WHEN Andrew Weatherall is playing at your local boozer on a Sunday night, it’s probably a good idea to cancel your plans for Monday morning. Either that, or just avoid getting falling down drunk. Unfortunately, last night I did neither.
Weatherall – sitting on a leather armchair underneath a picture of a moose in the corner of Electrik – played some really fantastic music on his single deck, from a rock’n’roll version of Tainted Love and a steel band version of Gary Numan’s Cars to stone-cold punk funk classics by the Clash and the Slits. People danced. It was a lot of fun.
Some of us had a bit too much fun and by the time I spoke to the man himself after he’d DJed .. well, I wasn’t really at my best. It’s just as well I got the interview on film because I can’t actually remember any of it.
I’d like to to say that the interesting and unique framing of my subject throughout parts of the interview was intentional. But it wasn’t. At least one of us was talking sense.
Many thanks and massive apologies to Weatherall for being kind enough to put up with my confused, rambling non-questions and ramshackle filming ‘techniques’. He is a gentleman and a scholar.
I will get better at this stuff one day and I probably won’t drink so much next time. Most likely.
See also: 1993 Weatherall interview