Oddly enough, today, Wednesday, the 7th of June, the sky above Rome is cloudy. I raise my head as I walk the brief stretch of street that separates my office from the hotel where XTC are staying. Even though it's only a kilometer's distance, I can't help but continually glance at my watch with the fear of being late, while in my head, in honor of the meteorological conditions, the chorus of "You and the Clouds Will Still Be Beautiful" chimes insistently.
It's amazing just how many thoughts can flow through one's head in ten minutes. One of these random thoughts regards an old friend, a music journalist who I haven't seen for quite a few years, who declared to me that it was impossible to meet his Myths. It was a purely emotional fact, not one having anything to do with opportunity. Before he became wise with age (well, in a way), he collected Elvis Costello's discs in a manner just short of maniacal, but he swore that he would never want to meet him. We never really spoke too deeply about the issue, but the concept has remained firmly planted in my mind. At least until I happened to meet and speak with Robert De Niro on a number of occasions, non of which had attacked even slightly the unlimited admiration I have for him. Actually, the opposite is true. I knew already for a few weeks that I would have the chance to meet XTC and to show them my documentary short, but I wasn't really truly aware of this fact. To the few people I happened to mention it to, I never was too serious about it. I told everyone, "I'll believe it when I see it." With my friend Ale, generous host of the encounter, I was equally diplomatic: a rapid phone call everyday, from three days before onwards, only to reassure myself that I hadn't invented everything. Only that Ale is in better shape than I am. When I speak to him for the last time, the day before the encounter, I simply ask him the confirm the place and hour of the appointment, begging him to meet me outside, rather than in the hotel.
This is why I'm so nervous. If I get there late, it's up to me to go directly into the hotel and maybe even find myself alone with Andy and Colin. If no one introduces us, I think to myself, I wouldn't have the guts to do it on my own. But, I arrive five minutes early. The last thought, just before taking a dive into the most XTCiting experience of my life, is for the logistic coincidence, the latest of many. Yesterday "The Convention", my short film dedicated to XTC, was presented at the Arcipelago Festival. The date of projection was established several weeks ago by the festival's organizers. On the same day, a few hours later, XTC arrived at Rome and today I can spend some time with them, even showing them the documentary short. They're not staying in a hotel in the historical center of town, as all the other cinema and music stars do, but at the quarter of Parioli. A jump and a skip from my office. If there's a God, he must like XTC.
* * *
Let's take a step back in order to explain why I find myself here, at 11:25 in the morning of Wednesday, 7 June, 2000, on the threshold of the hotel where XTC are staying. My friend Ale Sordi, with whom I share nearly twenty years of admiration for the men from Swindon, has been given the task of realizing a video interview of them for Kataweb, where he works. Up until a few days ago, Riccardo Bertoncelli was to do the interview, but he had to give forfeit for various personal reasons, and in the editor's office they couldn't find anyone more competent in material than Ale. Two months ago, when I showed him the film I had just finished (and in which he had kindly made an appearance as "guest star"), he exclaimed, "God! We have to find a way to show it to XTC." We certainly couldn't have imagined, neither he nor I, that a few weeks later, that which had initially seemed like a complicated operation, not to say a crazy one, was being transformed into child's play. It happened this way: XTC will come to Italy to promote "Wasp Star" and Ale came up with the means to take advantage of it to the max: a "special" for Kataweb, a chat, a video interview, and for the occasion, my film on the net. The label is enthusiastic about the program, and more than ready to put XTC in the hands of Ale for an entire day. And here's where I come in: "Let me come with you, I'll be teeny tiny, like a cricket on your shoulder." How could he refuse?
* * *
Tuesday, 6 June, at 19:00, the film "The Convention" was projected at the Achipelago Festival. The hall is filled to the brim (mostly friends and relatives). Laughter. Applause. It seems to be a success. But will THEY like it?
Wednesday, 7 June, 11:28. Someone I recognize is coming towards me. It's Sandro, who I haven't seen in years. We haven't yet spoken, but we understand the reason behind each other's presence. Sandro is an excellent guitarist, has been a student of Robert Fripp for many years. A few years ago, together with his group, he recorded a truly exceptional "Knuckle Down". Ale has invited him to join in on this adventure as well. And he has an advantage, he has already met Colin Moulding, years before in the backstage of Royal Albert Hall, during a concert by King Crimson. He hasn't got time to tell me about it, because seconds later we are met by Ale. We enter the hotel. All three of us are overwhelmed with emotion.
