He started up Transglobal Underground and Temple of Sound, and manymany years ago, he had a band called The Red River Mountain Boys, a slightly silly band that played hillbilly music.
Sillybillys, I suppose.
I remember the bass player's stick-on moustache sticking itself to the mike-stand and staying there jauntily when he backed away with a bald upper lip after singing his song.
The other day I got an emergency call and went down to St Aloysius' Church Hall to play bass for The Red River Mountain Boys, with half an hour's rehearsal.
I was fine until we got to Frank Ifield's Rose Marie. Sensing my panic, Nick tried mouthing the chords at me: 'B', he mimed.
I looked at the strings in incomprehension. There were only four of them!!
Yes folks, I have officially become a guitarist instead of a bass player, a six-string Sheila, although I delightedly remembered the feeling of the bass thundering through the soles of my feet and up my legs and the sheer POWER of playing bass.
And it was lovely to see Nick and his mates again, and to share a stage with Simon Walker, a superb fiddle player.
I used to hang out with them all years ago: before I got married and had children, they were all part of my life so it was a very touching experience to see them all again, and I hope to do a bit more hanging out with them in future.
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