Like to a ship upon a shoreless ocean,
Manned by an ever-growing crew of years,
My life slips onward, and with vain devotion
My soul stands silent at the helm and steers.
If one strong wind would blow direct and single,
Then would I turn wherever it might call,
But many winds there are, that madly mingle,
And I must trim my sails to favour all.
So whether I be drifting or be sailing
I know not, and alas shall never know:
My life is one desire, unavailing,
That some strong settled single wind would blow.
Robert Cameron Rogers
Introduction
This page is a
personal life history more than anything else. A lot of what follows
will be boring to the stranger wandering by. But
having started what I intended to be a short synopsis of my musical
meanderings over the last forty years, I found I wanted to set things down in
more detail. I needed to sort out the huge pile of jumbled memories
and feelings that comprise my musical past and tidy them up for future
reference, before they became irretrievably mixed up, and lost. And in some ways this
has given me a better perspective on events
and in turn a better understanding of who I am today.
I hope you find at
least some parts of it interesting, and maybe, if you're the same age as me,
grew up in the UK, and are interested in playing electric pop/rock music,
you may even have had similar experiences and will have a wry smile or two
when you read on. Or maybe you are one of the
players in the tableau!
A Good Time to be A Teenager
I count myself lucky I was a
teenager in the 1960’s. Born in 1948, I entered my teens just as the pop
music phenomenon blasted off in the UK. In the words of a Conservative
prime minister of the day, we 'never had it so good’ and that certainly
applied to pop music as well. Popular groups of the day (this changed to
the cooler US term ‘bands’ in 1967 as I recall) used to appear
in ‘package tours’; one night stands in the large variety theatres scattered around
the UK. These were the dying days of variety and touring musical shows, and
nearly all these theatres became bingo halls or closed altogether a few
years later.
The show format was always the same: about half a dozen ‘name’
acts doing short sets of about twenty minutes each, with the curtains coming
down in between so that gear could be quickly swapped around (groups didn't
have quite so much then), with the
impatient teenage audience placated during the delay by a second division
comic of the day in evening dress. There were always two ‘houses’
or shows, one at 6:30pm for the smaller fans plus their parent(s) and one at
8pm for the older teenagers. In a few short months in the mid-‘60s I went to
most
of the package tours that stopped near us at the Coventry Hippodrome, seeing
amongst others The
Who, Jimi Hendrix, The
Yardbirds, Pink Floyd, The Byrds (the audience
started to walk out early on their bill-topping act, not understanding their
new blend of folk-rock), The Kinks, Manfred Mann, The Hollies, The Nice, as
well as bands not later favoured with a place in the rock pantheon such as
Paul and Barry Ryan, Eire Apparent (sic) and my favourites at the time, the
US all-girl
Goldie and The
Gingerbreads!
I can remember the Who gig
clearly, they were top of the bill. I was in the
front row and the previous bands had overrun. It was Sunday and the law
stipulated that the front of stage curtain and the fire curtain behind it, must
come down promptly at 10pm. The Who had only performed one song when the curtains
began to come down and Pete Townsend went berserk, coming to the
front of the stage and working his way along all the footlights, smashing
every one with the heel of his Gibson SG before finally launching his fist at
a staff ‘jobsworth’ in his brown overall who walked on stage in an attempt
to stop the anarchy. We sat there dumbstruck.
What seemed like a
never-ending stream of new bands assailed our young, newly-liberated teenage
ears, each bringing their own take on a potent mixture of happy pop and
blues. And boy was it loud! Unlike today, we could genuinely say we’d never heard anything like
it before, with bands vying with each other to break new ground. Ok, the music business being what it is (and was then), there
was also a flood of me-too rubbish and un-original tripe as get-rich -quick entrepreneurs
rushed to cash in on the 'beat boom' but there’s no doubt the ‘60s gave us a
plethora of truly original pop and rock music unequalled before or since.
And I was there.
Early Guitar Yearnings
My Dad had a four-string
guitar that he used to play during singsongs around the fire when camping with his best friend Freddie in the
1930s. Freddie
was posted missing in action during WWII. I know this hurt Dad
although
he's never talked about it at any length.
As a small boy I remember
being allowed to see this guitar on rare occasions during visits to grandma’s
where it was stored. It languished in a hard wooden case lined with
what seemed to me the most beautiful red plush. The musty smell of the
case mixed with the wood aroma from the guitar was divine. In the
black coffin-shaped case was a strange pick, or plectrum as they used to be
called, made of very hard red plush
instead of today's plastic. Perhaps it was better suited
to the vigorous jazz strumming popular in the 30s, when without
amplification the guitar was purely a rhythm section instrument. And
that’s how it started: a lifelong love affair with that fragrant crafted
assemblage of wood, metal and lacquer – the guitar.
Once I became a teenager
Dad thought I was responsible enough to handle his precious guitar although
he wasn’t able to teach me much, having only progressed himself to a few
chords in the first position. I desperately wanted to make those weird and
wonderful noises that were coming from the records on the radio and echoing
around in my head. At first I didn’t know that most guitars had
six stings and that
an electric guitar was what I really needed: and an amplifier of course.
Nevertheless, after hours of work alone in my bedroom I could crank out the
opening riff to Roy Orbison’s "Oh, Pretty Woman" – well, it sounded pretty close to
me - and the journey had started.
Dad could see I was really
keen so took me to the only music shop for miles, in Leamington Spa, run by
a local dance band leader Geoff Gough, who probably thought the ‘new’ pop
music was dreadful but nevertheless was making a good living from the
associated country-wide guitar boom. It was only years later that I
discovered the sheer size of this boom – almost every teenage boy in the UK
was buying a guitar, working on those difficult finger-pinching chords for hours on end in his
bedroom and trying to form a group, and the ramifications turned out to be
immense. This whole phenomenon is affectionately and hilariously, chronicled
in the book “Only 17 Watts” by
Mo Foster which is a
must-read.
Amazon have it.
We didn’t know this at the time, but guitars
from the US were subject to large import duties so imports were very few and
prohibitively expensive. Cliff Richard claims to have imported the first
Fender Stratocaster into the UK at great expense for use by Hank Marvin in
his backing band, The Shadows. The gigantic gap between supply and demand
was therefore filled by 'planks' mainly from Italian, German and even Chinese
manufacturers who swamped the UK with guitars ranging from the completely
unplayable to the passable (some Hofners for example). Accordingly I became the proud owner
one Saturday lunchtime in 1964 of a Rossetti ‘Lucky 7’. Later that same
afternoon we took it back to the shop - one of the machine heads had almost
detached itself being of such poor quality. Instead I chose a second hand,
no-cutaway, f-hole semi acoustic which wasn’t all that sexy but it was
better made and far more playable in terms of the action and sound. It
also had
a pickup, but I couldn’t afford an amplifier so
never heard it what it sounded like plugged in.
In a few months I’d mastered a few chords and
was starting to understand my way around the fretboard. There wasn’t a
wide choice of tutorial books then. In fact there were none as I
recall, except ‘Play In A Day’ by Bert Weedon, a popular guitar
instrumentalist of the 1950s. Bert is 85 now and has a web site
here
where it seems 'Play In A Day' is still going strong, with over 2 million
sold! It helped me a little, but I wanted to learn how to
play the hits of the day not old standards like "Whispering". But I found
after a while I could listen to records and gradually figure out the chords
being used, and then I discovered how the same chord patterns were used in
lots of different songs. I either sold or swapped that first guitar and
bought a new acoustic which was still only of 'entry level' quality. Necessity
being the mother of invention I was going to sing folk music, which at the
time was undergoing a big revival with the likes of Bob Dylan and Donovan.
Anyway, I didn’t need an amp for folk music.
First Public Appearance
It's 1965 and I'm 17. My school, Kenilworth Grammar,
is going to do a very avant-garde thing and hold an after-hours candlelit ‘Folk
Evening’ – most daring! Folk and jazz music are acceptable to the older
generation, i.e. parents and staff, but they would never have countenanced a ‘pop’ evening.
I team up with two pals, John ‘Ned’ Foyle and
Richard Maynard and we do a spot. I don’t remember the songs or how many
we did or whether the audience of 120 enjoyed it, but I certainly did! The
local newspaper covers the event and there we are in our first photo spread.
