Damon Albarn Read online

  Damon was a school year older then Graham but that made no difference as they quickly became best friends. The Coxon house ran on to the back of the school playing fields and during many lunchtimes the pair would come home, steam up to Graham’s tiny bedroom which had a cheap drum kit levered into it and listen to music, surrounded by posters of The Jam on every wall (indeed, The Jam’s B-side ‘Aunties & Uncles’ was the first song Graham learned to play on his guitar). Other times, they would stay in the music block during the break and play through songbooks given to them by Mr Hildreth, which were full of classic pieces by songwriters such as Simon & Garfunkel and Lennon & McCartney. When they weren’t playing music, they would watch Mike Leigh’s Meantime or Quadrophenia, yearning to be Phil Daniels or Jimmy the Mod. Lucy Stimson, a class-mate of Graham’s, recalls his other obsession: “He was always going around school talking about Keith Moon of The Who, it was Moon this and Moon that, on and on. He even had a Who video and watched it all the time. He was so into Moon and, of course, this helped his enthusiasm for drumming.”

  Graham was also studying for ‘O’ level music, but was markedly less extrovert than Damon, as Hildreth recalls: “Graham was always much quieter. He was always very dedicated and quite serious. Whereas Damon’s year was not that talented, Graham found himself amongst a very good group of pupils, which he found a little intimidating at times. He always undervalued his own musical ability, which was a shame because he has a very intuitive sense of musicality, he has a lot of skills and a great feel for the music. I remember quite clearly him playing his first saxophone solo, and he played it very musically indeed.”

  The two boys’ enthusiasm for music began to pay off – they became promising classical musicians, who both had original compositions performed by the Essex Youth Orchestra. One of Damon’s works was even good enough to win a regional heat in the Young Musician Of The Year competition. Damon’s non-classical compositions were often aired at school shows. For The Summer Extravaganza, Damon played a piece he had written on his keyboard, with his friend James Hibbins singing. (Cost: £1 to get in, 75p for OAPs).

  It wasn’t long before Damon and Graham appeared on stage together. Graham was Styx, servant of Pluto, in the aforementioned Orpheus and the Underworld whilst Damon was Jupiter, and he was in a minor role for Oh, What A Lovely War, again with Damon. Another time, when the school put on The Bartered Bride in collaboration with The Royal Opera House, Graham was in the chorus with Damon’s sister Jessica, and they both appeared in full make-up on a televised performance for Blue Peter. Graham was acutely embarrassed as he had to wear his trousers tucked into his socks all day, but he earned his Blue Peter badge nonetheless. Damon was too busy taking his ‘O’ level exams and had to make do with helping out backstage. On a few occasions, they actually played in the same band at school. The first occasion was a school show where Damon (keyboards) and Graham (saxophone) were joined by their friends Paul Stevens (guitar), James Hibbins (guitar and vocals), Michael Morris (guitar) and Kevin Ling (drums). They performed two songs that Damon had written, the titles of which have seemingly been lost to posterity amongst the fairy cakes and tombolas. Hildreth remembers the stage magnetism he had noticed in Damon was now clearly growing: “Damon could attract an audience and communicate in such a way that they were literally left screaming for more.”

  It was around this time that Damon and Graham began to form their first bands outside of school. Damon was as influenced by recent pop events as anyone else: “The Smiths were the best band in the world, we all wanted to dress like Morrissey, give up meat like Morrissey.” Damon also claims that The Smiths’ singer spurred him on to forming bands himself: “What made me be in a band was seeing a South Bank Show on The Smiths and hearing Morrissey say that pop music was dead, and that The Smiths had been the last group of any significance. I remember thinking, ‘No-one is going to tell me that pop music is finished.’”

  The first real outfit of any note was The Aftermath, which contained Damon, Graham, James Hibbins and another school friend Paul Stevens. Their only real moment of fame was playing ‘Hey Joe’ by Jimi Hendrix to school assembly. After that, Hibbins left and was replaced by Alistair Havers, and the new band was christened Real Lives (more of which later). All the time, Damon was writing – one of Damon’s first pop songs was about a diamond run from Amsterdam to Johannesburg, inspired by a TV documentary he had seen.

