A quick background. I think it was Hugh Hopper who passed along Mike's phone number back in 1990. It certainly wasn't old Softs manager Sean Murphy, who met my request for Mike's contact bluntly with 'He won't have more than four words for you'. The irony wasn't lost as I later learnt that it would be for Sean that Mike won't have more than four words for. With Hugh's help then I left a message on Mike's answering machine informing him of the 'Wrong Movements' project and requesting specific information for 66/67 era Soft Machine only, as this was proving so very difficult to research. Mike quickly returned the call and cordially conversed about twenty-five years old events. His memory was in solid state and confirmed that the original quintet (with guitarist Larry Nolan) played only four gigs, even identifying venues. Asked if he could share any mementoes, photos, etc, Mike replied 'Nothing... I've burned my past'.

Fast forward four years to October 11, 1994. Another answering machine message is left saying that I was in London and would like to pass along the book as I didn't have a postal address. We connected and Mike set a time and place (12.30pm at the Pelican in Leicester Square). Look for a lost-looking Canadian, I advised.

With great anticipation I arrived at the upscale coffee shop and found what could only be described as 'Mike Ratledge twenty years later, sunglasses and all'. We shook hands, smiled and immediately felt at ease with one another. Coffee was offered. Now, although I'd brought along the trusty Walkman I dared not ask to record an interview. To betray the intention and personal spirit enveloping our one-on-one would have been not only duplicitous but downright rude.

Instead what follows here are recollections of a conversation easily recalled, for which I'd like to think Mike wouldn't mind my sharing.

Compulsively I began by saying something like 'I'd just like to get one thing out of the

"I've burned my past..."

way. I know it was a long time ago for you and I know your general feelings on the matter, but I've listened to many hours of live recordings of Soft Machine and I've always been absolutely amazed by your playing. It was always so inventive and deeply rewarding". Mike graciously accepted the compliment and we proceeded to openly discuss matters musical and personal, both past and present.

I spoke of the new found interest in Canterbury scene by a new generation as all the old recordings have been given second life as CDs. - and further that his self ejection from recording and gigging in 1976 begets the all too common question 'What ever happened to Mike Ratledge?'. To belabour the point I went on to mention Pip's lyric for Richard Sinclair's recent record 'What's Rattlin', taking the piss out of rear-view navel gazing of bygone days. Mike laughed, and logically explained that he'd simply moved on; a process of growth.

Acknowledged also was the bleak 'behind the scenes' fact that after being monetarily taken from for ten years, ones desire to continue as a cash cow diminishes. It seems everyone lost.

'I understand you're now producing music for television adverts?', prompted Mike to talk about his agency with Karl Jenkins (Jenkins Ratledge), the various adverts they'd scored (Pepsi/Jaguar/British Airways), and the awards acquired.

Next came a question and answer for which I can retell verbatim. "Yes, but can working with TV commercials actually offer musical challenges and satisfaction?" Came the comeback, "Well, for one you can change your style and not have the band hate you for it", adding that he could find himself arranging for strings in the morning and programming computers in the afternoon. He was pleased that a typical scoring and recording session is completed within three days and seemed genuinely happy with his work.

classic Son Machine photo from 1966/7: (from left: Daevid Allen, Mike Ratledge, Robert Wyatt, Kevin Ayers)

Remembering why we were together I reached into my bag to offer a copy of 'Wrong Movements'. As he flipped through he flipped out over the old photos, 'God, everyone looks so young!' He stopped to read the 1967 BBC audition panel comments and was amused, and in agreement also. Pointing to the adjacent photo of Jimi Hendrix I commented that everyone had said that he was such a nice person, and Mike concurred with kind words of his own. I now recall that during our initial long distance phone conversation Mike relayed how Jimi would sit with him and ask about music theory in efforts to explore new musical territory. We continued to discuss 1967 as I asked about the college dance circuit the Soft Machine were put on. "It was the Star Club experience writ large', referring to the debacle at the famous Hamburg club where their music quickly started fights and cut short the set. Mike suggested that mostly the kids just wanted to dance to pop covers such as 'Knock On Wood', that there was between thirty and forty such

"Everyone looks so young! "

gigs across England, and indeed they were best forgotten.

Naturally talk turned to Robert Wyatt and Mike asked about his well-being and activities. To answer I reached for the book, turned to 1990 and showed Robert's quote defining himself as a true minimalist as he doesn't do anything. Smiles turned sober though when health was discussed. Yes, he knew of John Stevens' death three weeks earlier, and of Gary Windo's passing as well. And he spoke of sax veteran Dick Morrissey's battle with spinal cancer, saying "It always happens to the nicest guys." We lamented together for finding ourselves sharing such terrible news.

flyer from the early days : Soft Machine '67

Mike asked about the Gong Festival which led to reports about the great music, positivity and the long list of participating musicians - "all that was missing was you!", and we laughed. Then like a boxer coming out at the strike of the bell I confronted Mike's disdain: "but problems and all aside you played and recorded with Soft Machine for years, and to have been amidst that incredible energy must have been a fantastic experience for you". "Oh yes, it was", he conceded, "but one moves on". As has everyone else I suggested. "So we can't expect to see you playing keyboards with fuzz in a band soon!" I joked. "God, no! But having said that, I do have some ideas and it's possible that something may appear in a few years. Maybe a record, I don't want to say any more than that."
Certainly we spoke about much more but what more can I say? The fifty minutes flew by quickly. Mike had to leave for an appointment at his Soho offices, so we got our coats and bags and headed for the streets. Handshakes and mutual thanks were exchanged and I'm compelled to convey the appreciation he expressed for 'Wrong Movements' carried a sincere, personal currency - after all Michael Ratledge is an original, albeit divorced family member'. Then just before departing I summoned the nerve for a final request to take a photo. "Sure. There's plenty of pictures of me in your book. What's one more!"