Besides ‘scratch’ groups comprising pupils, two guest groups appear
who are a lot more proficient, including a trio called ‘Kiandra’. I
remember one of their guitarists had a beautiful Gibson Hummingbird
acoustic, and it's my first opportunity to see the enormous difference
between a quality, professional instrument and a plank, like mine,
All these influences are becoming tattooed on
my soul. I’d fallen in love with the guitar: its looks, feel, smell, and I
wanted to make music with one and entertain people.
A friend of my brother's, Norman Stagles,
plays bass in a local band "The Incas" and he arranges for me to see them
play at a church hall in Leamington Spa. It's the first time I've been
up close to a pop group hammering out amplified music and I'm completely intoxicated by
it. I remember them playing the Kinks' raucous B-side "Where Have All the Good Times
Gone".
I decide to go electric and answer an ad in our
Kenilworth newspaper placed by a guy selling a Hofner Galaxy electric, in
its own case plus a small 15 watt amp. I see him, do the deal for £20 and walk
home on air with my cherished red electric, in its own case! (Phil Manzanera of Roxy Music
began with a Hofner Galaxy..) By the time I get home the phone is
ringing and the seller says he wants more for it. I say no. He
obviously regretted letting go of his beloved Galaxy and must have had
second thoughts as soon as I'd left. Here's a picture of me (40 years
ago for heaven's sake..) cradling my treasured Hofner Galaxy.
So in the Summer of 1966 we form a band with
myself on lead guitar; Nigel Maltby, a school pal on rhythm guitar; Ned Foyle
on vocals; Laurie French on drums and Geoff Timms on (home made) bass. We
call ourselves "The ‘Trane" after John Coltrane the jazz saxophonist, emulating
the Yardbirds who took their name from the sobriquet of another jazz
saxophonist, Charlie Parker.
Our first practices are held in the garage of
Laurie's home, but we need to find somewhere more suitable and Nigel
arranges for us to use his stepfather's company's industrial unit in
Coventry one Sunday. It's cavernous but we set up our tiny amplifiers
and start. Shortly after, the Police arrive to shut us down. A local
resident had called to complain about the noise, which must have become
amplified again on the outside by the nature of the building. In 1966 the
type of music would have caused just as much offence
to some people as the volume. We later find a village hall in Honiley
where we can rehearse well away from houses.
We practice hard, and place some ads: "Good beat
group available for all kinds of bookings. Versatile and above all
musical", and print some cards: "The Beat Group for All Occasions" and start gigging in November. Our first gig
is a dance at
Stratford On Avon Rugby Club and our Dads ferry us and our meagre equipment
to and from the venue. At our very first outing we manage to snatch victory from the jaws of
defeat. My amplifier expires after the first couple of songs – we
grossly underestimate the volume required at a real gig – and I have to plug in to
Geoff’s Vox AC30, the sound of bass and lead guitars through the same small
amp not sounding good. The spring on Laurie’s snare drum breaks so the
snare sound fails but he manages to do a running repair with string. But by
the end of the evening with the audience liquored up and determined to enjoy
themselves, we finish triumphantly on the Beatles’ sing-along "Yellow Submarine" which
we’d never played before and hadn’t a clue how the chords went.
Not being able to afford a real amplifier, I send off
for a mail-order 30 watt one and couple it with a raw chipboard speaker
cabinet and two 'Baker' 12" speakers (not very good) from a shop in Coventry
selling DIY electrical components. I cover the 2x12” speaker cabinet with
kitchen ‘Fablon’ material. The amp fails to arrive so I write a letter to the
Bristol Police complaining of possible fraud. They say they’ve had similar
complaints but eventually the amp arrives. I assume now the poor guy
making these wasn't running a scam, he was probably just inundated with
orders for his very economical 'chassis only' amplifier. Meanwhile Geoff buys a
proper Hofner bass and Ned buys (or rather his parents buy) an impressive Vox ‘pro’
PA system. We attract another newspaper write up "Grammar Old Boys in Trane"
in which our musical ambitions are revealed, (War-time BBC Mr Cholmondeley-Warner
newsreader voice needed here) “Early rock and roll interests tempered, the
group now feature the very popular soul music to which lead singer ‘Ned’
Foyle’s voice is more than adequately suited”.
L to R above: Nigel Maltby, Laurie French,
Geoff Timms, me, Ned Foyle.
Spring 1967 and we play our largest gig so far
at the Chesford Grange Hotel where we’re the support act on a double bill. Our fee:
a princely £12.50 for two one-hour sets, £2.50 each. We come a poor second to the other
band "From The Sun" and Ned and I lose our voices from not having a loud
enough PA. It was as they say, a learning experience. The lead guitarist of the main band kindly points out to me
after the gig that I need to use thinner strings in place of the ‘steel
hawser’ tape wound variety I was using. I didn’t know that it was the judicious
bending of light gauge strings that was enabling Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck et al
to get those sweet bluesy sounds I liked. Not only was there a paucity of guitar
tutorial books, there was no such thing as guitar magazines so we all lived
in our own bubble of knowledge and didn’t know how others got their sounds.
Then came the warm summer of
1967. I was 19 and spent languorous days sunbathing in the back garden
while the transistor radio blared out The Kinks’ "Sunny Afternoon". Like
the smell of fresh madeleines triggering lost memories for Proust, my
thoughts go back to those warm halcyon days every time I hear that record
today. But the garden idyll was soon to be shattered.
End of Innocence
Earlier that year Geoff Timms had bought an old
Bedford van (every group had to have a van) which was supposed to ferry us to and from gigs but it was a bit
of a ‘banger’ and at least once we arrived late at a booking after pushing
the lifeless jalopy uphill. By today’s standards it would not have been
allowed on the road.
I’ve finished school now and some non-band
friends ask me to join them on a short camping holiday in Cornwall. On
the spur of the moment I decide to go. The band had been thinking of
approaching a girl we knew who we’d thought might make a good lead singer in
the band and whilst I'm away Ned and Geoff
decide to drive over to see her and discuss it. Together they set off towards Hampton In Arden on 10th
August 1967 and just outside Balsall Common crash head-on into a lorry and
both are killed outright. Ned was 18 and Geoff 19.
If I hadn’t decided to go to Cornwall on a whim
I would have been with Ned and Geoff. There but for fortune. The condition
of the van may have been a factor. A month earlier Ned and Geoff had holidayed
together in Wales and Geoff had sent me a prescient postcard saying “..van’s
OK (touch wood)..”
The Beat Goes On
We reform the band in the autumn, bringing in
Bill Fielding from Coventry on bass, but things aren’t the same and the
line-up folds a year later in mid-1968. There's a highlight in the last
months however, when we play support to the Jeff Beck Group in Rugby on 30th
December 1967. Jeff Beck is my favourite guitarist and I can't believe
our luck.
I've read somewhere that some Japanese guys have put together a
book supposedly chronicling every single gig of Jeff Beck’s career together
with all known aspects of each booking – so here’s a tiny portion of the
jigsaw to put in place! Their line-up on this night was Jeff Beck, Ronnie
Wood on bass, Rod Stewart on vocals and (bizarrely) Graham Edge from the
Moody Blues on drums – their regular drummer was Mickey Waller but he was
touring in Japan with the Walker Brothers. Some of my memories of that
night: the Jeff Beck Group’s dressing room packed full with girls and
admirers and our dressing room having only four visitors; Ronnie Wood’s BO
(they’d all been confined in a Transit van from London to Rugby that
evening); the moment when the curtain went back at the start of our
performance and the audience thinking for a nanosecond they were seeing the
Moody Blues (we’d pooled equipment and Laurie was sitting behind Graham
Edge’s drum kit with its distinctive ‘Moody Blues’ psychedelic logo).
I still have a souvenir from that show - a bent screw driver discarded by
the roadies!
In November 1968 I win a prize in a competition
run in "Beat Instrumental" magazine – the first magazine in the UK to cater
for aspiring pop/rock musicians. Laurie and I travel to London for the presentation
at the Baldwin showrooms where Hank Marvin, lead guitarist of the Shadows,
presents me with a brand new "Burns Vibra Slim" guitar, retailing at the time
for the princely sum of 99 guineas! We have an interesting chat with the
magazine’s staff and learn some inside information on just how much
drugs Pink Floyd are doing. Laurie and I get Hank’s autograph on the only
things we have with us, the records we’d bought that morning: my John Fahey
album and Laurie’s Ten Years After Album.. (The Shadows weren’t at all cool
in 1968).
Nigel left the band - and home - abruptly,
ending up in Cornwall. The Trane comes to a halt after playing 55
gigs.
Career Break
After some carefree teenage years and the
immense joy of making music with a band of pals, reality had crashed in. I’m
really not sure if the following forty years contained any happier times.
