That's not what Oi've heard.'

Richey guffawed. 'You don't want to believe every rumour you hear, my friend. This is the best stuff I've written in fifteen years.'

Donnelly guffawed. 'That's not saying much, so it isn't.'

The two glared at each like the old adversaries they were. Behind his back, Pete glared at Donnelly, wishing he'd go. Further down the bar Matt wondered what he'd gotten himself into, and Devilicious hadn't even arrived yet. In the midst of it all Kelly felt she'd explode unless she got it off her chest – and soon. Yet with Donnelly's arrival things had just become ten times harder.

Half an hour passed, filled by Donnelly's boasts of his days in the band, before he stepped away to take a mobile phone call. Suddenly Richey appeared before Kelly like a ghost, catapulting her back to reality. Sensing that the right moment had finally arrived, she went to deliver the big speech borne of hours of rehearsal.

'Just a sec, sweetheart,' he interrupted as the pub phone presented an unwanted diversion.

When he returned Kelly was gone, spirited away by frustration.

* * *

Upstairs, cursing as he came out of the shower, with just a towel around his middle, Nick jumped when confronted by Kelly. 'Don't you knock?' he snapped, fixing her in a cold stare. 'What is it?'

'I just wanted to see...to see if you wanted to join us downstairs for a beer.'

'A beer, it's barely past lunchtime...I wish you'd leave me alone.'

Feeling the tears rise, Kelly turned on her heels, fleeing hastily.

'Kelly...'

Nick bit his lip, reflecting with regret upon the news that had just dashed his hopes and caused him to snap. Awoken from the nap fifteen minutes earlier, he had been greeted by Ted Perry, the initial annoyance turning to optimism then back again in the time it took to remember where he was.

'I've contacted a dozen record labels,' Ted had disclosed, before adding: 'It's no go, I'm afraid.'

Nick could barely conceal his disappointment. 'No go – why?'

'It's the singles market – or lack of it these days, I'm told. You'd need to make the Top Five just to stand a chance of getting your money back. It's not like back in the old days, in our day, when singles climbed slowly and built up popularity week by week. Nowadays, two weeks and it's gone.'

Nick's heart sank as Ted continued: 'The Speeding Hearts never was a singles band...you know that. And it's not even as if you have an LP to advertise.'

Nick was distraught. He'd so wanted to get the song in the shops to give Richey a run for his money. 'So, can't we get re-release it ourselves? You must know all the right people.'

Ted sighed. 'I'd love to help Nick, but would you be confident of making the Top Five – just to get your money back?'

'How much of an investment are we talking about?'

Ted blew heavily. 'I dunno, ten, maybe twenty grand with a video.'

Nick's silence spoke for itself. The current bank balance foremost in his mind, why was it that when money had been freely available to speculate with, there had been no project like this to invest in? How he rued the re-carpeting in 2002, the new bathroom and kitchen in 2004, the patio in 2005 and now that eternally draining wedding.

'A lot of the youngsters are using MySpace,' added Ted.

Immediately Nick turned off, accepting the condolences and well wishes for the future, left to loathe record label executives and shareholders driven solely by the balance sheet. There was no period of grace like in his day when the independent labels would give most bands with a half decent repertoire and a little enthusiasm the chance to be heard. It was a wonder any new talent managed to break through.

Fifteen minutes later Nick ventured downstairs. Seeing Dave Donnelly at the bar did little to relieve his mood. 'What's he doing here?' he whispered to Matt.

'He says he's just passing through.'

'Well Oi'll be jiggered, if it ain't Nick Silver. Are you just passing through as well?'

'Hello Dave.'

'There was me thinking you'd given up all this.'

'It's purely recreational, I assure you,' Nick shot back, though this was far from his idea of fun.

Turning back to Matt he whispered: 'Have you seen Kelly?'

'She was in the back bar just now, I think – talking to Richey.'

Nick wandered around – there was no sign of either. His return was heralded by a pint. 'Cheers,' called Donnelly across the bar, met with a forced smile.

Prompted by Donnelly's entrance that, whilst unwelcome, was timed almost perfectly to coincide with his reminiscences, Nick's mind drifted back to the late Eighties.

Twelve

'I've invested too much time in this band to fail now.' - Richey Osgood, Record Mirror, 1988.

With thirteen singles having spurned just one lowly Top Forty hit and a moderately successful LP, there was little to suggest fame and fortune awaited the Speeding Hearts. Yet Nick harboured an uncomfortable feeling that the steely determination that had brought Richey this far would not allow success to elude him for much longer. What Nick didn't realise was just how complicit he would be in helping to achieve that success.

Returning to the public domain in the spring of 1989 with a fresh determination and a new fifth member, Dave Donnelly, brought in on keyboards to accommodate the new direction. Known as 'Diamond' Dave owing to a passion for flash jewellery, he was a renowned wild man of rock in the Tony Cage mould. A string of live dates was arranged to showcase the new material, the best of which was the heady and sensual 'Dead Pretty':

'Silhouettes of strangers, seven shades of blue, Falling for the danger, swimming out of view, Dead pretty eyes in city skies, here she lies in silken ties.'

When it was suggested in the office that the band might even crack America, Nick was seen to splutter his coffee all over the desk. 'Crack the States? Come on! Richey Osgood can't even speak at his AA meetings for fear of facing a crowd!'