It’s Sunday the 26 August 2001 and my family and I are sitting down for
Sunday roast dinner. My brother has come over from Denmark to visit us and the
table is laid with roast pork and the full works. Fantastic. It’s like
Christmas. The plan for the evening is to go down to The Angler’s Retreat to
hear Elliott and his band. There’s a chance that Mick may turn up as well and
do a couple of things on stage with Elliott as has happened occasionally in the
last year or so and I would also like to introduce my brother to what in my
opinion was one of the best drummers in the world and one of my biggest
childhood heroes.
We have only just sat down for our dinner before the bloody phone goes.
“Dash” I mumble with my mouth full of pork. Kate, my oldest daughter swings her legs down from her chair with a quick “I’ll get it” as if she is expecting an important call.
“Tell them we’re eating, and we’ll ring back later,” I tell her before she disappears around the corner. “We ought to have a policy of not answering the phone when we’re eating. “ I mumble to my wife Sue. She agrees. It’s only reasonable to ask the caller in question to phone back later; I prefer my roast dinner hot. Kate returns very quickly.
“It’s Mick, he wants to speak to you dad. Shall I ask him to ring back later?”
A piece of crackling gets stuck in my throat as I attempt a “No, eh, no, I’ll get that one.” I wipe my mouth off on a serviette and I try to swallow the offending piece of crackling with a mouthful of wine. How many Micks do I know? I can only think of one.
“But dad, you said that…” Kate continues.
“No, no, eh…. Yes I did eh…. but it’s ok, this is different, Kate.”
Blimey, Mick on the phone! Hopefully he’ll be al right for tonight. I have said to him that if he ever needed a lift to The Anglers’ then he could call me. So I pick up the phone.
“Hello.”
“Hi, it’s Mick. Are you going to the Anglers’ tonight?”
That’s a big surprise, now, what does one say to that request?
“Yes”
“Could you give Jan and I a lift?” he asks.
“Sure, what time do you want to be picked up?” I reply.
“Well, I’ll be going to the White Horse for a quick drink with Elliott, so if we could meet there and pick up Jan at our house shortly afterwards, will that be OK?”
“Yes, sounds like a good idea to me. So… how about 7:30 or 8-ish then?”
“That’s fine, we’ll see you there then.”
“See, you later.”
I put the phone down.
“It was Mick,” I say triumphantly as I return to the dinner table. ”We’re picking Mick and Jan up as well.” It’s such a great feeling, but I’m not sure Sue comprehends my excited state of mind.
Sweet were never really taken seriously and considered nothing but a bubblegum come glam-rock band in England, a singles band only. That’s the impression one gets from reading rock encyclopaedias and my English friends confirm that impression of a band that was famous for a while in the early to mid 70s. Some people even smile in disbelief when they see my Sweet record and CD collection, however their smiles and over baring attitude disappears sooner than a rat up the trouser leg when I play Set Me Free at considerable volume. So I see Sweet in a slightly different light of course. Yes, they did record some easily forgettable bubblegum pop singles early on, but they progressed and developed their own style and conquered Europe, Japan and Australia between 1973 and 1976 with their blend of catchy radio friendly commercial glam rock singles and hard rock. Mick was an important part of this success. You don’t have to look hard at any Sweet records to find good examples of Mick’s personal unique drumming style. His technique was awesome and it’s clear that he was probably the most serious musician in the band.
Now, back to the dinner table. This is one of the best roast dinners I have had for a long time and even the carrots and beans slides down easily today. The babysitter is sorted. Ready to rock’n roll.
We arrive at The White Horse. Mick sits alone at one of the tables on the left as you come in but Elliott has already disappeared probably to set up his gear for this evening’s gig. My brother is excited of course and asks a few questions which Mick answers readily. Mick is wearing a black T-shirt underneath his leather jacket, leather trousers, white shoes, his hair is nearly the same as in the good old days but despite it being summer Mick looks rather pale and thin.
Mick is in a good mood so this could turn out to be a memorable evening.
The conversation is about cars. He tells us about a drink driving incident he experienced over 30 years ago, before drink driving was an offence in this country and how he could hardly get out of the car again, let alone remember how he got home. The conversation moves on to his classic Merc with the personalised number plate which appears on that photograph of Sweet lined up next to their luxury cars anno 1977/78 (see Stevie’s book page 197). I’m sure most Sweet fans remember this picture.
Anyway, Mick explains how much work is needed to get it back on the road again, so at the moment it’s left on his front drive protected by a tarpaulin. Mick explains that he hasn’t had the energy to do anything about since he was hit by his illness.
“It will cost me several thousand pounds to make it roadworthy” he explains.
“But, it’s a shame just leaving it there, isn’t it?” asks my brother Jacob.
“I know, but it may not be worth fixing it and I can’t get myself to get rid of it,” he replies.
“Hopefully one day, I’ll do something about it. It was a lovely car.”
After a drink or two we pick Jan up at their house before we set off towards West Drayton. I have by “pure coincidence” put Sweet Fanny Adams in the player, and Sue gives me one of those: Do-we-really-have-to-listen-to-Sweet-all-the-way-to-West-Drayton- looks. But she doesn’t say anything.
We talk a little bit about the drumming on the first couple of tracks such as Set Me Free, Heartbreak Today and No You Don’t. This album has always been my favourite because Sweet were at their peak, young, keen, energetic and at their arrogant best, hungry and desperate to show the world what they were made of before their well published decadent life style, complacency fuelled by alcohol and drugs would come between them, go to their heads and make a difference. This is vintage Sweet the way I love it; fast melodic and extremely well produced rock. Remember, we’re talking 1974!
Andy’s speed-guitar work is out of this world in certain places and never to be bettered again on follow up releases, Brian’s good looks and beautiful voice, Steve’s stage persona screams from the cover, he is doing a great job on bass and a great front man when covering for Brian, the song writing is inspired and take a listen to Mick’s drumming on for example Into The Night and No You Don’t. It’s pure class. Outstanding. I wonder if he had it all thought through and mapped out before hand or whether it came to him in the spur of the moment. I love those drum rolls, forgive me but I lack the technical terms for it.
I tell Mick that I think his drumming is unique and instantly recognisable because of those drum rolls that he puts in and adds a great deal of flavour and depth to the overall piece.
“People keep telling me that” he replies, as if he needs convincing. Maybe he does. It’s easy to lose confidence and we all need a pat on the back at times.
We keep talking Sweet Fanny Adams and Sweet music in general all the way to the Anglers’ Retreat, only intercepted by the odd “go left or right here” to Sue who’s driving.
We arrive at The Angler’s and get ourselves organised around a table next to the dance floor at the very front. Elliott and his band are on. They are great. They play a mix of covers and the odd Sweet hit for good measures.
