Simon Henderson

(another bit from the un-finished book) In late 1978 I got a part in a new show for the BBC called Grange hill for the first two series, I was 13 at this time (see video).

By this time I had started messing around with my mums guitar and writing my first songs. When I had five or six songs ready, my mother took me to Denmark Street in London. It was also known as ‘Tin Pan Alley’ and used to be where the music publishers offices were to be found. Mum pointed me in the direction of ‘Southern Music Publishing’ as that was who she worked with when she was in the recording business. I entered the office with an acoustic guitar under my arm and an A4 note pad under the other. I asked if I could meet with Bob Kingston, mother’s instructions. The receptionist looked at me for a moment and then picked up the phone and called somebody down. A man came down the stairs and introduced himself as David Knight and he explained that Bob had long since retired. “Never mind, come up and let’s have a listen anyway” he added. I pulled the guitar out and started to belt out the songs, I was very proud of them. David stopped me and asked if I would mind him inviting other staff members to come in and listen. I said I didn’t, “perhaps that’s a sign he likes it!” I thought to myself. So David’s office filled up with people with that “aah, how sweet!” look on their face, and I began my repertoire once more. At the end everybody clapped. David said, very tactfully that I’d done well and that I should keep writing and develop. When I look back, those songs were absolutely appalling! David Knight was very nice and diplomatic that’s for sure, a nice and in fact lucky, first encounter with A&R.

After Denmark street we headed off to EMI abbey Road to meet another of mum’s friends, Tony Hancock. I didn’t play anything at Abbey Road, but I got the grand tour, my first look at a really great studio. The experience allowed me to day dream about my potential future.

When I was very young I saw Mike Oldfield on ‘Blue Peter’, they did a piece about the making of “Tubular Bells”, and I remember thinking to myself “That is what I want to do!!” Play every instrument I can and be a RECORD PRODUCER.

Back in my acting life I got a big part in a “children’s film foundation” movie called “Danger on Dart moor”. I went away to Devon for six weeks to film it, this annoyed me as I had just stated amateur boxing in a club in Isleworth Middlesex and I didn’t want to miss it. Also my mum had to find another drummer to fill in for me while I was away. Upon my return I slipped back into the gigs and was easily playing four to six shows per week. I remember doing my homework in the bus on the way to the show, eating ‘Vesta Paella with prawns’ at about one in the morning when we got home, and falling asleep in class a few times, but I was earning good money.

