From The Desk Of Nick Garrie: Roger Moore

In 1969 Nick Garrie recorded The Nightmare Of J.B. Stanisla, a lush folk/pop album. When collectors discovered it in the ’80s, it began fetching astronomical sums, and it was eventually reissued on CD in 2005. Garrie’s life in obscurity has too many twists to recount, but includes two albums as Nick Hamilton and an opening spot on a Leonard Cohen tour in 1984. The Moon And The Village (Tapete), Garrie’s first release in 23 years, is another subtle charmer. His mellow vocals are supported by arrangements that let his stories glow with a warm inner light. Garrie will be guest editing all week.

Garrie: It was a quiet January in Gstaad, and I kept bumping into Roger Moore, who would always offer a cheery “hello.” I would sometimes follow him at a respectful distance on the T-bar, and he would be wearing his James Bond outfit and wobble off when he reached the top, which was cool because he’d only just started skiing at his age. The snow got worse, and my schoolgirls arrived. (Same school as the McCartney post.) I was taking them down to Gstaad very gingerly when we were surrounded by a sea of mud with just one large patch of snow. On that patch of snow stood Roger Moore and his instructor. I had no choice, and when the scamps saw Roger Moore, they squealed and collapsed like a pack of cards.

“All right, 007?”

“No, I’m not. Bugger off!”

Didn’t see so much of him after that.