Roll out the Barrel…

I’m back at home in Somerset, it is English Summertime… and its raining. That two months we spent touring the USA seem as far away as the warm sunshine of L.A that I left behind four weeks ago. So I’ve got time to reflect on the stories of that tour and the adventures we had. This is the story of one special day from my diary………….

fade in…

I’m sitting gazing out at perfect woods, glades, picturesque little houses and  rolling hills on a perfect Tennessee spring day. Its still surprisingly chilly. Us English people think anywhere south of New York in the USA is gonna be Florida sunbaked warm… but no matter, I just picked up a second tray of delicious barbecued food from the generous kitchens because the pork was too good. Even Mj is tucking in to an admittedly pork free veggy version. They are serving home made lemonade. Everyone is relaxed in the soft afternoon sun.

Life on the road feels really good today.

Richard Archer from Hard-Fi , his guitarist Ross and the rest of his genial crew are similarly engaged, all laughing and joking, taking in the view. We’re all sitting on the terrace of a huge open wooden Chalet ..we could be in Disneyland waiting to introduce the kids to the mouse one if it wasn’t for the fact that the birdsong is repeatedly ripped apart by someone playing a note perfect Hendrix riff with that confidence that all American guitar techs have.

Our Guitar tech whose his first name “Phil” is the same as our tour manager had already got used to us saying “oh yes he’s called Phil as well”, which after the first days of this USA tour got shortened to the individual moniker “Aswell” . Everyone on Rock tours needs a single name callsign, makes things work. Actually in my Generation X days common named persons would always get digital increments to clearly identify them, such as a series of girlfriends known with absolute clarity as Debbie 1, Debbie 2 and Debbie 3. Ahh whatever happened to Debbie 4? Married an Estate Agent I heard and left the Life. Thats what you get for dating a drummer.

Ok and the other clue to our woodland hideaway is a huge sign that kinda gives the game away. It says quite honestly “Jack Daniels Distillary”.

Six months before we were sitting at London’s Dockland O2 center with our manager Clive Banks. I wasn’t feeling particularly great because although The O2 center is a great purpose built venue it’s just …..soulless. Its like playing a gig in a shopping Mall. When I first went there I was thinking, well OK this at least is a proper venue, good sound system, nice dressing rooms, proper stage and lighting but when you step back it seems like here is a Rock mall designed to take every last Pound/Dollar off the hapless punter from overpriced identikit restaurants (You almost can’t hear the bands from dinging of Microwave cookers) to the expensive car park…its like Brandland – at a serious cost. Maybe I’m being too harsh? I wonder if people really like going there… Anyway Clive with typical understated humor looked at us all serious and said “I’ve got a bit of a difficult gig request here and wanted to see If you wanted to do it as I’m not  sure its something you might be interested in… Its a Gig at the Jack Daniels factory. Er …..

Now I’ve been a lifelong devotee of this particular beverage, knowing from and early impressionable age here was the elixir of Rock and Roll..I guess it was all those photos of Keith Richards clutching the distinctive bottle.. yes the Jack, well it just  WORKS if you’re a guitarist in a Rock and Roll band. I must have sipped a few at every show I’ve ever played during the last 30 years. A glass of Jack before you go on and you’re ready. I always used to drink it with Coke in the “Jack and coke” days but this has dangers. How many times have I staggered into a hotel lobby trying to wipe something off my cheek and realising it was the floor? crawled across the carpet, sobbing never again. Once in a northern England hotel I was trying to call an ambulance but was unable to reach the telephone as the only part of my body still conscious was my forehead but someone was stabbing that with the spear of Satan laughing as he sprinkled my stomach lining and lower intestines over the bathroom floor. I love this drink. All of life’s pleasurable pursuits come with a payment for over pleasure usage. As you get older you learn moderation, experience brings learning. I now drink it with ice, or just with water. Moderation, sometimes. There’s still nothing like cracking a fresh bottle and watching the amber liquid rattle into a clean glass. Only took me 30 years to learn this. Today I was to find out why this keeps a killer hangover at bay.

But back at the O2 center it took me 2 heartbeats to say “yes call them now and say yes.. please Clive” and to quickly scan the room for a blunt instrument to put inside a sock so as I could bludgen Mj should he show any signs of doubt. I needed the sock – we were just about to go on stage and bloodied fresh bruises would just not do.

Even better the gig would involve a tour of the factory a “tasting” (are they kidding?) and a performance with, of all the groups they could have picked, Hard-Fi.

The gig was also on April 12th – my birthday.

