The Key To The Trap Door

So it is now complete. My very first feature length documentary film “The Key To The Trap Door-From The Medway To The Mersey” follows Kent’s finest pop band, The Lovedays, from rehearsals, interviews and photo sessions in The Medway Towns through to their triumphant return to Liverpool’s Cavern Club on May 30th 2010.

The Lovedays had played at the International Pop Overthrow Festival the previous year where, according to eye witnesses, “they tore the place apart”. I wasn’t there in 2009 and alas, aside from a few You Tube clips and the magnificent photography of Medway Eyes artist Phil Dillon, there is little in the way of hard evidence that this tumultuous event ever happened.

O.K I’m being a little playful here but it did occur to me there should have been a film. So when I heard that the band had been invited to return this year I suggested to Lovedays Head Honcho Ben Jones that he get several fans to film the gig on compact cameras, mobile phones or whatever, get the sound recording from the mixing desk, give it all to me and I’ll edit a 10 minute “highlights” for You Tube perhaps. “Actually”, said Ben, “we were thinking of asking you to come along and film it anyway”. I didn’t need to be asked twice. “I could make it into a documentary” I said without really thinking it through.”Wicked idea!” said Ben.

And that was that. I’d fallen through the trap door. No way out. I’d committed myself making a full length documentary. Which is a bit of a bugger considering I hadn’t the foggiest idea what I was doing. My disclaimer to the band was this:

“You WILL have a film but I can’t guarantee that it will be any good.”

Filming began in early April with a photo shoot in Rochester and continued with rehearsal sessions and interviews over the following weeks whenever I had my camera handy. I shot sound checks, gigs and off guarded moments. There were happy accidents and moments of serendipity along the way. I came across some old cine film I had shot in Liverpool in 1983-a grey,crumbling, depressing place then (as pointed out by Paul Moss in the film)-and I found the Cavern Brick (complete with the Royal Life verification plaque) that I bought for a fiver (all proceeds went to charidee, mate) all those years ago. These small touches fit nicely in the film.

I thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience and wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I hope the film serves as a small reminder to whoever watches and enjoys it-including The Lovedays themselves-that this is what pop music is all about. If you have forgotten what a pop group is, watch this film. Great songs, great performances, joyous, life affirming and brilliantly executed. But is the FILM any good? That’s up to the viewer but one thing is for sure-it captures a moment and I think that is all that matters. And the gig? Well, they tore the place apart, of course.

I know because I was there.

Glenn Prangnell 25th June 2010

Steve Cooper

This Website Is Dedicated To The Memory Of Steve Cooper.

The following was originally written as a blog entry for the Groovy Uncle My Space in August 2007:

Long, long ago when dinosaurs roamed the earth, I left school and got a job working for the local council. It was while employed there that I met Steve Cooper. I was 16 and Steve must have been about 29. I had seen him hanging around local second hand record stores and collectors fares so he was clearly a music fan. I heard through the grapevine at work that he played guitar and had been in a band and, though we were only really on nodding terms at that point I decided to ask him. “You play guitar dont you? Will you teach me?” I asked. “Yeah, alright” he answered, barely looking at me.

We became friends. Steve scored a lot of firsts. The first person I ever knew who played guitar. The first person not to smirk when I said I had written some songs. The first person to encourage me to join a band. “But I only know three chords” I’d say. “That’s all you need” he’d say. “But I only play rhythm”. “That’s all John Lennon did!” Steve was very much of the “three chords and the truth” school of music, thankfully! The first song he ever taught me to play was Elvis Presley’s “Love Me”. He introduced me to a lot of cool music too. Anything and everything from Django Rheinhardt to The Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band and all points in between. We jammed a lot and I learned a tremendous amount from him. Steve was a shy man who often would play with his back to the audience. He could do all the showman tricks-playing guitar behind his back or with his “teeth”, all the Hendrix-style moves-yet he hated showing off.

Eventually I did form that band and Steve was there at the front of the crowd (actually it was probably at the back!) at our first gig heckling at the end of each number. “Average!” I could hear him shouting among the applause and cheering. That was Steve all over and every gig he came to thereafter, at some point during the course of the gig I would hear that heckle. “Average!” Steve even sat in on drums(he started out as a drummer) at a couple of Offbeats gigs at a festival in Ghent, Belgium in 1986. One rehearsal and he was spot on-this was kids stuff for Mr Cooper!

The last conversation I had with Steve was on the telephone late in 2003. He was a bit downcast I thought but what got to me the most was he started to talk as though I was the boss-”how do you write all those songs?”….”how do you remember all those chords?” ..all that kind of thing. My mentor seemed to be looking up to me and I really wasn’t happy about it. “It’s been ages-let’s go out for a beer” I suggested. “Nah” he said (for an old rocker Steve wasn’t a great drinker) “Well I’ll pop round then, yeah?” “O.K” he replied.

I never saw him again.

Early in 2004 I received the news that Steve had taken his own life. I needed a very stiff drink so I went into my studio and poured myself a large whiskey. But it wasn’t enough. It was too quiet. So I switched on the radio to hear-and I swear this is true-”Love Me” by Elvis. That’s when the tears came. The man who had taught me everything, the best guitarist I have ever been in the same room with, was gone. He was still only in his early 50′s.

Don’t remember much about the funeral apart from it being a hot and sunny day and someone’s bloody mobile phone going off during the service. I really wanted to call out “It’s for you, Steve”. That’s the sort of thing that would have made him laugh. Very soon afterwards I found myself writing a song for him and I knew I wanted to keep it an upbeat song-it’s only sad if you listen to the lyrics closely-that you can dance to. Well…if you like a bit of Dad Dancing that is! The song is called “Now Your Pain Is Over (And Mine Has Just Begun) and you can hear it in full on this site.

I hope you like it and, if there is an afterlife, I’ll be chuffed to think that Steve is in the room right now shouting “Average!”