Originally signed to Bill Wyman's Reacharound Records I got my hands on Dutch Cap and the Rhythm Method after losing a bet with him over a chick. We won't go into the details here, but suffice to say my initial loss (bet) became my gain (band) and I couldn't have been happier with the frenetic and bombastic sounds, visions and misogynies that Dutch Cap and his cohorts brought to Onion Records. Many people ask me "Where are they now?"
My reply is always the same: "Admiral."
Harry Onion
Original Onion Records press release "Journey (to the Placenta at the Centre of the Earth)" EP by Darren Day
Side A: Journey to the Placenta at the Centre of the Earth
An electro-prog rock, rock guitar led, chugging foot stomper of a tune, that will take the lump out of your trousers and put it firmly in your throat. Wordsmith Dutch Cap once again delivers a typically blistering vocal on the unwanted side effects of lying down with a lying lady. Manly Frank’s frankly manly keyboard lines hold the song together like audio salad cream in a song sandwich, whilst Jimmy Changa (is he Chinese or isn’t he?) keeps on keeping on with them quiet drum bangs. Dutch Cap’s finger-fuelled, firey, fretboard-freakery fits like a foot-shaped glove around the very very sole of this song. Much like a guitar sock would, if you will. I wouldn’t, but then that’s me.
Side B track 1: Misery Loves Timpani (instrimental)
Drums drive this mutha along like a taxi driver driving your mother along, but faster, and with a tribal-timpani folk-funk workout on the radio. Loud. Jimmy Changa (is he Chinese or is he Japanese?) shows his Classical credentials with the kettle drum opening salvo, before Manly Frank invites us into his house (piano), where he’s playing the funky clav in the corner of the kitchen. There’s a knock at the door, “Who’s there?”, it’s some 70’s strings and their friend Dutch Cap’s typically blistering plectrum-shredding axe virtuosity. And we’re not even half-time oranges yet. The sound of a crying baby playing a harpsichord floats through the kitchen window – who’s in the garden? It’s a crying baby playing a harpsichord with local folk-rock troupe. Or is it? No, it’s simply DCATRM doing what they do best – which is what? This.
Imagine a car crash. Marc Bolan’s girlfriend is driving him home from a late lamb lunch. She’s loses control of the Mini and hits something. It’s not a tree, it’s a tramp, a super tramp, it’s Supertramp. If this had actually happened and no-one had died and they made a song together instead, this would be it. Yes. Once again Dutch Cap is on typically blistering form. Proving his prowess with a murderous guitar performance he stops off to deliver a killer vocal, like some sort of rock postman. Is that all? No. There’s more. More in the shapes of Manly Frank’s chocolaty electric piano chops, and Jimmy “is he or isn’t he?” Changa’s solid as a rock rock drumming with sensible pop sensibilities. This song is so “catch me if you can” catchy, I wish I’d worn a condom. On my ears. When I first listened to it.
The Story Behind the Band of the Band: Dutch Cap and the Rhythm Method:
Reluctant father prog rock experimentalists by Dutch Cap (himselve)
Reluctant father prog rock experimentalists by Dutch Cap (himselve)
I suspect that most women haven't a clue what the birth of a child does to a man's life. I had been taught from an early age to ape my father's mannerisms (big hat, moustache, fat fingers), so naturally I thought it would be wonderful to produce someone just like me. When my “girlfriend in inverted commas” told me she was pregnant, my first thought was: "Shit nuts."
Like most of my generation, I had been brought up with the idea that the husband paced the corridor outside the delivery room until he received the “happy” news that he was a father. But by the time my turn came, it was more or less compulsory for the husband to attend.
I sat beside my wife when our child was born and when it came out my feeling of disappointment was acute. “Shit nuts” I thought, in quotation marks. Of course, I hid it from everybody around me with false joviality and exaggerated pride, but nevertheless it was there, and coincided with a growing feeling that the sands were shifting.
The birth wasn't an experience I savoured or shared with any enthusiasm. I believe the majority of women would like to get on with it without a voyeuristic husband in the way. I know experts say being there gives you a greater bond with your child, but this was not the case for me; after all, I wouldn't want to be introduced to my new best friend in an accident unit at the local hospital. I wasn't used to the sight of a red-faced woman screaming and swearing and threatening dire reprisals towards me for having the effrontery to make her pregnant, at least not on a weekday. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing for me, and we never of the birth spoke again.