The day proper started with a talk by the ‘Master Brewer’. There have only been 7 master brewers in the lifetime of Jack (lets just call it Jack from now on shall we, with a capital ‘J’..actually there are only 3  Jacks I’m interested in, Jack White, Jack Daniels and Jack Bauer from 24…but I digress…all right and the movie ‘One Eyed Jacks’). The master brewer explained how the whiskey is made in fine detail from the spring water to the home grown corn they grow locally to making and smoking the barrels themselves. They own thousands of acres around the factory and make sure nothing on the land can pollute the water table because the factory is sited at the opening of an underground stream and it’s this pure water which is still used to this day as the basis of the drink…

We all sat there in raptured silence, Mj and I in the front seats watching the 6 little tasting glasses placed tantalisingly in front of each of us. One of the most enlightening things I found out was that when you mix it with Coke the sugar in the coke reacts to cause the hangover effect! Why had no one at school told us this along with the facts of life? He told all these stories in a jovial but evangelical way from someone truly touched by the hand of Jack. Finally we were supposed to sip a taste then clear our paletes with water. I noticed out of the corner of my eye Mj had already drained the first taster glass, tongue cleaning the little tumbler to show room condition again so I followed suit. We both knew why.

We had spent the night before in Nashville. We’d done the Nashville thing, walked the Broadway in the afternoon dropping in to several bars and seeing authentic Country boys playing great Country music and finishing the late evening drunk and having the most superb side of Ribs in the classic strip takeaway called  Jacks Ribs Barbecue…(shit, OK 5 Jacks I like now!) You eat a side of Ribs, fried beans, corn and coleslaw out of a polestyrene container that tasted as good as any celebrity chef meal I’ve ever eaten. I’m telling you all this because everyone we met on hearing that we were going to Tennesee told us the enigma of the “Dry State phenomena” – Irony of Ironies – The Jack Daniels Distilliary is in a state where you CANNOT BUY DRINK. No I am not kidding. So everyone said, we wouldn’t be able to drink alcohol there. You cannot walk into a bar and buy a drink. I kept thinking they were having us gullible Brits on, but again at breakfast today  we met another man who told us the same thing. We were going to the factory where they make the stuff but we wouldn’t be able to drink it!

Hence draining the sample glasses like condemned men – could be the last Jack (well apart from the 3 million gallons stored just up the hill ) that we would see all day. oh yes and someone also explained something I did not know – that a mule is a donkey crossed with a horse and they cannot reproduce! Can’t get pissed in Tennessee and Mules don’t have kids. Enlightenment day.

The tasting continued explaining the difference between the Jack brands from Gentleman Jack to the regular. We made sure we fully tasted each just to make sure we were clear on these essential differences.

We finally left the Master Distillers Jack tasting room already feeling a little ..unstable, but hey, its a dry state. Out into the sun before the actual factory “Tour”. Would we like a little drink before we set off. A man was dispensing from a giant magnum of Jack. Sensing we were about to be “punked” we decided on two large ones before spending the night in the Cells. Things were looking pretty good already.

We then set off on the factory tour. Now if Disney could have designed and built a more fairytale “factory’ from the amazing corn Vats to the barrelling plant I’d like to see it.  They even had Mr Jack Daniels original office, still intact with the original safe in the corner. The story has it that one day the dimuntive Mr Daniels (he was just over 5 feet tall- thats a scale model of him in the opening picture…), not being able to open his safe had kicked it in frustration – gangreen ensued, but he was too embarassed to tell anyone, and eventually they had to remove his leg, then more. That simple safe kick eventually killed the Master Brewer number one, inventor of Jack Daniels whiskey. But not before had passed on the secret which lives today in Brewer number 7.

True story.

Finally we were ushered into the ultimate inner sanctum. You could purchase your own barrel….. brewed especially for you. A name plate added to the wall of Jack celebrity and your own barrel shipped to your home anywhere in the world. The nameplates filled the walls glinting as my eyes glazed over as I realized here in this room  was the heaven I had searched for. Penelope finally managed to drag me out, my fingernails scarring the floor forever. Well at least I had left my mark.

Next I found myself sound checking. All around me in the evening light  men in Jack Livery were silently setting up stalls at the gig….. with hundreds of bottles of ……..Jack. Hell, better get a drink in before I wake up from this dream.

The wooden Chalet had been turned into the nightime venue for what was called the “Jack Daniels Legendary Mash”. Well I was feeling pretty mashed already so was perfectly in the spirit to play a great show. The form was that we Carbon/Silicon would play a short set followed by a short set from Hard-Fi and then in the tradition the two bands would play some songs together. Tonight for the special occasion we would have both drummers, both bass players, guitarists and MJ, Me and Richard perform “Why do men Fight” “Stars of CCTV” the old BAD song E=MC2 and finally MJ would step up for a massed rendition of “Should I stay or should I go?”.

Oh did I mention the whole event was played in front of 200 journalists from 50 countries and live webcast to all those countries.

No extra pressure at all for a man now fully testing those Tennesee “Dry State” laws to the limit.

Somewhere in the haze of our set I remember MJ telling the audience that it was my birthday.. and to mark this special occasion he had bought me a..you guessed it? A whole Barrel of Jack Daniels to be shipped home to Somerset,  with my name on the wall of barrel fame!! Thats 250 bottles in one of those barrels – a lifetime supply. What did they say in Scarface? “don’t get high on your own supply?” I intend to…

Sometimes Micks generosity astounds me.

He then lead the whole audience in a rousing chorus “Happy Birthday Tj”. Quite surreal seeing an NME journo singing along with all the others and I was given a barrel lid to be going on with. We both hugged on 33 years of friendship.

The rest of the night?

I have no idea.