Since Sunday, I have been surrounded by serious Bad Company. Not roadside ruffians, nitpicking neighbours or foolish friends. I’m talking about the 1970s British rock band. The frontman of the band, vocalist Paul Rodgers is one of my favourites who celebrated his birthday on December 17. There are others too. Another Paul whose surname is a bit of McDonald's, a cart and a misspelled knee. Plus some sons of Ander, Morris and Dickin, a long haired dude who was Plant-ed, one guy who wore Dio-derant and another who came from a fishing history called Gill-an. And yes, one legend who kept my Mercury rising in a Sting operation. Mark it.
Only the fans will understand the puns. The others will Rodger me. But that's rock n' roll and Bad Company at its worst. Every music fan has a history of nostalgically relating to bands, artistes and everyone in between. Here’s a brief about my story. Back in 1984, my first colleague was Atul Churamani, later a legend in the Indian music industry. I thought he was fantastic company. We talked music. I hadn't heard of this band but he said he was a huge Bad Company fan.
At the time, shopping happened at Pyramid in Palika Bazaar, Delhi. I spent my savings to hear their Bad Company’s self-titled debut album. The song 'Seagull' sent me on flights of imagination. I croaked the song it at parties and still do.Time went 'Moving On' — another hit. And there are 75 songs I can list. But will do a collage of some.
'Early In The Morning', I saw the 'Morning Sun' in the 'Burning Sky' which led to a 'Rock n' Roll Fantasy' where I as a 'Simple Man' and 'Shooting Star' dreamt of 'Silver, Blue and Gold', while we 'Run With The Pack' over 'Crazy Circles', all of us 'Rock Steady' and 'Ready For Love', and told our partners to 'Feel Like Making Love' and if they rejected, we sang 'Love Me Somebody'.
This is a terrible attempt at writer Gabriel Garcia Marquez's magic rockism... err realism. But Rodgers is a dude. He had the timbre, range and emotion. He stylised power ballads. Others followed him.
Bad Company was probably the closest knit band that ever was. Each member played a role, nobody hogged the limelight. Guitarist Mick Ralphs an underrated genius. Bassist Boz Burrell and drummer Simon Kirke tighter than Rodgers' white pants.
There's a lot more, Paul. My allowed word count is running out. Happy 68th birthday. Hope your 69 rocks. No pun intended, but am in actual Badddd Companyyy. And I 'Can't Get Enough'.