“Let me introduce a good friend of mine” Elliott begins. “Mick Tucker from Sweet” followed by a round of applause. Everybody is having a good time. Mick says ”I’m not going up to sing tonight” but I’m having none of that. My brother is here!
“Of course you will, Mick” I insist. The rest of the table is firmly behind me in these matters.
Towards the end of the evening Elliott introduces Mick Tucker to the audience again and Mick joins Elliott on stage for Fox On The Run, Ballroom Blitz and The Six Teens. Smashing. They share the vocals between them. This is a real treat for my brother and I because we have never seen the original Sweet on stage. Hopefully Mick will get involved with making music again very soon when he feels a little bit better. That’s what we’re all hoping for. You can tell from his body language that he is enjoying this immensely. (Jacob, my brother took some photos that evening which can be found on www.thesixteens.com, a website that Stewart Roney very kindly put up for Elliott.)
As Mick sits down next to us he complains about something or other that the band got wrong during the Six Teens, which I find unfair as they have never rehearsed the song together before.
“Mick Tucker, ladies and gentleman.” Shouts Elliott for his friend. Mick smiles and gives a little awkward wave in return.
On our way home we start talking about chart music and rock music of today in general.
“There aren’t that many great bands around these days,” says Mick.
I disagree and I mention Stereophonics, Radiohead, Manics and Oasis to name a few quality bands that have made a considerable impact on the music scene in the 90s and going strong in the zeroes.
“Oasis? Noel Gallagher admits he only wrote one song, the rest are Beatles rip offs.” Mick points out.
I take Mick’s point, Oasis have even lost the plot a bit at late, however there are many young bands coming all the time who wants to change the world, just like Sweet did back in 1973. Well, they certainly changed my world.
I think Mick has lost touch with what is happening at the moment, which is easily done. I don’t think he’s interested and who can blame him as he has had enough on his plate to deal with in the last 5-10 years.
“We prefer hard rock,” explains Jan and she mentions bands such as Van Halen and Def Leppard.
Van Halen, an excellent band of course, which reminds me I have promised to make her a tape for her car.
What a fantastic evening. Just like Christmas.
Sometimes Elliott sings at The Oaks in West Hyde, near Denham and one Friday evening, to my surprise, I find Mick sitting at a table with friends whilst Elliott is in full flow. Elliott is about to sing Bat out of Hell by Meat Loaf and Mick shouts back, “ Oh no, I can’t stand Meat Loaf.”
Elliott laughs and introduces the song: “I know Mick hates this one, but I’ll do it anyway.” Mick shrugs his shoulders and says “I’m not going up to sing with him tonight.” But of course, later on as Fox and Blitz is on and we start haggling him to get up there with Elliott, he “reluctantly succumbs to the peer pressure” and joins his friend singing all those old hits from days gone by, enjoying every single minute of it.
Mick is beginning to look a bit better and he claims that he is gaining in weight. I’m sure that he will be back one day feeling well enough to work with Elliott and maybe Frank Torpey. Frank has set up his own studio in his garage and is working with Elliott on some new songs.
The 11 September! The consequences are horrendous. Mick’s point of view is that the Americans should go in there straight away and sort it all out immediately, but I argue for a more careful and well-considered approach. As it turns out the Americans do both. It’s a terrible situation, which can only get worse and cause a lot of suffering for millions of people.
One evening down at The White Horse we start talking about Steve’s recordings, and after a bit of conversation Mick admits that he wouldn’t mind playing on them or some of it, but he’s not so sure that Steve will get around to finish his recordings. I add that it would be a great shame if it doesn’t come off, because the demos I have heard are great. Elliott would like to take part as well, but it’s a difficult situation since Steve is living in Los Angeles and Mick is not fit or feeling quite up to it yet. His drum kit is packed away and he hasn’t played for long time.
I have always had mixed feelings towards the Marquee album; the playing is great but something isn’t quite right. To bring on the strippers is another questionable decision for a band that wants to be considered serious and like to be compared to their peers such as Deep Purple.
“What’s the story Mick?”
“It has absolutely nothing to do with me, I think it was a very bad idea” he insists. “I was playing and suddenly these girls came on, and I just wanted them off the stage but I couldn’t do anything about it. I think it was Andy’s idea.”
There’s a little amusing episode worth mentioning here. Elliott is doing a gig at the White Horse and Mick intents to join him on a couple of songs as usual. Before the evening begins Mick and Elliott starts practising harmonies, however it’s late in the afternoon and many locals are coming in for a quick pint after work and for some peace and quiet, hence Mick and Elliott decides to go to the toilet to enhance their performance and achieve a better and more realistic vocal sound without microphones. As they are standing there practising their harmonies on The Six Teens, the door to the cubicle opens up and a man steps out to wash his hands and says “This is the best visit I have ever had to a public toilet” or words to that effect.
It’s a cold, miserable, rainy, windy evening in October and I’m driving Mick home after a good session with Elliott and chums. We arrive in a dark driveway on this awful autumn evening and in front of us a huge house where only the lights from the windows can beat the autumn dull and darkness. Mick releases his seatbelt and asks,
“Coming in for a glass of wine?”
A request I can’t refuse.
“Come on in then” he says and shuts the car door behind him.
As we walk across the gravel, the wind takes speed and the trees around us bows to the gale. Mick gets his door keys out but Jan must have heard my car coming up the drive and she opens the door for us. A huge German shepherd is nearly knocking me over, as it jumps up at me attempting to give me a wet friendly doggy kiss.
“He likes you,” laughs Jan, though I don’t feel assured. I have a deep respect for huge dogs with big white teeth, let alone a long dripping wet tongue.
“He won’t hurt you” Jan says as if she has read my mind.
“Would you like a drink?” Jan asks whilst calming her over-friendly dog down. “Yes, thank you very much”. I may need one.
Jan hands me a glass of white wine and asks me to sit down in a sofa near the window facing the driveway.
“Just watch your wine,” warns Jan.
“Zeus (the dog with the massive white teeth and “friendly” doggy kisses) will drink it if he gets a chance.”
I look at my glass of wine and then I give Zeus a this-is-my-glass-of-wine-and –you-stay-away-from-it look.
We sit down. It’s nice and warm in here as a few logs are on the fire.
In the hallway, as we came in I noticed a gold disc on the wall.
A few other gold and silver discs are leaning up against the wall. They look like they need a bit of cleaning up, which proves to be true, as they have spent most of the last 20 years on the loft in a big box.
I ask if he ever was offered any jobs with other bands after the split in 1982.
“Yes, I had a few offers, but I declined. It was a very difficult time and I had a young daughter to bring up.”