Two representatives from the Press Office await us in the hall. We introduce ourselves. They tell us that XTC got there the evening before, at midnight, and the only request that they made was to have some cornflakes. They also tell us that they have gone out to take a little walk. It dawns on me that if I wasn't here, most likely I'd be doing the same, and in that case, just who would I bump into around the corner from my office? The minutes pass and someone decides to ask if they haven't maybe checked back in. In fact, they have. They were in their rooms, but now they're coming downstairs. Oops, there they are. Before me are Mr. Andy Partridge and Mr. Colin Moulding, XTC. For once I can say, "I can't believe my eyes! My favorite pop musicians!"
They seem in excellent form. Tranquil, smiling, friendly. My attention is focused upon Colin Moulding and his attire: an English suit complete with a waistcoat. A true country gentleman. Andy, instead is wearing a striped suit in a very informal manner, with the shirttails that stick out of the trousers. He's wringing a beret in his hands that he will don only during the interview. Pragmatic introductions ("I'm Alberto, "Hi, I'm Andy", "Hi, I'm Colin", I think I'm going crazy) and then we arrange for the taxis. For a second I think of sticking copies of the CDs I've brought with me for the autographs under their noses. That way, if upon leaving the hotel, a shingle should fall upon my head and I end up in the hospital, at least I'd have some souvenir of my having met XTC. I manage to resist the temptation, but when we leave the building, I can't help but look up, in the direction of the shingles. Clouds, only clouds. Most of all, I don't remember the Sun.
Our destination is the house of a co-worker of Ale's, complete with garden: they tell me it's the ideal location for a video interview. Sandro and I get into the cameramen's car, XTC in a taxi, and Ale and his co-worker hop into another one. The taxi's have been given instructions to follow us. In that case, the car I'm seated in is being followed by XTC. Today anything is possible. We arrive at Katia's house, and wait in the courtyard entranceway. Andy and Colin enter the house while we wait outside for the other taxi to come. When the enormous dog that Katia owns enters the apartment, a cameraman exclaims in dialect, "If that dog bites XTC's asses, we're up shit's creek!" Sandro and I look at one another and burst out laughing. Of all the sentences that we could ever imagine hearing in our lifetimes, this was indeed the most unlikely.
Finally, everyone's here. We make ourselves comfortable in the garden, underneath a gazebo where the interview will be held. They sky is growing ever darker. Ballet for a Rainy Day/1,000 Umbrellas. I can't say a damned word. I blubber out something or other only when Ale explains to Andy and Colin who I am and what I'm doing there. It's at this point that they look at me and I say to them, referring to the film short, "I hope to show it later". The talk moves to cinema. Andy asks information about an old Italian film that he saw on television but can't remember the title of. I tell him. He's thinking about "The Temptations of Doctor Antonio", an episode from Federico Fellini's "Boccaccio '70. At this point, Andy raises the stakes and talks about another Italian film, more or less from the same period (the 60's), in which two spouses never meet, since one works days and the other nights. We all look at one another with perplexed expressions. Our cinema buff expertise (well, mine at any rate) has been put to the test.
The interview takes off and it soars. Ale is great, doesn't miss a blow and XTC reply generously to every question. Andy is brilliant, as usual, every now and then he makes one of his trademark clever statements. Colin intervenes once in a while, without being intimidated by his loquacious colleague. They are two distinct entities, but they are XTC, a real band, Hallelujah!
If you'd like to see the interview, you can see and hear it on the site of Kataweb. You will also find my short. In conclusion, Andy launches into a lengthy dissertation about Crowded House, of which I can grasp nothing. Then, everyone to lunch.
Katia has set table in the garden, and in the meantime, it's stopped raining. At the table we speak of everything but music. Fear of flying, the food on Alitalia and in Italy and naturally, of food, food, and again food. Once in a while, I pour Colin some wine. He is seated next to me. I can't believe it. At the moment of coffee, Colin makes a request for tea, but I notice that he seems a little worried. No problem, Katia's mother is Scottish and she serves it to perfection. I observe him while he pours the milk, sniffs the teapot, verifies the infusion. I imagine that he does next to nothing else in life, in his cottage in Swindon, except for once a year when he decides to compose a song. Boarded Up.