I’d lost two of my best friends, another had banished himself to Cornwall
picking potatoes, and now I had to ‘choose a career’. Parents in those
days, because of their own tough experiences, were anxious you got a
‘proper’ job and a career in pop music was a simply ludicrous notion.
Whilst taking my ease in that
warm summer of ’67 I fall to talking to a neighbour over the fence at the
bottom of the garden. He's a partner in a Coventry firm of Chartered Accountants and wondered if
I’d considered it as a career. Was he mad?! The image of a Chartered
Accountant in those days was, well, the image of a Chartered Accountant.
Monty Python’s Flying Circus had only recently featured a sketch in which an
inadequate Chartered Accountant wanted to become a lion tamer. Hilarious. But
our neighbour
explains I could go straight to college for nine months first and, as
playing in a band is the most important thing to me at present, that seems
a way of postponing the start of real life for at least a little
while. So I sign four-year articles and go to college, Lanchester
Polytechnic in Coventry, now Coventry University.
Laurie (drummer) and I are the only members of
The Trane left, and in 1968 he changes career to train as a teacher, whilst
I pass my college exams with distinction. I seem to have a flair for this
accountancy stuff, but it’s more likely the fear of failure I’ve had all my life that
makes me work hard to succeed at it. I
start work in the office, or rather clients’ offices, resplendent in the
first suit I’d ever worn. The next four years sees me ploughing on with
‘real life’ and I don’t remember playing the guitar much. Looking back now
I think I must have been ‘comfortably numb’. By 1973 I’m married to Jane
and we’re making a home. Laurie is married to Angela, a friend of
Jane's, and his first teaching
post takes him away to live in Halifax.
Do It Again
It's 1973, I'm 25 and a qualified Chartered Accountant.
I own a nice Les Paul Deluxe gold top and it’s the best guitar I’ve ever had,
although one day I drop it and it suffers catastrophic damage of the
headstock. But I send it off to Rosetti, the Gibson importers, and thanks
to an insurance claim I get it back faultlessly repaired and re-sprayed in a
beautiful sunburst. I then wish I'd kept the gold top finish.
Rocking at a live gig in 1975 with the
re-finished Les Paul Deluxe
I desperately need to make music again so I
place an ad in the local paper to find players, and Tony Lloyd responds.
He has a
similar guitar playing style to mine, is keen to get a band together and we get on well together.
We find a bass player, Bob Sharp, and a drummer, Brian Meredith, and we
start practicing and gigging.
L to R: Bob Sharpe, Tony Lloyd, Brian
Meredith, Me in 1974.
The band, at first called "Flat Stanley" after
a character in a children's book, and then "Sugarcane" plays on and off for
the next thirteen years during which time we endure at least five
different drummers, until Laurie returns from his Halifax exile in 1977;
five bass players and three different second guitarists.
Bob Sharp plays bass with us for about two
years before getting married and going to America. His successor is
John Rushton who stays for four years or so before moving away from the
area. In 1974 we recruit Ian Boycott to take on lead vocals and he
also invests in a percussion setup comprising congas, bongos and timbales.
Ian stays for a about eight years and also becomes a close friend. Unfortunately Tony Lloyd leaves after nearly two
years to join another local band "Vehicle" that has a more attractive line-up
for him that
includes brass and keyboards, and we then have an unsettled few months with
different guitarists and drummers, none of whom are right for us.
Dave Brooks joins on drums in 1975 and for a few months we have one of
the best rhythm sections we ever manage to assemble. Unfortunately,
his talents attract the attention of The Incas and they steal him from us.
Above L to R: Dave Brooks, Dave Faulkner, John
Rushton, Ian Boycott, Me in 1975(?)
Below: Dave Faulkner and I giving it some,
with Ian over on percussion pausing for an ice cream... sorry singing
In October 1975 the above lineup
records 'Pickup Queen' at Bird Sound Studios in Snitterfield,
Warwickshire. Written by Ian and myself, we had only an evening to set
up and record it, including some rushed overdubs. Dave plays some
great drums, which on reflection should have been higher in the mix, and
John's bass guitar lines are magnificent; driving the whole thing along
nicely. Ian performs the lead vocal, but being a heavy smoker
and asthmatic he runs out of breath a couple of times in the song! I
wanted the guitar harmonies to sound like Thin Lizzy's but there wasn't time
to get the right tones organised. Click on the button to have a listen:
In 1976 we dispense with having a
second guitarist, adopting a guitar, bass, drums and lead vocals line-up for some time
that proves far more effective. John Rushton is still our steady, quiet but
very musical bass player, Ian is still with us and the line-up enters a period of
stability especially when Laurie, back from teaching career exile in Halifax returns to the drumming role. Our sound
tightens up and we start having some fun.
Ian is an ebullient and affable character on and
off stage, good with audiences and keeps the strain off me allowing me
to concentrate on guitar duties and backing vocals. He carries a
little bit of excess weight and one evening he's
sporting a new ‘Demis Roussos’-style kaftan that I think someone made for
him. The only trouble is, being centre stage in strong footlights, the
audience can clearly see through his garb and the fact he isn’t wearing
anything else underneath. We can't understand what the joke is
until we come off stage and our companions explain.
In 1978 I buy a really beautiful new white
Fender Stratocaster with a maple neck but I'd also fallen in love with a new
wine red Les Paul Custom and can't put it out of my mind, so after only a
few days I sell the Strat, and with the part exchange of my precious Les
Paul Deluxe, acquire the Custom, which I still own today. I wish I
could have also kept that lovely white Strat,
but my wife disapproved of the relative extravagance, given we were
homemaking.
In July 1978 we fulfill a long-cherished dream
and go into a local recording studio to record a four-track demo. Monty
Bird, the son of a wealthy Stratford On Avon scrap metal dealer, could
afford to indulge his recording hobby and first set up a draughty studio in
some old outbuildings in a field in Snitterfield where he recorded local bands
for small fees. We in fact recorded there in October 1975, laying down a
rocking track called "Pick Up Queen"; lyrics by Ian and music by me. But by
1978 Monte Bird has a small industrial unit in Warwick where he runs a
recording studio and a small independent record label, Tank Records. Sugarcane sign a two-year
record deal with Tank on 3rd September 1978.
Above right: Conferring in Tank
Studios, 1978. L to R: Norman Stagles, Producer, Yours Truly and Ian
Boycott
Below: Myself and Ian Boycott listen
to the playback
Tragedy Strikes Again
The two days we spend recording in July 1978
are wonderful. We gel as a band, make good music and simply have
fantastic creative fun: one of those red-letter days that you look back on the rest
of your life. What is it about making music with others that
sometimes brings about magic moments? We used to discuss this in the
band and
since there's no word to describe it we decide to call it ‘carrot’ ! A
‘carrot’ is defined as the epiphany you experience when all the elements are at
their sweet spot: the sounds of the instruments and voices, the ‘vibe’ of
both the band and the audience, and the empathy with other band members, at a
particular point in time and space that enables you to play and sing beyond
your usual limits creating music that's greater than the sum of its
parts.
The happiest and most successful line-up.
L to R: Laurie French, me, Ian Boycott, John Rushton in 1978.
We record four of own songs including "Say You
Want To See Me Again" and "747". I still have an acetate of the final mixes. The
studio does a great job and we're all very pleased about what lies
ahead. We even have the record cover designed. But in August Monty Bird
is
suddenly diagnosed with a virulent form of leukaemia and in September he
dies. He was just 30.
Monty’s family wind up the studio and record
label, and our recording career is over. This line-up of Sugarcane peters
out in 1979.
Don’t Look down..
Around this time, probably due to a number of
issues in my life, I started having panic attacks and ended up taking Valium
for some months. The ‘Valium rattle’ was very common in the 1980’s as
business managers took off their suit jackets. As is often the case with
mind problems, I didn’t know at the time what was causing my seriously
uncomfortable feelings and I’m not sure I do now, 25 years later.
The panic attacks started a few weeks before
our daughter Joanna was born in 1977. I was 29. I can only think
that stresses of one sort or another were
working on my subconscious and breaking through into my conscious mind in
ways I couldn't understand, causing the indefinable fearfulness. Up to this time I’d taken things as they came;
had no game plan for the future and wasn’t self-aware. Now I had a wife, a
baby on the way, a mortgage, a career that I’d drifted into instead of
chosen and a fear of failing in all or some of these. There was no way back. I was now acutely self aware and lost
confidence. I can only compare it to feeling vertigo and claustrophobia at
the same time. And I had no band to give me at least some diversion and
solace through music.
