Doesn’t returning to Malta in a quest to become a rock “god” sound like preparing for the New York marathon by shooting yourself in the foot?

“Yeah, it might sound that way, but Malta had its pros too. For one thing, it was much less distracting than London. It was the perfect place where I could focus on my ideas before returning to London to claim my share of fame and fortune,” says Ray Mercieca.

On setting foot back in Malta, Ray strikes up a musical partnership with one Nicky Falzon, an experimental keyboard player with stints in B3 & Mirage. The pairing is baptised “Jade”.

I enquire about his academic achievements “School? We avoided it like the plague. All we did was play music and goof in the whereabouts of Addolorata – our favourite haunt. We had a blast but the band’s days, though, were numbered”. Ray cites lack of ambition as the reason behind the split. “I guess Nicky felt safer here. I always wanted to take things further”. His next musical allegiance, however, would prove fateful.

“Back from another spell in London I bumped into Cooks (Ray Farrugia), an old mate of mine from Samstag. He asked me whether I was interested in joining his band, The Riffs, who were practically defunct following their vocalist’s departure. Seeing as they were into the punkier side of things I didn’t think twice about joining. That’s how The Riffs became The Rifffs. I was then introduced to Ray “Humbalance” Tabone (keyboards) whom I had known for a long time but never really had the confidence to speak to.

“Cooks also said he had this rock solid drummer from Marsa, Twanny, better known as “Najju”. I vividly remember our first jamming session. You could tell straight away there was something special going on. At first we sort of concentrated more on a defining sound rather than songwriting. The chemistry was palpable. We eventually tried playing a song and I remember the choice falling on a Prince Buster number called Gangster. Prince Buster was a 30s Kingston-born musician who developed the sound that would be later defined as Ska.

“We loved the genre’s rythmic movement and thought it would really sound interesting speeded up with abrasive guitars thrown in for good measure. It felt right so we stuck to this formula. Everyone was extremely comfortable with the sound and songs appeared out of nowhere. In a matter of weeks we had already written some 50 tunes. We were beyond excited and couldn’t wait to prove ourselves in front of a live audience.

“Our first gig was arranged at Caesar’s in Bugibba (then run by Rolf Harris) but there was one problem that still needed sorting out. I thought we were in dire need of a second guitarist but the chances of finding a kindred spirit who dug the very same stuff we did were next to none. Then one fine day I am on the bus heading for St Julian’s and I spot this lad in perfect punk attire”.

Ray laughs. “We stuck out like sore thumbs. We just looked at each other in disbelief for a while. Then I approached him: ‘You don’t see too many punks around here, heh? So what’s your story mate?’ He introduced himself as Rayvin Portelli. I learned he had spent some time in London and moved back to Malta where he was living and working as (hold your breath) a banker! I thought it was the most hilarious thing I had ever heard. I went into fits of laughter. A Punk Banker! You? – It was obvious we would get on like a house on fire. I almost wept when he told me he couldn’t play any instrument. He was perfect for the Rifffs. So perfect in fact, I asked him to join anyway.

“So next day at rehearsals I tell the others I think I found someone. Think I’ve got the man for the job. Cooks goes is he any good? I say erm… well, not really – actually he can’t play at all. But I will teach him. They thought I had lost it. So I gave Rayvin the mother of crash courses on guitar and in two weeks we had a half decent rhythm guitarist. Now the fact that Rayvin was the only one holding down a job and the only one in a position to cough up rent money did go some way towards persuading the others to let him in, but you have to believe me when I tell you that he learned to hold his own on rhythm duties in a mere two weeks. It was one of those things. It was meant to happen. He fitted in perfectly. Everyone loved him. I had a whale of a time driving around in his beaten four-door Cortina we used to call the Punk Mobile.

“When our first show at Caesars came up we honestly didn’t know what to expect. Pink Floyd cover bands were all the rage so I wasn’t quite sure what they would make of our sound.” Ray comes across as quite a narrator and the build-up is particularly impeccable. Your correspondent is on his toes. So what? What was the reaction?

He gets all fired up: “I am telling you man, the crowd went bananas. And, mind you, these people weren’t even remotely familiar with punk or ska! Far from it. They all looked like the average guy/girl next door… It was a resounding success. Way above our expectations. Word of mouth was strong and people were curious as to our next show. We wanted to capitalise on the vibe and a demo felt like the natural thing to do.

“Tony Scott (then a budding sound-engineer) offered to record us so we went over to his house to lay down a couple of tracks. We asked him whether he had a recording studio. He said no but I’ve got equipment at my house, just come over and we will fix something. So we go to his house and the guy’s arsenal turns out to be a two track-recorder and a host of prehistoric dodgy-looking equipment, all crammed in a room the size of a toilet. “We weren’t very impressed but none of it really mattered to us. We gave it our best shot with some gusto … The guy didn’t have much to work with but he really knew his stuff and knew exactly what he was doing. That was the first time we recorded Dance Music. We also laid down Sust, Pushy Pushy Mama and Hijack.

