NEVILLE’S ADVOCATE

Nev reminisces about moments over the years that now seem so fantastical he’s not quite sure they happened at all…

Last month I recalled a Clapton interview that he gave after 461 Ocean Boulevard’s release, saying he was pleased with it until he heard one of Stevie Wonder’s seminal albums. After the magazine had gone to press I panicked, thinking I’d maybe imagined it – it was 40 plus years ago after all. If I did, apologies. If I didn’t, it’s a wonderful accolade from one supreme artist to another.

My point for mentioning it here is that it threw up a number of things that, in hindsight, seem so surreal that I wonder again, did they happen at all? Okay, they’re nothing for those who already inhabit that glittery world, but for an ordinary bloke like me quite hard to believe. Like the time the wife of a famous musician I’d got to know phoned to tell me that they’d been going to bring one of the greatest music legends of all time to see me but got snowed in. “He hates the press, but we persuaded him you were all right.” I don’t mention names, because 30 years on I can’t believe it happened. But I think it did.

And the time I was demonstrating for SynthAxe. On the morning of our first demo at NAMM it had not occurred to me that this instrument, which it was feared could kill the guitar off, might attract something of an audience. Well, we set up, slung on the Axes and I looked up. Not six feet away stood Lee Ritenour, Stanley Jordan and Allan Holdsworth. On a sofa in front of us were Tommy Tedesco and, I think, Steve Stevens (or was that somewhere else?). I was told later that many other guitar legends were there. I couldn’t do it now. But it did happen… didn’t it?

When Clapton sold those first 100 guitars for his Crossroads charity, David Mead and I were invited to view the instruments at the auctioneer’s. We both played Layla on the Layla Strat. David assures me we did. And when I was offered the ‘Cream’ Firebird I for 99 guineas at Sound City in London. Was I really? I think so. And how I picked up ‘Blackie’ on the Royal Albert Hall stage when I’d gone to do an article on EC’s gear (I was quickly admonished).

Then there was the time Meady and I had a brush with a guitar legend or two. It was at Bath’s Guitar Festival and we played a set swapping licks with Gary Moore and Bernie Marsden. And how about when I interviewed Gary at Trevor Horn’s pile in Berkshire where he was recording? Gary persuaded me to have dinner with the band and stay over. We sat and played unplugged together all evening. Then, when I was about to retire, he said, “All the gear’s set up in the live room. In the morning we’ll have a jam – you play the ’59 through the Marshall and I’ll use the Reissue through the Vibroverb.” Honest. It happened. I think! Except I didn’t do it as I had to get back to the office (that’s the most unbelievable bit).

Then there was the night I was gigging with Marty Wilde at the Oxford Apollo; I looked to my left and George Harrison was sitting in the wings. He watched the entire show and afterwards said some nice things about my playing. Then, at the starstudded preview of the aforementioned EC guitar auction, George walked up and said, “I know you, don’t I?” Then (poignantly, given the recent sad death of Neil Innes) insisted on showing me a Rutles guitalele that Rob Armstrong had made him. And what about when I helped deliver a guitar to Paul McCartney at Top Of The Pops? Paul knelt down right there and played Blackbird and Things We Said Today. Honest? Really? Did he?

There are so many more stories that people say I should write a book: working on the ‘Woodstock’ Strat; playing Jimi’s psychedelic Flying V; my own ‘ex-Hendrix’ Strat; playing Hank’s pink Strat and Brian’s Red Special. Maybe I will one day. It’s a shame Unreliable Memoirs has been taken (another loss – the late, great Clive James). Would have been a good title.