  As Damon’s extra-curricular interests increasingly drew him away from his course work, he frequently came him into conflict with Mr Hildreth: “He could be extremely exasperating, because people knew he had it in him but he had his own agenda. Within any organisational framework that is very frustrating and very difficult to deal with. More often than not, he would be in a world of his own, even during productions and shows. He would regularly not be on stage when he should have been, missing lines or cues, the inevitable slip up. He would be most apologetic, and take the criticism, he realised he was out of line, but he just couldn’t help himself and would still do it again. There were times when I really lost my rag with him, he could be a real loose cannon. Interestingly, his fellow students seemed not to mind, they knew he was like that. Also, when he did concentrate, he could deliver the goods.” Lucy Stimson recalls that Damon’s lack of commitment was not something only the teachers noticed: “At the time he took his ‘O’ levels, he wasn’t famous for his classical music. There was a cruel joke going around about Damon that in the ‘O’ level paper, the first question was ‘How many strings does a violin have?’ The rumour was that Damon put ‘Six’.”

  Despite this reputed error, Damon passed his ‘O’ levels (including music) and decided to stay on at Stanway for the sixth form, studying Music, English and History. The ‘A’ level music was somewhat harder: “He enjoyed various elements of the course,” recalls Nigel Hildreth, “such as the history and the composition, but he struggled elsewhere. He must have enjoyed it to a degree, and he was always incredibly well meaning. He was always very keen on the music, working on it and he contributed a lot, and worked well with the other students. However, by now you could see he had his own agenda.”

  Real Lives was now firmly established and had already performed several gigs including one at The Affair club in Colchester. Their most noted performance was actually at the school – some sixth formers had to create a limited company for a business project and Graham’s class mate Lucy Stimson had the idea that they should put on a live gig for the first and second years. “It was just something different from their normal disco. Real Lives played all original material and the kids went absolutely mad for it, they were a smash hit. Damon in particular had this magnetism on stage. As a fellow pupil, it was absolutely abundantly clear that he was far from ordinary. His presence simply wasn’t normal and the teachers and the pupils knew it. He never excelled at classical, but on stage he had that something extra, without a doubt. There are very few people who stand out at secondary school age, but Damon did easily.”

  Away from school work and bands, Graham and Damon went on summer holiday to Romania with Graham’s parents. The remainder of their education was spent snogging their first girlfriends, buying as many records as they could afford and getting drunk on cheap wine and smoking bad cigars. The first time they got drunk was next to the local canal. When the alcohol had really taken affect, Graham crouched down for a desperately needed poo, but forgot to remove his jumper which was wrapped around his waist, and promptly dumped into his rather nice Fred Perry.

  Lucy Stimson remembers that Damon was always more successful with girls than his friend: “Damon was very charming and with his acting ability he was very popular, although not really until the sixth form. Lots of girls liked him. Graham meanwhile was much more shy and reserved, but he was always a very sweet character. He did seem to struggle with girls more than Damon because of that quieter nature. Neither of them were yobs, there were no real dirty stories or shady episodes. They were seen by fellow pupils as friendly and sweet.”
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br />   The inevitable result of the increasingly varied distractions during sixth form was that Damon failed his ‘A’ level music (as well as his Grade 8 theory), as Hildreth explains: “There were two key factors which led to Damon failing his ‘A’ level. Firstly, he had decided beyond question that he wanted to go to drama school, and so the discipline needed for the music course simply wasn’t there. Secondly, the qualification itself wasn’t something he was that keen on – when you really got down to the nitty gritty of ‘A’ level Music, where he was required to sit a three hour silent harmony exam, he just wasn’t interested. He even brought the wrong music scores for one performance exam.

