I first heard the name Pat Collier when another musician living in Forest Hill mentioned him. This legendary, almost cultish figure ran a studio in nearby Perry Vale, said my friend. Pat, he explained, used to play bass in the punk band The Vibrators, worked with Creation Records in the 1990’s and had a rare collection of old valve amplifiers you could plug into.
It sounded intriguing.
Looking for a place where my newly revived 1980’s band Daniel Takes A Train could record some tracks for their new album, I booked a session. The studio itself, found via a scruffy alleyway behind a parade of suburban shops, occupied two or three spacious rooms where once there was a small textiles factory. Inside, there were few clues to Pat’s illustrious rock past; not one gold disc or framed photo of him with a famous client, no tour posters, jukebox or salacious pop gossip and, equipment wise, few concessions to the 21st century other than fact he had a digital mixing desk alongside the beautiful old console he remained perched next to during the session.
And yet there were so many reasons why Pat and his Perry Vale Studios turned out to be a wise choice over the years. Apart from his professionalism and his unrivalled expertise, he had a pure instinct for helping musicians and songwriters like us to make music that people might actually listen to. He could rightly be accused, at times, of being a producer from 'the old school', but if you entered Pat’s studio you needed to put in a proper performance, whether on guitar, bass, vocals or drums. He, meanwhile, would capture this performance and ensure also that the song had a catchy intro, a reasonable arrangement and had all the component parts working together for the good of the song.
He wasn’t interested in prima donnas and attention seekers, and he rarely dished out compliments. You knew, however, you had Pat's approval when you heard the immortal words "double track that" in the cans.
His credits over the years read like a Who’s Who of the punk, post-punk, new wave, power pop, mod revival and ‘Oi!’ scene of the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, but to think of Pat as a producer simply of three chord thrashes would be unfair.
His crowning glory of course was the Katrina and The Waves hit Walking on Sunshine, which never seemed to be off the commercial airwaves in 1985. I cannot be sure exactly what he did technically on this ageless recording, but I reckon he added a splash of sunshine to the tracks of every client who walked through that door.
In his quiet and unprepossessing way, Pat kept all our rock and roll dreams alive.
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