Thank You for the Music

I have never spoken much about my own years in music. Perhaps that is because I never truly rated myself. I was always surrounded by exceptional musicians and, when you are standing alongside people that talented, it is easy to underestimate your own place in the story.

My first band formed when I was just fifteen. A group of schoolteachers who were already part of the local music scene asked me to sing lead vocals. We played mainly rock-and-roll classics, which suited me perfectly.

We rehearsed in the school music room and, when they felt we were ready, they approached my parents for permission for me to perform at weekends. Alan Burton played bass, Jim Wright and Joe Conboy were on guitar, and Lance Cunningham played drums. Chris Hooker later joined us on drums too, while Brian Jones would occasionally guest on saxophone when he was home from touring.

Our early gigs included Caldy Rugby Club and Thornton Hough Tennis Club before we eventually ventured onto the pub circuit. We appeared under a different name almost every time because we could never agree on one. I repeatedly rejected Di and the Dynamics, although looking back, perhaps it was no worse than some of the names I would use later.

Our set was a lively mixture of rock and roll alongside songs by T’Pau, Heart, Blondie, The Pretenders, The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac and Tina Turner.

Those really were the days.

Finding My Feet

Our first guest appearance was at The Hamlet in Woodside, Birkenhead, supporting a band called The Touch.

Connie Lush fronted the band, dressed entirely in black, with jewellery that moved and jangled as she danced. Her voice was astonishing, matched only by the power of her stage presence.

We played during the interval to an audience that could not have been less interested. Connie and her husband, Terry, could not have been more encouraging.

I cringe slightly when I think about it now. We were not worthy of cleaning their instruments, never mind sharing a stage with them, but everyone has to begin somewhere.

I am still in touch with Connie and Terry today, and I continue to regard her as one of the finest vocalists I have ever heard.

Legs Akimbo were another band we guested with. I had seen them several times when Chris Farley and Roy Jones were still part of the line-up, before they both headed to Ibiza.

Chris was a genius and incredibly quick-witted. His very adult versions of Thomas the Tank Engine stories were legendary. They were a superb band made up of fabulous musicians.

I believe they played at a pub in Bromborough, set back from the road. It may have been called The Abbotsford, although after all these years I would not swear to it.

Once again, we played during the interval, with Chris Hooker staying behind to drum for us. I was five months pregnant with Jade at the time, so there were inevitably jokes about hot water and towels.

We opened with Sex Talk by T’Pau and performed around five songs. Alone by Heart was another. The rest have disappeared into the mists of time. It was, after all, more than thirty-five years ago.

The Musicians Who Inspired Me

My favourite local band to watch was The Cheats.

They were a trio who somehow sounded like an orchestra: Kenny Parry, Billy Kinsley and Brian Rawlings.

The only singer I ever heard come close to Kenny vocally was Denny Bolton of Legs Akimbo and, later, Shout. Kenny was, and remains, an extraordinary talent. He would choose songs because they were difficult to play on guitar, then place an apparently effortless vocal over the top, sometimes even singing the guitar harmony.

The combination of Kenny and Billy was unrivalled. Their harmonies, musicianship and absolute passion for what they did made them a joy to watch.

Whenever I was invited to join them, I would sing songs such as Pat Benatar’s Hit Me with Your Best Shot, The Beatles’ I’m Down, or one of the rock-and-roll standards.

Needless to say, I never needed asking twice.

In 1999, I bought The Buz Magazine and spent eight fabulous years running what became the most successful music magazine this side of the water.

The Buz years, however, are a story for another day.

Bingo, Social Clubs and Electric Curtains

My solo career began in the 1990s, when I travelled across the North West performing in social clubs, usually between games of bingo.

These were enormous venues with towering stages and electric curtains. They could be packed to the rafters during the bingo, only to empty almost immediately after the third session had finished.

On being shown to the dressing room, the club secretary would often issue the same warning:

“No flashy lights or smoke.”

It was hard work, but it gave me a solid grounding. I learned how to hold an audience, pace a show and keep going even when the room was less than attentive.

It also gave me the opportunity to experiment.

One of those experiments was a comedy 1970s show called Ziggy Sawdust.

I have always adored glam rock, so I created Ziggy as my alter ego. I wore a silver suit with enormous shoulder pads, towering platform boots and gloriously excessive makeup. In costume, I stood close to six feet tall and walked out to a Slade song playing air guitar.

It was not for the faint-hearted, but I loved every minute.

On the strength of that act, I was asked to create an 1980s show.

And so Diane Duran was born.

Yes, I really did use that name.

There was a frilly white shirt, leather trousers and a thin ribbon worn across my forehead as a headband.

The less said about it, the better.

Life on the Wirral Pub Circuit

Over the years, I played in what felt like almost every pub on the Wirral, sometimes performing for hours without a break.

I remember playing at The Wirral in New Ferry when Philly and Marg owned it. On one occasion, I sang for three and a half hours non-stop.

Absolute madness.

There were some extraordinary opportunities along the way.

I performed on a ferry across the Mersey with Gerry Marsden. I sang at the opening of the Coliseum at Cheshire Oaks. I appeared several times at the Floral Pavilion with The Gary Murphy Band.

I would get up and sing with bands including Insanity Beach and The Undertakers. I even performed Fat Bottomed Girls with Brian from Hush.

I loved the gigs, the audiences and the songs.

But the best times of all were undoubtedly those I spent as one half of Next of Kin with my daughter, Jade.

Next of Kin

There was something very special about sharing a stage with Jade.

She is a fabulous singer in her own right and has the rare ability to place a harmony on almost anything. Singing together felt completely natural.

We especially loved playing at The Queens in Liscard when Jools ran it. Those nights were always hilarious, and we would sing until we had almost nothing left.

There was The Great Eastern with Alisa, The Argyle with Carole and Terry, The Straw Hat with Doreen, The Halfway with Paul, The Olde Red Lion with Jackie and Andy, The Woodlands with Billy and The Farmers Arms with Jackie.

I could continue for pages.

Every venue had its own character. Every audience had its regulars. Every night produced a story.

At the time, it simply felt like life.

Now, it feels like something far more precious.

Those years belong to the dim and distant past, but the music, the laughter, the friendships and the memories remain.

And for all of that, I can only say:

Thank you for the music.