  There was inevitably a conflict between us as a result, because I felt he could have achieved the grade if he had tried. He had the potential but he was not using all of his talents. However, in retrospect, I don’t hold that against him because to a certain extent he had taken what he wanted from the course – the exam was just unnecessary icing on the cake to him. By taking the course, he had learnt several things – his playing was fine, he had some starting points of composition, he knew about basic harmonies, and had acquired a broad listening base of musical knowledge. That was what the course offered and he took that, [so] the final exam was irrelevant.” Having said that, Damon was sufficiently worried about his poor results (he got an E and D in History and English respectively), that he lied to his parents about them.

  Lucy Stimson confirms that Damon was frequently distracted from the course work: “If he wasn’t interested in something then he just wouldn’t apply himself. That is purely and simply the sign of someone with creative talent who wants to spend time working on those skills. My over-riding memory of Damon at school was him crouched over the piano in the music room, completely oblivious to everyone around him, writing and improvising his own music. Sometimes Graham and the other band members would join in, but quite frequently he was on his own.”

  In the lower sixth, Graham had also started ‘A’ level Music but struggled more than Damon with the staid theoretical bias of the course. Halfway through the first year, he gave up. Instead, he headed for The North Essex School Of Art to begin a two-year foundation course in General Art and Design, temporarily breaking up the friendship. The connection was still there however, as the college was the one run by Damon’s father.

  Meanwhile, Damon had already auditioned and been accepted at the infamous East 15 drama school in east London. So, by their late teens, both Damon and Graham were actively pursuing interests outside of music. Damon went to tell Mr Hildreth about his decision, and explained that drama was his first love, as his teacher had suspected. Mr Hildreth suggested that quite often the music comes back to people, but Damon was adamant: “The music means nothing to me, I am really into the drama.”

  Chapter 2

  TRY, TRY, TRY

  In September 1986, Damon caught the underground heading towards the eastern reaches of the Central line to Debden, where he was to embark on a three-year course at East 15. As mentioned, the school was a stalwart supporter of method acting, whereby pupils have to actually live their roles so as to better understand them. The policy obviously worked, as amongst its ex-students the school boasted Alison Steadman and many of the Mike Leigh group. However, on a practical level, for an 18-year-old Damon travelling to work as a high-heeled tart, or returning home to a flat in Leytonstone as Ayatollah Khomeini, this presented not inconsiderable practical difficulties.

  Within a few days of the opening term, Damon had struck up a friendship with a fellow first-year called Eddie Deedigan, who was three years his senior – most drama pupils at the college were older than Damon, who was precociously young to be starting the course. When they discovered they were into similar writers and music, the friendship was really cemented, as Eddie recalls: “If we had group debates with a director, it always used to end up with me and Damon talking. That really interested me, this younger guy talking with great knowledge about all manner of subjects. At that point, his confidence was really striking, he could talk well and always with this great sense of humour.” As with all school friends, there was plenty of fooling around, but beneath it all there was an intelligence, tenacity and drive developing in Damon that was very noticeable. Eddie learnt early on that his new friend’s knowledge could be most helpful: “We were in this class about the history of music in theatre, and this really boring lecturer was asking a variety of obscure questions about baroque that no-one in the room knew anything about. Except Damon. However, instead of being the class know-all and answering all the questions himself, he started to whisper every answer into my ear, which I then told the lecturer. This guy had previously thought I was a prize working-class twat, but here I was coming out with all these amazing answers. Everyone was stunned. Damon and myself pissed ourselves laughing.”

  The two shared many more laughs together at East 15. One project was to live as roaming gypsies in the 1500s. The majority of the class toiled away building historically authentic dwelling tents, and living a sparse and frugal life - Eddie and Damon had different ideas however. They decided to be travelling gypsy musicians, christened themselves Marco and Alexandro, and spent five weeks sitting under a blossom tree playing guitar and fiddle. For another project, they were transported 150 years in time to a mid-17th century England gripped by the Black Death, as Eddie recalls: “The college gardens needed re-landscaping, so suddenly we are all supposed to be plague-infested labourers working the land. Like a total twat, I grew a beard and spent six weeks digging, but somehow Damon had managed to get himself cast as the bloody landlord. So he just strolled around with this stupid accent telling us what to do, and we couldn’t argue because he was the top man.”

