Andy H

Every musician has one piece of equipment that everything goes through.

A stomp box.

A compressor that makes everything sound good.

An amp that has one magic setting.

Everything I do goes through a custom handmade unit called Andy H.

You can’t get Andy H’s on the open market anymore. They were made for a very brief period of time in a place in the North-east of England called Blackhall Mill. Like a ‘37 Martin D-18, it was all about a time, a place and a moment.

My Andy H, which is an all-original model, has listened to, vetted, critiqued, commented on or played on everything I’ve written since we started playing together back when we were teenagers. He was the person who encouraged me to release Northumbria back in 2020.

When I say everything goes through Andy, I mean everything.

Snippets, riffs, complete songs, half-baked ideas.

Because.

Because friends do that about everything anyway, whether they’re musicians or not. Whether it’s work, something at home, an idea about this, a plan to do that … it’s perfectly natural to go ‘Hey, what do you think about … '?’

Because everyone has someone who they bounce their ideas, their moves, their lives off.

Because everyone, if they’re lucky, has someone they share stuff with.

Andy is my because.

So with Songs For Separation as finished as I could get it, I sent Andy a link, sat back, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Nothing.

Four weeks later, when I’d decided he’d listened and thought Well, I thought it was good, but obviously not … I got the call.

The conversation went like this:

Alright?

Yeah. You?

Yeah. Canny set of songs, that.

You had a listen?

Yeah. Not necessarily something you’d put on to get a party started, but good. A lot going on …

Thanks.

I mean, you could throw Home For Me on at a dinner party if you’ve made the omelette using psilocybin mushrooms …

Andy and I have known each other since we were thirteen. We’ve been friends through everything that happens in the course of a life: the highs, the lows; the good, the bad; the T-bones from the blindside, the best laid plans of mice and men; the jobs; the moves; the night’s out; the morning’s after; the bombshells; the windfalls; the shots that come off; the ones that don’t … That gives you a certain shorthand. You know each other. You don’t have to sugarcoat it. A pause can say as much as a carefully-crafted sentence. One raised eyebrow can do more than signed depositions. You love each other, but you can’t say it, so you do it by ribbing and teasing and you support by gently deflating.

And we’re from the North, where you’re really polite to people you don’t like and talk to those who mean the most to you using language that would make a sailor blush.

So, let me just get this straight in my head …

Okay.

These are the songs that arrived immediately after Northumbria came out?

Yes.

And you recorded them because you have this idea …

It’s the way Andy says it.

You have this idea.

It’s the decades of friendship in which he’s heard my ideas before … you know, the Andy, I’m going to move to London (even though I really like Edinburgh and have a great job already); the Andy, I’m going to scull the length of the Thames; the Andy, I’m going back to Uni to do a PhD; the Andy, I have this idea for a song …

I have this idea.

… that you should record things as they come out, in sequence?

Yes.

But what about all of the other songs you’ve sent me since Northumbria. You know, the happy ones …

Despite knowing I’m opening myself up to ridicule, I decide to explain.

Well, I’ll get to them …

Good. There’s nothing wrong with an album made up of bangers, you know?

I know, but I just have a feeling that I should record them in sequence, you know? Like they come out for a reason - at a moment in life, to record, to commemorate, to celebrate, to commiserate. Like a painter. I want to work on ideas and areas of interest … You know, my altered tunings period, my songwriter period, my raging bangers period. I’ll do them, stick them away, and maybe one day the girls will be digging through their memory boxes and they’ll realise that Dad wasn’t always some incontinent old codger who got angry about squirrels …

Andy knows me. He knows that I never knowingly use one word where I can use one hundred, and when I do, he raises an eyebrow and gives a laconic response.

Like now.

Pissing you off, are they?

Squirrels? Yeah. You know squirrel-proof bird-feeders?

Yeah?

They aren’t.