These days, as I had found my singing voice, I was sent for more and more music jobs. Attending Rona Knight’s extra singing lessons, Rona was the principal of the school, was more of a political move than a practical one; the school could always point to the fact that the classes ‘must be paying off’ in light of all the extra work I was getting, so I could be sure they would always put me up for the auditions or feed me the work. I did a project called ‘the disco kids’ a baby version of ‘Village people’, terrible record if I remember rightly. I also did an album with ‘Tommy Steele’ with the Mike Sams singers. One day I was in ‘Molinaire Studios’ in Wardour street London W1, a place I had been many times before to record voiceovers and the odd Jingle. Four of us, two boys and two girls were hurried into the studio room, but we weren’t allowed in the control room. We started learning the chorus part of a pop song being looped for us. I recognized the voice of the girl who was being played to me instantly. “It’s ABBA” I whispered to my friend. As I said it, I saw Benny and Bjorn waving at us from the control room. The song was called “I have a dream”. On TV I saw them play the song for UNICEF “the year of the child” they had a whole bunch of local school kids. Our voices were tracked many times to sound like about fifty children. My singing jobs continued until one fateful day. I had been cast in “As you like it” with ‘The Royal Shakespeare Company’ at the Aldwych theatre in the west end. I was a page boy, of course, and I sang just the one song. “IT was a lover and his lass, with a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, that o’er the green corn-field did pass, in the spring time, the only pretty ring time” etc. This song had a mad and confusing time signature, especially if you were not used to such things, like me. I and another boy called Dominic, who was singing the song with me, had very little time with the musical director. We rehearsed for about three afternoons above a pub in Long acre, with a crusty old pub piano. The man was always in a hurry too, so we ran the song a few times then he was off as quickly as he had come. This was not enough when you consider that it is a very hard song, with harmonies between the two of us and as the song progresses, more people join in as we ‘walk through the forest’. Before we knew it, the opening night came and we were sitting in the dressing room in the afternoon. We were waiting for the stage manager to walk us out on the stage for the first time. The Aldwych had the nastiest ‘rake’ in the stage, it was very steep indeed. The ‘Rake’ is the angle of the stage so that the people at the back of the theatre can see you. This is where the terms ‘up stage’ and ‘down stage’ come from, up is furthest away from the audience and down is closest. When I first stepped onto the stage it was like a huge skateboard ramp and we had to walk diagonally from up stage left to down stage right while singing the song. They let us walk about on the stage in the afternoon so we would not get a shock at the time of the performance. Back in the dressing room we were so bored as we had to wait until Showtime which was hours away. While messing about, I picked up an old door knob off of the floor and said “Is this a knob I see before me?”, Dominic looked back at me with a blank face, so I said it again followed by “Get it?”. “No” replied Dominic, then I did it…without even thinking I said “You know. Macbeth!!” This is a cardinal sin in theatre land NEVER EVER mention the Scottish play; apparently it is bad luck and can bring the entire production down. My friend agreed he would not tell anyone and we went about doing all the ridiculous traditional exorcising gestures, including running out of the room, spinning around three times, screaming and spitting on the floor. All of which passed the time nicely. Finally it was ‘Curtain up’ and we had put our costumes on. The wardrobe department, in their wisdom, had made our shoes out of green felt material and neglected to put any rubber on the bottom. The stage was highly polished wood and walking across it was like walking on a glass ski slope with dusters tied to your feet. How I never slipped I will never know. Dominic tapped me on the shoulder and told me he was scared because he wasn’t allowed to wear his glasses and without he couldn’t see a thing. So I had him clinging on my arm like a blind peasant boy while trying to walk naturally admiring the birds in the forest, singing and praying we don’t slip off the front of the stage. “Go” whispered the stage manager and the music started. Not a crusty old piano, this time with oboes, bassoon, clarinet and violins. ‘How nice’ I thought to myself and off we skate. Then it occurred to me, I had never heard the introduction to this song ever in my life. The musical director, Mr fat arse twat brain ‘I’m in a hurry boys’ had never shown us. It sounded like a completely different song to me! The introduction seemed to be going on and on, I tried to look in the orchestra pit at the front of the stage and hopefully see the MD conducting, and therefore get some clue as to when I should start singing. Now at the front of the stage I saw the pit was empty. I was certain that I should have begun the song way before I got to the front. Finally I looked up to my left in one of the royal boxes and saw the MD with a bright red face, foaming at the mouth waving madly at me. Silly fat fucker! I bet he’ll never skimp on rehearsals again. At last I started and the orchestra seemed to catch up. About halfway through the song my throat cracked and I suddenly couldn’t pitch at all. “What the fuck is going on tonight?” I thought to myself. Then Dominic tried to sing his harmony which was supposed to intertwine with mine like a echo delay vibe like ‘Frera Jacka”. I couldn’t look at Dominic because he had gone cross eyed by now from not wearing his glasses and I knew I would laugh and be unable to concentrate, which by this point was the last thing I needed. The rest of the cast had come on and joined which helped me get to the end. I finished the song, probably in a different key to everyone else, and saw the entire audience beaming smiles back at me, maybe I turned a boring evening into something fun to watch who knows? As I left the stage area a very tall actor with ginger hair and a beard to match said “Fuckin kids” and prodded at me with which I replied “Fuckin spear carrier, don’t ever touch me again!” Dominic was laughing as I led him out. I lost the job and somebody else took over. Was it the fact that I said ‘Macbeth’ in the dressing room? Did Dominic tell on me? Theatre people take this stuff very seriously and you can be fired for that! No! The real reason I never returned was the fact that my voice had finally broken and that was the end of my child singing career. The next time I worked in the theatre it was in a pantomime, ‘Hansel and Gretal’, at the Wimbledon theatre. Half of the time I played Hansel, and the rest of the time I had to dress up in a cat costume and sell choc ices to the toddlers. As a child was pulling on my tail and saying “I know you’re not real” and the sweat stinging my eyes, plus the crap money, I started to believe the ‘Macbeth’ myth may actually be true, and felt sorry for myself for a while. “Fuckin kids”!!! That was how I ended the seventies wondering if my singing voice would ever come back, and what was going to happen in the next decade. Would I be an actor? Could I ever become like Mike Oldfield, living in a studio and making classic albums?