From 1975 to 1981, Andrew played bass in the Rumour, one of the greatest rock 'n' roll bands of its era - or any other era. The Rumour are, of course, best known for their work with Graham Parker. Between 1976 and 1980, Parker and the Rumour recorded five great studio albums and toured extensively, earning a well-deserved reputation as one of the most dynamic and exciting acts in rock 'n' roll. The Rumour were not merely Graham Parker's backing band, however, but a great recording and performing unit in their own right. During the course of their career, they recorded three outstanding albums of their own: Max (1977), Frogs, Sprouts, Clogs and Krauts (1979) and Purity of Essence (1980).

Andrew Bodnar contributed in no small measure to the musical dynamism of the Rumour. As half of the Rumour's rhythm section with drummer Steve Goulding, Andrew handled funky soul grooves, skanking reggae rhythms and flat-out rock 'n' roll with equal skill and style.

In addition to his work with the Rumour, Andrew has also lent his bass-playing skills to numerous other records, including such classics as "Watching the Detectives" by Elvis Costello, "I Love the Sound of Breaking Glass" by Nick Lowe, "Thin Line Between Love and Hate" by the Pretenders and Escape Artist by Garland Jeffreys.

Recently, Andrew made his debut as a solo artist with the release of a five-song EP entitled Obsessed. It may have taken him awhile to get around to making a solo record, but it was well worth the wait as the results are very impressive. The EP includes excellent covers of Graham Parker's "Obsessed With Aretha" and Holland / Dozier / Holland's "You Keep Me Hanging On" as well as three Bodnar originals. "A Big Blue Sky" is a bluesy number that features harmonica, slide guitar and synthesized horns. "A Man's Man" is the poppiest of the originals, combining a catchy melody with distorted slide guitar sounds. Best of all perhaps is "She Sang to Him," a beautiful, introspective ballad with elegant piano. All in all, an outstanding effort.

The following interview was conducted via e-mail late last year and early this year.

Geoff Cabin: Where and when were you born?

Andrew Bodnar: Newington Butts, South London, on 23rd September 1954, around 5.30am.

As the youngest by a long chalk, my older brother and sister were buying records as far back as I can recall, so I heard whatever was going. Even in the late fifties, London was still drab from the post-war period - there were bombsites all over the place - and Teddy-boys, bikers, and girls in nylon blouses. The kind of "Elvis" rock & roll that I’ve never liked was mixed up with skiffle, folk-clubs and 50s crooners. It was a bit grim, bikers apart, though others might disagree!

But it turned out to be one of the most exciting times to grow up in. When the Sixties began, you could sense everything was about to explode with change, I guess the first sign was when Dusty left The Springfields to go solo - their folksier fans were devastated! Time flew past Beatniks, Mods & Rockers. There was Soul and Bluebeat (Wilson Pickett, Prince Buster and his friends at Ann Fisher’s house), The Stones, The Animals, artists and types smoking Gitanes, who listened to Francoise Hardy while discussing issues...

Well, you couldn’t help but soak it all up! Things got serious. I began to spend my pocket money on pop singles. Our Italian neighbours loved my singing!

I was about ten when Stateside Records began putting out stuff by the Supremes and Four Tops. I’d never heard anything like it - thick, well defined, throbbing rhythm - cor blimey mate! - and with early reggae looming…if that’s what it was about, then I really had to be involved, though I was too young and excited to have worked out what was making those hunky wedges of deep sound that seduced me so!

In 1967, mum and dad thoughtfully found me a battered acoustic guitar to play with; that made way for an electric, and finally in 1970, I stopped messing around and got myself a bass. The minute I plugged in my £20 Futurama, I knew I’d found what forced people to dance and feel sexy - the sound of that sound - the power in that sound. No chords, and you stand next to the drums...yes please, just my size!

Around that time, I overheard Yoko Ono warbling "Who Can See The Wind?" on the flip-side of a Plastic Ono Band single, so with the revelation that anything’s possible, me and my school-friends began "experimenting" with music and forming various groups, looking for drummers who had their own kit - you know! I also started taking free double-bass lessons at school, as you would. What an instrument - Danny Thompson, I take my hat off whenever I hear you!