  Although he was primarily at East 15 to learn drama, many of the assignments involved music, and by now Damon was an exceptionally gifted pupil, particularly on piano. For a project called ‘A Night In The Longhorn Saloon’, Eddie felt that just churning out the same old tired Western saloon sequence would be too obvious. Instead, he suggested writing a piece about the American Indians’ plight, but no-one except Damon agreed. As a compromise, they agreed to do the saloon scene but with original music: “Within minutes, Damon had penned this superb Western theme tune, and I made up some words, a complete piss-take which went, ‘I wanna sing in a Western, walk like big John Wayne, I wanna kill a hundred injuns, then shoot myself in the brain.’ The rest of the class were gobsmacked because it sounded amazing, but they just didn’t get it, it was a total piss-take. Later on we wrote a song for a friend and Damon just slipped into this lovely lilting Irish ballad, easy. It was only fun, but it showed that Damon was already completely versatile. Within a few months he was doing operas, and playing piano for the college musicals, reciting Brecht and Weill, all sorts of stuff, no problem.” Damon even played with the visiting Berliner Ensemble for a Brecht Festival, a highly prestigious accolade for the youngster.

  Damon soon became known as something of a character at the college, and although not technically proficient as an actor, he was frequently the most watchable during productions. Sometimes this caused friction: “He shone, not as a great actor, just as an immense personality. At a drama college that is quite an achievement. He looked good, had a great voice as well as this amazing aura about him. Couple that with him being so young and I think that intimidated a lot of people.

  He even unsettled one of the lecturers, who [had regularly been on various] television shows himself. He was really quite famous but for some reason he just couldn’t handle Damon. One time we were performing The Duchess of Malfi and Damon was just pleasing himself, and you could see this lecturer getting really irate. Eventually he cracked and said, ‘Damon, you think you are a god, and the fact is you probably are, but will you please listen to some direction.’ The thing is Damon didn’t need direction because he wasn’t trying to be an actor, he was just exploring that side of expression.

  A few weeks later, we were at a student party and by now this same lecturer was r
eally pissed off with Damon, you could see it in his eyes, he felt really threatened. Damon’s confidence is a weird thing, at times it seems almost physically threatening when he looks at you. This lecturer was getting very drunk, and so he decided to sort Damon out because he knew it would be put down to the alcohol. So he started having a go at Damon and he got really out of order, saying how much better and more talented he was. Damon just waited for his chance and calmly said, ‘Is that why your wife left you?’ The lecturer flew at him, grabbed him by the throat and pinned him to the wall. All the time Damon was just looking at him in this confident way of his, calm as fuck. That really struck me, being on national television every week and still being that threatened by an 18-year-old.”

  When he was not baiting lecturers, Damon was becoming increasingly prolific in his compositions. Eddie himself was working on what was a promising musical career, but his previous band had split up when he had enrolled at East 15. Eddie kept the monicker of The Alternative Car Park and promised to fulfil a gig obligation that was outstanding in November of the first term. This was a gig he could not afford to miss, a support slot to one of his all-time favourite performers, Nico, formerly of The Velvet Underground, who was on the tail end of a tour to promote her Camera Obscura album. “I had this brilliant actor called Oscar Stringer on saxophone, and a guy called Roy playing just snare. On backing vocals we had this girl called Chris who wore a short skirt and fishnets – she was completely wrong for the set up, not least because her powerful voice nearly blew me offstage! I knew Damon was amazing on keyboards, so I asked if he was interested and he said, ‘Yeah, no problem, what for?’ I casually said, ‘Oh, you know, we’ve got this support slot with Nico,’ and Damon said, ‘Who’s he then?’ I said, ‘Nico, you twat, you know, the fucking Velvet Underground?’ and he said, ‘Who are they then?’”