He pauses.
“Maybe I should have taken one of those jobs.”
I would have liked to know which bands might have asked for his services, but for some reason I wait for him to elaborate on this.
Another pause follows and a vacant expression appears on his face as his thoughts travels back to the early 80s. He sighs and takes a sip from his drink.
“I didn’t put my discs on the wall for the sake of my daughter. I didn’t want her to be reminded of all that. They are all put away in a big box in the loft.”
Above the television I have spotted a wedding photo. I ask if I can have a look. It’s a close up photo of the two of them, she a stunning and beautiful bride, and Mick looks fit and healthy with his shiny long black hair reaching down to his shoulders. Think of the Marquee session and put him in a suit and you’ll get the picture. I remember Elliott saying that Mick once told him that he was nearly crying in church when Jan entered the church on their wedding day; Mick was so overcome by her beauty.
The dog with the big white teeth has identified the transparent object I’m holding in my hand. As he approaches me Jan tells it firmly to lay down which it does and eventually settles down and falls asleep near the open fire. I can have my drink for myself. Outside the autumn wind is still howling, whilst in here it must be at least 28 degrees Celsius. Lovely.
Mick had promised me a pair of his famous drumsticks so I ask politely if he has a pair hanging around somewhere. Jan gets up from the sofa and comes back a few moments later. The drumsticks she’s handing to me have the SWEET logo engraved, the same logo shown on the Marquee album, and a printed Mick Tucker autograph. Mick signs both of them for me. The make is Pro-mark, American Hickory Maxxum 419, in case some one should ask. It means absolutely nothing to me.
“I ordered these for the Australian tour,” says Mick. It dawns on me that drummers go through a few drumsticks per night and reading the important information on the label that warn you to “Check the sticks regularly and discard any broken ones immediately.” I have never really given this much thought. “They are not very expensive,” replies Mick to my next question.
Mick is sitting on the sofa and I’m kneeling on the floor whilst he
signs the sticks: To Henry, best wishes Mick Tucker Oct. 2001.
“Can you show me how you do this twirl, Mick?”
Mick smiles. He patiently demonstrates this skill for me.
“Look, you take the stick and hold it between your index and middle finger.”
Mick does exactly that and starts moving the two above-mentioned fingers up and down in a kind of circular movement. The drumstick is moving up and down in a semi circular way, which creates the visual illusion that the sticks are rotating round his fingers by 360 degrees.
Very clever. I’m having a go but the stick keeps dropping onto the floor. This reminds of that summer evening down at The White Horse, where he showed us the Ballroom Blitz intro. I’m clearly useless at this and I don’t think I’ll take up drumming. However, I’m very grateful for the drumsticks and I’m sure they will look good in a box with a glass lid. Thanks Mick. This is how a warm and cosy evening with Jan and Mick would be like. Fantastic.
Zeus wakes up before I’m leaving. He seems friendly now despite he didn’t get any of my wine.
Jimmy, a friend of mine comes over from Sweden in November and stays with us for a couple of days. We get to visit Jan and Mick of course. Jimmy has the opportunity to ask Mick a few questions. Mick is unwell. Here’s Jimmy’s story:
“I was over in England to
visit my good friend Henry for a couple of days at the end of November. We had
missed out on meeting Mick Tucker down at his favourite hang out, The White
Horse, for some nights, I’d had the opportunity to exchange a couple of words
with him on the phone though, and also spoken with Frank Torpey and Elliott,
and now we’d once again just missed out on him down there. Henry knew where he
lived and become friends with him and his wife over some time. He felt sorry
for me having come all the way from Sweden/Scandinavia so he suggested that we
just took a quick detour on our way back home so that I could just get my CD
signed and perhaps also a quick photo taken together with the legend, The Man
with the Golden Arm.
When Henry rang the bell
to Mick’s house I stood some feet behind him, having heard that Mick perhaps
wasn’t always very keen on people coming around asking for autographs or
whatever. But it was Mick’s wife Janet who opened the door, and before we had a
chance to ask if Mick would perhaps come to the door she’d invited us in.
Mick sat in one of his
armchairs. Like others I’d been told – and also seen some photos on HSH – about
his physical condition, and was perhaps expecting the worst. But he looked ok,
although of course traces from his illness were engraved in his face. He sat in
a grey training suit, bare feet and had a small plaster on one of his toes;
funny how details sometimes strikes you...
He looked a bit tired, but that was mainly due to having been out
partying with Frank Torpey and some others the other night, and also having
been at Frank’s garage (hinting at having made something musically there;
singing or so), which he said was always very cold, earlier that afternoon. We
were treated with a beer each by Janet and, after having been introduced to the
big – but rather harmless – Alsatian dog, and having avoided sitting down on
some stage clothing from the 70s that were placed on the couch, we comfortably
leaned back in the couch. Henry exchanged some ice breaking comments with
Mick, who seemed quiet, and Janet who both seemed to enjoy his company again.
He also received an invitation to Janet’s private birthday party in December.
After a while, all in due
course, I got to ask Mick some questions that I had stored in the back of my
head since my childhood back in the 70s, when I listened to Sweet-music around
the clock almost. Since the subject at first were cars I asked him about the
stock racing cars that Sweet were posing with on posters in the pop magazines
back then. He said that it was just posing, that neither he nor the others had
the habit of driving those cars otherwise.
I then got to ask him about his famous drum duelling with himself during “The Man with the Golden Arm”, how he had managed to do it technically with the two film screens behind him interacting in the solo with such precision. He looked more interested and explained that it was very difficult to do it, and to get it in synch, because during the rehearsals the films most often had the little habit of catching fire when they were heated too much (from going back and forth and trying to get at the right place in the overall picture). This in turn led to that a couple of millimetres of film got lost every time this happened, which hence also led to it being even more difficult to get it completely in synch during the shows. He said that people mostly didn’t notice that but that he himself was very aware of it, and it struck me how much pride he took in his drumming back then, wanting it to be perfect and immaculate, and people not realising how much work there really was behind putting up a good and exciting show. He continued that at the end of the tours there were quite some bits of film missing... I guess he had to film it all over again then, when going out on a new tour, since I didn’t recognise the pieces on the Rainbow-gig as being the exactly same as those that can be heard on the “Live in Denmark ´76”. I do remember bits and pieces of those film-interludes myself when attending a concert back then, the pieces with Mick doing the bits with the timpani/glockenspiel, and also banging the big gong towards the end. I never asked him this though. To my knowledge I never caught any discrepancies in his interacting with himself up on the screens back then, but I was a mere boy back then.
“Actually I think I still got those films out in the garage somewhere”, Mick said after having reflected on this for a couple of seconds.
