Surrounded by the noise of other people’s music I eventually lost touch with my own.
I racked up many recording sessions constantly upgrading the equipment until I had the best spec list in town , I knew the studio room sucked , a lousy plasterboard construction inside a large room , it was a struggle to get a good recording or mix but still some great music was made .
The combination of rehearsal and studio use was difficult and one of the fundamental problems but this was just another issue that got put on the very substantial pile .
The Gym Club strung us along until finally spurred on by the London Olympics they decided it was the time to turn up the heat.
Letters got issued and we were given our marching orders , the decade of waiting and worrying was finally over.
The studio began to die , it burned very brightly for the last few years , the gigs and parties were stupendous but slowly the light was fading , bands that had been loyal for years disappeared , people I had seen on a weekly basis were suddenly absent , an emptiness and quiet and always Gill!
I was close to insane , drowning my sorrows in sorrow , normal , abnormal in a flash , rocking and reeling caught in a desperate situation , it was the building and the potential it offered , it was the thought that a block of shitty flats would be sitting there in years to come , it was the lack of integrity of the Gym Club , it was Gill and her bitchy condescending belittling manner , it was the impending legal fight , the loss of revenue and job so with my back against the wall and Gill rattling my cage I pondered my next move .
I just had enough , bands were fickle , well the majority and after two decades or more listening to their shit I was really ready to say ‘Fuck Off’ to most of them .
So how hard do you want it to be ? They got a letter from my solicitor Wright Hassel and the Gym Club agreed to my terms and I made my exit .
20 years of hideous junk spewed out the building scavenged by the local scrappers , I broke my thumb and gouged my right hand , the exit was a hard brutal frenzy, the plumbing had failed and for the past six months I was constantly bailing out water , the plaster was peeling away in large sections , mould was eating up the rooms , it felt cold , dank and dead.
Battered and bruised I took the stage in Liverpool , it was a gig I had little time to prepare for and it was a kamikaze performance , later on I uncoupled my mind from reality and for the first time in many many years woke up , I found myself in another factory building staring at the lights from a dizzy new height.
So that’s how I killed the studio, physically the building still remains occupied at times by Frank and Chinese Bill , Frank is the longest serving having established a workshop for men with mental and physical impairments affectionately known as The Eddie men in the mid 1980’s , he now is the Gym Club care taker and has a workshop shared with Bill.
I still have to look at this once great building , neglected , damp , decaying , it is a fitting epitaph for Rugby a place that nurtures discontent and small minded cunts like Gill Mckee .