I have an old set of publicity photographs in which I bear an eerie resemblance to that other David, el señor Cassidy. I blame it on the hairstyle and Hollywood glamour look given me by the photographer. With plaited hair, full tattoo body suit and parrot on his shoulder, he was an unlikely purveyer of slick, airbrush style images.
I always thought I had a Keith Richards or David Johannson vibe about me but, obviously not!
My partner at the time worked for a very successful music mananger and was hoping to kill two birds with one stone. Get me a deal and also help the photographer, who was a friend. Unfortunately, nothing came of it except a year long addiction to coke. Her boss had the desire and money, as well as the need for company whenever he indulged and I, well . . . I guess I was ready to acquire a habit.
At first it was fun in a naughty sort of way. Drive up to his office on a sunny LA afternoon and snort ourselves crazy. Many hilarious drink/drug-fueled nights playing cards at the home of our dealer, and great sex. I guess.
Then one evening, I blanked out. The next day I discovered I'd had a scary fight with my partner which, to this day, I remember almost nothing of. A birthday - which included my parents - spent 'tooting' in the toilets. I thought they wouldn't notice. Then I turned grey. It was time to stop. Shows what seeing an unexpected image of yourself can do.
I moved to London not long after and quit. Couldn't afford it.