Fair enough. I get it. It’s like art, right? Like … I dunno, Peter Blake. Everyone goes ‘Oh. Sergeant Pepper. London. Swinging Sixties. Carnaby Street. But he might say ‘Hold on. That’s a very small part of an overall body of work. I did 20 other album covers that no-one mentions. And what about my work in the 1950’s when I was doing my National Service and attending the Royal College? Or when I moved to the country in the 70’s? Or then moved back to London in the 80’s? It’s still my work, but it’s constantly changing and moving.’

You can know someone for a long time and still learn something new about them. Andy and Peter Blake.

Who knew?

Yeah. Exactly like that. Just keep working, keep working on what’s interesting, see what happens, keep moving …

Yeah. It’s really warm sounding. Rich. But lots of space, lots of air.

There was loads of it about during the recording. Some days there was loads of air about. Loads.

Well, I wasn’t going to put it down to your production abilities. Tape again? Where did you record it?

Same place as Northumbria.

To a click?

No. I did a ghost track, one pass of the song to a metronome, recorded everything to that and then bounced onto that track to wipe it out.

Works. Nice pulse to it. Good pockets. How did Sim get on?

Simeon Moss played drums to some of the songs on Songs For Separation. Andy and I have been friends with him since God was a lad, and he remains the best drummer either of us has ever worked with.

Nailed it. Didn’t give him much direction. It was all about pulses and rhythms, really. After Northumbria the plan was to start moving towards working with a full band again, and getting performances and fingerprints but Covid put the kibosh on that. Can you tell which ones he played on?

Numb, drag roll on Your Lighthouse, hi-hat patterns on Signs and Symbols. You can tell Sim anywhere, if you know him. I’ll tell you what, though. I love that you were getting Signs and Symbols down, you’d done this really organic thing with the Oberheim, and you thought what this needs is a hi-hat pattern. Sim?!?!

I grin.

You know the story about Pete Gabriel and Red Rain on So … ?

I do.

If you don’t know this story, here it is.

Pete Gabriel, former Genesis frontman, is a few solo albums deep (stellar work, btw). He’s recording what will become the album So with Dan Lanois in a barn at Pete’s house down in Somerset. It’s a long process. Pete is a perfectionist, and Dan Lanois is a master of producing atmosphere and vibe. So is also, alongside Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love and Duff Leotard’s Hysteria, an absolute sonic landmark in human beings colliding creatively with machines and machinery. Tech is all over the album, but it’s tech at the service of the musician and the song and the vibe rather than tech as doing the heavy lifting. Listen to those albums today through headphones and prepare to realise how sonically abysmal most of what’s being produced today with drag and drop and everyone using the same cut and paste plug-ins actually is (one of the reasons I did everything by hand).

Okay.

So the story goes that Pete and Dan are listening to playback of Red Rain - which in its sonics, mood, lyrics, etc might just be the eighties in one track. It’s good on playback, but there’s something missing …

What’s missing?

Rumour has it that what they decide is missing is a hi-hat pattern as the track opens … something rhythmic but restless, something hinting at the tension and drama ahead, something that’s just telling you a sonic bomb is about to drop and when it does, nothing else will ever be the same again.

Pete turns to Dan.

Or Dan turns to Pete.

And says …

We need a hi-hat!

We need a hi-hat!?

We need a hi-hat!

Ok. Who’s the best hi-hat player in the world?

It’s Stu Copeland, from The Police, isn’t it?

Well, fly in him!

And so they did.

They had the world’s best players all over the sessions.

They had Manu Katche and Jerry Marotta on tap when it comes to drums and perc.

But Pete and Dan flew Stu Copeland in to play the hi-hat at the start of Red Rain.

Now you might see that as the eighties personified.

Nothing is too big or grand a gesture.

Or you can look at it as craftsmen going ‘Who is best for this part? Who is best for this sound? Who is going to bring what this track needs to this track?’

True story.

Was it in my head when I asked Sim to play on these tracks?

