‘The song signed us but I hated it’: how 100 Haircuts made for a Happy Day | Culture

Nick Heyward, songwriter/vocalist, guitar

If I had sat down when I wrote Happy Day, it would have been a different song, but I was standing in front of a chocolate brown wall with the names of my favorite punk bands written on it. I was thinking about the future. It was 1978, and my family moved to London to a place called the Ski Club of Great Britain where my parents managed the place. We lived in the basement and I had a small room that looked like a train cabin.

I was attracted to bands that had a guitarist who played and sang – my heroes were Andy Partridge of XTC and David Byrne of Talking Heads. I was learning to sing and play at the same time using my homemade microphone and the chords I knew at the time: D, C and G. I started singing “good day” at the top, maybe because of the joy of being young. I thought: “I think this is a song, and I think it’s my song.” It seemed to come from an unconscious, magical place. I also remember thinking: “Well, it’s obviously already happened.” But when I asked around, no one could think of a song called Fantastic Day. Back then, it was difficult to search.

The verses were consciously connected, as the words changed over time. In the beginning, I never wrote words – as a child, I stuttered and stuttered, so I learned to keep going without trying too hard to remember something. I used to create things on the spur of the moment, inspired by whatever was around me. I still do that now. The opening lines – “Well, there’s a lot of trouble riding this train” – came too late, after I saw Sheena Easton sing her song 9 to 5 on TV’s The Big Time.

I didn’t make it a sad song, but there is light and dark to it, a duality. I was working as a commercial photographer in my later years, in a room with no natural light, and it was driving me crazy. All I wanted to do was music. I think this is reflected in other parts of the song, such as the spoken word: “I tried to shave myself / To be a happy man.” I think that was just added when we were in the studio recording. Bob Sargeant brought the same record-making expertise as George Martin – he knew I was a Beatles nut and added to the pride of the trumpet. I wanted to tip my hat to He Loves You. Bob understood how to do it musically, and that was by adding a jazzy G sixth note.

The song goes back to my birth having the vision to do what I’m doing now, thinking about it for a long time and finding myself doing it. I’ve taken the mayfly all over the world, and I never tire of singing Fantastic Day. Every time I do this I feel better, just like the first time.

Les Nemes, bass guitar

I hate Happy Birthday! I don’t have to because it’s the song that got us signed. We did the Arista show – I think we played two songs but we weren’t doing well. Suddenly I thought: “Well, why not try the one I hate?” So we played Fantastic Day and he said: “Wow, we might have something here!” I mean, I think it’s a very powerful song. It’s very attractive, isn’t it?

Most of Pelican West’s songs are fun, but some poppy songs like Snow Girl and Milk Film stand out to me. Being inspired by what Nick was doing brought out something in my basslines. I try not to go for the obvious. I thought: “What would Ronnie Lane or Tina Weymouth play?” But because Fantastic Day was written at the beginning of our playing career, before we knew what we were doing, the notes in the verses just went from C to G, C to G and it was hard not to follow them – which I did.

In the early days, we jumped at all levels. We were a punk band, a ska band, a mod band. We tried everything, and Fantastic Day was always there, just done in different styles. The first one, when we were called Moving England, was fast, Talking Heads, and had a bit of a Jam to it. I liked it then, I have to admit. It was raw. Then it started to become this youthful, very respectful song.

I might sound really down on it, but I’m not really – it caused some very serious moments. When we first toured the US, we stayed at a rock’n’roll hotel in California and Raf Ravenscroft, the sax player on Baker Street, was sunbathing by the pool. We chatted and invited him to our show and he stepped up and filled in on Fantastic Day.

When we returned to the States a few years ago, we met people who were seeing the band for the first time, 42 years after becoming fans. He would say things like: “This was the song that got me through cancer when I was 16.” I remember seeing a woman standing in the audience with her husband’s hands on her shoulders and when we started singing the opening words to Happy Day tears started to roll down her face – we were also filling the stage. So even though I’ve said, “If I had to pick one song to put out of the set, that’s it,” I realize what it means to people.