Brad Spurgeon's Blog

Although I interviewed Eddie Jordan several times, it was only at a musical event outside the context of the racetrack that I really got to know better the Formula One team owner who has just died at the age of 76 of bladder and liver cancer. It was thanks to an evening at the Hard Rock Cafe in Kuala Lumpur at the Malaysian Grand Prix weekend of 2009 that I owe to Eddie one of my best memories in the musical journey that I carried out in parallel to my Formula One reporting during my last decade covering the series.

It was my first year taking my guitar around with me to every race in the hope of finding a place to play music at each event. My goal was to find an open mic or open jam session in each city a Grand Prix took place, or failing that, simply any kind of a place to play in public. That first year was the most difficult as I was transforming my usual life as an F1 journalist from a routine of “airport, circuit, restaurant, hotel, airport” into all of that plus trying to find a place to play music.

That year in Kuala Lumpur I eventually managed to get on stage at a big, cool, half-outdoor, half-indoor, venue called Urban Attic. But that was not enough for me, and when I learned that Eddie Jordan was putting on a show at the Hard Rock Cafe with his throw-together band that he called “Eddie Jordan & the Robbers,” I decided to be bold. His show was to take place on the Saturday night before the Sunday race. I searched around for Eddie in the paddock on the Friday and managed to catch him just as he was leaving the circuit at the end of the day, and I approached.

I told him about taking my guitar to every race and looking for a place to play, and would he let me up on stage to sing a song with him and his band?!?! We were only in the second race of the season, and had gone directly from Australia to Malaysia, as the races were a week apart. (Just as F1 has done between Melbourne and Shanghai last week and this weekend.) So my open mic adventure had just begun. I had succeeded in playing in two or three different places in Melbourne, and at that point, instead of my Seagull S6 acoustic guitar, I carried with me only a horrendous little baby Stratocaster that could not stay in tune for even a single song. Good-hearted Eddie immediately said I could sing a tune during his show, but maybe I should send him a sample of what I would play.

Having no good recordings online yet at that point, I decided to record the song on my dictaphone that I used to interview F1 drivers and team members. Partly since Eddie was Irish, and partly because I performed the song a lot at that time, I decided to record “Crazy Love,” by Van Morrison. But the quality of the recording as well as me accompanying myself with that horrendous Baby Strat meant that I asked Eddie to please understand that I would do the song much better during a performance with the band. I sent the song and the explanation to him by email, and he still assured me that I could go up on stage and sing the song. Personally, I knew that I had a great reception at the Urban Attic doing the song with someone else’s guitar, so I was nevertheless confident that I would do ok with Eddie & the Robbers.

When I went to the gig, I arrived as Eddie was adjusting his drums, about to play in a few minutes. We spoke briefly, and he acknowledged that I could play a song. He also introduced me to the Irish ambassador to Malaysia, Eugene Hutchinson, who was in the audience, because I think he probably thought that it probably made him look good to introduce a journalist from the International Herald Tribune and The New York Times to the worldly envoy. I spoke briefly with the ambassador, and then Eddie & the Robbers went up to perform.

They were astoundingly good. Way beyond my expectations. It was not until almost exactly a year later that I began this blog, and started filming my experiences at the open mics with various Zoom cameras and good sound recorders. I did, however, that evening, have that dictaphone that I used for the Van Morrison demo. So I recorded a lot of their songs, as I just couldn’t resist. Afterwards, I put together a tiny medley of four extracts of the songs to show what they could do, and I posted it on my F1 blog on the IHT/NYT web site along with a long account of the evening of Eddie & the Robbers at the Hard Rock Cafe itself.

Many of the links within that post have gone bad. Including the recording. So I put above in the media player the recording of that medley for you to listen to. And if you didn’t listen yet, do so. It is worth it. We hear Eddie introducing the songs, some of the musicians, and we hear also his drumming. And we hear his brilliant band and their fabulous vocals.

At one point in the show – I think it’s the one on the recording – Eddie announces a “special guest” and my adrenalin flashed through me. But it turned out not to be me. In fact, I would never get up on that stage to sing and play. I do not recall now whether Eddie apologized or said anything at all to me afterwards for saying I could do a song and then he never called me up. But I felt both let down and puzzled. Still, the night ended up going way beyond my wildest imaginings in other ways.

