Nothing to lose with the Van Doos.

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We've all heard that age old story before, young musicians moving towards the bright lights of New York City, kids from Maine travelling through the Wild West to settle at the golden shores of LA. All of them chasing a dream, a dream to be somebody. It was similar circumstances with the 'Van Doos.' A trio of lads from the sleepy hills of Yorkshire, packing up their lives' in their rusty Volkswagen Beetle and cruising down the motorway to the fresh air of the big smoke, London Town. And they are chasing a dream, a dream that I think will come true.

I first met Mr Simon Hutchinson in a pub just off Oxford Circus. He was an interesting chap with a glint in his eye. Sporting a Beatles hair cut and wearing drainpipe jeans teamed with a fitted corduroy blazer; Simon looked like a mix between Brian Jones and Jarvis Cocker. There was an aura around the lad; guys wanted to chat to him, girls liked to look at him. We chatted over pints of Alpine, talked about sixties music, smoked cigarettes and generally got on very well. A Fine Art graduate and down to earth guy, I knew I wanted to keep in contact with the lad and hear some of the songs he was writing with his band.

The original trio of the 'Van Doos' consisted of Simon, Louis and Charlie, all Yorkshire boys with an affinity for the same type of music. The 'Van Doos' name came from a Canadian Military Regiment called the 'Royal Twenty Second', its nickname being the 'Van Doos' after the French 'Vingt Deux.' A name that struck a chord with all the boys.



The 'Van Doos' has a gritty edge to the demo tracks they have produced. A sound that is very different to the many average bands floating around the airwaves today.






'Under the Noise' merges a psychedelic background with a more mainstream vocal front. A sound that shows a maturity and evolutionary quality in its construction, proving the fact that the 'Van Doos' is developing as the London music scene changes.






'Tenterhooks' has a more rock 'n' roll feel to its melody. 'And when you stop moving, I stop moving too, you put me on tenterhooks.' The indie pop of yesteryear seems to have been updated with a 'Van Doos' edge. A melodramatic sound delivered with toe tapping abandon.



'Goodbye Love' has a blues undercurrent lifted by the presence of Simon's voice. A slowed down piece commenting on a lost love that 'hypnotised' Simon under her spell. The song comes to an abrupt end, much like the failed relationship being written about. 'Goodbye Love' adds a depth to the 'Van Doos' catalogue, a wisdom that only comes with age.

Most up and coming bands like to state influences and harp on about bands that 'changed their lives' as they were growing up. Simon, on the other hand, cannot pin point a particular musician that inspired the 'Van Doos' sound. 'I just want to write good songs. Trends in music come and go but a good song will always be a good song, whether it's Abba or Metallica!' Simon has always been and will always be his own man.

There is a passion in the 'Van Doos' music. A drive to succeed and a willingness to do what it takes to hit the big time. As Simon argues; they are individual and forward thinking. The 'Van Doos' do not harp back to an era when the spirit of rock 'n' roll was alive and kicking; they are pushing the boundaries and taking huge steps forward. I for one will be checking their gigging schedules and will be trawling the pubs and bars of East London to hear them perform.


The 'Van Doos' will hopefully be playing at a venue near you in the next month or so, and with a digital release on Young and Lost's website, their sound will hopefully be hitting the mainstream very soon. So watch this space and listen to their myspace- www.myspace.com/thevandoos. They're a band that is going places, and hopefully I'll be there to witness their rise.

Jennifer Juniper rides a dappled mare.

Jennifer was hitting the ripe old age of 27. The anti wrinkle cream, which she has used since the age of 19, would have to be caked on in double amounts. Her back pains are getting worse and she complains about a lack of sleep. Jennifer has blossomed into a beautiful woman.

So we all went out for a bite to eat down Walthamstow Village, the only nice area in this section of London. 'Eat 17,' which has featured in Time Out's good eating guide, was our preferred destination. A lovely little restaurant selling English grub with a posh twist. I love Walthamstow Village, it makes me proud to be from this borough. Along with the dog track, now closed down, and Brian Harvey, who is probably running himself over as we speak, the Village has put us on the map, and it was a perfect place to go for Jennifer's birthday.

