Rinaldi Sings — Features
Edward Ball's Message For Rinaldi Sings
I don't like people, but I do like Chris Hunt. More importantly I respect him. And a while ago he told me of Rinaldi Sings. It sounded great but I stuck to my own script.
"I don't like music. I'm an auteur."
"Yeah, it shows," he replied, turning to the camera, eyes rolling heavenwards.
Days, months and perhaps a year pass and out of the blue I get a call. It’s Chris. Says they've finished recording and they're gonna make a movie. Do I want in?
I’ve seen the Rinaldi Phone Box pics and already I'm reaching for the clapperboard and jodphurs.
Chris says that Rinaldi's got some visual stuff going on in his head and sets a 'meet' between us.
Rinaldi comes round. I answer the door. "Good Evening Mister Friedkin, is Ed here?”
He strolls in, six foot plus in the tradition of Weller and Townsend, impeccably dressed and mannered.
We sit. We talk. Visuals. Films. References.
"What about the songs," I say.
"I have a CD here," he says.
"I don't have a CD player," I say, “threw it out with the baby"
In an instant he's relocated at the baby grand and starts to play and sing, and I'm knocked out! This guy's definitely got it!!
I know a thing or two about presence. When you've worked up—close with Gillespie or a Gallagher you tend to recognise these things.
Rinaldi and I are going to make a great movie.
EDWARD BALL, Holy-wood.