Ain't Bad for a Pink (40 page)

Another thing that can’t help being humorous – preposterous – is the tuba. I swapped a sousaphone for mine. It’s been painted maroon, navy blue and bottle green with jaunty pale blue highlights on the pipework and primary red and yellow on the valves. It looks festive in a faded kind of way and has obviously seen some action. I think it has probably appeared in a pantomime.

In some respects music shops are like toy shops: full of shiny objects laden with the latest gadgetry and as much to do with fantasy as with reality. You only have to look at some of the expensively produced brochures supplied to the trade – they don’t bother with information – it’s all image! I would expect this if it was aimed at the customer but they must think that the retailer is equally susceptible to impulse buying. As a retailer I require hard facts.

Speaking of which there’s a Paul Gilbert white horned guitar with F holes painted on. The volume knob looks awful; there’s a switch in the middle you can’t see and with three pick-ups there’s nowhere to play it! Normally there’s space for your fingers between pick-ups but no matter where I put my hand I’ve got £50 worth of pick-ups interfering! It has upside down machine heads and I think it’s naff but there are people who would like it and put up with the annoyance for the novelty.

But the persuasive power of the world of the guitar as desirable object is all there in the catalogues’ words and images. The instruments have virile action movie names: Revolver, Shredder, Fastback, Liberator, Apocalypse Special Bass, Paul Stanley Dark Star; or names that proclaim supreme expertise: Sovereign Special, Sovereign Pro, Blues King, Session Master Special and so on. There’s a style to suit every performer: Traditional Double Cutaway, Aggressive Double Cutaway, Aggressive Carved Body are all on offer and necks can be Bound Set, Sculpted Bolt-on, or have a Select Spruce Top. Then, if this advertising copy doesn’t get you, you might be tempted by an endorsement from a rock god such as Paul Stanley of Kiss. Or surely the sight of a black shiny guitar outlined in white, decorated with mother-of-pearl, sporting aristocratic Seymour-Duncan pick-ups, lying in the black velvet bed of a pristine guitar case,
actually within reach in the shop
will do the trick?

As favoured by Motorhead and all yours for £600.

For me wealth creation started as soon as I could ride my bike. Aged six I’d collect some jars, cycle down Weston Road to the marl pits and catch minnows, red doctors, frogs and newts, to sell to my mates for pennies – a penny ha’penny for a red doctor. Later I’d do paper rounds to fund my growing interest in music. I didn’t hoard my money – I put it to good use: musical equipment, racing bike, nice guitar, scooter, big motorbike, sports car. All through spotting the bargain, doing things up, wheeling and dealing: the pattern of my working life.

When I started Custom Amplification all the right conditions came together: my business acumen and innovative skills, the explosion in pop music, a young generation with money and the desire to play loud music, the growing interest in vintage instruments.

So why am I relatively poor? Leaving aside the vagaries of the economy, the simple answer is I’m not a millionaire because I’ve spent my money!

A friend of mine treated himself to a red Porsche for his sixtieth birthday. Why wait so long? This should happen when you’re young enough to enjoy what money buys – then you won’t have any regrets in old age.

And that’s what I’ve done. I’ve invested my money in hedonistic experiences. I always had enough money for the guitars I wanted, the sporting equipment I needed and the vehicles: terrestrial, marine and aerial I drove, and through this I met all sorts of people. These opportunities sustained me far more than the security of a large bank balance and because I experienced things when I wanted to, I have no regrets that I am now poor.

Of course, there were other contributory factors. The good luck in my life has been offset to a certain extent by those occasions when the timing has been out, when someone has let me down, when bureaucracy trampled over me or when a tiny detail had the power to dominate everything. Perhaps I was never single-minded or ruthless enough to be a millionaire because I split my focus: losing time in an abortive career as a white-collar worker, and then when I did get my own business I divided my time between that and playing music. Music – not money – was at the core of things and I chose the type of music that was never going to be commercially successful. In this I knowingly followed my heart and not my head – with no regrets.