Most of the family were there. Kenny, the Ford clan's grandad, ex-sailor, ex-carpenter, was on top form. He opted for a medium rare steak and a dark rum, a true man's meal for a real gentleman. Born and raised in the East End, this man could whip up a wardrobe in the time you could brush your teeth. Always looking effortlessly handsome, Kenny wore a knitted jumper and trousers for the occasion. Famous for turning up at the Toby Carvery in a pinstripe suit, he has a style that no-one can match. A real pleasure when he makes an appearance, the man didn't let us down.

Young Alice and her hubby seemed to co-ordinate in nautical blue. An avid Tottenham fan, Andrew has had a bit of bother with the mother-in-law, who's a passionate gooner, but due to my allegiance to the mighty reds of the North, he seems to have slipped through the net. With Alice's hair getting blonder every day and tan getting deeper in that hot East End sun, Andrew is gonna have his hands full keeping hold of her. Having known her since she was 6 years old and witnessed her impression of Tina Turner on numerous occasions, the youngest Ford is always the life and soul of the party.

So after we ate, we were walking back to the car when we heard some rock and roll music blaring through the doors of the Queens Arms, and decided to take a peak. As you can see from the pictures above, the live music of 'Double Trouble,' who looked like a couple of scaffolders, was too much for Kate and Jennifer. Adam was tempted to ask for an autograph from the lead guitarist but was scared he would start a stampede, and I just sat as usual. It's good being a cripple sometimes. Least I never have to go to the bar.

It was a very important day coming up. A barbecue for 30 people at my house and also the start of the football season, perfect. We hailed a cab home and opened a bottle of wine to wind down. Five hours later we were still drinking in the front room as the sun started to come up. The mix of painkillers, wine, beer and anti depressants was a perfect cocktail for the 16 hour bender that was ahead.

So the girls got up after a couple of hours sleep and proceeded to cook tons of food and arrange the house so that the many people who were due to arrive could squeeze in. My job was to blow up the balloons. Another perk of just getting out of hospital. I decided to wear my liquorice all sorts knitted jumper and tweed jacket, I don't know why, maybe the lack of rest had affected my mind. We were all geared up for the day ahead.

Dave Hughes, aka the 'Budgie Smuggler,' turned up and instantly recognised the house from many years ago. As an awkward teenager, I had a party when the old folks were away. A few friends ended up sleeping in the front garden, one passed out in my bed and I woke up in the bath; those 3 hooch's really went to my head.

Outfit of the day went to Adam Mulhern. After his 'Thomas the Wank Engine' ensemble of a few weeks ago, he stole the show again in black bow tie, fitted white shirt and black skinnies. Hiding behind a pair of RayBan's due to a thumping headache, the man owned the barbecue. Producing burger after burger (Nottingham Chris had just arrived) his energy levels increased as the number of Carling in the bucket fell.

We were honoured that he lovely Miss Draper came to the do. Drinking vodka and coke in a wine glass, her Amersham class couldn't be suppressed. Calling me 'Philium' all day, which I may change my name to on depoll, I always get a bit morbid around her, which I apologise for. Now living in Leeds, I can report that she hasn't picked up a strange accent.

Cheeky Nottingham boy, Chris, a University friend of the middle Ford, became obsessed with my hat. Nicknamed 'Chrissy two burgers' for his ability to munch fast food in seconds, he fell asleep kneeling on the floor at about 4 o'clock in the morning. Rumour has it, Chris wants to move to London but has to man up if he wants to live in the big smoke. A lovely lad, if a bit of a lightweight, he's welcome back to my gaff anytime. Just warn me and I'll get the fridge filled up.

Even Stevey Ward turned up to the party. Having been banned from nearly every licensed premise in Chingford, and even friends houses for being a general pest, the lad was pretty well behaved. His karaoke performance was shocking, and the slurring of words increased with every jack and coke, but the dancing was inspirational.

All in all, the day went without a hitch, apart of the pissing down of rain all afternoon and the Chelsea score. The neighbours were probably fucked off, and the house looked like the shoe bomber had made an appearance, but I heard through the grapevine that Jennifer had a good time. And that's all that matters.

So, after 11 months, numerous operations, and a metal rod being shoved down my leg, I'm hoping I'll be able to walk again soon and get blogging properly. Thanks to everyone who came on Saturday, you know who you are.

Spare change guv'ner?