In the year 2000 at Atlantic Records in NYC I sat on a chair which Andrea Corr had sat on the previous day.
I don’t remember feeling her presence.
by Brian O’Shea
If you would indulge me in a quick break from the tedium, I’d like to tell you all about another project I’m involved with, and to ask for your help.
Rock and Roll Tedium is all about sharing stories. Harkive is much the same thing, but instead of dull encounters with pop stars, I’d like to hear the story of your music listening day on 9th July.
Just like Rock and Roll Tedium, the boring things will actually be the most interesting. If you listen to the radio on your commute, or hear music in a cafe at lunchtime, or sit down and play some records at home in the evening, I want to hear all about it.
You can contribute your story a number of ways, all of which are detailed on the How To Contribute page of the Harkive site.
Best of all, Harkive is also on Tumblr, so you can submit your stories that way. Simply tag your posts #harkive on 9th July and the Harkive robots will do the rest.
I do hope you’ll join in on 9th July, I’d really like to hear your story.
Did you know that there are now nearly 41,000 of you who kindly follow this Rock and Roll Tedium blog? (I will never quite get over how popular this thing has become). If even some of you could help me spread the word about Harkive by reblogging this post, or giving @harkive a mention on Twitter, or just by mentioning it to the next pop star you meet at the supermarket, it could potentially reach a lot of music fans.
…and with that, let’s get straight back to full, uninterrupted coverage of your thunderously dull encounters with pop stars.
I was on a late-night tour around Hackney with some of my cousin’s friends and one of them spotted Alexis Taylor sat 2ft away from us in a local pub. We then had a loud conversation about Hot Chip.
They left shortly after.
I lived in Minneapolis in 1992 when Prince had ditched The Revolution and started playing with The New Power Generation. He had a night club called Glam Slam and he could get from the parking lot up a freight elevator without having to see the masses. It would take him straight up to the VIP room where there was a booth with drapes around it that no one could sit in, if he decided to show up.
I had a friend who was a bartender there. He got me and some of my co workers up into VIP one night when The Purple One was there. One of the women with me went to highschool with him.
After a while I wanted to leave, so I went to tell this woman goodbye. As I got to her side I realized she was talking to Prince! OMG! He had some weird yellow suit on and a lace veil in front of his face, and he was the tiniest little man I had ever seen. I hadn’t seen him at first because the woman I was saying good bye to was totally eclipsing him. I swear he couldn’t have been more than 5’5” and he had 4 inch heeled boots on.
My coworker said, “Prince, this is Amy. Amy, this is Prince.” He looked at me blankly and muttered a barely audible hello. Then he took this woman by the elbow and led her to his booth and just left me standing there.
I was determined not to give an inch of armrest space to whoever sat next to me on the plane.
It turned out to be Rick Astley.
He kept his arms to himself and fell asleep.
by Brian O’Shea
On the week his album Stardom Road was released, I clocked Marc Almond checking stock levels of said CD in HMV on Coventry Street. I was tempted to buy a copy & ask him to sign it, but then I remembered I’d already ordered it online several pounds cheaper.
Then, bugger me, a few days later I found myself standing directly behind him in the queue in WH Smith’s at Gatwick Airport. He was buying some water and some crappy mags, as was I. He might have been on the same flight as me as well, or I may have made that last bit up at the time to beef up a vaguely impressive, at best, story…
by Stu McPoo