I do know that pressures were building on me at work
where after seven years I’d achieved a career goal of becoming Finance
Director of the company I was with, but then it was taken over and
shortly after I was ‘let go’. I was bitter because all company takeovers and
mergers whilst on the outside appearing
civilised – after all the people involved are highly qualified, intelligent
and driven by rational motives aren’t they? - in reality involve one tribe
taking charge of another and the takeover tribe proceeding to eliminate key
members of the other tribe for irrational visceral reasons, i.e. they feel
more comfortable with their own cronies and need to eliminate anyone posing
a real or imagined threat to their new order.
I left in 1983 with a very useful severance
package that helped us financially when we needed it: the family was growing
with our son James born in 1982. I started
straight away in a new company, albeit at a lower position. For my own
self-respect I now planned to move up quickly as possible and get back into
a senior management role. By now I’d figured out the key rules to achieve this, one
of which is quite simple: behave and carry yourself like a senior manager
and you’ll get promoted to one. Another is: nail down everything in your
area of control and make it work better than clockwork and groom a
successor. You’ll never be pulled up to a more senior role if the powers
that be think it’ll be too risky for them to move you out of the one you’re
in.
By 1986 I was making good progress. The truth
is I‘m pretty good at accountancy and financial control as well as
management, whether I like it
or not! Then a US company, Federal Express, engaged on an
acquisition strategy in Europe, bought ours. This time around though my
star was rising and continued to rise, as Federal Express needed good local
managers in place to make their strategy work. And despite some typical US
naiveté (‘expansion in Europe is just a cookie-cutting operation’) and occasional high-handedness in dealing with business cultures
other than their own, I liked working with Americans and felt in tune with
their energetic, thinking style of management. So, my career dominated my life
for the next six years, as a rose in the company to the most senior finance role in
Fedex UK.
My mind problems abated during the eighties,
even though pressures increased with work demands.
But I think these demands, and importantly my coping with them and turning them
to my advantage, were a kind of affirmation of my abilities and helped my confidence recover. I’d stopped taking Valium on my own accord despite doctor’s orders, because I hated the idea
of being dependant on any substances. He said by suppressing the
panicky feelings they'd give me a background against which I could work out
my issues, but I knew that was rot. Of course years later the
widespread use of diazepams became discredited for that reason: they can
treat symptoms (sometimes) but they don't help underlying causes and can
also bring about their own problems. I also had a few weekly
sessions with a psychotherapist until I realised I was quite capable of
analysing myself. Example of the facile exchanges we had:
"Your pain is on the left side of your face.
Which hand do you hold the telephone with?"
"My left".
"Do you feel somehow the telephone is bringing
you anxieties during the working day and you're tensing up as a defence
mechanism against it?"
I gave alternative medicine a try as well,
specifically for the facial pains which I know now were a manifestation of
inner turmoil and tension. Oddly as it may seem, The College of
Traditional Chinese Acupuncture is situated where I live in Leamington Spa,
or it was back then. People would even come from China to study there. I
began a course of weekly treatments and found it
relaxing at first, the needles being so thin they seemed to pass between nerve
endings and therefore caused no pain. Nevertheless, needles are
involved, and when I left after each treatment I felt a little elated.
But I realised this was more the natural effect of emerging from a situation
that was a little unsettling than an indication of a curative process.
After a few weeks however, they progressed to more sensitive spots in which
to insert needles, culminating in a session where they attempted to push
them into my tear ducts. I called a halt right there and then and left.
It did nothing for me, but then I didn't believe it would (ah-ha, I hear you say..)
I’ve never sought comfort in the
bottom of a glass, and hardly ever drink alcohol. On the other hand
Ian Boycott, who’d been in the band from 1974 to 1982 and become a close friend during and after that time, did take to drink for
various reasons, most of which he kept hidden. But I do remember him confessing to me that he’d
committed adultery with a nurse on the staff looking after his wife whilst
she was in hospital one Christmas and how I told him I couldn’t forgive him for such a
heinous act. When I look back now I realise he was very remorseful and
desperately needed someone to forgive him, so he'd spoken to his closest
friend, me. I didn't give him that solace however and maybe I should have
done.
Music Takes a Back Seat
After the demise of Sugarcane in 1979, I make
another attempt to form a viable unit in 1981. With the personal
problems I described earlier I needed music performance as a balm to help me
cope with life, but on the other hand it was difficult to put sufficient
energy into both. Laurie French is still the loyal stalwart on drums
and we do manage to find a great bass player in Denis Anderson who plays
solid, punchy bass, sings backing vocals, and is an affable bloke into the bargain. You can
find one or the other in a bass player but not often both.. He’s in
the band for the next eight years or so and a pleasure to play with. Tony Lloyd returns
after a six year absence and stays this time for another four, leaving again in 1986
over some trivial argument with me, the cause of which I can’t remember, but
was probably a culmination of 'music differences' as they say. I seem
to remember there was also a bit of 'unfinished business' from when he'd
left in 1974.
The next two years or so are musically fallow.
We rehearse and play the occasional gig but work pressures prevail. In 1988 I turn forty.
I take up pistol shooting in the early 1980's
when a neighbour who shot on the RAF rifle team invites me to a local open
air shooting range in Warwick. I get the bug, join and buy some
handguns. I find that the personal disciplines required to shoot
accurately, viz. mental and physical relaxation, plus the stimulus of having
another interest, help me relax at a time when I have a lot of stress in my
life. As a bonus, I discover that Jim Mercer, a fellow shooter, is
also a guitar freak so it's not long before he's invited to come and
rehearse with myself, Laurie and Denis. Laurie introduces Mick
Jennings, a teacher colleague who plays keyboards and so in 1989 we have a
band again. Having keyboards for the first time certainly gives us a
fuller sound. But just when things are up and running again Denis Anderson leaves the area to follow
a new career in computing that takes him to Leeds and without a bass player
we take yet another sabbatical..
In fact the next five years or so are devoid of any
serious musical involvement as I press on with career, family, etc.
When I'm with Laurie the conversation invariably turns to
'the good times' and reminiscences of gigs past, good and bad, and our
memorable band experiences, such as the time in March 1978 when John Rushton
was rushed to hospital after being electrocuted on stage. I'd gone on
stage first, and as John followed he touched his microphone and guitar
strings at the same time, making an earth loop through his body. He
keeled over backwards in spasm and to my everlasting shame I remember
reaching out anxiously towards him - to try and grab his Gibson Thunderbird
bass and save it from being damaged as he fell!!
The gig was at Green Lane Working Men's Club in Coventry and after the
ambulance had left taking John to hospital and we were sitting around dazed
and worried, the Social Secretary came up to us and said, tactfully, "Well,
are you going on then lads or what?". John's bass was standing
nearby with a piece of his burnt flesh on one of the strings... To
fulfill contractual
obligations I think we played taped music. They insisted their wiring was
not at fault but we took the matter up formally and tests later revealed the
club did in fact have faulty wiring. I suppose nowadays John would have sued
them for a not inconsiderable sum.
Then there was the time I was asked
to deputise for a couple of nights in a rival local pop covers band "The Likely Lads"
whose regular lead guitarist was absent because his wife was about to give
birth. I was well paid on one of the nights which was a big, themed dance
at local hotel The Chesford Grange. In our blues/rock band we'd always
tried to dress on
stage 'cool casual' so I was taken aback that night to be given a full
Mexican outfit to wear complete with red blouson shirt and enormous
sombrero. I was praying no one in the audience knew me as we rocked
our way through all the pop hits of the day. The keyboard player was
a Geordie (from the North East of England for any foreigners reading this)
and spoke with a broad accent. Every time I shouted to ask him what
the key of the next number was he'd shout "E" which in broad Geordie sounds
exactly like "A". So I had a few false starts.
At work I find myself seduced by the seniority,
respect and financial rewards, but somehow life is still an out of control
ride. It occurs to me that I'd spent pretty well all my life doing
what other people expected me to do. I'd been a son, a husband and a
father and that was how my identity was defined. I blink and find that
many years have passed without my realising.
I leave Federal Express in 1992 and move into
the recently privatised electricity industry with East Midlands Electricity
where I stay, in various senior financial roles, until 2000.
'Blues Deluxe'
In 1994 I decide to form a band to finally play
what I like best - blues. I figure it's high time I play what I enjoy,
instead of learning sets of unrewarding, tedious, songs for people to dance
to and nothing else. We
form a band with Laurie on drums (naturally), Jim Mercer on guitar and John Ciriani on bass.