During the continued conversation I also got to ask him about what his favourite Sweet song would be finally. Perhaps he thought I only knew about the Chinnichap-era, or perhaps it was because he’d given Henry a good lesson in the special drum technique required on that song, but he said that it would perhaps be “Ballroom Blitz” then.
Henry and I didn’t want to stretch it and abuse the hospitality shown to us so after some three quarters of an hour or so we thanked for the visit. When we were to say goodbye I asked Mick if he would consider a photograph, he referred to his clothes and nicely but firmly declined. He was pleased to sign my copy of “Off the Record” though. When taking out the sleeve he watched it thoroughly, and I thought that perhaps he thought it was a bootleg or something so I said that I’d bought it in Sweden and perhaps it wasn’t exactly the same sleeve as in England, but he didn’t seem to think anything like that. He was just curious to it I guess, it perhaps also brought back memories to him about the record, and perhaps to himself he also wondered why I’d chosen that one in particular to get an autograph on.
We shook hands and I thanked him for letting us taking his time, and he said sure no problems. Janet escorted us back out, and in the hall Henry showed me the silver disc that Mick received for “The Ballroom Hits”-CD, hanging on the wall. I watched it and thought that he would be used to having had those by the dozen back in the 70s...
I had the opportunity to meet Mick Tucker only a couple of months before he would sadly pass away. I’m glad I met him since he – and the others in Sweet – had such great impact on my life when I was a kid. I guess he did his very best right up until the very end, keeping the show going as it were. It was very sad only some months later, hearing that he’d passed away due to his illness, an illness that many of us perhaps thought that he was actually recovering from. Thanks for all those moments of joy Mick Tucker.”
-Jimmy.
…BUT FANTASIES DON’T ALWAYS COME TRUE
It’s getting more and more difficult to persuade Mick to come down to the Angler’s Retreat on a Sunday evening. The thought of getting up Monday morning is not appealing after a night on the town and Mick won’t go without Jan. I’m in the same Monday-morning-dilemma and have decided to suffer most Mondays from sleep deprivation.
However, if you turn up at the White Horse during the week you can often meet Mick, Jan, Elliott, Frank Torpey and a host of friends. I try to make the most of it. Mick is having the odd bad day and it’s becoming obviously clear to everybody that he is still not well. Meanwhile, we all hope he’s on the mend and better times are to come. He’s often full of cold, which he can’t shake off and sometimes coughing.
Elliott is recording new material with Frank around this time and Mick is interested in doing some covers of various things. The 3T idea appears, mainly in my head; Tuffin, Tucker and Torpey. Other ideas are bouncing around i.e. ”An evening with Mick Tucker”; where Mick could sing with Elliott’s band, raise some money and awareness for the Anthony Nolan’s Trust. Mick thinks it’s a good idea. I’m trying hard to fix a date but Mick wont commit himself as he doesn’t know whether he’ll be well enough on the day.
Christmas comes and goes as Christmases fortunately do. Jan’s birthday party is held on the 29 December in Moor Park and Elliott’s band is getting ready for the evening before the guests arrives.
“These fucking shoes are killing me”. Mick is in his suit and not 100% comfortable. He works his way round the drum kit.
“Hmmm, these drums aren’t put up right” and he starts rearranging the equipment. He lowers the snare drums so they are absolutely level in order to hit it with maximum power. The band is watching. What now. Will he play? No guests have arrived yet and the band starts Rock’n Roll part 2. Mick can still do it. The technique is all there. However he gets soon tired and have to come off the drum kit.
Mick celebrates New Year’s evening at The White Horse. Mick is dressed up in his Blockbuster Glam rock costume. I was in Denmark and couldn’t participate but Mick sang with Elliott and had a wonderful evening in glam.
I turn up one Friday evening at The White Horse to catch up with everybody. Mick, Elliott, Frank and Ted are all there. Mick is merry, having had a few drinks. I’m buying a round and Mick is on double port and brandy. It turns out to be a very expensive drink/ round and the landlady smiles at me with a “That’s the last time you’ll buy a drink for Mick.”
Little did she know that her prediction should come true?
It’s so good to see him happy like this, however unfortunately he has lost weight and appetite.
“I don’t blame your parents. We use to say that if we’re too loud, then you’re too old.” explains Mick in response to my lament that my parents wouldn’t let me go and see Sweet back in 1975. I have learnt to forgive my parents for their “biggest” mistake in my childhood but I still regret that moment because the kids next door went with their dad and I could easily have fitted in the car.
“I love jewellery”, he claims. He points to the diamonds engraved in his watch, tells me where he bought them, who did the job and how expensive it was. He is obviously very fond of this watch.
“I have just lost an expensive bracelet”. He is concerned about this of course and hasn’t been able to find it yet.
Elliott starts talking about Action and Mick criticises him the way he sings the line “You’re suicidal, cos you was my idol”. Mick begins to sing the offending line and Elliott joins in.
“Why is that line grammatically wrong? It should have been “were” instead of “was”?” I ask.
Mick looks up. “You’re right but we were using street language, slang. We wanted the kids on the street in New Your to identify with this.”
Mick sneers and nearly spits the line out once more, this time with the emphasis on YOU WAS (my idol) with a hard can’t-give-a-shit expression on his face.
Meanwhile the conversation moves on to other things around the table.
“I always liked Scandinavia. Denmark and Sweden were great places to visit and the people over there are so friendly. I always liked the Scandinavian people.” Mick says. I smile. That’s a very nice compliment.
This is in return followed by Elliott’s obligatory piss take of my Danish accent, (the very famous so called English humour strikes again!) but it’s only a bit of friendly banter, that’s all. I really don’t mind. Elliott’s efforts are rewarded with suitable chuckles around the table.
The joke about the lady who goes to the doctor complaining about the size of her breasts follows, and when everybody is finished laughing, coughing, and slapping each other’s backs, Frank Torpey begins a funny tale of days gone by which is succeeded by more applause, choking in beers, coughing, spluttering and back slapping.
“Brian was a terrible driver.” Frank continues.” He once picked me up at Denham Station and we were going down the road nicely but suddenly Brian decides to light a cigarette. He starts looking in his pocket for a fag, under the seat, in the glove compartment, etc. paying absolutely no attention to the cars ahead of him. It was frightening. Another time we went down this narrow dirt track road with no chance of overtaking and with 3 cars behind us. Suddenly Brian stops the car. Just like that. No explanation whatsoever. Brian gets slowly out of the car. “Can you see that house down there across the field between the trees?” Brian asks. Frank confirms this to which Brian adds, “I use to live there.” The cars behind them are beginning to get resentful because they can’t go past him but Brian is oblivious to this. Brian climbs slowly back into car and starts the engine to the sound of beeping horns behind him. It didn’t bother him the slightest that he was keeping everybody waiting.”
