(From Flexipop, UK music magazine, Issue 25, December 1983.)
Welcome To The Working Week
Jaz from Killing Joke spends seven fun-packed days with Loony Richard, Mad Al, Raven and Geordie.
I got up at ten o'clock and drank three cups of Turkish coffee. Then I went to visit some friends of mine at a squat in Notting Hill Gate - one of them is a loony called Richard and the other one is called Mad Al. I also met Geordie there and we all had a good argument. I like arguing. Then I went to the record company and drank more coffee - contrary to popular belief, I don't partake of certain other substances but I make up for it by guzzling lots of coffee.
I made my way back home and continued working on the book I'm writing. It's called "The Fortress" and it's my study of the landscape. I'm very interested in Geomancy which is the study of the way that architecture and other things fit in with the harmony of the land. It's the secrets of the earth which I consider have been lost.
At about two o'clock in the morning I went for a long walk because I'd drunk too much coffee, which was keeping me awake. When I'm walking I hear music in my head - it's probably due to the sound of my heartbeat and my movements as I walk. Finally, very late, I went to bed.
This morning I got picked up in the van by Brad, our roadie, and lo and behold, the first thing that happened was that I was accused of robbery! My ex flat-mate had 'phoned up the band and told them that I'd ripped off his video. So I got them to drop me off at the old flat where I pinned down my old mate and told him that I didn't steal his video. Then we toddled off to the police station, where a few statements were taken down.
After that I went to Russell Square to drink coffee and continue in my anti-social ways. I went on to the museum to hang around the Egyptology section, which I really like. When I came out, I bought some papers written by the Cambridge Geomantic Institute.
In the evening, Richard and Mad Al came round and we drank some wine and went into the kitchen to play some clay pipes which I brought back from Peru. The kitchen's got a really nice echo in it.
This is our first rehearsal day. Raven, our bass-player, and I went to a restaurant to fill our stomachs before we started playing any music. When we'd rehearsed for a bit I decided to go down to the squat again. I met a friend called Geoff who had got himself in some stupid trouble and was going to be sent off to prison on Friday, so we all had a good laugh about that. Then I went back to my place and had a good argument with the French girl who lives upstairs. She goes to all the really hip gigs and parties and I like slagging her off about it. It gave me a very satisfying feeling when I went to bed that night.
This evening we flew to Madrid, leaving Gatwick at six o'clock. Killing Joke's favourite places in England are Heathrow and Gatwick. We're always much happier when we're getting out of the country. The only we thing we like about England is the sense of humour, the tea and the music. Raven had forgotten his passport and so he had to go back to get it. The aeroplane we got on was really dodgy, but it did manage to get us to Madrid in one piece.
When we arrived, we got taken out for dinner, which was great - A Killing Joke Banquet. We had squid, followed by steak, seafoods and loads of wine. We got very merry and the conversation sunk to gutter level. Later, we went to the club where we were going to play. We spent all evening wangling free drinks. Then we went back to our hotel and had some fun with the bidet.
I woke up with a pain in my mouth. I've got a bit of a sharp tooth which had been cutting into me, so I numbed my mouth with various substances. We went to do a live interview on a radio show later in the morning ... agh! these Spanish interviewers!!! We've got a reputation for the way we deal with journalists who ask silly questions about certain philosophies of individual members in the band - and this interviewer was asking lots of silly questions! We told him to shut up and put some music on. They put on a Duran Duran record and we changed the speed while it was playing. So they told us to get out of the studio.
We all went for a big dinner in the afternoon. I didn't eat very much though - just a bit of raw fish and four or five cups of coffee.
The gig that night was marvellous. We had a sort of ritual in the dressing room during which I covered myself in paint while we all drank tequila and had a good sing song in order to work ourselves up into a manic state. After the gig I stayed up until about six in the morning.
Another bloody interview on a radio station. This time we got asked even stupider questions. There was an interpreter who got really embarrassed trying to translate our replies!
After the gig that night, Geordie got very drunk. When he walked outside some geezer grabbed his arm and Geordie whacked him on the nose. It turned out this bloke was a policeman, so Geordie got carted off and locked up in a cell. But eventually he got let out after he flashed his British passport and shouted something about the British Consulate. He came back to the dressing room and we had an argument, which was good fun. I insulted Geordie and he smashed a lot of bottles. Then he jumped on Brad, our roadie, and started hitting him.
I spent the rest of the night walking the streets with a load of punks who'd come from Germany to see us.
I arrived back at the hotel late in the morning and slept until three in the afternoon. We got taken out to a restaurant again and we all pigged ourselves. Then we got on an even more dodgy flight at Madrid airport and flew back to London. As soon as I got home I started drinking coffee and dreaming of getting out of England again.