I started a BS Beatles’ rumour
By Des Burkinshaw
Thirty years ago, in November 1994, I was at an interesting point in my career as a journalist.
My day job was on the Hackney Gazette, covering news and all things local. But I had been doing shifts at the Daily Mirror for over a year, ever since one of my stories went national. I had one of the first Back to Basics scandals that rocked John Major’s government, so I had been headhunted.
I’d always intended to be a political journalist, but landed at the Mirror on the pop page, working for the wonderful eccentric Rick Sky. I was immediately seduced by the showbiz stuff. I’m a musician myself, and suddenly, having access to as many free tickets/CDs/parties as I could handle (a lot), I went to the dark side. I still had 3 years on the newsdesk at The Times lying in wait, my last print attempt to be serious before defecting to TV, but for now, I found myself in the epicentre of the media just as Britpop kicked off. Oasis’ record label, Creation, was in Hackney. I had a front-row seat for all that.
Hackney was pretty damn interesting, then as now. As well as the normal news, I had plenty of world-famous people passing through. Demi Moore helped get me The Times job. Ralph Fiennes called me every week during his run as Hamlet at the Hackney Empire with interviews and news. Julia Ormond, who lived locally, introduced me to her First Knight co-star, Sean Connery. Chas and Dave invited me to play guitar on Rabbit onstage at the Empire during one of their shows. Wild times.
One day, both worlds collided.
On Richmond Road, just south of the Empire, was a little independent art gallery, Flowers East. I often used to publicise their exhibitions for them.
I got a call from someone there with some exciting news. Brian Eno was launching a charity called War Child with an exhibition at their gallery. Unfortunately, I think I mentioned it too early in the Gazette, and a really peed-off PR told me I was now uninvited from the launch.
This was a shame. Eno is someone I have always wanted to meet. I’m a huge Bowie/Roxy Music/Talking Heads fan, and admired his work as a producer too. Another Green World – more famous as the theme tune for BBC’s Arena – alongside the Eno-produced b-side of Bowie’s Low, were my introduction to ambient music. Damn.
But Rick Sky came to the rescue. He wasn’t in the mood to go out East – pre-Olympics travel to Hackney was grim – so he put me down on the guestlist. My girlfriend at the time, Margaret Clark, was a huge Bowie/Eno fan, so I told her to come with me.
We had speculated that Live Aid-founders, Bob Geldof and Midge Ure, might turn up in the Gazette. This was exactly the kind of showbiz lig I had abandoned political journalism for. Shallow, but I was young.
We turned up the gallery, and there was a lot going on outside. Unusual for a Hackney gallery launch. We got signed in, I walked into the old, converted factory, and saw Kate Bush. And David Bowie.
WTAF.
Then I saw Adam Ant, The Edge and Peter Gabriel.
The exhibition was called Little Pieces from Big Stars and was designed to raise launch funds for War Child. Big stars contributing little pieces of art for auction.
We were in shock. I’m not easily starstruck 30 years later, but then…
And then it dawned on me…my job was to interview everyone. I doubt so many rockstars have ever been in one small room before or since.
Margaret tapped me on the shoulder. “Des. Oh my god.”
I turned, and wandering towards us was Paul McCartney.
Someone grabbed him first, and then I went into full-on work mode. David Bowie was standing amid some computer-generated art, like a degree show student showing his work off.
If I’m the world’s biggest Beatles fan (aren’t we all?), Margaret was the biggest Bowie fan. David called us over, seeing my tape recorder. I introduced myself and Margaret, a Fine Art student herself.
“Nice to meet you, Margaret,” said Bowie. “What do you think?”
“I’m a bit disappointed if I’m honest,” was her honest, but surprising reply.
“Why do you say that?”
And then on she went about how computers would ruin art. Somehow, I managed to get a few quotes out of him while they discussed/argued and left them to it. I looked over every now and again to see Mags and David arguing passionately.
I got quotes from everyone. But I still hadn’t cornered Paul.
Eventually it was my turn. The trouble was, by then, equipped with only one C90 cassette, I’d run out of tape. I didn’t have a notebook for some reason, so I was gathering news in my head.
Paul was all charm, and we yabbered on about his art (a disappointing chunk of wood stuck to the wall) and the worth of War Child. By this time, we knew the three remaining Beatles were going to be working on a history of the band, later known as Anthology. We also knew they were going to rework an old John Lennon demo. But no-one knew which one.
There was no way Macca was going to tell me. But we did discuss it. I don’t remember how it happened – I was either being negligent or fraudulent (the former, I hope, as the lesser of two evils), but I had to phone in my stories to the Mirror newsdesk. And I gave them the name of the song, a major coup.
Consequently, the next day, the Mirror broke the news that the next Beatles’ single, a reworked John Lennon song, was called… Back on My Feet.
We’re all Beatles fans here, so we know what BS that is. For a start, Back on My Feet was a McCartney B-side. And it’s definitely not Free as a Bird.
It’s possible someone on the newsdesk fluffed the story up, or maybe I did. Knowing me as I do, I find it hard to believe I did it deliberately, as I put a lot of store by the truth, now and then.
But there it was – in print. And then I started picking up Beatle-fans chatter – they were incredulous, as well they might be. The shame.
I not only remember the whole evening well, but the Gazette’s photographer, Mark Marchetto, took 2 pictures – one of me and Paul, one of me and Bowie, to go with the local coverage. I look absolutely dreadful in both, but very glad to have them 30 years later. You can see why I shaved my head shortly after.
It wasn’t the last time I’d meet either – I interviewed Macca five times in the end, and I worked with Bowie on a couple of TV projects once at the BBC, but that day was the most special. If you want to know about the exhibition, here’s Andy Gill’s excellent account of the night and the work.
I, of course, had to leave eventually. As we were leaving, Bowie came over. “Margaret!”
We stopped, he held her hand, and thanked her for coming and her discussion. I thought that was a wonderful gesture.
When we got outside, she said, “I’m never coming to another one of these things again.” She was done. Where to go after that? I, of course, had a never-ending pile of them to go to over the next 10 years, so, not surprisingly, we broke up a year or so later. She was a wonderful woman, and might not remember it the same, but in the post break-up analysis, I always saw that night as the beginning of the end.
Back on My Feet. What an idiot.