Good one, Frank.
It’s time to go and Mick stands up. He is clearly drunk and merry and as he gets up he nearly stumbles.
“Blimey, they ought to sort out the floorboards” he says and we laugh.
He sits nearest the wall on my side of the table so I move my chair to give him room to get out. I embrace him and wish him a happy new year because I haven’t seen him since December. I can feel his shoulder bones through his black leather jacket. He has lost so much weight, I could carry him home easily in my arms if I had to.
He enjoys coming up here at The White Horse and meeting people and never once do we hear him complaining about his illness, but I wished he would eat some more.
Outside it’s raining and Mick is getting a helping hand into Ted’s red Rover only to be taken down the few hundred yards to where he lives. Ted pulls out of the car park and turns right. I wave at the car but Mick looks straight ahead and the car disappears into the night. That’s the last time I see Michael.
Cheryl meets up with Mick on the 31 January. Here’s her story:
“Anne Rathje from Denmark was staying with me for a few days so my daughter Jenna, Anne and myself went along to The White Horse, Chorleywood for a meal and to meet up with Elliott and hopefully Mick if he’s there. We entered, I had a quick look around but couldn’t see Elliott or Mick so we grabbed a table and ordered some food. Suddenly I noticed Elliott and Ted, an old friend of Mick’s, at the bar. They came over and we chatted for a bit. Elliott warned us that Mick was over at another table out of view of where we were but wasn’t too good so we agreed to come over for a while after we had eaten, but wouldn’t stop just in case Mick wasn’t feeling up to chatting and maybe just wanted to have a quiet drink.
We finished our meal so Anne, Jenna and myself made our way over to where Mick and Elliott were sitting and Elliott in his usual friendly manner introduced us to Mick. I immediately bent down and kissed him on the cheek and said hello. I had met Mick a number of times previously but it was Anne’s first time. Admittedly Mick did look pale and more than a little frail even though he was seated but nowhere near as ill as Elliott had been suggesting. I was pleasantly surprised and relieved. Mick was wearing a leather jacket, a white t- shirt, leather trousers with a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. A number of times he complained about a chesty cough, which he couldn’t shake off and seemed to make a point of coughing a number of times and looked a little uneasy about it.
Anne asked Mick about a jacket he wore back in the 70s and how she always loved it with a half moon and star motif on the back. Mick knew the one she meant instantly and promptly tugged at his scarf to loosen it to produce a silver chain he was wearing with the half moon and star symbol on. This was a very nice moment to share, as he seemed pleased that she had mentioned this. It must have meant something special to him for him to be wearing this particular chain.
I asked Mick about his daughter and his eyes lit up and said what a lovely daughter she was. He told me her name was Ayston, which I hadn’t known before. There seemed to be a great love shown by Mick towards his daughter as he spoke of her fondly. Jenna, my daughter was standing beside me and I noticed how Mick seemed to enjoy being in the company of a youngster. Nothing obvious but a feeling I had that he liked kids around him.
Elliott started talking about his new band “The Lost Angels” which brought the conversation around to my internet handle which is “Lost Angel”. Mick told us an interesting story about where the title for this song originated. The band was visiting Los Angeles around 76/77 and during their visit it hit them how so many young kids were just walking the streets, out of their heads on drugs aimlessly wandering around. They appeared like lost kids without a hope hence my favourite track off the “Off The Record” album “Lost Angels”. An interesting fact, which I never knew and personally found very poignant.
We touched on the subject of Andy and the topic of him going back to using the name Sweet, but Mick seemed against this idea totally.
Elliott was chatting about putting together some new tracks along with Mick and Stevie maybe. Mick was quite enthusiastic about this and said as soon as he was feeling a little better he would definitely be up to putting some backing drums on the new stuff.
We stayed for about 20 minutes although Mick seemed genuinely pleased for us to be there I got the feeling that he clearly was not up to much attention so at this point we decided to say our goodbyes. Little did I know that this would be the last time I saw Mick as 14 days later he would be dead. He did look ill but I would never have thought he was that close.
As I said goodbye I bent down, kissed him on his cheek and hugged him. I hugged a little longer than I normally do, I am not sure why, I just felt it was right. I could feel his shoulder bone protruding as I squeezed him.
Little did I know this would be the last time I would see my hero. Maybe it’s best I didn’t know!”
–Cheryl
What follows is a series of tragic events. Friday evening friends of Mick meets him in the White Horse, Saturday he starts complaining with pain and is admitted to Watford General Hospital which refer him to Welling Garden City.
Elliott and Jan spend the next couple of days driving up and down the M1 night and day. Both are emotionally shattered and not getting enough sleep. Monday comes and goes and Mick’s health deteriorates.
“Brian died in February.” Mick says and everybody is really worried.
We all meet at the pub and Elliott tries a brave “Maybe he will pull through, you never know. He was strong”, but his voice lacks real conviction. What can you say? There is a depressed atmosphere in the pub that evening, and we just want to be there for each other. Deep down inside we know….!
Tuesday morning. About noon I receive the dreaded but expected phone call. It’s Ted. The conversation is short and straight to the point. There isn’t much to say. I put the phone down.
Emptiness. A void. Then nothing. I just sit there in front of my PC in our study overlooking our wet winter garden, the bare trees, a pile of branches that I never got round to move away last autumn and the bushes I pruned last summer that looks naked and hideous now without their leaves. Numbed.
I turn the computer on. Someone must break the terrible and to many unexpected bad news. It’s Steve who shortly afterwards puts up a public announcement on ‘Home Sweet Home’ and soon tributes are flooding in from every corner of the world to Stewart’s website. Mick had touched on to so many different peoples’ lives all over the world, and to many fans the news comes as a real shock. Not everybody knew he had been suffering for some years. All my energy has gone and I can barely move. Just complete sadness. Steve explains in a mail that he is equally devastated; he had only just lost his brother a couple of months earlier.
Eventually I go to the kitchen but I’m not hungry. Someone has left the radio on and some stupid young boys sing a bland instant forgettable resent hit. I switch it off and put the kettle on instead. The front door opens and closes with considerable noise and the sound of small footsteps approaches the kitchen. It’s my daughter Kate.
“Hello dad, can you fix my…..are you alright?” she asks with real concern in her voice.
“Me?” I ask stupidly. Who else? There’s nobody else in the bleeding kitchen but her and me.
“Eh, yes I think so.“ I reply.
“What’s the matter then?” She continues.
A short pause follows.
“Do you remember Mick, my drummer friend from the records I showed you, who gave me the drumsticks?”
“Yes” answers Kate.
