Palmers Green, North London. A room above the Whole Hog pub. Me and Tom sat there at one end of the room. Sarb sat at the other end with his hands on his laps. I feel like there was a table that we were all sat around. Me and Tom went through a collection of songs. And Sarb analysed. And he still does this today by the way. And whilst its a running joke today… its still a fucking pressure I can live without. He’s looking for stuff. Stuff.
He kept us in time. He looked for stuff that was clashing. He looked for notes that didn’t work. And he said that stuff out loud. Matter of fact. In his head that was why he was here. Initially, I thought, is this what drummers do? I had no reference point. And Sarb didn’t have a drum kit so this gave him a purpose in those first 6 months.
I can’t imagine Lennon and McCartney sat in front of Ringo in this way. By his own admission, Sarb wasn’t just a drummer. We call him our Technical Architect today. He helps us make sure the parts work together and we’re hitting quality standards.
Tom has this propensity to take a simple song and make it in to a proper song. He’d be presented with a riff and quietly his brain would click into gear as he started throwing notes together and licks. He’d elevate a song massively.
It wasn’t just great guitar work, he played notes that would kick you in the bollocks or give you a hug or pull you out of your space into his world. And sometimes all at the same time.
See You On Fire was one such moment. He lifted his head up after a run through of the 2 minute song and me and Sarb looked at each other. No stuff required to be called out in this instance.
