Memories of Charlie Gillett

Artrockers,
today I find myself in a contemplative mood, a little sad. Some people make a big impression on you, some people change your life, so when they die it comes as a bit of a shock. Such a person, in my life, was Charlie Gillett. I first felt the pull of his orbit in the 80s when I was asked to produce an album for him - it all got rather messy, as these things are wont to do, lots of artist tantrums, a fair bit of producer tantrum and Charlie in the middle playing Solomon. Unpleasant as the experience was Charlie persisted in working with me. He turned over the basement studio in the house he owned in Brixton to me to work on 'projects', like an ill fated attempt by the Spitting Image people to produce a TV version of Krazy Kat - I was given the job of writing and producing the soundtrack. But I wasn't allowed to smoke down there, Charlie was very anti-smoking. (But the rule was waived when Jah Wobble was working down there -Hmmmm). When I wasn't scrabbling around in the basement I'd be up in his office having deep, lengthy discussions about...well, music. I remember that our favourite falling out point was 'drugs and music' - I believed, and still do, that particular drugs are / were central to certain forms of music, to its conception and performance. Charlie disagreed, he believed them to be nothing but a diversion.
It was hard to argue with the Author of Sound Of The City. He told me the Ian Dury, Elvis Costello and Dire Straits stories, one day I'll pass them on to you. But you don't think of these things at the time, Charlie was a guy I worked for, sure I knew of his fame but, well, he was Charlie. It was only when my older, soul obsessed brother came to visit that I realised just how much of a living legend he was, my brother was all over him like a rash, cow-towing, fore-lock tugging, quoting whole passages of the book to him and reminiscing about Charlie sitting in on the Radio 1 Blues and Soul show back in the day.
I could go on all day.
Charlie was a great guy, sometimes annoyingly obdurate, sometimes plain wrong, mostly though he'll be remembered as a kind uncle who indulged the whims of a rather foolish young man.

Charlie Gillett, my thanks and love go with you

Tom Artrocker