“Well…..I can’t remember if I told you this, but …..he was very ill and, eh………and this morning…..well, he died.”
“Oh dad, that’s very sad.” she says and hugs me.
There’s a sad and low atmosphere in The White Horse this evening. Jan has lost her husband; Ted and Elliott have lost their best friend. All you can do is sit there and feel ultimately miserable and try to keep your own emotions in check, without knowing what else to do or say, because there is nothing that can be said or done, the clock can’t be turned back, the things you always wanted to say will never be said and Mick will never walk in through that door and sit down with a glass of Chardonnay before telling Elliott how he should sing The Six Teens or Action.
Karen, the landlady and good friend of Jan and Mick over the years, brings several bottles of port, Mick’s favoured drink recently, and several glasses and puts them on the table with a “Help yourself. This is for Mick.” Nice touch Karen.
Elliott decides to dedicate his next gig to Mick which takes place on the Friday and he is joined on stage by Frank Torpey, Ayston Mick’s daughter, a spitting image of Mick and Marc “Axeman” Pearson, guitar player with the Sweet tribute band BC Sweet. Every song this evening is either a Sweet song or one of Mick’s favourites and Elliott dedicates each one to his friend. The final song of the evening is Freebird and to quote Woody: “I for one will never be able to listen to this song again without thinking of that stick twirling master craftsman of the Ludwig’s.”
It was a very emotional evening and to answer some critics of this event, the tribute was conducted in the most tasteful manner.
I’VE ALWAYS BEEN OUTRAGEOUS…
A couple of days later Elliott is on the phone again:
”Stevie is coming over on Thursday and he’s staying with Debs and I. He’s going back on Tuesday, the day after the funeral. Fancy coming with me to Heathrow to pick him up?”
The plane arrives in the middle of the afternoon and I can’t leave my class of thirty kids behind an hour before the bells go in order to pick Steve up. My Head teacher has already been kind enough to give me time off to go to Mick’s funeral.
“We’ll be down the White Horse tonight, so you can join us there” promises Elliott.
“I’ll be there.” I reply.
Stevie in town! Won’t miss it for the world.
I haven’t seen him since the Brian Connolly tribute at The Hard Rock café in London a couple of years ago and even then it wasn’t easy to have a good chat due to everything that went on. In the meantime I have been in regular contact with him via e-mail and exchanged views on almost every Sweet related topic, politics, sport and so on. I find Steve very open, easy going and straight forward. Mick was different. Mick could be very short with people he wasn’t sure of, you knew exactly where you were with him.
You had to get to know Mick, but as soon as he had sussed you out he would be fine with you. With Steve you can relax from the word go because he’s so approachable. Maybe he’s too easy going, too happy to please other people because some people will always be prepared to take advantage of this. I don’t know.
I’m very excited about meeting Steve again; despite the tragic circumstances. I walk into the pub and in the lounge bar down at the left near the ladies toilet, in the corner settee sits Steve in the middle where Mick so often sat with Elliott, Ted, Frank and Jan. I’m thrilled.
“Hi Henry” says Steve before I get a chance to say hello. “Get a round in, will ya’ ” which raises a couple of smiles round the table. There is no shadow of doubt that his visit is greatly appreciated and that he the next couple of days is making life a little bit easier for everybody. I get this round in.
“I’m a rock’n roll has-been” he says modestly and rolls his eyes whilst he chuckles. “But I have no intention of leaving this world yet.”
Practical and very personal issues are discussed during the next couple of hours, but later on Elliott is taking us on a mini pub-crawl in Hillingdon. Steve’s plan is to stay with Elliott Thursday and Friday, to go and see his brother in London on the Saturday, return Sunday to go to the Angler’s where Elliott is playing, attend the funeral on Monday before flying home on the Tuesday.
“I’m taking the tube to visit my brother on Saturday” he explains.
“Do you want to borrow a book or something to read on your way in let me know” someone asks.
“No thanks, I don’t like reading on the train, I prefer to sit on my own and think.” Steve replies.
Steve is emptying his pocket for coins on the bar “I don’t know how much I’ve got here, but it’s my turn to buy a round.“ Plenty, Steve.
I ask about the demos he did 5-6 years ago “They were good, but they are old now so I have lost interest in finishing them”.
“Why didn’t you sing them yourself?”
“Oh, because the songs was written in a key that (I have forgotten his name, H) could do very quickly. I had an operation in my throat so I wasn’t able to do them myself.”
Now, that’s a bit worrying as Steve’s intention is to join Elliott on stage this forthcoming Sunday at the Anglers’ Retreat. Will he be up to the job; can he still cut the mustard? Time will tell.
“Do you ever consider moving back to England?”
“No, I love the place where I live. I have got an American passport now.”
“You once said to me in a mail that you were working on your Thunderbird. Have you fixed it yet?”
“I’m still working on it, and on the other cars in the family that seems to go wrong frequently.” He begins explaining what cars his family owns and how much work is involved keeping his family mobile.
Elliott is also excited. He tells everybody to “Come and say hello to a good friend of mine. This is Steve Priest, my ex father in law, but we’re still friends, ha ha ha ha.”
We’re having a good time and Elliott is showing us around Hillingdon and Uxbridge.
“I’ll come with you,” says Frank to me. “I feel safer in your car.”
I’m having a job on my hands manoeuvring round the back streets at high speed in order to keep up with Elliott and his newly acquired little red rally car.
I have absolutely no idea where we are. We end up in The Crown where Elliott is booked to do a solo gig the very next evening. A new round of drinks appear before us.
Andy pops up in conversation and Steve makes a point of saying “If Andy hadn’t been there, we probably wouldn’t have written so many great songs.”
“What else are you doing at the moment?”
“I’m in the middle of decorating the house, I have so many jobs to do around the house that I’m kept busy” he answers.
“Are you going to any gigs these days?”
“No, I don’t go out that much, however I will go and see The Who when they play in LA next time. I saw their charity concert, the 11 September gig, on TV and they were out of this world. Absolutely fantastic.”
I get my records out of my bag that Mick signed back in the summer, which now seems so long ago. We talk a little about each one and I ask him about the “Cut Above The Rest” cover because I remember Mick mentioning that the original album cover design was carved out in wood and that someone, probably Steve owned it.
“Me? No way” replies Steve. “I hate this cover. Which one is this one anyway?” and he turns the cover over. “Is this the one with the cassette on the front on the American issue? The European cover is hideous.”
In America the cover is different and Steve very clearly doesn’t like this one. “The American cover is much better”. He claims. Personally I quite like the Cut Above The Rest cover. It’s not the best cover but not the worst either. Someone told me at Andy’s gig in Devizes April 2002 that Brian’s face was on the original cover design as well, but had to be removed before the release date. Looking at the cover I find it difficult to see how Brian’s face could fit in between Steve’s and Mick’s. Anyway, that’s the story I’ve been told.