While I'm taking the last bite into my sour cherry pie - (no one here succeeded in finding the English word for this fruit) - Andy exclaims, "Can we see the short now?" (Really, he always calls it a "film", reason for which I feel strong embarrassment). Colin glances at me and asks, "Should Steven Spielberg start worrying?" I reply with the only remark of the day that I remember with pride, "You're the ones who should start worrying."
* * *
We are seated in a living room. Colin takes a place on the sofa, Andy stays on his feet, affirming to have been seated all day. I stay on my feet, too, for the sake of good manners. There's a little technical problem, then the images run. I excuse myself for my poor English, but I'll try to translate as best I can. The truth is that I'd been preparing for days on end, in my head, for this eventuality. Everything goes smoothly, they laugh in the right places. I get confused only when, in the short, I'm explaining the thumb's positions on the guitar in the intro to "Dear God", but Andy understood perfectly. Everyone has a good time. It's a success. When at the end titles, the card with the dedication "To Andrea" (Andrew in Italian) runs, I explain to Andy that a few months ago I had a son who I wanted to name after him (it's not entirely true, but I like to sometimes think so). Andy replies that my companion has a good sense of humor.
Once again we move outside, to the place where the interview was held. The cameramen are preparing the video cameras for some supplementary footage. Just us and the cockoos. I take advantage of this moment and yank out the discs that I'd brought along. Only three, I don't want to exaggerate. I give Colin the copy of "Too Many Cooks in the Kitchen". He writes: "You are a Good Man,
Albert Brown" and then signs it. Andy takes the record and then tells me that one of the names of the musicians that was written on the cover is wrong. I authorize him to correct it, while the quotation of the single, somewhat rare, hits the sky. For Andy's autograph, I have a copy of "The Lure of Salvage". Andy explains to me that the artwork on the cover are re-elaborations of photos of Jayne Mansfield. Overcome by an artistic raptus, he begins to draw an unlikely dress on one of the figures. He's not Picasso, but it's more than fine with me. Ale is biting his lip, he didn't have the courage to bring anything and now he's visibly repentant. Dulcis in fundo, the vinyl copy of "Apple Venus vol. 1" I have autographed by both. Here there's quite a bit of available space, but Colin simply does a personal dedication. Andy, instead, is uncontainable: He draws an enormous pair of angel wings behind his shoulders and then does a funny pages type vignette: "I want to see Albert's film together with all of my friends." OK shingles, go ahead and fall now.
We are practically at the goodbyes and I notice that no one here has a photograph camera on them. I didn't bring one on purpose, I was too afraid of looking like the cretin fan. Instead I become the ridiculous fan, when I ask the cameramen to shoot me together with Andy and Colin, in the hopes of digging a frame out of it. Luckily, XTC lend themselves to the game even better: they put me between them, they embrace me and we make some silly poses. Fan-tastic, to say the least.
We bid each other farewell. "Thanks guys". "Thanks to you!". To me??????
In the afternoon, I would have liked to have come with XTC for the chat on Kataweb, but (professional) duty called. I left the office, made a visit to Ale's and I see they are still there, ready to leave, actually. In response to the perplexed look of Colin, I answer that my office is located nearby (liar, liar!) and that I just dropped by to say 'hallo'.
"Hallo," Colin says back to me. Oh my God, are they making fun of me? Only now, at this moment when I am writing this, do I remember that the right word is 'Goodbye'. I notice that Ale got them to autograph the promotional panel of Apple Venus vol. 1 that he's got in his office. Fan-cy that.
When XTC leave, I notice that the computer's monitor shows Dave Gregory's web page. Before I myself leave, I turn towards him and whisper: "Thank you, and …Good Night".
XTC
on Kataweb (search XTC)
The page dedicated to XTC is very ample. On it you can:
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read the article by Riccardo
Bertoncelli
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listen to "Stupidly Happy" and "I'm the man who murdered
love"
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see the
interview with Andy Partridge and Colin Moulding
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see "The Convention" by Alberto M. Castagna
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news