Yes.

Totally.

Music for me has always been collaborative and shared. I didn’t want to play everything on Songs For Separation but COVID meant that it just turned out like that.

And Simeon Moss is the best drummer I’ve ever heard or played with.

By a mile.

You finally plugged back in, I see?

Yeah.

And put everything back in standard tuning. I always said the only thing wrong with Northumbria, apart from the fact I’m not on it, is that none of it is in standard tunings. Nice lead tone on the solo on Signs and Symbols - how did you get that?

Put the amps at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the attic. Turned them all up full, added a step-phaser, got the guitar feeding back, then put the mic at the top of the stairs.

Inventive bugger, aren’t you? Nice sound. Squashy. Fat. About to crap out on you but doesn’t know whether to fart or feedback. Pick?

Fingers. If I play electric with a pick it gets a bit guitar-y.

I’m getting a bit of a Brian May vibe with the whole parts going in and out of each other thing …

Yeah. A little. Also the break on … And Your Bird Can Sing too. I love them, but I’m not into doing the whole Dave and Adrian Iron Maiden lead harmonies thing. If I’ve got one guitar playing something, I want something totally different happening. It’s music. Not pattern recognition.

It’s almost like a synth tone. Almost like a fuzz face.

There’s a step-phase at the front of the signal but the ratio is turned off with the output full up, so you get the filter, but not the steps. You could really just kind of let it sing out and then try and follow the sound. I don’t want to do licks. I never want to play here’s my blues, and here’s my speedy thing, and here’s my open strings trick … it’s got to be music.

Well, keep trying, mate. One day, God willing …

Cheeky bugger.

In the lead break on Numb, there’s a part that comes in on the right speaker. Sounds like Andy Summers having a moment … ?

Amp up full. 1970’s Memoryman delay. Volume pedal. Start playing and slowly open the volume pedal so it builds as you print it. Automation on quarter-inch is hard, so most of what you hear is performance. I wanted it to build up under the lead lines and then overtake it at the end and cascade into the middle eight.

Very nice. Love Sim’s drumming on that middle eight by the way. That’s all around the kit stuff. Like the sound of the heavy chords. Really ratty and nasty.

Amp was crapping out and the harder I hit it, the more it distorted on the tape …

You do have a computer, don’t you?

Yeah, but I think that limitations promote ingenuity and force decisions. That said, it might have been easier if I’d done it all in Logic …

Mate. I’ve known you since we were teenagers. You might have degrees coming out of your arse, but the one thing that I could never accuse you of is logic. I get it, though. It’s about the process and the journey. You need to be inspired. You need your kit to inspire you rather than pushing a button or clicking a trackpad. Like my Strat …

Andy has the sort of Stratocaster that makes guitar players want to find a Stratocaster.

You know that thing? The best Strat you play is one that belongs to someone else - so you go to a shop to buy one for yourself and you play twenty and they all sound like planks strung with mud to the point where you go Nah. I don’t want a Strat … and that lasts as long as it takes for you to go and play your mate’s amazing Strat again?

Andy has that Strat.

The one that makes you want a Strat.

Yeah?

Ok. So, we’re at The Crown in Heaton Moor.

The Crown in Heaton Moor is a great pub. There’s been many a night out in Manchester that didn’t make it into Manchester because we started at The Crown in Heaton Moor.

And Andy has the best Friday night band in Manchester. Period.

Soundcheck. Snap the D string. I never snap strings. Still, there’s a first time for everything. Change it. Stretch it, bend it, play it in. Fine. All good. These things happen. Go on. Play the first set. All is well. Beer is being drunk. People are dancing. People are on tables. It’s warming up nicely. Second to last song of the set - snap the low E. Bugger. Pick up the Schecter.

Andy, like many of us, gigs with a spare - a Schecter. Nice guitar. I’ve always rated them.

