My band at the time consisted of myself on vocals and guitar, Duncan Sibbald on bass, Lindy Morrison-on loan from the Go Betweens-on drums, and a German, Wolf Karpen, on second guitar. On the day in question we were playing a gig at Hamburg's Markthalle as part of a German tour.

Now there's three halls at the Markthalle which is situated close to the Hamburg Hauptbahnhof. There's a small room for small gigs, then there's the main hall where we were playing and lastly there is an exhibition hall upstairs. The upstairs exhibition hall was playing host to an Amnesty International exhibition of instruments of torture from medi?val times through to the present day.

"Let's go and look at that," remarked Duncan, "It'll be good for a laugh." So upstairs we all trooped.

The exhibition was more gruesome and revealing than any of us had envisaged-the most disturbing exhibit for me was one for tearing the breasts off women-as was described in graphic detail in both English and German. One was left cursing the fact that most of these inventions of torture were designed in the name of religion. Namely by the Catholic Church. Though of course there were also more recent devices thought up in the name of political correctness. The political correctness in question depending on which country you happened to be in at the time. Though one thing I noticed was that all of these implements had been invented by men and though there were iron maidens and the like there was nothing so threatening to male sexuality as there was to females.

Anyhow enough of this. As we walked back down to the sound check I remember feeling quite stunned by what I had seen. The gross inhumanities
practised by the Catholic Church on those not 100% sharing their definition of the correct ideology. This in turn inspired me to write a song called Crossroads which in some very strange ways conjured up some of my feelings about the guilt of the Catholic Church?

Also when we were playing that night I developed a spoken section in the middle of a song of mine fittingly entitled Death Is Hanging Over Me which dealt with my various thoughts on the evil inherent in the Catholic Church and all it had and still stood for. I'd also better point out here that I m not and have never been any sort of Catholic or lapsed Catholic myself-coming more from a Sussex Brethren background if anything.

Now after the show more fired up by alcohol than anything else I first set out on a quest to find my ex-girlfriend who I used to live with in Hamburg. She wasn't answering the phone or indeed the door of her flat to me-and this mixed with the alcohol led me into quite a weird mood. Also to add to the madness and confusion echoing round my brain on finally arriving back at the hotel I was informed that our girl drummer Lindy had disappeared in a car heading off to Berlin with Queen Latifa and the Queens of Rhythm who'd been playing that night at the Logo Club in downtown Hamburg.

She'd apparently been last seen leaning out of the car shouting, "I've found the women's revolution and it starts here." Miss Morrison was described as being quite drunk at he time As she still was when she eventually arrived back at the hotel, a taxi driver in tow, a couple of hours later. The taxi driver seemed to be as confused as anyone else at ending up in a drunk female drummer's room but he was paid off and Lindy was left to gradually recover her senses.

Anyway such was the scene set for my temptation which occurred throughout the night in the single room I had in Hamburg's only rock and roll hotel. Basically a rock and roll hotel is one that relies on the fact that the staff are reasonably funky, there is a common breakfast room with guitars and records lying around and you can drink all night, oh, and the accommodation is not quite up to the standards of most regular hotels.

So throughout the night I kept having reoccurring visions of a life of success and recognition for my talents that could easily become mine if I would only sign my soul away to the Devil. And this was a real temptation, not just one brought on by alcohol and the horrific torture implements that I had seen that day. I was seemingly assured that all my wildest dreams of success, of fame and fortune, could be mine simply by taking up this once in a lifetime offer.

This wasn't a manifestation as such-no ghostly shape appeared before me. It was nothing as real as that. More it took the form of an insidious presence filling the room, filling my soul with temptation and I must admit that on a number of occasions I was almost swayed.

Anyway throughout the next days I was plagued by the same almost relentless visions and every night on stage the 'rap' section in the middle of Death Is Hanging Over Me became longer and longer as I battled out the demons in the only way I knew how. For difficult to believe as it may seem these promises seemed very real to me. It wasn't a case of 'join some crap band, sell out and have success that way,' but more one of just keep on with the musical vision you have and everything will come to you-you will receive your just desserts.

I remember describing my experiences to the other members of the band and our tour manager but them either not believing me or else thinking that I'd finally gone mad or whatever. But no matter what they thought none of them could offer any assistance to me and the troubles that plagued my mind.

I'd decided that despite all the glorious visions of wealth and success that I had no choice but to turn down the Devil's offer-reckoning I have enough talent to make it on my own. Also I wasn't to keen on reliving the life of Robert Johnson to the extent of only being recognised after my death, or indeed of dying through drinking poisoned whiskey. For of course these deals made with the Devil can always go wrong-being made on his terms as they undoubtedly are.

Through these succeeding years I have struggled on neither meeting with great success or indeed justifying the belief I have in myself. But rather than suffer the fate of a Dr. Faustus or Robert Johnson I still reckon that I made the right decision in that Hamburg hotel room a decade ago. And despite everything often going in the wrong direction I'm now playing with the best band I've ever had-and playing more shows per year than ever before-so I must be doing something right.

Nikki Sudden
March 13 1995-Brighton-England