They're fit, well and John Squire's mum's got writer's cramp. Sorry, lads, there's no getting out of it now…
THREE SONGS INTO the Stone Roses' first gig for two months, headlining the main stage at Sweden's Lollipop festival, Robbie Maddix throws down his drumsticks, hurls a pint of beer to the floor and storms off.
"This is shit. Totally shit," he mutters, heading towards the band's dressing room.
Immediately, a member of the Roses' tour crew emerges from backstage with two low leather stools, on which John Squire and Mani perch for the next two songs - an impressively sexy 'Your Star Will Shine' and the oddly effective 'Tightrope'.
Several times, Squire, his face half obscured by a huge, black leather cap, peers over his shoulder, anxiously mouthing the words: "Where's Robbie?"
Maddix finally returns, clearly still in a foul mood, and without the outsized, multi-coloured, felt top hat he has been wearing all evening. His problem, though, remains a mystery. While the sound from the stage is distinctly tinny and not nearly loud enough, the Roses' debut appearance since Squire broke his collarbone in a cycling accident in San Francisco, just before Glastonbury, had been going well. From a stage bathed in red light and with an enormous, revolving mirrorball above their heads, the band began their set with 'I Wanna Be Adored', 'She Bangs The Drum' and 'Waterfall', all enthusiastically received by a 20,000-strong audience crammed into a forest clearing by the side of a massive lake just outside Stockholm.
The remainder of the gig goes without a hitch and the Roses prove, after just two albums, that they have an astonishing collection of classic songs. Ian Brown's voice, however, deteriorates dramatically halfway through the set. As he slouches about the stage in baggy silk trousers and an unbuttoned silk shirt, 'Begging You' is embarrassingly out of tune, 'Ten Storey Love Song' suffers from a succession of Brown's bum notes and the closing number, 'Driving South', is far from the finale it should have been.
Backstage, the band give the gig six out of ten, and agree that some rehearsal between the following three dates in Finland is necessary for their Feile Festival appearance. As the rest of the Roses muck around before returning to their hotel, Squire, who is at least willing to show off his scar, disappears to discuss the effect of changing temperatures on his guitar strings with a fascinated Geffen rep.
With the next day off, the Roses stay in Stockholm. Brown and Maddix head off to the gym, while Mani, between mobile calls to his heavily pregnant girlfriend, buys clothes and attempts to organise an afternoon piss-up in a nearby park. No one sees or mentions Squire all day, adding fuel to rumours that he has begun to work on a project of his own.
En route to the park, Mani meets Jarvis Cocker, dressed for the 90-degree heat in a heavy, brown tweed suit, orange V-neck sweater, clear plastic sandals and socks. Jarvis is visibly anxious, no doubt because Pulp, who play only a tea-time slot on the smaller stage tonight, replaced the Roses as headliners at Glastonbury. For a second, Jarvis begins to apologise, before Mani cuts him off, warns him not to worry and blames the entire episode on "circumstances". In an attempt to scorch nagging rumours that they pulled out of Glastonbury at the last minute because they were too scared to play, the Roses are now putting Squire's X-ray on ads for their end-of-year tour.
Later in the day, the band, minus Squire, return to Lollipop. They have no interviews organised, although Brown insists this is only because no one asked. "People have this idea that we won't talk to the press," he says, "so no one tries. But I'm up for it. I'd talk to a journalist right now."
While Mani befriends Scottish rockers Gun, Brown sits quietly backstage, until a member of the Swedish "Love Patrol", in skintight plastic trousers and clingy Lycra top, offers him free condoms.
"Never use 'em," he grumbles, impolitely throwing the packet back.
When a festival photographer walks up and tries, without permission, to take his picture, Brown grabs the camera and marches off. Finally, having led the photographer halfway round the backstage area, Brown agrees to let him have his camera back, but at a price.
"How much money have you got?" he asks.
The photographer empties his pockets and holds out a handful of notes.
"That'll do," smiles Brown, returning the camera and keeping the cash.
Throughout the day, the only act that Brown wants to watch is Carl Cox, who is performing in the dance tent, late at night.
"There're too many average bands on," he moans. "That's the problem with music at the moment - anyone who's even slightly all right suddenly becomes the next big thing. Most of those new bands just sound the same to me."
Waiting for Cox's set, the temperature drops and Brown feels cold. Minutes later, as arrogant and irresistible as ever, he has managed to talk a reluctant security guard into surrendering his American football team jacket.
Doesn't it frustrate him being at a festival after he's played already?
"Yeah, course," he replies.
So how could you go for five years without ever playing a gig?
"Dunno," he says. "We just did - and that's that."
Does Mani feel the same way?
"Fuckin' hell, too right," says the bassist. "For five years it was awful. I got to the stage where I had to actually go out and get a proper job, just to prove to myself that I really was still capable of working."
What did you do?
"I served behind the counter in my girlfriend's mum's burger bar in Monmouth. It was great. Best two weeks of the summer."
Lisa Verrico
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