The sorely missed UK indie pop band "The Aarons" began in inauspicious circumstances after school as "Aaron's Immortal Beard". Why it was called this, no one knew. The idea was the Ian "Eddy" Jones had opened a dictionary and Aaron's Beard was the first definition he liked. 'Immortal' was in there thanks to the early 90s vogue of three-word band names (cf: Ned's Atomic Dustbin; Gorky's Zygotic Mynci).
The band was formed in the early 90s in Cardiff after classically trained drunkard twins Andrew & Ian Jones were bought guitars for Christmas, at the same time as synth-obsessed clean-living geek Nick Woodward was bought a multitracker. They lived in the same area, and an ongoing harmonica battle between Andrew (And-blues) and Nick (Harmo-Nick) had led to some kind of musical intention.
Half baked ideas were recorded after school generally culminating in a row between the twins, and one of them going off to watch 'Neighbours'. Nick generally tried to distort everything the twins had carefully recorded, turn it backwards or make drilling noises over it.
Singers were auditioned: Daniel "DJ Cool" Bishop at one point, who sadly felt that the band were cramping his style, and left to pursue higher goals. Also recruited - Jeff Davey, a new age smoker of 'jazz' cigarettes, and muncher of mushrooms. Jeff inaugurated the band's psychadelic stage, an era that resulted in the band's appearance at the Reading festival, with friends, and without playing any music.
Drummers were recruited including the notorious Michael Holt, who revelled in his own ghastliness, and it was a while before the members realised that Video Director Roger "Gringo" Maimi had taken up the drums. Trading as RML Productions, Gringo had several Aarons' videos under his belt, including the classic 'Whoops, He's Off Again'; 'Crowdmover'; and the grossly overrated 'Therapy? One' - where Mr Maimi focussed his camera on the then-fashionable Reservoir Dogs poster. His drumming got better, and they began to feel like a real band.
THEN - University struck.
Several years later, in 1999, the band (under the newly honed moniker 'The Aarons') relocated to London, with a waif that Andrew had found called Mark Spring. This strange chappy brought a Nazi-like enthusiasm and a fervent dedication that the band had never seen before. Recording and rehearsal sessions were punishing, and invariably took place at Stratford - not the one where Shakespeare live, no) under the watchful eye of Necker, a technologically advanced crusty. Another recording took place at Kilburn, in a studio where Nick Cotton himself had once recorded. The band got so pissed at that one, they all went home seperately in a bad mood.
Times were hard. Money was thin - aside from Andrew's burgeoning bank balance. In Forest Gate they lived, awake at night to the sound of mice scuttling up the walls, and the hollow sound of bouncing cheques. Still - the gigs came thick and fast - the Aarons played to packed out venues at the Bull & Gate (RIP); the Hope & Anchor; and The Monarch. The Verge and the Red Eye were particularly shameful. At the latter, the band were so sozzled, Eddy hit his head on the ceiling, and Gringo forsook his drums to play an obscene tape ad infinitum. Perhaps the crowning glory in this writer's view was the 2nd Bull & Gate gig on Saturday 14th August, where all the songs were immaculate, the drummer sported a Sombrero, and the keyboard player wore make up and a 'Dancing Kills' T-shirt. I remember threatening to get my [blank] out as I lay on the floor after that one.
The Aarons died when Nick made his shock revelation that he was too poor to carry on living in the financial black hole that is London town. But with every death, there is new life, and the remaining members reformed as Lotharian.
Lotharian's success was such that it led to several great recording sessions, yet, on Gringo's decision to leave, another Spanish drummer was found in the gents' toilets of some pub, and they carried on. However, the cad left them in the lurch, and the dream came to an end, Spring flying away to the East.
But with every death, there is new life, as I believe someone once said, and the surviving members have branched into two great bands - the immaculate, soaring Daps, and the stylish, sleazy Drunken Gentlemen. GO FIND!