“Tony really put his heart into it. He loved us. We didn’t even have a tuner, so guitars were slightly off but somehow the end product worked. It seemed to give our music more character, more edge. We felt it sounded really good so we went to Xandir Malta and played it to Noel Mallia who loved it and got behind us giving The Rifffs some much needed airplay. The band swiftly gained notoriety and things started to take off. We tried to think of adequate places were we could play a proper gig.

“Rayvin came up with The Ambassador in Valletta. Such establishments weren’t too keen on rock music. We had to mislead the owner into thinking we were organising a Classical Concerto complete with violins and fat sopranos. We told quite a few porky pies. Tony offered to take care of the sound system but there weren’t any proper PAs at the time. He cobbled a sound system that he practically built himself with the aid of a friend from Gzira who had a couple of big speakers and bass bins. It looked frightening but somehow it worked.

“I remember Scott looking rather suspicious about the set-up’s trustworthiness but the sound check went smoothly. The Ambassador was a pretty big cinema and we weren’t confident about the turnout.” I enquire about admission fees in those days and am surprised when he tells me that tickets cost some Lm1.50 back then. “We went home after the soundcheck, had a shower, prepared ourselves. Upon arrival at the Ambassador we were met by our mates outside who told us that the place was practically dead. I was pretty upset. Disappointed, I made my way into the cinema and blimey! The place was jam-packed!

“I looked at the guys and you could see it in their eyes. This is it man. This is the real thing. People were screaming! We got onstage all hyped up ready to bring the house down. I hit the first chord and… nothing! The PA dies. There was complete silence. You could hear a pin drop. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to remain cool while thinking to myself this was going to be the worst day of my life. Somehow this setback only worked in our favour.

“We opened a bottle of wine while a panic-ridden Tony tried to fix the fault and the crowd somehow thought it was all an ingenious set-up, it was part of the show! They actually thought we were that cool! Scott managed to fix the PA and suddenly we were hot again. So I hit the first note and man… I will never forget the scene. The place went wild! I had never seen anything like it. I doubt anyone had, locally. It was electric.

“We didn’t make a dime out of the concert. What we made in ticket sales we had to pay out in damages but it didn’t really matter to us. What mattered was the incredible response to our music. It was probably the first time that a local rock outfit had relied on its own material and the response was overwhelming. I would say that gig was the high point of my musical career and the Rifffs’ moment of grace. Everyone was talking about The Rifffs afterwards. We became minor celebrities.

“Another gig followed at The Savoy and the same rampage ensued. By the time our third gig came along it was impossible to find a venue due to our havoc-wreaking reputation.

“Another demo was recorded at Tony Scott’s and I said to the guys: ‘Listen, I’m going back to London to get a record deal and I need to know whether you’re with me on this. I need to know right now whether you’d be willing to move to England, should I get this blessed deal.’ Everyone was in agreement. Not a single one of us doubted the band’s potential. We had immense faith that we would make it, so off I went.”

And so the story goes. The sought-after deal was struck and Dance Music was re-recorded in London for release as the band’s first single.It was picked up by radio stations and endorsed by some of the industry’s holiest of cows (John Peel for one) The Rifffs were solidly heading towards fame and probable fortune. So what the heck happened, Ray?

“Cash strapped Alternative Music records went belly up. A major was in the process of buying out our contract so we still stood a chance but a legal wrangle between the label’s partners froze discussions and the buzz soon fizzed off. To further complicate matters, Cooks and Najju had to come back to Malta. That was the final nail in the coffin. The Rifffs were over. I told you, we couldn’t have had a worse streak.”

Ray remained in London for a while and the seeds for The Characters were sown. But that story is for someone else to write. As far as I’m concerned The Rifffs were the real deal and, listening to Ray’s escapades, I cannot for the life of me fathom how this Rock n’ Roll rebel would later lend his name to The Characters. Ray is very diplomatic. “Well I don’t really mind if you don’t like The Characters. You are entitled to your opinion. I happen to think otherwise. There may have been a couple of songs I would have scrapped but I am not apologising for it. I am comfortable fronting The Characters as much as I was fronting The Rifffs. It’s just an entirely different beast, that’s all.”

I can’t help asking whether he’s bitter about missing the boat. Ray sits up, looking genuinely shocked. “Missing the boat? I am still there man. I am still there. As long as there’s life in me I will still be there.”

Cynically, I ask him how many 45-year-olds does he know of who’ve managed to break into the music biz.

“I might as well be the first, oh, and watch out for my new band. We’re called The Applebees and an album is on the way. I think you’ll like it.”

As he gets up I wonder whether he prefers the 1980s depression to the current state of affairs.

“Well man, I’ll take the 1980s depression any day. There are way too many captains now. Where have all the sailors gone?”

I smile, turn my dictaphone off and glance at his watch. Five o’clock. I may be home in time for dinner after all.