When my son was born I got a call
from Jordan Luck. He phoned me  –
because, like many, he’d seen the mention
of the new baby online. He had
my number because I’d interviewed him
just a few months before and he had
asked me if I was a dad. I’d told him
that fatherhood was on the way, arriving soon.
So at the end of that most magical day, the birth
of Oscar – a delivery where we’d waited much longer
than just the nine specified months to meet him,
and my phone had been ringing all day and then,
this call from a number I didn’t have programmed
in. The caller asked if Oscar Sweetman was there.
I managed some quickness even after my senses
had taken an all-day battering. I said, “he is, but
he can’t come to the phone right now”. I was staring
at the beautiful little bub in the plastic tub,
his mother wiped out – and beautiful too.
never more so. She raised a thin smile just to
hear me say our child’s name aloud and wondered
briefly who was on the other end of this call.

“Simon! Jordan Luck here mate” came the familiar
voice from so many great songs. And a small handful
of warm conversations. He laughed heartily at my joke
and then he told me he wouldn’t hold me up. He told
me that I probably already knew that today was
a special day, none better. He told me he knew that feeling.
Father to father – dad to dad. Two people who
didn’t know each other well but knew about
each other, knew the work, and now occupied the same
world once again. And in an entirely new way. I like
to think that most people realise that Jordan Luck
is brilliant. If the songs aren’t to taste you at least know
they were written to last. They’re often perfect pop songs
and when they’re not you can at least smell that the intent
was still there, always pure. Anyway, whenever anyone
tells me that they don’t like The Exponents or Jordan Luck
I tell them this story. So I felt the need, finally, to write
it down. It was a nice call to receive at the end of a punch-drunk
day of elation. Jordan Luck understanding, as always what’s
important and how to cut right to the heart of it. And yet, he tries
to tell you he has no idea why love does this to you. He knows.
He fucking knows. He just called to say he knows. He just
called to say hello. He just called because he cares.