I’d already met Steve Goulding (yeah, he had his own kit!) and he and I weaved our way through several outfits until we left school and got jobs. For a couple of years, we became the rhythm section of a sort of "social function" band; I don’t remember the name. We played Wedding Receptions and Firemen’s Balls around South London, and learned the valuable skill of busking (bluffing?!). All the while, we’d answer "rhythm-section-wanted" adverts in the back of Melody Maker, auditioning as much as possible if only to gain experience and meet other musicians.

Eventually, a nucleus of players formed and we started to gig in pubs or at jam sessions - this outfit began life as The Skyrockets, thankfully re-named Bontemps Roulez as it evolved into a Pop/Cajun/Soul-sounding thing.

Well, Bontemps was fast approaching the end of its days (this would have been early 1975), as was Pub Rock...

Independently of the band, Steve and me had become part-time tape-ops and house rhythm section at the Hope & Anchor studio, situated above the pub of the same name, up in Islington. Fred Grainger and Dave Robinson (who had lately managed Brinsley Schwarz) were in charge, and live bands played down in the cellar. It was great to record with established singers and writers like Frankie Miller and of course, Declan McManus, who was on the loose after the demise of his pub-rock band, Flip City.

Because of the disintegration of the pub-scene, there were always musicians hanging out, putting together this song or that project, playing with whoever could lend a hand, and that was basically how Steve and I met Brinsley, Martin and Bob, and how the Rumour formed, with some gentle nudging from Dave Robinson. We got to know each other through the summer of 1975, and, with kind support from Sue and Reg, who ran the Newlands Tavern in South London, we were able to jam and rehearse there until we sounded good, and then Brinsley christened us, after the song by The Band...

I recall it was good fun to make, and one afternoon I beat Brinsley at table tennis, which took the wind out of his sails!

Max gave us the opportunity to record some of the material we’d rehearsed in the Newlands days (e.g. "Jet Plane," "This Town," "I’m Gonna Make You Love Me," and "Do Nothing Till You Hear From Me," which was a minor hit in England!). Also, we had Mutt Lange as producer, whose methods included working the band until they couldn’t bear it any longer - pain before gain, you could say - it was great, and socially we all got on pretty well too!

The horns were a natural addition, given the Stax-type arrangements, and you can hear Mutt’s white-boy-soul influence on Bob’s vocals here, as easily as you can with Graham’s on Heat Treatment, which he’d produced a few months before. He was also a bass-player, (still is, I suppose!) and I found his enthusiasm for the instrument very inspiring.

I remember with fondness, balmy summer evenings sat around the farmhouse kitchen, deep in the rolling hills of Monmouthshire, and we’d discuss the day’s work with Mutt, who for an unspoken reason, always sat at the head of the dinner table….

I’d say the band was reaching its peak by then (1978, also the year of Squeezing Out Sparks), and I think this album is the most complete of the bunch in "conceptual" terms, even down to the cover which I think was designed by Barney Bubbles. Whoever did it, it’s a good one! And I still like it - Brinsley singing "Tired of Waiting" and "Euro", and Bob’s sequence of "We Believe/New Age/All Fall Down" always throws up images.

Hard to explain why it sounds new-waveish, except Bob was heavily into an exotic synth of that era, called an "Oberheim," and was writing songs to match the mood. The album was self-produced, and we’d crammed in so many tours that everybody was brimming with everything they’d seen and experienced! Something like that!

For me, this one has a spirit of its own - Graham’s magical liner-notes sum up the band and its times perfectly - you only have to dream of the autobahn in winter with Boney M singing "Rasputin" on the car-radio.

Nothing too mysterious there! Bob had written these two songs, very much in his style, so it seemed logical (!) for the rest of us to record as his backing band with him producing and arranging. Stiff was releasing lots of one-off singles and this ended up being one of them...