John had in fact auditioned unsuccessfully for us many years previously but
this time he got the gig when he answered our ad!
The band is christened 'Blues Deluxe' after a
track on The Jeff Beck Group's album 'Truth'. We practice hard to get
match-fit and really enjoy the music, but inevitably we decide to dilute the
true blue mixture with more audience-friendly material in order to get some
gigs. Practicing is fun but there's no substitute for that feeling of
entertaining people at a live event, so we advertise for a keyboard player
and find David Eyre. David has only been learning for a short while
but what he lacks in experience and technique he more than makes up for in
enthusiasm and ability to learn fast. He fits into the band quickly
and acquits himself very well at the first gig. However, David is also
finding family and career constraints cramping his music hobby, particularly
as his job in a high-tech machine tool company takes him away to Europe now
and then. He drops out of the band with great regrets. Laurie
gets back in touch with Mick Jennings who'd left the keyboards slot six
years before and persuades him to return. (Laurie was reluctant to do
this at the time but I'm not sure why. I think it was something to do
with the fact that although they were both teachers and had worked for a
time in the same school they didn't see eye to eye on some matters).
L to R: Laurie French, Jim Mercer, John
Ciriani, Mick Jennings. Pictured March 1998 at one of many rehearsals
at Milverton Village Hall.
This line-up works pretty well and stays together
for six years until September 2000 when Mick Jennings leaves. Two months later he's followed
by John Ciriani. It's depressing how 'musical differences' can find their way
in and break up a viable band. We wanted a 'tougher' sound
than John was providing on bass - he always seemed to like being low in the
mix as if he were somehow nervous of being prominent, whereas I like bass players
that 'dig in' with confidence and provide a nice fat backbone to the overall
sound. In one discussion with John I famously, or rather infamously,
described his sound as a 'rumbling miasma' which actually was a reasonably
accurate description of what it sounded like to the rest of us. But
John had his own style as we all do and I like to think we
parted company fairly amicably, at least we still exchange Christmas cards!
Bands are like marriages with four or five
spouses involved instead of two - each individual is prepared to subsume
their own desires to greater or lesser degrees for the benefit of the common
good, and each individual brings his or her own inter-personal style to the
group dynamics. As long as everyone is also willing and able to bring
adequate degrees of compromise and goodwill, over a long period things will
be fine. This is also bolstered by the band succeeding in its public
performances and this creates a virtuous circle, with the members even more
willing then to support the common good.
Still, Blues Deluxe had a good run for six
years and we had some happy times, which is what it's all about. We
rehearsed far more than we gigged, but with all of us engaged in our careers
and music a hobby, it wasn't always easy to keep the continuity.
Coming Up To Date
Before John Ciriani left at the end of 2000, we'd found
yet another keyboard player in Andy Kneeshaw,
a guy our age who's looking for similar musical commitment, i.e. rehearsals
every other week or so and the occasional gig. This suits him as he's
part owner of a business at the National Agricultural Centre, Stoneleigh,
and also seems to have a very busy
private life shuttling between two families of children, from his present
plus a previous marriage. But things go on hold when John leaves.
We set about getting a new bass player,
and after two or three try out sessions - it's inaccurate to call these things auditions when in fact both sides are checking
each other out for suitability - we pick Barry Kingsbeer from Stratford On
Avon. Barry seems to fit in splendidly because he has a tremendously
energetic bass playing style that pushes the beat and really drives things
along. His personality is also forthright and energetic although
affable, and I'm really keen to have him on board. Wise Jim Mercer counsels against his joining on
the basis his 'management style' would clash with mine and he was later proved to be
right.
We have one row over whether backing vocals should be sung or
not in one song but that gets patched up ok. I send him a peace
offering of a copy I made of a Boz Scaggs double CD, (which he doesn't thank me for).
At a subsequent rehearsal Barry says he isn't interested in learning a song
I'd painstakingly worked out although he'd agreed at a previous pub meeting it
would be a good one to adopt: Roddy Frame's "Somewhere In My Heart".
We only run through it once when this happens and I blow up, angry that it's easy to
criticise material others had brought along but that he'd brought nothing
along to work on. The incident is exacerbated by the fact that poor
Barry had only days before badly scalded himself from pouring boiling water
on his forearm and he was bandaged and in some pain. He'd also been made
redundant from his job in marketing at a small web services company.
Barry picks up his gear and leaves there and then despite valiant efforts by
Laurie and Jim to restore calm.
Almost immediately we find Barry's replacement
in Tony English but after two rehearsals his previous band reforms,
having broken up a few weeks before, and they call him back. And we're back
to square one yet again, but by now we're used to it..
2001: After yet more try-outs we finally find a superb bass player in Charlie
Douglas and for a while we forget about adding keyboards back in,
concentrating instead on making the four-piece tight, which is all about
melding bass and drums together to make a single, solid and synchronised
platform for the rest of the instruments. We achieve this after a few
months, with Charlie contributing a lot to the band in terms of effort,
commitment and good humour.
2002: We advertise for a keyboard player and
have a false start with a guy who I'll call KB, who is into 'prog
rock', or 'pomp rock' whichever side of the fence you're on, and his
favourite prog rocker is Rick Wakeman. If those early warning signs
aren't enough, he turns up for rehearsals with a battery of synthesisers
mounted on a tree of racks. We'd made this mistake before; of being
beguiled by someone's musical abilities whilst neglecting the other crucial
ingredients like compatibility of material and whether they'll fit in,
personality-wise. Combine this with someone who loves pomp rock
joining a bunch of blues/rock enthusiasts (did he think he could change us?)
and you've got the recipe for disaster. After about three rehearsals I
tell him we should call it a day on music compatibility terms with no
reflection on his obvious musical skills. He knows this is true but
somehow interprets it as being fired, and possessing a puffed up pride he
unleashes a stream of unwarranted invective via email. I receive an
even more extreme blast of vitriol when we he sees our next advert for a
keyboard player which this time stipulates "No prog-rock widdlers"
!
2003: We advertise again and Andrew
Strain answers the call this time. From the same ad we also recruit
Rachel Harris, who says she plays keyboards but would like to be a lead
vocalist. For years I'd always dreamed of a line-up where I could step
back from permanent lead vocal duties and concentrate on my guitar playing
and providing backing vocals. The rehearsals are really great and we
make a superb job of the likes of Sade's 'Smooth Operator' and Allanah
Miles' 'Black Velvet'. So Andrew and Rachel both accept the invitation
to join. With this combination we decide to change the style of the
band to 'cool and funky', doing away with the clichéd rock tunes. To
top it all, we have a six-piece where everyone seems to get along really
well with one another. But, dear reader, you know by now that events
take a not unsurprising course..
If I recall Andrew was still recovering from a divorce when he joined and
within one rehearsal with Rachel they fall for each other big time.
They turn up late for one or two Saturday practices having been burning
the midnight oil (or similar), and suddenly Rachel stops coming at all, for
reasons that Andrew never properly explains. At the next rehearsal he
too drops out and they immediately get married. We weren't invited.
All this happens in the space of a few weeks.
I'd inadvertently acted as cupid, which is very pleasing and I hope they're
both still very happy wherever they are. I felt pissed off at the time
though. That line-up could have been great fun for everyone and was
another example where members sometimes don't share with others how they'd
like to see things going in terms of the repertoire and/or their
contribution to the whole. Instead they opt for silence, giving off
the vibe that it's the fault of others.
All of this is too much for Charlie Douglas who tells us he's going to leave
as well, one of the other contributory factors being our permanent state of
rehearsal and inability to stabilise, pull a set together and start
performing. I couldn't agree more, and manage to persuade Charlie to
stay on the basis we accept a booking in May 2004 at a golf club where
friends of his wife are holding a school benefit dinner dance. We all
bend to the task ahead and we re-christen the band 'After Midnight' after an
Eric Clapton song.
Due to the urgency of preparing for this gig we accept Mark Deeley into the
band, a completely inexperienced keyboard player who is still learning his
instrument, has never rehearsed with a band of other musicians before, and
never played live in front of an audience before. Apart from that he's
ideal! Things then get
complicated when Charlie asks that his wife and her friend sing a couple of
Commitments-style songs with us, doing the 'chick vocalists' bit out front.
