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this punk band that he had no experience of, and here was an engineer who had worked with the band before, working in his own studio. Subsequently the recordings went down very quickly and our first album was soon finished, plus four or five extra tracks that we put on our second album. I was fascinated by the whole process of recording. Anything was possible if you had the time. Martin helped us to relax in the studio environment. He had a huge repertoire of jokes, as I did, and would be on the phone to his accountant a lot of the time buying and selling shares. He had his fair share of production ideas too and went on to ground-breaking work with The Human League on their album Dare a few years later.

      We’d grown out of Martin’s influence by the time that our third album, Black And White had been delivered, but we did continue to work with Alan Winstanley, who was by then making a fine reputation for himself as a producer in his own right. Alan later teamed up with Clive Langer, from the band Deaf School, and together they produced all of Madness’s hits, and later worked with Morrissey. Their relationship is a similar one to that between Martin Rushent and Alan. Clive Langer is an extremely funny man but is more of a philosopher than Martin ever was. I worked with Clive and Alan on my second solo album, Wolf, whilst I was still in The Stranglers and had great fun working with them. Clive would be discussing his take on life with me at the back of the room while Alan would be working at the desk trying to get some sense out of him. One night Clive spilt a drink over the mixing desk when we were getting drunk in the studio and instead of panicking the three of us collapsed in hysterics.

      Such chemistry between people is the secret ingredient in successful working partnerships and that’s why Clive and Alan still work together. There was also that chemistry between John Burnel, the bass player in The Stranglers, and myself for much of the time I was in the band. He would constantly be coming up with great bass riffs for me to write lyrics to and mould into songs, and I had chord progressions that he could put a lyric to. Unfortunately he wasn’t as inspired to work on my musical ideas as I was on his. Add to that the fact that I had more confidence in my voice than he had in his, and you end up with frustration on my part. Gradually, I was turning more and more of my musical ideas into songs by myself, and it was getting easier all the time. John would disappear to France every summer to see his parents and I would be left to finish my songs alone. When we finished our eighth studio album, Aural Sculpture, I had written half of the songs on it. Laurie Latham was with us in Brussels, producing the record on the suggestion of Muff Winwood, our man at CBS Records. Laurie had delivered Paul Young’s first album for CBS which had been a massive seller. Most people aren’t aware that he produced the classic New Boots And Panties!!! by Ian Dury more or less single-handedly, plus most of Ian’s later work. Laurie and I hit it off immediately. He had a great sense of humour, which was quite dry and similar to mine. Laurie’s great forte is his engineering skill in the studio, which means that he can produce without having to explain his ideas to someone else. This saves time and can be crucial to seeing an idea come to fruition quickly. Laurie has since produced two solo albums for me, HiFi and Guilty, doing a brilliant job on both of them. I can honestly say I’ve never laughed so much making a record as I have done with Laurie. He’s a true recording genius.

      We were due to work with Laurie again on the next Stranglers’ album, Dreamtime. Laurie had stayed on in Brussels with his family after we’d finished Aural Sculpture, and we were due to repeat the process there with him. But when he heard the songs we had available, he told us he thought we were unprepared and that the sessions should be postponed. He was absolutely right, of course. John and I had had a fallout in Italy (more later) and our writing partnership had suffered. From then on it became a struggle to hold it together. We decamped from Brussels and did some more writing. We never did get back together with Laurie, and it would be nearly twelve years later that I next worked with him.

      I’m sure people don’t realize the number of variables involved in making a record. I frequently envy painters the immediacy of their connection to their work. It’s a thought process going from a brain to a hand, then straight on to canvas. It’s simple, precise, and organic. A songwriter writes a song on a guitar. So far, so good. But then it must be recorded. Should it be recorded acoustically with just a guitar and voice, or with something else? What instruments should be used? Who should play these instruments? Where should it be recorded? Who should produce it? Who should engineer it? Should the song be rearranged? Would it sound better in a different key? How many times should the musicians try to record it? Which version is the best one? Once it’s recorded, who is going to mix the levels of the instruments? Which mix sounds the best? Finally, is anybody going to hear it? WHO CARES? It’s such an achievement to make a record that you feel totally drained by the end. And it ceases to be a part of you anymore, the umbilical cord is cut once the recording is finished.

      John’s response to the awkward situation between us was to write more by himself. Consequently, there were far fewer co-written songs on the last two albums, Dreamtime and 10. These albums were made almost entirely with each member of the group contributing alone with the producer and engineer in the studio. Previously, Jet was the only group member who had been keen to be around the sessions for the whole time. Yet, even he started to be absent whilst 10 was being made.

      I left the band for a myriad of different reasons. Since then I’ve noticed a change in my attitude to life. I now try to be more philosophical about things. And a weight does seem to have been lifted from my shoulders. There were too many rules and regulations associated with being a Strangler, and who needs any more of those in life? I’ve played with a lot more musicians since I left and my guitar playing has improved. I’m convinced that The Stranglers with me involved was past its sell-by date. I still believe that. Playing is fun again and I’m enjoying playing the old songs. Being in a band can be great fun but it’s also rather like the army. I started to feel that my contribution was not being appreciated by the others, and that it was being resented – and if I ever feel like that, it’s time to move on. Life is too short to waste time with people who don’t value you and there are an awful lot of people out there. I look back on my Stranglers days as an apprenticeship. I learnt a lot about stage skills, songwriting and the music business in general. But bands are not an ideal forum for a personality to express itself, because the collective personality always comes first.

      I can think of several moments in my last years in the group that were pivotal in persuading me to take the final decision to leave. The first was following the success of ‘Golden Brown’, which in itself was a surprise to us all, coming as it did after a long period of low-charting single releases. We were on tour in France when Hugh Stanley Clarke from EMI came out to meet with us to discuss what should be the follow-up single. It’s imperative to build on any success in the charts and we all agreed with the record company that a second Top Ten single would bring us right back into the public eye. We met with Stanley Clarke before a gig and he revealed that EMI were keen to release the song ‘Tramp’ as the next single. I was quietly very happy with this, as it was a song I had written alone and presented to the band. I knew that Jet liked ‘Tramp’ but he wasn’t saying much. John immediately rejected the idea, saying that the song was too commercial. Within half an hour, he had convinced everyone in the room except me that ‘La Folie’ was the ideal follow-up single. This was a song we had written together. He had sung it in French, having written the lyrics to a musical piece of mine. It was a reference to the madness of love and was the title track of the current album. It was a beautiful song and could possibly have succeeded if sung in English, but in French it was a non-starter. Its subsequent failure to chart high enough (Number 47) put us back a long way. Later on, we did manage to retrieve the situation somewhat. I got everyone to agree to re-record the song ‘Strange Little Girl’ as the next single. It had been one of our original demos when we were looking for a record deal in 1975 and EMI had turned it down. Tony Visconti produced the whole thing for us and did a great job. ‘Strange Little Girl’ charted at Number 7 on release.

      Two further incidents showed me that the others weren’t appreciating my efforts. One happened in Brussels when we were recording the album Feline. Jet and I had stayed very late at the studio one night with our engineer Steve Churchyard to finish a mix of my song ‘Souls’, and we were very pleased with what we’d done. We came to the studio the next day to find the quarter-inch tape of the

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