Well, this came about in 1980 and you can tell by looking at the cover of either version that the Rumour was now a four-man outfit. Because of that, we were obliged to record the album twice, so it could be released on both sides of the Atlantic. If I recall rightly, there were contractual difficulties with Arista in the US, who stipulated that Brinsley, Martin and Bob must record on the album if it were to be released there (Stephen and Andrew were optional!).

Stiff, while accepting the band as a four-piece, would only release in the UK. Luckily for us (though perhaps not for him!) we met Joe Boyd, who signed us up to his own Hannibal Records. Thus, we recorded the second version of Purity... at Island Studios in Basing Street, with John Wood as engineer and co-producer. I wish the circumstances had been a little different - both John and Joe had very strong ties with Fairport Convention and Sandy Denny - I loved Fairport’s Liege and Leif - even more so Sandy’s North Star Grassman and the Ravens, but we were hastily recording an album in a tense situation, and it wasn’t the time to delve…

At least the re-recording enabled us to substitute an "unusual" song I’d written called "Pyramids" that had been included on the first version, with a decent composition called "Depression" by Glen Tilbrook, which Squeeze didn’t want to use. They said we could have it!

Late 1980, and I got a phone-call from Garland, whom I hadn’t met before, saying how he’d been listening to Steve and me on Graham Parker’s recordings. We were just what he was looking for, and would we fly out to New York to record on his new album Escape Artist? The other musicians would be three of the E Street Band, guitarist G.E. Smith from Hall & Oates, Earl Lindo, lately of The Wailers and various other luminaries…

We accepted! It was a wild and wacky three weeks, and in the middle of recording Steve and G.E. flew off to the West Coast to play in David Bowie’s band on Johnny Carson, while I stayed in New York, playing in bath-houses…

After completion, Garland was back in touch and asked if the whole band (such as it was!) would like to back him on his Spring ‘81 tour of Europe and the U.S., which would include TV stuff etc. We’d play the first half of the show as the Rumour, which meant we could promote ourselves and Purity of Essence. Given that our musical partnership with Graham was pretty much over, it seemed like a really good idea!

The tour started well enough, with good humour, but weirdness began to happen and from that point, different people will tell you what for them is the truth… Some of it is extraordinary, but conveniently, my own truth is that I left the entourage after we played Paris, and flew back to a clinic to have my head de-fragmented. You’ll understand then, that this isn’t a question I can fully answer! You’d think I was making it up…

I suppose there was no single reason, but really we had nowhere else to go. When The Up Escalator was recorded, Bob was no longer in the band, and that late, lovely man, Nicky Hopkins, was playing keyboards for us. We did various shows which I can’t remember, and although we didn’t know it at the time, ended our career as Graham Parker & The Rumour in Essen, Germany at what I’m pleased to say was a brilliant gig, supporting The Police and, happily, broadcast live across Europe on TV! It was a great one to finish with, and the commercially unavailable video proves it!

Life trundled on and we did various gigs and festivals as The Rumour, but by mutual agreement, we were no longer playing with Graham. Later in 1981, the Garland Experience was finished - after we came offstage at the last gig in San Francisco, Stephen calmly said "I think we should split...". Poor Alan Frey, our US manager, was really upset and kept asking Steve to think about it, and that we could carry on. Actually, the rest of us knew Steve had vocalised what had been obvious for some months. So it wasn’t a case of persuading him otherwise - we already agreed, reluctantly or not. But it was a sad time for us because we’d been such a good band for a while back there…

No, I can’t say I have. Graham’s Acid Bubblegum was the last thing I’ve done for anyone else. It was late in 1996 that I began to get the recording gear and instruments together, and so the last couple of years have been pretty much given over to writing (or thinking about it!) and learning how to wear different hats for different purposes. As it happens, a fab slide-guitar player called Noel Brown (early Bontemps Roulez, and the man who introduced Graham to Dave Robinson in 1975) was talking a few weeks back about a project he’s got going right now, but there’s only so much time in the day, and I need to concentrate on my own stuff. For the first time since 1975, I’m in a situation where I can do that, so I’m using the opportunity while it’s there.