I don't object for fear of losing Charlie altogether, but it soon becomes
apparent that the ladies are under the impression they're to be on stage
all the time providing backing vocals. The trouble is they don't have
the experience and required vocal power to carry it off.
We do the gig and it stinks. On the night all sorts of things conspire
against us. It seems the organisers had political problems at their
school over the event and lack of endorsement from the headmaster meant
ticket sales were poor. Despite a lengthy sound check in the
afternoon, it becomes quickly apparent in the evening that the strange
internal design of the function area's ceiling makes the sound awful:
members of the band can't hear each other and can't communicate with each
other. Laurie seems to be in a black mood all day and it reflects in his
playing. My voice gives out as the evening wears on due to having to
sing every single song as usual. Nevertheless, the audience that are
there make an effort to enjoy themselves and the evening isn't a complete
disaster. But it's certainly depressing that months of rehearsal
produced such a debacle. Our wives are there and I particularly wanted
my wife Jane to see the positive results of our copious practicing but it
isn't to be. The worst aspect for me was that I didn't
feel us pulling together as a unit. As each of us began to feel things
weren't working we retreated into our own shells, playing what we'd
rehearsed, abandoning any attempt at empathy. In short I didn't get
one scintilla of musical satisfaction.
Charlie leaves for good now, citing increased work commitments, but he
wasn't always happy playing with Laurie, and I suspect he knew I didn't really
want extraneous female vocalists in the band, giving him perhaps a problem
squaring this with his distaff side.
Collapse of band No. 1,746..
Autumn 2004. After a rest to rethink and regroup I ask Laurie and Jim
around to put to them an idea that can take us forward once and for all.
It's radical, but today's music technology has made it feasible. I've
heard more and more musicians are successfully doing it.
I
propose that we forget about live drums, keyboards and bass, and instead
play live guitars and sing to midi backing tracks played via my Roland XP50
synthesiser through our PA. Laurie to provide percussion, i.e. congas,
shakers, cabassa, tambourine, etc. and at a stroke we do away with all the
heartache of trying to find and integrate bass and keyboard players.
All sorts of other advantages accrue such as access to brass and strings
sounds; far more convincing arrangements;
less equipment to move around, easier coordination with only three members
in the band, not to mention larger shares of gig money. Our already
powerful PA system would just need upgrading with the addition of some small
monitors and a subwoofer.
And now..
As I write this in Summer 2005 we've had a couple of rehearsals testing this
concept and it works well. We're now in the process of building a set
of songs and hope to be gigging them soon. Update August 2006: 'proof
of concept' takes place at our first gig on 9th September in Rugby.
Update end of 2008: We have a great band!
The Skyline Band has been together for over a year now and it's really
great to be playing with excellent musicians and having a lot of fun
again/at last. This band will be the final one I guess, but it's a
high to go out on. Fulfillment at last.
Links
The 'beat boom' of the early 60s in the UK touched hordes of people.
Many of those who responded to the call and formed pop groups are still out
there playing, and many more cherish their memories of transient local fame.
The internet is becoming home to a lot of these memories and where I can
locate them - or rather stumble across them - I'll post the links here:
Trevor Teasdel has an excellent site, Hobo,
cataloguing and discussing Coventry's music scene and it's well worth a
visit. Here's the link:
Hobo.
Ian Green and Paul Leather run this nostalgic site dedicated to the bands
that played locally in and around the Coventry area. Click on the logo
to pay them a visit.
Cast In Order Of Appearance
I'd like to thank the thirty or so friends and musicians who supported and put up with me over
the years, some of whom I may not have mentioned in the foregoing saga, and
to apologise if you ever found me overbearing or too demanding; I just
wanted to make the bands sound good. As the years take their toll I
hope you've all, in your own way, found some measure of serenity.
For those I haven't seen for years, please feel free to contact me if you
come across this website. I'd love to hear from you, especially if I've forgotten, misplaced
or misrepresented you in the story!
Ned Foyle and Geoff Timms (Vocals and
bass, 1965-1967) I was almost nineteen when Ned and Geoff were killed on
the 10th of August 1967. Losing two close friends so abruptly like
that was something I found almost impossible to handle. It was as if
my teens had finished abruptly and I'd grown up into the real, harsh world.
Ned was one of two children, his sister was a classical pianist who spent
some time with the Birmingham Philharmonic Orchestra. His parents
spoiled John, or Ned as he was known. He was diagnosed with rheumatic
fever when he was very young and his parents had been told at one point he
wasn't going to pull through so they regarded every day with him after that
as a bonus. He wasn't sickly though: he was six feet tall, always
active, usually laughing and playing practical jokes. Although his
parents tended to indulge him it didn't stop him being a thoroughly pleasant
and caring guy. His parents always held a kind of open house and when Ned's
friends appeared we were always welcome to join the meal table at a moment's
notice or stop overnight and in the morning tuck in to one of Mrs Foyle's enormous fry-ups.
Ned used to like having a car to get about in whereas the rest of us had to
hitch hike around or prevail upon parents to transport us to where we needed
to go, and whilst I knew Ned he must have had about three cars in
succession. He would buy 'bangers' with a bit of life left in them,
when he could gather together the small amounts of money needed, and when
one failed he'd simply abandon it and buy another. I remember one
black jalopy necessitated the carrying of large cans of oil in the boot.
Ned had to stop frequently to top up the level because the vehicle consumed
more oil than petrol.
Geoff Timms lived a street away from Ned and they shared an interest in
cheap modes of transport, spending hours helping each other with the
makeshift mechanics required to get their vehicles actually mobile. I
remember spending one energetic afternoon blowing down the fuel line of
Geoff's Bedford van and then helping apply one of the coats of gloss paint
needed to conceal the rust. This was the van that failed them on that
fateful evening of the accident.
The death of Ned and Geoff was front page local news - 'Pop Group Pair Die In
Crash', and needless to say their respective parents were simply
inconsolable, not to say Ned's girlfriend, Sue Jeffs. The large front lawn at
Geoff's parents' house was carpeted with an enormous quantity of
floral tributes that came from a myriad of well wishers including club
secretaries, booking agents as well as friends and family. I
remember the service was very difficult for us all. I only saw Ned's
parents once afterwards, when I briefly lent a hand at their house with
Ned's belongings. I heard sometime later that Geoff's mother had had a
breakdown: she kept thinking she saw Geoff in crowds or bus queues.
~~~
Richard
Maynard (Guitar, 1965) - Richard
appears in the newspaper photograph from December 1965 of Ned Foyle and
myself at our school Folk Evening, with a small acoustic guitar strung
around his neck (an Eko?). He was a close friend through my Kenilworth
Grammar School days but we lost touch after 1967. Somehow Richard
found me in 2002 (via the Friends Reunited web site) and in
June 2003 he visited me whilst up from Exeter where he now lives. It
was great to spend time with Richard and exchange our life stories spanning
the last 36 years. The only difference I noticed, apart from the same
unfortunate physical changes he would also have noticed in me, was that he
seemed to have hardened at the edges, if I can put it like that, perhaps
chastened by his life's experiences, I don't know. (And maybe he
thought exactly the same about me..) But he still
possessed the bizarre sense of humour, quiet cynicism for life and disrespect for 'the way things are
supposed to be' that we shared when we were teenagers. Here's a not untypical excerpt from an email:
"Who were we in those days and
what the hell did we think about? Most of the time, the prospect of sex
with anything with an even number of legs and the rest of the time what we'd
be like when we were as old as our parents. Now we are as old
as our parents were then and rather than screaming, our hormones tend to
whimper quietly every time we try to stir them up a bit. I'm still deciding
what I want to do when I grow up and should be able to sit down and give it
some consideration in the next couple of years."
Nigel Maltby
(Guitar, 1966-1968) - Nigel (pictured Left in 1965) was another was another
school pal and was in our first
band The Trane. He was crazy about the Kinks and he and I went
to see them live in c.1964 at the Coventry Hippodrome. I remember
Nigel standing on the red plush seat, shouting and waving and really letting
himself go as the Kinks worked their magic. In those halcyon days
Nigel and I became very close friends and confided a lot in each other.
At
the same time as I started college to train as a Chartered Accountant,
Nigel's stepfather arranged for him to be articled in a solicitor's in
Coventry. We used to meet for lunch and he would tell me how
crushingly dull it was: he'd been put in a tiny office and told to read
piles of legal books. He left work, and home, abruptly in 1968.
