Troy Tate





TROY TATE is having trouble. He can't stay aboard his chair as his body quakes and contorts with an uncontrollable crazed mirth. The decibel rating of his rapid, wild guffaws sends shivers up, my spine and would have Noise Abatement society folk stampeding toward the nearest Exit pamphlet.

I'd simply mentioned the allegations that the new look Teardrops (Alfie Agius, dancing with the big fat bass lines, Jeff Hammer adding wide, new keyboard horizons and, of course, Troy himself on Fender Strat an occasional twelve-string) are nothing more than a backing group for Julian Cope, employed by the flaxen haired, flying-jacketed one and original drummer Gary Dwyer in plain old session musician style. Still half choking with laughter Troy manages to utter through his grin-strained lips:

"Presumably reporters just can't think of anything else to say, that's their problem not mine. When we play onstage itís really special and that's what I care about. The audiences realise this, they're the people that really count.

"They come up to us and say they like the band, they don't just go gaga over Julian. If on the old songs we played exactly as they were then maybe I would understand the remarks. I'm surprised press people who are supposed to be perceptive haven't noticed the subtle variations in arrangements."

To continue reading this article and to discover many more (over 140,000 words-worth!), purchase Mick Sinclair’s Adjusting the Stars: Music journalism from post-punk London. 


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