To answer the question directly, I go back to early 1996! Although a new GP album was on the cards late in ‘95, I’d not heard much, and had assumed that Graham was concentrating on his book, which he’d been working very hard to complete. It so happened that, while I was going through a state of intense lost-love melancholy and its knock-on effects - the black pit etc. - the phone rang to say would I like to go over to Woodstock NY to do Acid Bubblegum? I said yes, then no, because I was all out of confidence and I didn’t want to let Graham down. Anyway, the outcome, with the help of GP’s rock-like friendship was that I did go, and had a completely wonderful time on all counts. It was exactly what I needed.

Afterwards, I went over to Ireland for a week’s holiday, now also aware that the technology (i.e. digital recorders) finally existed which would allow me to do what I’d dreamed of when I was fifteen, listening to ‘Late November’, watching the sea.

Much revitalised, I came home, read a few mags, and with my recent wages, got myself a Roland 880, a Strat’ copy and a microphone. Since then, I’ve been reading the manual, programming the drums and discovering that to get all the notes on a harmonica, you have to suck as well as blow (yeah, it is unforgivable!).

Initially, I spent several months trawling the shops, looking for the right synth/drum machine/recorder etc. Being a little boy, I was very excited when everything was all set up and switched on, so I began recording bits and pieces to get used to the 8-track (which, as an analogue-baby, still fills me with wonder!).

I had no particular ideas for how or where to begin, or who I might call first when I got stuck with a guitar part. I’d just finished writing "A Man’s Man," a kind of gay "California Girls" - sleazy, yet whimsical! I ploughed in with that, and the simple and obvious framework for recording this sort of number (i.e. three-minute type tune) became clearer - basic drum program, followed by the chords on guitar or keyboard, add a guide vocal, then believe me, the song tells you what to do next and when you’re getting it wrong!

My reasons for taking a one-man-band approach are many and varied! All I can do is pass a few by you…

Over 20 years playing for other people - and it’s nearly always good fun - but a man has to do etc., and if you want a thing done…

Anyway, I get uptight making endless cups of tea for people and asking if there’s anything they need, are they alright? Musicians who aren’t being paid usually arrive late and flustered, feeling guilty. I know. Soothe, soothe, darling… two hours later, all I’m after is this really easy guitar riff, but they can’t get their head ‘round it - you get so impatient and you want to snatch the stupid guitar from them and scream… !

Of course, I’m joking!

But in the end, I’m doing it for much the same practical reasons that GP often tours on his own these days - it’s not perfect, but it’s cheap, less hassle - and any stress is largely self-inflicted! Also, I greatly enjoy persevering until I get the desired result - I never did mind Mutt driving us so hard!

In a beautiful, parallel world, I have a band. We have an excellent understanding between us, and apart from the odd phrase, they play what they want because that’s what works - but until I get back there, this will do fine…

Yes, I started work on these a few months ago. The first will be a blistering (I have no fear!) club-oriented track, which I’m writing in collaboration with premier dance-master, Greg Lovelock. What a man indeed! This is to be followed by a grand and spacious bluesy number, inspired by something I heard from Annie Lennox…

Progress has slowed up recently, due to Christmas (!) and, pleasingly for me, because of the general interest being shown in Obsessed. You’ll be aware that I "press" the copies and mail them out myself, and it’s been a heady experience to communicate with those lovely people who’ve contacted me by e-mail! It’s great to know you’re there, and gives me an added momentum to get these tracks in the bag.

I ought to be back on the case in a few weeks, so I’m looking forward to completing and releasing the new CD, realistically in the summer, by the time I get the mixes, covers and all that together. Be sure, I’ll keep you posted!

I’ve had a heart-warming response to Obsessed, so can I wind this one up with many thanks to GP’s web-masters Johannes and John, for letting people know about it, and to Geoff, for kindly asking me to speak here…

Reproduced with kind permission from Geoff Cabin.

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