Ex-chief feature writer for NME and freelance rock journalist Leona Cash went missing for two years following a mysterious "incident" during an interview with American singer Ricky Tuesday. As she prepares to reveal all about her absence in her forthcoming book "Bulletproof Muse" (soon to be serialised on this site), Windypops has coaxed her out of retirement to pen a series of exclusive reviews and interviews. Here, in the first, she talks to Sir James Garland, publisher and editor-in-chief of Windypops.
As everyone who hasn't had their head in a barrel for the last 50 years knows, Jimmy Garland was the bass player for '60s stars "Harlequin Grin". Since they split at the height of their fame in 1969 he has gained a "Sir", a publishing empire, stacks of money and a prominent paunch.
I met him in the library of his country house. It's your typical oak-panelled pile but in fact Garland had the entire thing built to his specifications in the 80s. Sir James (as he prefers to be addressed, despite never actually having been awarded a knighthood) is dressed in tweed and playing the bumbling country squire thing to the hilt. He appears to be already pretty pissed when I arrive, but that may well be an act too; he's a bit of a sharp operator (Dagenham factory worker to rock superstar to publishing tycoon, the bio says it all). Looks-wise think Peter Cook in his last years, only fatter. Jimmy Garland was devilishly attractive, but Sir James...lets just say the legendary lifestyle has taken its inevitable toll.
LC: The first time I heard your name was when Paul McCartney told me the anecdote concerning you and Tina Turner on the ski slope. Can it really be true?
SJG: Well you know how these things get exaggerated. Far be it from me to disillusion you youngsters, but it was a quite simple accident. She didn't even know the children were downslope from us, and when nature calls...
LC: How did the band break up?
SJG: If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times - I WILL NOT COMMENT ON THAT. Strictly between you and me, darling, Benny-Ben wasn't quite the sex god he made out. It was more a case of "jobs for the boys" if you get my drift. When those interfering buggers from Rock Magick got wind of it...well it was only a matter of time. Things were different in those days.
LC: How desperate were you for attention?
SJG: Eh? I don't like the tone of your voice, young lady! Desperate for attention? Do you know how many records we sold? Twenty times more than your pissing "Coldplay". And we were proper musicians in those days...That's rather a fetching dress if you don't mind me saying. Can I get you another whisky?
LC: How did you break into publishing?
SJG: It was a natural progression. After Benny-Ben topped himself I was at a bit of a loose end. It seemed only right to use some of my royalties to buy out Rock Magick, and sack all of them. Call me sentimental if you like. Then I found myself with this perfectly good paper and the opportunity to put forward proper music, with proper reviews. Of course, it didn't take me long to realise that that would have been commercial...er...suicide (pardon the pun, ha!). And I've scarcely looked back since. After all, one doesn't stay young and lovely for ever. But I imagine you're already discovering that. Cigar?
LC: Is there a philosophy behind Windypops?
SJG: Oh honestly, you weary me with these banal questions. I would have expected better from you. Just put something like "Fun Tunes for Fun People!". I suppose one must play the game, but don't you find it all gets a bit much sometimes? Eh? You're always welcome to spend a few nights in Garland Towers if you need somewhere to relax...What? Not now, Tasmin, this lady and I are discussing important matters! Get your pretty behind back upstairs and don't interrupt your elders...Sorry Leona, forgive an old fool his little foibles and have another drink. She's a dear girl really, but she's only a girl...Now what else was it you wanted to know? I am, after all, at your service. Try one of these olives, they're imported specially from Sicily you know. Totally organic, harvested by organic peasants one presumes. Ha!
LC: What does the future hold?
SJG: Unimaginable horrors as the human race breeds out of control and the foolish politicians cling blindly to their illusion of power...Oh yes, I see what you mean, my sweet. A new pop sensation for the new generation. Quote me on that. Do you mind me putting my hand there?
LC: How's Sandy?
SJG: Eh? Eh? What do you know about Sandy? How did you get that name? I think you'd better leave. I think you'd better leave right now. Wilkins! See the lady out! Goodbye, dear girl, hope you enjoy writing for the paper and all that, but it's really time you went...
WINDYPOPS SAYS: But who is Sandy?