After they finished their sets, all the musicians and Eddie sat down together and had some drinks. The Hard Rock Cafe was still bursting at the seams with the spectators, but I knew no one else present. I cannot remember how I ended up joining the band, whether it was by invitation or sheer party-crashing gumption. But I did end up with them. And what a group of musicians Eddie had managed to gather for his Robbers this time around: The guest of honor was saxophone player Felim Gormley, one of the stars of the legendary film “The Commitments,” directed by Alan Parker, and based on a novel by Roddy Doyle. On lead guitar and vocals was Matt Exelby, who played with, among many other interesting bands, a Roger Taylor – of Queen – formation. On bass was Peter Noone — no relation to the guy in Herman’s Hermits — but who also played with the Roger Taylor band. And with the deep, yet melodious, astounding voice and playing keyboards, was Jonathan Perkins, who had also played with the others along with Roger Taylor, but who had his own legendary band called “Miss World,” for which they had also played. But Perkins’ CV went way beyond that, as he had worked variously with Little Richard, Mick Jagger, George Harrison, Timothy Leary, Roger McGuinn, Glen Matlock, Bob Geldoff, Dave Stewart and Daryl Hall and John Oates.

Eddie at this time was already doing television commentary, and I think he used the excuse of having to get up early for that job in the paddock, and was the first of us to leave for the evening, while we were all still in the middle of the second or third round. I got to know the musicians, and we share stories of playing here and there, and stories of Eddie, etc., and I ended up staying up half the night with Felim Gormley and Matt Exelby. (It was Felim’s 40th birthday!) By the time Perkins left us, it was noticed however, that when Eddie Jordan had said goodbye and quit the group, he had done so while leaving his entire evening’s drinks bill unpaid for, and therefore in the hands of the struggling musicians of his band! Millionaire Eddie.

One of the muscians made some comment about how it was just like Eddie. And it drew to my mind my failed deal with Eddie to play a song with them that night. It was pure Eddie from all I knew: He had paid these musicians’ travel and put on a great show for the clients of the Hard Rock Cafe. He had done what I would end up doing for the next decade, playing on stage at any musical venue I could after the business at the racetrack. But whereas my adventure was a no-budget, one-man show in often very seedy bars and other strange venues, Eddie did things with style, and big: His own band, the Hard Rock Cafe, the ambassador of Ireland in attendance, etc. But at the same time, there was the reverse side of the coin: were those little things betrayals? Or were they just part of his seemingly sometimes scatter-brained approach to life. He was a brilliant negotiator, a man of endless ideas and schemes. And he ultimately succeeded beautifully in life in living his dream as a team owner, and becoming very wealthy.

But not everything always held together. Did any of us that night truly feel betrayed by him? No. We all laughed everything off, because Eddie was this fun, light-hearted original bringing stuff to the world in his wake wherever he went. His team itself was run like a rock band.

And, by the way, I had another insight into his Robbers and Eddie himself when two years after this event, in 2011 while continuing my open mic adventure, I met a very cool group of buskers in the streets of Nice during the Monaco Grand Prix weekend. I stopped to listen to them, then played with them, then we met up later in the weekend at Shapko’s Bar open mic, and I got to know one of them better. He was a young street musician, maybe 23 years old, from Britain but bumming around Europe, and during our conversation I told him about my Eddie Jordan experience. He told me that Eddie had met him in the streets playing somewhere – I think Rome – and Eddie had invited him to join the Robbers and he did a few gigs as part of the band. So there was Eddie picking up talented young musicians from the street as he did top backing musicians for major artists.

Oh, yes, back on that subject of bar bills, I have a suspicion that the first person Eddie met at the doors to the otherworld was Jonathan Perkins, who sadly also left us less than a year ago after his own battle with cancer, and unfortunately a decade younger than Eddie. No doubt Perkins is forgiving Eddie for that unpaid bill, and proposing they do another gig amongst the heavenly choirs.

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