Having just arrived in London after leaving Malta, Glen Cachia’s first priority was to find his feet in the big city. In this second part of his interview with music correspondent Michael Bugeja, he talks about the tough road that brought him back to Malta, with music still a very big part of his life. The first part of this interview was carried last Saturday
“My first goal was to get a job”, he’s quick to point out. “I started working at the Jean Machine, and got to know Dick Taylor, a deliveryman/musician whose track record included forming an early incarnation of the Rolling Stones with Keith Richards and forming The Pretty Things, a popular band in the 1960s”.
For the next year or so, Glen’s time would be divided between work and guitar practice at home, so the chance to work at Hohner, the international musical instruments giant, was more than welcome. Here he felt more in his element, and the urge to put a band together grew stronger. At an audition that included the likes of Barry Andrews (later of XTC and Shriekback) and Clare Hirst (later of The Belle Stars and Bowie’s Live Aid backing band) among the hopefuls, he met enough musicians to form his own band!
That band was Kabuki, its name borrowed from the traditional Japanese theatre known for its extraordinary make-up and style. Glen’s new outfit reflected that culture’s characteristics in its music and onstage performances, inspired to an extent as much by Bowie’s ever-changing guises and his own flair for art and design. He describes their music as “arty”, and after listening to a demo from the good old days, the words “talking” and “heads” somehow drift into the conversation. Although they were mostly a recording band, Kabuki did perform a number of gigs, mostly in South London. He has fond memories of The Frontline Theatre in “rough’ n’ tough” Brixton where, as he aptly puts it: “we played to a largely Rastafarian crowd, and getting them to tap their toes to the music was already an achievement”. Besides Kabuki, Glen was also moonlighting with two other bands – Hoo Hah, who were in between singers, and with whom he managed to get enough gigs every week to make a living; and an experimental jazz-meets-funk-meets-rock project called The Freudian Slips. When Kabuki faded around two years down the line, Glen made a fateful decision that changed the course of his life, though not necessarily for the better!
He gave in to his artistic inclinations, quitting music completely to study fashion design. His natural flair meant he did quite well for himself, but around 1987 he found himself getting hooked on something of a ‘party animal’ lifestyle, which he admits eventually led to him losing the plot completely; or as he puts it, “living the rock’n’roll lifestyle didn’t kill me, but making dresses nearly did”. Realising he had hit rock bottom he flew back to Malta, seeking refuge in rehab. San Blas proved to be an epiphany for Glen. He regained the musical fire that had been absent in recent years, forming a choir with some of his fellow residents to while away the time until he could leave and get on with his life!
Having cleaned up his act, he went back to London in the early 1990s with only music on his mind. He took several music-related courses, including one in studio production that eventually helped him get a full-time post at an upper-floor recording studio owned by a chap called Bill Farley. Farley had been the engineer on the first Rolling Stones album and had co-written the hit single Rosalyn with the Pretty Things. The odds of a connection to both these bands turning up twice in one’s lifetime seemed pretty slim, but Glen took it as a positive sign. By 1994, he had started to dabble in electronic music, producing a commercial dance track and a drum & bass track that packed enough potential to clinch the break he needed. When those chances fell through, he felt disillusioned, opting instead to play the odd gig, put together a home studio and do voluntary work at psychiatric wards by way of music therapy. This got him deeply interested in psychotherapy, a field he eventually graduated in.
Sometime in 2000, Glen came on holiday to Malta with his mate Trevor Westcarr, a rasta musician. A chance acoustic gig at Exiles went down far better than expected, and the two found themselves coming back every summer for more gigs until he met his better half and decided to move permanently to Malta and settle here. Today, Glen is very much musically active, working from home on new solo material and getting a band together to get back on the live circuit. His first promos, Lisa’s Song and Happy should actually be playing on the radio even as you read these words. Inspired by what goes on around him every day as much as by events from his chequered past, his songs are at heart quite uncomplicated, relying on the simplest of structures, easy melodies and meaningful words. He doesn’t aspire to being a people’s poet or anything like that – knowing that one of his songs gives someone a thrill is more of a kick! Making music for music’s sake, some might call it, and sadly that isn’t a common enough occurrence these days.
The end (so far!)