Wylding Hall

Chapter 15

Tom Haring

We put it to a vote. Ashton voted no. The others all said yes. And me, of course. It was only after we voted to use it as the cover art for the album that Jon asked, “What album?”

I don’t know, it sounds mad, but I’m a bit mad. You had to be, to be successful in the music business. But all at once it came to me that we should release the tapes we’d recorded in the garden that day. No one had ever done such a thing — Dylan wouldn’t release his basement tapes for three years. To release an album of songs that were essentially demos sounded like career suicide for a band that had only released one studio album from a smallish record company like Moonthunder.

Les asked, “What about Julian?”

“What about Julian? Sod Julian!” I shouted. I was starting to get stroppy. We were all exhausted, half-drunk, hoarse from arguing, and scared out of our wits.

And I had a very strong feeling that Julian was not going to be coming back. Call it a premonition, call it common sense, call it a perfectly reasonable reaction to those three photos — call it whatever you like, but I thought he was gone for good. Gone for the foreseeable future, anyway.

I’d been talking up Windhollow Faire’s follow-up album for months. I’d paid for advertising, scheduled studio time, contacted session musicians. If the album didn’t appear in the next few months — if we waited for Julian to return before doing a proper studio take — we would miss our chance to cash in on Christmas sales. I was broke. The band were broke.

But I had heard those rough tapes — I was the only one who had. And while the sound quality was iffy in places, overall the songs held up well.

Better than that — if you discounted the sound of bees and wind in the grass and Billy laughing in the background and the in-between-songs chatter, the performances were brilliant. The songwriting by Julian and Les was superb, and the covers were well-chosen. Only nine songs all told, but enough to fill up two sides of vinyl.

I knew that if I couldn’t convince the band right then and there, the chance would be lost. They’d go their separate ways, which is pretty much what they did end up doing, and I’d be left with nine beautiful songs that no one would ever hear.

Jon

Tom talked us into releasing the live recordings from Wylding Hall. Actually, he held us hostage — he wouldn’t let us leave the office until he played them for us.

He was right: they were pretty brilliant. We listened to the tapes twice, all the way through each time. After the freak-out over Billy’s photos, they were a breath of fresh air. We’d all been up for twenty-four hours by then — not for the first time, but it was a very emotional experience.

Imagine if you could go back and repeat one of the best days of your life — that’s what it was like. Lesley cried, hearing Julian sing, but we still assumed he’d be back. At least I did. So, we took a vote and everyone voted yes. And then we all went home.

Everyone was completely knackered. Lesley couldn’t keep her eyes open, and I was walking into walls. Tom saw us out; he promised he’d talk to Billy and sort everything with the photos and get contracts to us as soon as possible.

And so he did. Six weeks later, twenty-fifth of November, Wylding Hall was released. The feast of St. Catherine, she of the Catherine Wheel, which is a type of firework and also a torture device. Which seemed appropriate.