The Levi's

On a rare sunny Sunday in Manchester in 1944, baby Nigel was born to Charles and Helena Kensington of the Manchester Kensingtons. Little did he know that only three flats away lived a 2-year-old Paul Macharmley, already showing signs of intellectual capacity and a budding sense of rhythm. Neither Nigel nor Paul remembers exactly when they met for the first time. Likely it was prior to their first memories, when they were still in nappies.As lads they had — as many do — a penchant for mischief. To protect their present day reputations, neither will provide more insight. But they do claim to have caused more than a few girls to laugh. Or cry. They cannot remember which. Anyway, as geezers in the late 1950s and early 1960s, no bird was safe. And no bloke could challenge them.
Perhaps, reader, you are thinking of young Killian, Paul’s younger brother of 5 years? When did he become part of this magnificent triumvirate? Well, he really was always there, tagging along underfoot, picking up bad habits from the older lads. It was at a very young age Nigel and Paul knighted him with the nickname that he would adopt from thenceforth: “Killer.” Paul claims it was due to Killian’s manifest joy at throwing rocks at birds. (And I DO mean birds.) Nigel, on the other hand claims…well…he’s not saying what, but claims it had nothing to do with birds…or birds.
It seems that it was around the ages of 15 or 16 that Nigel and Paul first began playing music together. Their first song written together was entitled “My Neighbor’s Knickers.” Paul: music, Nigel: lyrics. Sample: “All night long to a Buddy Holly song, she’s the kit, she’s the kickers, dancin’ round in her knickers.” Brilliant. Or rubbish. That’s for the listeners to decide.
“The 60s, bloody hell. They was all about shagging birds and getting knackered, likely every night,” Paul once claimed. “It got to the point that we didn’t know which end was up, you know. We were bereft of spirit and of morality. I’m surprised we’re still alive.” Famous gigs at the Hammersmith Odeon, opening for Queen (whom they blew off the stage, mind you) and the Royal Albert Hall with the London Symphonic Orchestra (a la Deep Purple) placed them into the pantheon of great British rock bands.
It was in the 1980s that they scaled back the rock n’ roll lifestyle, playing occasional club gigs for fan club members only, and making several guest appearances on celebrity charity singles like “Do They Know It’s Christmas Time?” and “Supper Little Children”, a Smiths-influenced tune aimed at fighting child obesity. Paul went back to teaching history at Oxford, Nigel to Family Services, and Killer spending much of his time on his favorite hobby: botany.
Do they miss living in the limelight? “Well, it really started to approach the unreal,” Killer says. “For those like us that think and feel, we really must learn to sort of put aside the alienation, ya know? Just get on with the fascination.” Paul adds: “We really felt we needed to get in touch with some reality beyond the gilded cage.”
Lately, The Levi’s have decided to rekindle some of the rock shows and stage antics, branching out some, playing gigs mainly in the States in such unlikely towns as Santa Cruz and Stockton, both in California. There, they grace the fans with an hour or two of merriment and whimsy, lapping up (whiskey and) their fans’ adoration, and making new fans of their fans’ li’l ones. And likely, most of the charges will be dropped.
Cheers.