Nigel had innate flair, talent, and a bias for action plus an impetuous side
that was amusing, but sometimes reckless and even scary; he'd be the one
that would immediately step forward if there was something dangerous or
daring on offer. For example, one summer's day, I think in 1966, Nigel
suddenly suggested we hitchhike to Wales to drop in on some friends who were
holidaying with their parents in a cottage they owned on the coast. No
preparation. No haversack of food or extra clothing. We started
out from Kenilworth in the summer clothes we stood up in and carrying one
packet of biscuits. We thought we'd be there by sunset, easily.
These were the days when most drivers would stop for young hitchhikers
without fear of either party being assaulted or even murdered. But
there wasn't the network of motorways that we now have; just A and B roads.
Our progress was a lot slower than we'd envisaged and although we'd had a
number of different lifts taking us in the right direction, by the time the
sun began to set we were miles away from our destination without food or
shelter. I remember at one point after night had fallen we were so
cold that we lay spread-eagled in the middle of the road trying to absorb
from the tarmac what little was left of the heat of the day!
I always liked Nigel and I often wish we were still in touch as lifelong
friends, sharing a smile or two at old times. This section contained more of my memories of Nigel but
he sent me a hostile email demanding I excise all references except those to his membership
of The 'Trane. Well, I can easily erase words on a web site but
I can't erase my memories, and what remains in this section are fond ones
that are in no way untrue, unfair or insulting to Nigel. However, I
have deleted some other recollections as he requested, out of respect for our old friendship. Nigel's
lifelong passion and source of tranquility was angling so I hope he's still
got 'tight lines', is enjoying a good measure of tranquility and that things
have worked out ok for him.
Laurie French (Drums, 1966-1973 and
1977 - the present) - Laurie is now celebrating (?)
over forty years of playing with me. (Oo-er missus..) We first met when
my brother, knowing I was thinking of forming a band, said he knew someone
at work who played the drums - he and Laurie both worked at Buckingham
Swimming Pools in Kenilworth. We met up in The Engine pub for a Sunday lunchtime drink
and "The 'Trane" got a-rollin'. Since then
we've been through a lot of musical trials and tribulations together, and
we've also had a lot of fun.
If someone asked why we've been friends for such a long time I'd have to say
I'm really not sure. We've shared a lot of common ground in terms of
musical interests, particularly the Blues, although I'd never shared
Laurie's early interest in jazz. I suppose the main thing that's kept
us together has been a shared vision of the sort of band we've always wanted
to play in and a pursuit of the thrills of playing live and entertaining
people. We've also been close because our wives have been friends from
almost as long as we've known each other and we've seen each other's
children grow up.
(L: Laurie in 1997)
Perhaps the past couple of years has seen some changes to the centre of
gravity of our friendship although like some elderly couple who can't exist
without the other, we soldier on!
Maybe as we've grown older our shared political views with origins in the hippy
idealism of the sixties have drifted apart, with me
migrating to the Right. We can disagree on things, on the odd occasion even
vehemently, but the bonds of forty years remain strong. Laurie can be
moody at times and when he brings what Jim Mercer calls his 'brown
studies' to rehearsals it can sour the atmosphere,
especially for any newcomers who don't understand what's on display.
But then I've been known for making a different kind of display on
occasions - the pyrotechnic variety and as I've got older I've become more
crotchety, I know. But we're still making live music together and
we've also written a couple of good songs that we've recorded in my home
studio. Our friendship officially reaches
its fortieth year soon and I confidently predict Laurie will break the habit
of a lifetime and buy me a pint. (Ed note: He did!)
Bill Fielding (Bass, 1967-1968) - A qualified
'chippie' if I recall so he made his own, very hefty, bass cabinet. He
joined just after we resuscitated the original 'Trane' after the deaths of
Ned and Geoff so not the most cheerful of times for him. He was with
us just under a year when the Trane folded.
Bob Sharpe
(Bass, 1973-1975) - Bob Sharp played bass with
us between 1973 and the beginning of 1975. An easy going chap, his
parents were very tolerant because we had rehearsals in the back room of his
house, whilst his Dad sat in the next room with his pipe and newspaper!
I remember graphically an occasion when Bob had been taken poorly with a
boil and two of us called at his house to see how he was. His Mum had
no hesitation in ushering us upstairs to see him and when she flung his
bedroom door open there he was, lying on his bed, sheets back, legs akimbo
up over his head, gonads out, using a hot poultice dipped in a bowl, bathing
an enormous boil in the cleft of his ass! We were mentally reeling at
the sight and anxious to back out of the room but Bob just carried on the
conversation as if nothing were amiss.
Bob met an American girl whilst deputising in another band at a USAF base
gig and within weeks they got married and moved to the States, where I guess
he still is.
Tony Lloyd (Guitar, 1973-1974 and
1982-1985) - A nice, tidy,
thoughtful guitarist
and a good friend for a long time. We played together through
1973-1974 but things weren't quite the same after he
left us for another band, 'Vehicle', even though he returned for a spell in
1982. Our guitar styles melded together well and I
regret losing touch with Tony as a friend as well as a musician.
Brian Meredith
(Drums, 1973-1974) - A very competent, metronomic drummer, Brian joined
when I put Sugarcane together in late 1973. Although a superb
natural player I don't think he was as addicted to this band thing as the
rest of us. He left abruptly in Spring 1974 when he met a girl at a
gig, fell in love, and got married, all in a short space of time. The
rest of Sugarcane
weren't invited.
Ian Boycott (Congas, bongos, timbales,
tambourine, vocals, 1974-1982) - Ian only used to play congas and other percussion and sing
a little, but he was a great live wire to have in any group. I
remember the evening he told us excitedly about some song lyrics he'd just
penned and he read out his favourite line: "Her eyes were black as jade.."
We all burst out laughing at the malapropism. We had a
lot of fun times with Ian around, and my wife and I also socialised a lot
with Ian and his wife Alison. Their relationship faltered however and
as I said earlier, Ian committed adultery. They divorced shortly
after. Despite always having been the life and soul of the party he
had his own inner demons, perhaps work-related as well, and he did a similar
disappearing act to Nigel Maltby’s 1968
episode, claiming later to have gone to New Zealand and joining a
headlining pro band. My suspicion is that he never left Coventry and since the
mid-1980s I haven’t heard from him.
Rob (?) (Bass) and Nick (?) (Guitar) - These two Coventry guys answered an
advertisement for personnel and only stayed for a few months in 1974/75.
When we lost drummer Brian Meredith they invited in another buddy of theirs
whom I nearly came to blows with on stage. All three left en bloc,
their coup having failed..
John Rushton
(Bass, 1975-1978) - John was a typical bass
player in many ways, quiet but industrious. It was difficult to get to
know him closely but he fitted in well and contributed a lot to the band in
his time with us. We were disappointed when in 1978 he left the area
and moved to Harefield, Middlesex with
his girl friend.
Fast forward to 2001 and John responded to one of our
ads in Sound On Sound magazine. I was astounded to hear from him after 23
years. I asked him to come up from Northampton where he'd moved to all
those years ago and Laurie and I had a happy reunion with him at my place.
He was also into home recording and brought some examples of his pleasing instrumentals. But from what he was saying it sounded like he
needed to supplement a his regular income and was already playing in other
bands, whereas our aims were to just gig occasionally for the fun of it.
The distance between us, i.e. Leamington and Northampton, would also present
problems with rehearsals as well as gigs. So it wasn't to be the
second time around. John, a very quiet chap but with the frequent flash of dry humour, quipped as we said goodbye, "See you in another 20
years then."
Happily, John and I have made contact again
and (R) here's a recent picture of him playing no doubt first class bass as
usual, in his band 'Breeez'. They have a nice web site
here. John is now playing a Wal Pro II bass, having sold his
Gibson Thunderbird as it reminded him of his electrocution episode, see
above paragraph 'The gig was at Green Lane..'
'Mouse' (Drums, 1975) - A drummer we had for 6
months in 1975. His real name was Don Atkin; I don't know why he was
nicknamed Mouse. He fitted in well, if not
setting things alight sticks-wise.
Dave Faulkner (Guitar, 1975) - Dave joined us on
guitar in 1975 and stayed for under a year. I remember he played a Fender
Telecaster through an H&H solid state amp. This combination made for a sound
that was so brittle it cut through the rest of us like cheese wire and
became a bit of a bone of contention with Dave. He could be a bit
fiery so although I don't remember his leaving it was probably after an
'exchange of views' over that sound of his. I never saw him again.