Finish the first set. Play the second set with the Schecter. Realise how much guitarists get fooled by GAS and Youtube into lusting after stuff. The romance of Strats and Les Pauls and Gretsch and Vox and Marshall and all of that is all there. But I’ve decided you honestly can’t beat a guitar designed and built by guitarists to play and sound great. Result? The Schecter has been promoted to the number one spot and the Strat is for sale. You need to play stuff that makes you want to play.

Yeah. That. Basically.

After all, when you and I get together, it isn’t going to be ‘Here. Let me try that again through the ‘62 with the Univibe but without the Echoplex this time, and then let’s see what it sounds like on the Blackface.’ It’ll be you with an acoustic you like, me with a guitar I like and a microphone going …

Exactly.

Is that a synth, second verse Signs and Symbols?

No. Every sound you hear is manmade. That thing that sounds like a cross between a pad and a pulse hard right and left is me playing different inversions of the main chords on the beat, with a quarter note delay then going into a step phaser, so you get the initial chord, the initial attack and then a wash of sound pulsing away in time with the groove. 8 step on the left, 16 step on the right. Sounds a bit ambient, but …

Andy laughs. I can hear him shaking his head.

Mate … Only you. Ever since we were kids: just one more thing, just one more thing, what if, what if … ?

He pauses.

How did you do the horns and strings on Your Lighthouse and Capture The Flags if there are no synths on the album, then?

My family’s musical. I wrote out the parts, bribed the ones who played brass and violins with coffee and cake and recorded them around one mic.

Inventive, aren’t you?

I have to be.

Another pause.

Come on then …

Come on what … ?

What were the alternative titles?

What?

I know you. You’re worse than Dickens for finding the right title. The right title being subjective, of course. Let’s have them.

Songs for Separated Parents.

Bleak, but fitting. Next?

Six Short Angry Songs and One Long Piece.

That’s what I’m talking about! If this had been the seventies and we’d been in a prog-rock band that one would have been in with a shout. How did you come up with the name of the album? We called it what it is. Next?

Throw Your Hat In The Ring.

Oblique. Anything else?

There Goes My Friday Night - usually because that’s when I was recording.

On balance, I think you got it right with Songs For Separation. You have too many words, though, you know. Have you thought about a lobotomy?

Yeah. But bass players have already said I can’t be one of them. so there’s no point.

Ha! Speaking of bass … ?

Me too. Detuned acoustic through a pitch shifter.

Inventive little sod, aren’t you? You know what we should do?

Tell me.

Gig it.

What?

You know? Go and play?

All of it?

Well, Numb would be monstrous live. Signs and Symbols is just built to play and frankly if we can’t get through Your Lighthouse without people crying we deserve to give it up. Pack a guitar. I’ll get Sim onboard. Come down to Manchester. We’ll give it a whirl. Band on the Wall would have us.

Okay.

Oh, and next time … ?

Yeah.

Ask me to play on it. You’re alright, but you’re better with me.

Oh.

So what’s next?

Test Pieces.

The solo guitar one?

Yeah. Out in October.

Send me a link. I’ve still got time to save it.

Cheek.

Can I play on it?

It’s an album of solo guitar pieces.

I’ll take that as a yes, then …

©℗ A. I. Jackson

——-

Origin(al) Stories was first launched to show some of the thoughts, decisions and processes that went into the writing, recording and release of the Northumbria album.

Following the launch of The Landing Stage, which brings together some of the things I do, I’ve continued adding to Origin(al) Stories.

Origin(al) Stories has none of the features beloved of self-help and influencers: how-to guides, lists, essential hacks.

Drawn from my personal diaries and journals, the posts might often seem unconnected, elliptical and fragmentary. Showing, as they do, my explorations of ideas and approaches and processes as I do things, they are best viewed as glimpses of my workings.

They show my mistakes, the false trails I’ve followed, and the blind alleys I’ve gone down - all of which are intrinsic parts of finding a path through to doing something.

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