When I realized we had to bring the small bundle home, my life changed forever. From being the focus of my wife's attentions, I quickly learned that I was down the pecking order. When I came home from work at Admiral, all the talk was about the baby. She had to have this, be given that, be fed on demand and indulged whenever she screamed. We were caught in a constant circle of servitude to our new baby, and it wasn't long before I felt a real resentment towards the child.
Some men find refuge in a hobby that takes them away from the marital home, but I was just starting out on my career at Admiral. I was a manager for a chain of Admiral shops at a time when Admiral was really taking off, and my answer was to immerse myself in Admiral. Admiral clearly wasn’t filling enough of my time so I took up the electric guitar and formed a band. That had two positive outcomes: one, I spent more time on the road and less time pandering to the unwelcome intruder who was ruling the roost at home. The second was that my musical career suddenly accelerated when the advert placed in Loot was answered by the best two musicans money could buy, Jimmy Changa (a drummer, Chinese) and Manly Frank (a keyboardist, bender). But at home matters continued to worsen: because she was seeing less and less of me, my wife was getting most of her emotional needs satisfied through the maternal bond. Whenever I was at home, I felt excluded. My attempts at initiating lovemaking were met with, "I am so tired", "I have just got the baby to sleep, we don't want to wake her", or “Fuck off”. A relationship that had started as a genuine love affair had turned into a chore. “Shit nuts.” I thought.
What came out of this whole ruddy experience was the yet to be critically acclaimed EP “Journey (to the Placenta at the Centre of the Earth)”. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Rare footage of Dutch Cap and the Rhythm Method rehearsing for the tour that never was
Dutch Cap - Image and Vision
Ship captain’s hat with diaphragm balanced on top (?), denim jacket buttoned to the collar with a tie over the top (Christmas – last time he was happy)
Had a heavy metal band at school called Axwound – banned from playing by deputy headmaster
Went to catering college, realized he didn’t like cooking, started a prog rock band called the Corinthians – didn’t get a record deal so had to do temp work
Was a data entry clerk for Admiral (wrote folk music and lyrics in spare time); went mental on hearing wife (girlfriend?) had fallen preggers. Had a breakdown. Smashed up his workstation at Admiral. Fired. Sectioned under Mental Health Act.
Released into the community with electronic tag (which causes feedback if he stands).
Dutch Cap - in an nutshell
BORN: to run (away from the wife and baby)
LIVES: For the day (but not for the night, because that might involve sex with the missus)
EATS: Like a horse (diet of sugar lumps – supposedly keeps the sperm count down)
FIRST RECORD BOUGHT: Bachelor Boy by Cliff Richards
FAVOURITE RECORD: Any thing by Mr Mister (leaves out the missus see?)
FAVOURITE FILM: Sex education (O level biology)
FAVOURITE TV SHOW: Can’t Cook, Won’t Cook
ACHIEVEMENTS: CSE music, Grade 2 guitar
REGRETS: Doing my wife
BELIEFS: The opposite of Catholicism – Contraceptionism?
HATES: hats, and having a baby; but wears a hat to protest against having a baby
WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN YOUR POCKETS? Condoms (Mates), mints, menthol cigarettes, the pill, the morning after pill, dutch cap, coil, Femidom, coat hanger (I like to keep my jacket uncreased)
WHAT DID YOU DO LAST NIGHT? Not have sex – watched re-runs of Can’t Cook, Won’t Cook
WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY? Last time I had unprotected sex
WHO IS OVER-RATED? My daughter (and Ainsley Harriot)
WHO IS UNDERATED? Me (and Anthony Worral Thompson)
MOST PRECIOUS POSESSION? Talent (and tent for sleeping in the back garden to get away from the family)
WHAT DO YOU MOST DISLIKE ABOUT YOURSELF? My sperm
WHAT CAN YOU COOK? Can’t Cook, Won’t Cook
FAVOURITE DAY/NIGHT OUT? A day at the races and a night on the tiles
WHO DID YOU LAST VOTE FOR? Rick Waller – Pop Idol
WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO VOTE FOR? Myself for an Ivor Novello
FOR WHAT CAUSE WOULD YOU DIE? Contraceptionism
WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE ON YOUR GRAVESTONE? Lichen