I decline the invitation to go with Elliott, Frank and Steve for a curry take-away afterwards. I have a young family and some favours to return.
Elliott is performing Friday night at The Crown and Steve
Bailey, Cheryl and Woody are joining us. At 12 pm we celebrate Stevie’s birthday.
It turns out that it’s Mick’s old pal Ted’s “birthday too, so there is a good reason
for double celebration and more drinking.
Woody
reports:
“As Elliott was introducing everyone at the Crown I was wondering if
Stevie would remember me, but there was no fear of that. It was great to meet
him again and for me a highlight was joining Elliott for Hellraiser. I kept
thinking "Good grief! I'm doing Hellraiser with Stevie Priest in the audience!
I hope I'm doing O.K.!" It went fine though and Stevie enjoyed it.
The next highlight lasted several hours. Sitting on a barstool chatting with Stevie was a thrill, but of course
we kept returning to the fact that the reason he was here was for Mick's funeral. Steve
spoke very fondly of Mick and when Elliott commented "Mick didn't suffer fools
gladly did he!" Steve raised his eyebrows, burst out laughing and said, "I
thinkthat might be a slight understatement." Much has been made of the drum solos of Mick and it was interesting to learnhow much he valued the bass players' opinion. Stevie would remain nearby,at Mick's behest, to listen to the solo at each performance to give criticalfeedback later on. Steve told me, "He'd be building to a climax and you'dthink 'Ah, he's coming to the end now. And off he'd go again. There was nostopping him.' But he always asked me later what I thought of it."-Woody
The pub stays open much longer than normal, and there’s a special reason for it tonight. I get home eventually to a pitch-black house and fall asleep instantly. More favours to return later.
Sunday 24 of February is a very special night at The Anglers’ Retreat because Steve has promised to get up on stage with Elliott. There’s a big turn out for this event which hasn’t been advertised anywhere to avoid a circus, however the word had gone around. It’s hard to find a place to park the car, let alone getting to the bar and finding a table to sit down. There’s a rumour that Andy may turn up, but unfortunately that proves not to be the case.
However, we are all thrilled to see Steve joining the band on bass for Fox On The Run played nearly faultlessly and then he sings lead vocals on Ballroom Blitz, Action, Hell raiser, Wig Wam Bam and Action. Everybody is out or on their chairs singing, shouting along or on the dance floor for a good knees-up. Harvey from Glitter band is also a special guest.
“The man at the back is ready to crack as he raises his arse to the sky!” sings Stevie. “It’s been a long time since we heard that live” wrote Woody on his website.
This evening ends on an ultimate High and gives us just that little emotional lift we all need before the very difficult day that lies ahead of us. I can’t help thinking that Steve should have joined Mick down here at The Anglers’ last summer when Steve came over from States. Mick was all done up in his leathers, chains and what not waiting for Stevie to turn up, but he didn’t. I wasn’t there that evening, but according to a Usual Suspect or two, Mick looked very disappointed afterwards.
“Steve was my best friend in the band” I remember Mick saying once, “We were in some ways like brothers.”
It’s all water under the bridge now. Mick’s funeral takes place next day.
I didn’t attend Brian’s funeral. I saw Brian live in concert three times but didn’t get to meet him personally and that’s why I felt it would be a little bit out of place turning up, mingling with family and friends and hardcore fans who all had a different relationship with him. I perfectly understand people turning up who had not met him before to pay their last respect, all I’m saying is that it was not the right thing to do for me. I have been in two minds about it ever since. This funeral is obviously different, Mick was of course a key member of The Sweet but not as well known to the public as the blonde lead singer. That’s the nature of being the front man; you get far more exposure and become a public image with all the pros and cons that goes with it.
It’s Monday morning, it’s raining again and I’m suffering from a sore throat and a cold, so if I wasn’t already feeling miserable at the crack of dawn all I had to do was to look out of the window. Well, it’s best to get this one out of the way, to say the last farewell and get on with it.
We meet up at The White Horse for an early drink and we’re more or less all here, that is Steve, Elliott, Liz, a good friend of Mick, Elliott’s biker friends to name just a few. It’s impossible to find a seat and my nose is running constantly. This is a day for staying in under a warm duvet, hibernating until the sun comes out with daffodils, birdsong and B-b-q but here we are, soon on our way to pay our last respect to Mick.
Off we go in a couple of cars to the church and a car park attendant waves us round to a far away corner, far enough away to ensure getting drenched and soaking wet on the way from the car to the church entrance. The wind is strategically directed right in our faces and it’s difficult to get any use out of Liz’s umbrella. A few people have gathered for shelter under an arch not quite sure what to do, but Liz and I are determined to escape the rain and we walk straight into the church. It’s a beautiful little church and even the weather, no matter how hard it tries, can spoil this impression.
Liz and I sit halfway down the aisle on the right, John and Cheryl joins us and sits just behind us next to Stewart and Steve Bailey. Steve and Andy sit up at the front to our left but I can’t see Elliott. It’s very quiet. People are filtering in not sure where to sit. The organ plays a quiet tune that I can’t recall because my thoughts are elsewhere. A brown coffin is carried in and is placed in the middle of the aisle with a flower decoration in the shape of a white dove on top.
The Vicar begins the service. He appears to be a warm and friendly little man. “We are here to remember Michael Thomas Tucker….to celebrate his life….this is the church Jan and Mick got married in about 11 years ago….etc” Snippets of his speech go in but most of it goes straight through one ear and out of the other without any resistance. I find it difficult to pay attention to what is being said, that coffin on our left fills me with sadness and flashbacks of conversation comes back such as:
“I always loved the Scandinavian countries”,
”The Ballroom Blitz intro is easy, watch this“,
”I love jewellery, look at my watch.”
“Elliott, you’re not getting the harmony to The Six Teens right.”
I blow my nose for the umpteenth time before Nicky Chinn walks up to say a few well chosen words with a blend of earnestness and humour. Hymns are sung and a couple of records are being played. At the end of the service “Into the Night” is belted out at considerable power and I begin to wonder if the Vicar actually enjoys this. This is the first time I have actually listened to hard rock in a church and the acoustics in here is so good that it’s obvious that churches are the perfect place for playing rock music.
We are all just sitting there listening to the powerful, imaginative and powerful drumming from Mick and the equally powerful chords of Andy’s.
Into the night
I blow my nose again, my throat is burning but the music is comforting. I just want to sit here with all the friends and family of Mick listening to Sweet for the rest of the day.
Elliott and Debbie sits up there near the front with Jan and her family but I still can’t see them.
