Bathroom Blues

It is early in 1999 and Hillary Clinton is making one of her occasional visits to Belfast. Alongside the usual high profile appearances, she s also dropping into an organisation called ACET (Aids Care Education & Training) by the Spires Centre near Howard Street. Naturally, the security presence is considerable, and visitors are being questioned and searched.
Enter Peter Wilson, a wide-eyed guy from Downpatrick with his spikey hair and dungarees. He works at ACET two days a week, but the cops aren t taking anything for granted. In particular, they want a look inside Peter s case.
Sure thing, he says, as he fiddles with the combination lock. His demeanour gets a little tense when he realises that the code for the lock isn t producing a result. He fiddles a bit more, but there s still no success. The minders want to know about the contents of the case, and Peter tells them that he s carrying drugs. By this stage, he realises that he s digging a rather large hole for himself, so he adds that the drugs are, y know, sealed inside perspex containers.
The security posse are getting genuinely interested now. But the bloke with the case is assuring them that he s a legitimate courier, using the stuff for a drug awareness programme with the blessing of ACET. The point of the exercise is to keep the kids away from illicit substances. Peter wants to make them think about the consequences to forswear dirty needles and all of the other hazards of the lifestyle. If only he could open the case, he could prove it to these edgy old men. Which he does, eventually.
The Hillary Clinton visit passes without incident. Belfast is spared an embarrassing drug seizure and Peter Wilson walks away from a potentially tricky, Midnight Express senario. Phew!
Now let s flashback to Galway, August 1998. Peter is taking time out with his wife Heather and his son Ben. There s every reason to be cheerful, but Peter, inexplicably, starts to feel aggravated. This feeling increases in relation to the good humour of his companions. So while the other Wilsons are jesting in the guest room, Peter is throwing an irrational, silly moody in the lavvy. And from this petulant outburst comes a top song.
Bathroom Floor is a moment-by-moment depiction of one man s pique. He captures the absurd nature of the occasion, but he also makes us aware of the intensity of his feelings. Weirdly, Bathroom Floor is the second record from Northern Ireland this year (the first being co.uk s Big Green Bath ) to stage a life crisis in the lavvy.
Two years ago, Peter was in an act called Booley House. They were alright, if you liked flouncey, uncool pop music with 80s haircuts and a zealous spiritual dimension.
Now Peter is calling his gig Booley, and the change is much more than a rebranding exercise. He s working on his own now, pulling in help when it s needed. The singer has evolved plenty with a more complex message. Musically, it s akin to World Party, The New Radicals, Neil Finn and Aimee Mann. And of course, if you follow this music to a common source, you ll tap into the tuneful savvy of Paul McCartney.
My idea is to have melodies that are really memorable, Peter explains, with ass-kicking rhythms, gutsy guitar and words that can make people think.
There s a track on the Bathrooom Floor album called Alright which regards the political situation in Northern Ireland with despair. Instead of holding out for a new, liberal dawn, he sees prejudice, intolerance, disgust. It s an important angle. Especially, when older Wilson songs like Time Is Right made everything out to be a bit groovy.
The whole record, compared to the previous stuff, would be more despairing or dark, he states. As a songwriter, I m learning to explore my inner feelings, and being more honest about that. I really admire other writers when they admit that things are difficult or when they re baring their souls. I can relate to that. Not that I m a manic depressive, but I like to be honest about me.
But how does this blacker edge connect to the singer s reputation as a born-again believer?
It s another journey. After working for ACET, you realise that you can t judge people. You go in with what you think is an answer, but some of those people have been through so much crap. It s a very humbling experience just being around them. So I would claim to have faith in God. That s going to effect what I write, and I m not running away from it, but I don t see it as the place to explore just now.
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Broadcasting House on Ormeau Avenue has been an interesting place over the past three months. It s been party to many Radio 1 visits, as the London branch of the Beeb have been trying to form a bridgehead into the Northern Ireland audience. Basically, people in the north don t listen much to Radio 1. They prefer Radio Ulster (while has a huge share of the listening figures, especially with more mature citizens), and Cool FM, which attracts the pop kids and their parents.
The latest initiative is to borrow the Thursday night section of Steve Lamacq s Evening Session and to produce local versions of the show from Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland. To this end, Radio Ulster s Mike Edgar has been putting together a team to carry the stamp of Radio 1, complete with their demanding production values. He has recruited his old mate Stan Ferguson to make the show swing, alongside the freshly-recruited presenters Colin Murray and Donna Legge.
The potential is considerable, and the clout of Radio 1 should ensure that more hip acts will be recorded in all their raw glory in Belfast. First off is Mercury Rev, who will steer into the intimate confines of The Limelight in Belfast on June 29. Ultimately, the good parts of this new show will filter through into Steve Lemacq s proper programme, thus allowing a Celtic voice on the Radio 1 airwaves. Definitely a good thing.
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Finally, Hit The North would like to say a sincere farewell to Debbie Skhow, who has written about bands from these parts with much clarity. Her Demo Dip column in Hot Press has been very important in getting coverage for new bands, and she gave it her best. Furthermore, we regard Debbie as a good friend; a creative and considerate soul who has periodically expunged many of the horrible aspects of the business in Ireland and beyond. Dublin s loss is Seattle s gain. n