I was put in the back of a rusty Mini open top van amongst drum cases, amps and an empty gallon Duckhams oil can, my first live gig as roadie, the band Fatarse, the year 1971.
My mentor in my early years was my mums brother Dennis, vocals, harp and raconteur. My choice, I chose him, the only non conformist of the family which I saw as an occasional ticket to freedom. During this period of his musical mayhem he was fronting the above tight little psychedelic blues band.
We were heading for a club in the middle of town, a basement venue called Freaky Vibes, as I carried equipment down the metal stairs I realised immediately I was home. The walls swirled with colour from oil filled projectors, the smells were intoxicating, grass and Petuli. The PA was chucking out some fucking loud music that made my insides oscillate, Work Together by Canned Heat, In My Own Time by Family, Stevie Marriott sung the only version of 'If I Were a Carpenter' ever worth listening to as far as I'm concerned, chunky music.
The sound check drowned out the house music, I was impressed, I could feel the little bones in my ears vibrating as I lent on the side fill, my neck hair standing proud every twelve bar turn around. The drummer's mat however was sliding like a magic carpet to the front of the stage, the solution? Me. I spent two forty five minute sets watching the kick beater try and smack me in the face with my shoulder hard up against bass drum, a ninety minute blooding in the nuances of blues and boogie.
Blues Blooding 1971
At twelve that really was a defining moment, up until then I'd been listening to the melodics, Beatles, Kinks, Move etc. That evening moved my soul, I re-adjusted my transistor radio from Caroline to Luxembourg and started to get a feeling for blues, soul, Motown. This happened at exactly the right time, I could only get so far with the British scene, I knew there was something missing and eventually found roots American music at twelve, life changing.
If you have a listen to English Folk music you might just find it a bit twiddle dee dee, personally It does nothing for me apart from making me want to punch pixies and tread on fairies. Now put on a decent Irish rebel album and it stirs my loins into procreational standby and makes me want to punch just anyone, a Scottish reel the same.
For me American 'Folk' music, blues, soul, country etc. has the same gritty bollocks to contend with, nothing reserved about it. The English are renowned for not showing their feelings,
stiff upper lip and very reserved and I believe it comes out in our traditional folk.
Den died when he was fifty but lived long enough for me to catch up and perform with him in another set up called Nightride sharing the bill with Gong, open air, both givin it 'the large' on the vocals. I so loved that man, he gave me life and encouragement and a defiance of the norm.
In his last band (The Scratch Band) they managed to get on the European circuit where they had to play one night in Hamburg, sound check done it was the usual out on the piss until the show. On their arrival later to perform the doorman refused them entry because he thought they were too drunk. They tried to persuade him that they were the band due on stage in ten minutes but he was having none of it. On their way round the back of the club in search of another door, Den managed to climb up the fire escape and found a skylight about six foot down directly over the stage. Not being one to muck about he jumped through the skylight in a crash, followed closely by the rest of the band , they went into their first number, the drunken crowd went mental, and the lights went out. Infuriated by this the audience rioted, the police were called and the band were taken to the German border and told never to come back. I miss that man.
Den died when he was fifty but lived long enough for me to catch up and perform with him in another set up called Nightride sharing the bill with Gong, open air, both givin it 'the large' on the vocals. I so loved that man, he gave me life and encouragement and a defiance of the norm.
In his last band (The Scratch Band) they managed to get on the European circuit where they had to play one night in Hamburg, sound check done it was the usual out on the piss until the show. On their arrival later to perform the doorman refused them entry because he thought they were too drunk. They tried to persuade him that they were the band due on stage in ten minutes but he was having none of it. On their way round the back of the club in search of another door, Den managed to climb up the fire escape and found a skylight about six foot down directly over the stage. Not being one to muck about he jumped through the skylight in a crash, followed closely by the rest of the band , they went into their first number, the drunken crowd went mental, and the lights went out. Infuriated by this the audience rioted, the police were called and the band were taken to the German border and told never to come back. I miss that man.
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