And now I’ve lost gotta count
the cost/
I don’t want to go out in the driving rain for the last journey up the road. It’s just too definite, too much and, how can I best describe it, too final. This is it, this was your life, hope you enjoyed it, The End. It’s just one big Fuck off! End of story. It’s hard to get to terms with.
Into the night
Everybody is sitting there right up and down, every single one left with their own memories and stories to tell; each one of us met Mick at different stages in his life and has a different story to tell.
Some people here never met him, but travelled hundreds of miles to pay their last respect.
I couldn’t lose but now it’s
all stopped/
As the sound of Andy’s doubled tracked guitar fades out I hear Brian’s voice in my head “She’s got girls”, the first line from AC/DC the follow up track from Into The Night on Sweet Fanny Adams and I wish it would continue.
Instead the short silence that follows is deafening. The service has come to an end.
The coffin is carried out and the congregation follows slowly behind in two single files out of the church. It’s still raining of course. We walk in procession on the road behind the beautiful horse drawn hearse that brings the traffic to a halt. I try to keep my order of service booklet dry under my jacket but I fail miserably.
We arrive at the graveyard where the coffin is lifted off and again carried a few yards to the grave. Apart from that, all I can see is the dark sky, black coats, wet shoes, puddles and umbrellas. I’m unable to smell anything.
We gather round for the Vicar’s last words. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…..” I don’t listen to a single word that follows. My eyes are on Mick’s coffin which is very gently lifted up and very slowly lowered down into the newly dug hole. I whisper a quiet and sad “Goodbye Mick, thanks for everything.”
Jan turns around and walks away before the Vicar is finished. Alone, at the foot of the grave stands Ayston. Her brave but strong sad face says it all. First her mum when she was a baby and now her dad have gone. She’s only 22. What has she got to fall back upon? Who has she got left? Where will she spend the next Christmas? Who can she phone when she needs a helping hand or support in the future? Who will she celebrate significant family events with in the future, birth, christenings, her own wedding one day? You can’t replace your mum and dad because there simply isn’t a substitute. It’s so sad to think about. Unfortunately one or two hard-core Sweet fans push their way past family and friends right up to the edge to say their own farewells.
The procession of umbrellas dissolves slowly and moves quicker than we arrived back towards the main road. Liz and I walk with Elliott and Steve. We enter Elliott’s car, I’m sitting in the passenger’s seat right behind Steve who is absolutely drenched as he didn’t bring an umbrella along. He must have lived away from this island for too long and forgotten about the British winter rain and his longish hair is dripping with English rainwater down on my lap.
We arrive at the wake. The majority of the congregation is here hunting for parking spaces. I’m cold and miserable. Andy greets Steve.
“Hey Steve, blimey you have put on a bit.” says Andy.
“Bollocks” replies Steve “Where’s the bar?”
I get to speak to Ian Gibbons, keyboard player from the Kinks, a band I have enjoyed listening to for many years and I have always gone out of my way to catch up on them and Ray Davies, though they haven’t played together for nearly 10 years now. I have a chance to talk about some of those wonderful albums such as “Give the people what they want” and “Word of Mouth”. However, we are here for Mick.
A buffet type of lunch is laid out and I pinch a cheese sandwich and a small amount of crisp washing it down with a pint of ale.
Elliott asks if I would like to go for a drink in the evening with him and Steve as Steve is flying home the next day. I can’t commit myself.
The rest of the afternoon is pretty uneventful. I leave about 3 o’clock and I’m still cold and miserable and basically feeling shit. I want a hot bath, I want my cold to go away and I want to go to bed and forget about everything. I ring Elliott and tell him that I’m not up to it tonight, and I wish Steve a safe journey home.
It has been a real good laugh having Steve here, he has cheered us up no end and I just wish he lived much closer. Steve is witty, knowledgeable and a nice chap, but it was a pity that he came over under such sad circumstances.
Mick relived his glorious past by talking to us gullible fans about his life as a rock star down at The White Horse and by singing occasionally with Elliott at The Anglers’ Retreat, and I among others were there eating out of his hand like baby birds being spoon fed by an overprotective mother. I admit that. Guilty. Mick took us all back to the mid 70s when Sweet was fab; Spice Girls were in nappies and Oasis a watering hole in the desert. Mick was a rock star right till the very end. He did all he could to live up to that image, in fact it was his life. It may be hard for outsiders to understand, but being Mick Tucker in Sweet was what he was all about.
“I have my reputation to live up to when I walk down the High Street in Gerrards Cross” I remember him saying once, referring to his hairstyle and the way he dressed. I’m sure he was serious and I’m unfortunately also sure that very few shoppers on the High Street took much notice, but it gives us a snapshot of how he perceived himself, some may say fooled himself. But if you once have reached the heights of fame, been no 1 in most countries in Europe and on the Top 20 in the States, played for more than 30000 people and had everything one can ask for, the humble way back down to earth again can be both long and agonisingly painful.
Brian died in February 1997 and now Mick is gone; the foundation, the genesis of Sweet is gone. I have always wondered how much Mick and Brian saw each other since they both lived in the vicinity of each other, Mick in Chorleywood and Brian in the Denham, Beaconsfield, Gerrard’s Cross area.
I asked Ian Moore, Brian’s roadie, about this as he knew both of them very well.
“Mick and Brian were very close. In fact Mick, Brian and Steve were very close but with Steve living in the States made it a bit difficult, but Brian and Mick met each other regularly. There were no bad feelings between them, despite the fall out in 1979,” he adds. “They only stopped seeing each other later on which was brought upon them by ill health.”
Meanwhile there doesn’t seem to be much contact between the 3 on one side and Andy on the other, apart from the occasional business call.
Mick could not get over the split with Andy in the early 90s and was very bitter about this. However there are always two sides to a coin and in fact I remember Jan saying once “Mick never spoke about this at home.”
Andy has complained in past interviews that Mick would stay up all night after the gigs and that Mick’s performance was suffering accordingly. Mick believed that Andy wanted full control over the band, but whatever happened, let alone his illness, it prevented Mick from doing what he always wanted to do, and that was to be the drummer in Sweet.
”When friends fall out, it’s not the end of the world” sang Andy defensively on his album “A” but for Mick it pretty much was. Being a rock star was his life. He still is a Star and that’s how I will remember him.
Thanks to Jimmy, Woody and Cheryl for their
contributions.
Another thanks to Cheryl for proof-reading and
correcting me when my memory failed me. A special thank you to Jan for “letting
me in” and to Elliott for introducing me to Mick Tucker in the first place. And
finally, thank you Mick for introducing me to the wonderful world of rock and
sweet music back in 1974.
Henry, February 2003.
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