I also have ethical reservations about wealth creation and the way commercialism pervades everything. I have respect for wealth that has been earned through hard work over a period of time but not for celebrity wealth that comes easily, overnight and for slender talent. There’s something wrong when a footballer says he can’t manage on forty-seven thousand a week. There’s something wrong when the florist’s bill exceeds what a hard-working ordinary man can earn in a year. There’s something wrong when naturally talented people can’t afford the instruments their skill deserves because vintage guitars, like vehicles, have become investment items, divorced from their purpose and kept in bank vaults to accrue unearned wealth.

I have lost money by refusing to sell vintage guitars to people who were not musicians.

My life has been punctuated with the deaths of people I have known, worked with and loved. Seen through the filter of grief, some of life’s problems have seemed petty, including making money.

I’m a survivor because my lifestyle has always been underpinned by hard work and a stable business. I’ve taken some risks but all my decisions have had a basis of calculated wisdom. I’ve accumulated some assets because I’ve always needed and had a safety net. This has moderated my hedonism – if that’s not a contradiction in terms – and that’s why, in spite of her scorn for my conservatism, I fight Zoe’s desire for me to sell up.

Having a business means you need suitable premises: space and security for the stock, a working area, room for development and The Nantwich Road shop had all this as well as being in a prime commercial position. Business went very well in the Seventies – so well that I opened another shop in Hanley in 1973. But times became very edgy when the economic climate in Britain took a downturn in 1976 and from banking three to four thousand pounds a week, I was only taking a few hundred pounds. The Hanley shop was the casualty – that went in 1976. Within three months of me deciding to sell Hanley and consolidate Crewe, I had notice to quit Nantwich Road: there was to be a road widening scheme. Thus began a period of unrest which took me to the edge of bankruptcy until I had established the Edleston Road shop as a going concern.

No matter how good at business you are, you have little power over the big boys whose plans ride roughshod over individual hopes. My shop on Nantwich Road was compulsorily purchased: my end of the block was to be demolished for the wider road into Mill Street. Preston’s the chemist and post office (number 41) was on the corner of Mill Street and Nantwich Road: that was going. Gasket Breakers and a couple of other shops were the premises in Mill Street that were going. Next to Preston’s was Stancie Cutler’s antique shop, (number 43) then Custom Amplification, (number 45) then Mr Bright’s chemist shop, (number 47): all going.

When I asked for alternative premises in what has now become a chip shop on the corner of Nantwich Road and Mill Street, my request was refused. The next issue was that some of the designated places were not demolished after all and some of the businesses given notice to quit were allowed to remain. Why was my claim for part of the rebuilt block rejected whilst others were not? My success as a businessman was not in question. Years later when I was talking to the former manager of the local bank (he did some drumming and liked my music) he said, “If I’d still been there you’d have had the old bank.” He had faith in me, you see; he had watched me establish my business and make good profits; I had an American Express Gold Card; I banked with him – he should know! He also knew I lived at a prestigious address with good credit rating. No: it had nothing to do with my entrepreneurial status. I feel almost certain that my lifestyle went against me. The police had their eye on me: every time I went out of the country it was logged. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised – some of the people who came to my shop had dubious reputations and criminal records, and when searched my business cards would be found on them. I have committed minor drink and drugs offences myself. But I’ve never deserved to be treated like an outlaw.

I had a proper tenancy agreement with the council so I received just under four thousand as compensation for the broken agreement. But for me the loss of the Nantwich Road shop represented an economic downturn and I wanted to remain on this main road where there were so many good memories. The premises to which I moved in Edleston Road were in a less dynamic position and reflected the setback in my fortunes. What I got in compensation couldn’t compensate me.