In 2001 my daughter Joanna was doing some temporary work at a company,
working for the head of the firm. Somehow, over drinks at a social
evening Joanna picked up that her boss used to play in a band years ago
called Sugarcane. Joanna checked with me and I confirmed it was the
guy she was working for, Dave Faulkner. I showed her some photographs
of him on stage twenty six years before with his trusty Telecaster around
his neck and she took it to the office, scanned it and a colleague of Dave's
slipped it into the middle of a presentation to him. Joanna said he
was suitably gob-smacked as they say, and took it in good part.
Dave Brooks (Drums, 1975-1976) - A
superb drummer. I'll never forget the night he turned up at the
auditions. He was the last of about four candidates we saw in a hall
in Warwick back in Autumn 1975. He was only 17 and his Dad brought him
in, helping him with his feeble little kit. He had no drum stool and
used a chair instead. The rest of us looked at each other, thinking it was
going to be pointless and probably a bit embarrassing, but that we'd better
go through the motions so the lad wasn't put off the business of finding a
band. He then proceeded to astound us with a real natural ability so
we said he could join as long as he got hold of a proper drum kit - which he
then did, a large and meaty 'Tama' kit which gave us real volume problems at
the Working Men's Clubs we were playing at! Dave was so good he was
pinched from us in a few months by rival band 'The Incas' and I don't know
what became of little Dave. He certainly had what it takes to go pro.
Dave initially
had transport problems, and not being able to afford much, invested in an
old three-wheeled Reliant Robin of dubious mechanical fitness. In fact it
had a very worrying list to port when fully loaded. I'd just arrived at one
gig in Warwick and Dave pulled into the car park after me, closely followed
by a Police car that had spotted his vehicle's ungainly procession down the
main road. He was a decent copper though, took pity on Dave's plight and
settled for giving him a warning. He was obviously amused by Dave's
transport, referring to it as a "Tupperware GT". At which point I had to
turn away from laughing too much.
Postscript January 2006: Dave found this web site and got in touch. It
was great to make contact again and I'm glad to say Dave is still playing;
presently thumping tubs for hot four-piece outfit Behind Bars.
His son Jamie is on keyboards and would have been aged -10 or something when
Dave and I played together... Check the band out
here.
Harry Heppingstall (Drums, 1976-?) - a drummer
who played with us for only a short time, a matter of weeks I think. I
always remembered him firstly because of his alliterative name, Harry Heppingstall from
Hinckley.. but also because he seemed a genuine odd 'muso'. When he played
with us he played loud and firm, but said he wasn't interested in practices,
he'd busk on the night, and on his first gig he didn't mix with the rest of
us in the dressing room, but instead took out a newspaper and a flask of tea
to relax with! I reckon he must also have been a card-carrying member
of the Musicians' Union! Not a good match personnel-wise..
Denis Anderson (Bass,
1981-1989) - One of the best
bass players we ever had. Denis was a friendly, straight forward guy
with no side to him, and he played great, solid bass. A career move
took him to Leeds and where he became an IT professional. In 2008 he
found this web site (like many others mentioned here!) and he's doing very
well, now residing in sunny Devon after living in France for a while.
Here's a photo from 2007 (below Left) which seems to show that the years
haven't taken as heavy a toll as they have on some of us! Denis still
has his trusty Fender Precision and although he hasn't played in a band for
a while he still enjoys the buzz from gigging, but now as part of a choir.
Roger (?) (Keyboards, 1984-?) - Roger was a
somewhat enigmatic young man who played with us for a few months in either
1984 or 1985. He had a serious, even sad, demeanor that was to do
with the abrupt loss of his father who'd died tragically only a few years
before, falling out of a tree in the family garden. Roger was an
excellent keyboards player and we were able to put a couple of Toto numbers
in the set which we did really well. We also rehearsed a pretty fair
version of Emerson Lake and Palmer's 'Fanfare for the Common Man'.
Whether we were planning on hammering that out during someone's wedding
reception I can't recall now.. Roger left to try and go professional.
I hope he fulfilled his dreams.
Jim Mercer (Guitar,
1989 - present) - Jim's an excellent
confidant, smoother-of-waters, techie and all-round good companion, and a pretty
good shot as well. He's been a stalwart second guitarist and vocalist
for over fifteen years in the various incarnations of Sugarcane and Blues
Deluxe. Head of IT in a manufacturing company, Jim's very intelligent,
perceptive and humorous. He's naturally placid and I can honestly say
I've never seen him in a bad mood or angry (sorry Jim, maybe I miss the
signals!). His easy going demeanour acts as a good balance to my
frequent over-earnestness. He's so easy going I have never seen
a bead of sweat on his face at a live gig, even though the atmosphere had
been hot and I've long since melted into a salty puddle next to my pedal
board. Laurie has often exhorted Jim to 'move about a bit' during
performances to at least let the audience know he's enjoying it, but to no
avail. Jim and I have been avid shooters for many years and we still
go on the occasional Sundays to punch holes in paper at 100 yards, (the
combination of rock and roll and shooting as hobbies has diminished my aural
acuity considerably) although the main stimulation from these forays is
putting the world to rights on the car journeys to and form the rifle range.
Mick Jennings (Keyboards,
1988 and 1995-2000) - Mick was another good musician I was glad to have with
us. He had a natural ear for music and contributed a lot in terms of
versatility and formal musical training. He was a little parsimonious
though when it came to buying equipment and unlike other keyboard players
who like to splash out on the latest synthesisers Mick made do with a an
'economic' entry-level model. He didn't usually carry his own leads
and spares and the phrase most associated with Mick was "Anyone got a spare
battery?".
John Ciriani (Bass,
1994-2000) - John was the sort of guy who always seemed, outwardly at least,
irrepressibly happy. Nothing seemed to get him down and when we
arrived at rehearsals or gigs he was always 'Hail fellow, well met", which
at least helped get proceedings off to a cheery start. His bass style
was too low in the mix and ill-defined for our tastes and, as I said earlier,
I once described it as a "rumbling miasma", but there was no doubting
his professionalism, reliability and affability. He just loves to play as much as
possible, whether it's in bands, pantomime orchestras or whatever, and
that's what it's all about. John has a web site
here.
David Eyre
(Keyboards, 1995) - David (pictured Right) joined us for a few months until
career and young family commitments made it necessary for him to pull out,
very reluctantly.
Although just starting to learn keyboards and
never having played in a band before, David played what was needed and had
an empathy with the other players. He would have made a good long term
member.
Andy Kneeshaw (Keyboards/backing vocals,
2000) - We had a few
sporadic practices with Andy around 2000/2001. Andy was extremely
patient with us, letting us use his company's spacious, carpeted showroom at
the National Agricultural Centre, Stoneleigh, and calling on him to complete
the line-up whenever we (Laurie, Jim and myself) found what we thought was a
decent bass player. We rehearsed two with Andy (Barry Kingsbeer
and Tony English below), and in the end Andy said "Look, call me again when
you've got a steady bass player". I felt too embarrassed to do so,
thinking we'd messed him around a bit, even though we later found that
steady person in Charlie Douglas.
Barry Kingsbeer
(Bass, 2000) - As I described earlier, the band wasn't big enough for Barry
(pictured Left) and myself, and
Jim Mercer demonstrated his perspicacity when he spotted this and flagged it
to me at the outset! I couldn't help asking Barry to join though and
still admire his straight-ahead, driving style of bass playing.
Tony English
(Bass, 2000) - Tony, hailing from Stratford-Upon-Avon, made hand-made jewellery for a living and answered one of our
ads in 2000 for Barry's replacement. He stayed for two practices then
the band he'd left that prompted his finding us reformed again and he was
asked to return.
Charlie Douglas
(Bass, 2001) - A cheerful Geordie, Charlie was a top-notch bass player who
was with us a couple of years to May 2004. He always knew his bass parts,
was great company and a strong contributor, as opposed to some members we've
had who seem to wait for instructions (and then pick fault with the
instructions). Charlie was certainly one of the best players we had
and I think he would have stayed if it weren't for the gig May 2004 that
didn't measure up to the high standards we'd all set ourselves at the
rehearsals.
Andrew Strain (Keyboards,
2003)
- A pleasant, low-key Scot, he had a nice playing style and could have been
a great long-term member of the band, but for the arrival of Rachel, below.
It's nice that all the incarnations of our bands produced one marriage, and
a speedy one at that, but it would have been even nicer if the couple had
celebrated their post-nuptial bliss by remaining as a unit within After
Midnight. On the other hand, who knows what calamities could have
befallen us later on if they began to have 'domestics' at practices and
gigs!
