David Bowie, Prince, Lemmy. All luminaries in their own rights, but nothing that felt tangible within my own time-frame. Yes, all three people were important musically, but failed to identify with me. Craig Gill, 44, drummer with the Inspiral Carpets since FOREVER. The over-riding steady percussion over a kaleidoscopic background. His sudden passing hit me more than any form of Elvis Presley God-like death. The gut-churning realisation of one’s own mortality suddenly hits (Gill was only 7yrs my senior), a founding member of Oldham’s fantastically 60’s pop driven rock band during an extremely important period of Manchester indie history. This additional 2016 passing hurt. More than the Thin White Duke, more than the frontman of Motorhead & Minneapolis’ favourite son.
I didn’t hail from Manchester. Nowhere near in fact. I lived in an idyllic pensioner graveyard, full of utter shit in the South. This was my escapism. Clint Boon’s Farfisa, often compared to the Hammond, was a distress-call, throwing out a distant call to the masses. Come. Follow. Listen. Believe.
Having only recently watched the Oasis documentary a few days ago (‘Supersonic’ – Noel Gallagher was their tour guitar tech) – it felt like I’d only just reunited with Tom, Clint, Graham, Craig & Martyn again after a long relationship had turned sour.
I wished our recent coming-together had been more of a happier occasion.
This was MY band. I collected so much of their vinyl & in so much abundance, it was quite comical.
Our thoughts go out to his family, fellow band members, close friends & fans – just like myself – who will still listen to the music for another 30yrs to come.