I gradually built up the Edleston Road business and reached a point in 1990 when I could stop renting and purchase the premises. I raised the mortgage and then met the sort of unfair circumstances I loathed: the price was increased by ten grand and I was told that if I was unwilling to pay that price, the shop would close for six months for refurbishment. In other words I was stuffed. Anyway, I raised the extra money but felt an enduring bitterness for the perpetrator of this exploitative opportunist act
.
It was legal but unethical.

Business has deteriorated since the glory days of the Seventies, not just because of national economic fluctuations but because fewer people are hiring these days. People used to be too poor to buy outright so they had to hire equipment or make an arrangement to pay gradually. Musicians now have more money and – until the Crunch – better access to credit so most established bands own their equipment. With the influx of Chinese goods it’s cheaper too. Because clubs and pubs are closing there are fewer venues and therefore fewer people playing music. Business has seasonal fluctuations as well. The worst months for selling have always been those without an ‘r’! Most people don’t choose to spend summer studying the guitar.

I went to Pete’s shop as a boy customer 35 years ago and Pete allowed me to have a drum kit and pay for it weekly. I couldn’t have had it but for his support. It was £350 – a lot of money in those days. A lot of young musicians would have gone by the wayside but for Pete Johnson.

Phil Doody.
(10)

The spasmodic nature of the business was well illustrated one dismal Saturday when I’d only taken fifteen pounds by four o’clock and felt like packing up. Then I took £375 for a guitar and amp plus an order for another guitar and amp costing £250. The trend continued the following Monday when someone phoned and asked me to deliver another guitar and amp.

You need fifty-seven thousand pounds turnover before you pay VAT.

There are anomalies and one of these is the discrimination made against the second-hand music business. In the world of second-hand cars and antiques VAT is paid only on the profit. In the music business it is paid on the turnover. If you sell second-hand instruments you’re not getting your VAT back. If I buy new at the cost of £100 I pay seventeen and a half per cent VAT. If I sell it, it is £150 plus seventeen and a half per cent VAT.

I owe the government the difference in VAT. If I bought a secondhand instrument off someone for £100 and sold it for £150, I should have made some profit with just a little bit of VAT to pay. But if I sell it for £150 I’ve got to pay the government VAT on £150, in which case to make my profits the same I would have had to buy the instrument for £83.

This is what depresses the second-hand musical instrument market – and me.

There’s a lot of money tied up in stock and shoplifting is endemic in our society. Some guitars are more valuable than others though any theft is regrettable. Also, value isn’t only about money; sometimes it’s about style or uniqueness or things having sentimental value. The top shelf guitars are higher up where the customers can’t easily reach. This minimises handling. They don’t have prices because I don’t want to indicate worth to any potential burglar. I would hope they would go for the cheaper shiny ones. Though sometimes I don’t price them out of laziness.

My own personal collection of vintage guitars means more than monetary value to me. If I really needed the money or stopped playing them I would sell them but that would be a sad day. That was why, when we had burglars during the festive season I was relieved that they only stole money and didn’t touch the guitars. Several hundred pounds and a Rolex watch went from upstairs but these thieves obviously didn’t want the hassle of converting goods into cash, so the shop was untouched.

Being burgled is always terrible because someone has invaded your territory as well as stealing your possessions. The circumstantial evidence pointed to one person who had insider information and the recent opportunity to size things up but there was no other permissible evidence. I’m just glad they left the guitars and that no-one was hurt.

The other day two youths came to the door. They were aggressive in their manner and I didn’t let them in. I was closed but that wasn’t the reason – sometimes I sell more things when I’m closed than when I’m open! The reason I wouldn’t let them in was because of their manner and because they weren’t speaking English. This isn’t racist, although it sounds as if it is. The point is I have had experience of theft in which two people are communicating together in a language I don’t know. One distracts me by asking about an instrument or piece of equipment and whilst I’m concentrating hard and trying to understand him, the other one steals something. They have a numbers advantage as well as a communication advantage over me and I don’t like it and can always see it coming.