Mid Seventies

After a long break I'm back again!

After the Skyline Hotel fiasco, and with Louis leaving "Louis and the Bad Boys", we were approached by this very accomplished guitarist, Harry.

He informed us that he would be able to replace Louis and, not to worry, the band would rock on.
After listening to him play, we mutually agreed that he was the one.
One problem was, we couldn't still use the name "Louis and the Bad Boys", and "Harry and the Bad Boys" just didn't sound right, so we were now just "The Bad Boys"!

Forty years on I think to myself, how would you react if your daughter came home with a long haired musician (more than likely unemployed), who proclaimed to be from a band called "The Bad Boys"?!!

There was a guy that used to frequent the Skyline Hotel on a fairly regular basis and he was the manager at a really run down hotel in Joubert Park (Johannesburg) called The Astor Hotel - Google has never heard of it - it's long gone.

This guy offered us a gig at this hotel.
They hadn't had music there for a while, so maybe we could attract the crowd, build the place up, and the more people came in, the more we would make...

Same story that we all hear in one form or another.

So being successfully unemployed once again, we agreed to the deal.
This was now going to be the Rock Band to end all Rock Bands...

The idea was that they, the Hotel, would advertise for two weeks with posters, flyers etc. whilst we got the "new" band together.
We rehearsed at the venue every day with Harry, going over our existing repertoire and adding a few new numbers as well.
One song comes to mind immediately - Lazy, by Deep Purple.
Without trying to brag, the band did that number exceptionally well!
My dear friend Dermot listened to the band on numerous occasions and swore he couldn't tell the difference between Deep Purple and The Bad Boys!

He knew his music, so that was a serious compliment.

In their infinite wisdom, the management decided to bring in a DJ to the gig in addition to the band.
We encountered this obnoxious little person with a blond Afro, who insisted that we call him Spider!
Heaven alone, (and maybe his mother), knew what his real name was... 

Little did he know that I have an aversion to anything with more than four legs.

The idea was that during our breaks the DJ would play his stuff.
Except of course, in those days, and even now, DJs and Live music don't always mix.
So what would happen was that "Spider" would try to out play us, can you believe it!

The band was not too happy with this arrangement but we tolerated the situation as after all this was the venue for the Rock Band to end all Rock Bands

One night we were thundering away and were playing one of the songs in which I incorporated a fiddle solo.
Unbeknown to all of us, this Hotel was not earthed...

I was behind my trusted Hammond L100, the violin bow was resting above the top keyboard.
My electric violin at that time had a Barcus Berry pickup on the bridge and was wired in such a way that the jack plug socket was on the left side of the instrument, so that when I played, the jack plug would touch my neck (the casing of the jack plug was metal).
In retrospect not such a clever idea.

That night I reached forward to pick up the bow and my fingers touched the metal strip above the Hammond's top keyboard, at the same time my neck was touching the jackplug and as a result I received 220 Volts through my body!
I was thrown back against the wall behind me (about 6 feet - 2 metres) and the violin went flying out of my left hand and crashed onto the dance floor smashing into pieces!

The audience thought that this was part of the act and went wild!

I retrieved, salvaged and repaired the fiddle but it was never quite the same unfortunately.

The word started to spread about "The Bad Boys", more people were flocking in and we were now serious Rock 'n Rollers.
"Spider" was losing his popularity.

One night we were rocking along with possibly either a Uriah Heep or a Deep Purple rendition, the dance floor was packed, the band was cooking and Harry was playing an amazing guitar solo.
Harry always played his solos with his eyes closed - he was so much into his guitar - it was as if he had entered another realm.
There were no facial expressions as if he was in agony or experiencing the greatest orgasm he'd ever had!
Harry just closed his eyes and played the most amazing guitar!

On this particular night, I reckon we might have been a wee bit loud (you can't play serious rock at lounge volume) and the club owner approached the stage, telling us to turn down.
Needless to say, as the dance floor was at capacity crowd, we ignored him.
So he went up to Harry, who was playing with his eyes closed, and reached over and turned down the volume control on his guitar!
Instantly the guitar sound disappears, Harry's eyes fly open and he sees this weasel of a manager standing front of him.
The band stops playing and a serious argument ensues between Harry and this manager.
Tempers flare between the manager and Harry and the next thing Harry hits this unfortunate manager and knocks him across the dance floor!

That of course, was the end of that gig and also was the beginning of the end of "The Bad Boys".

Not a great response from the ruling opposition party:
Why can't you find regular work with some decent money?
You'll never amount to anything at this rate...
You'll be playing in dives like that for the rest of your life..

After our experience at the Astor Hotel we did a few one off gigs including a New Years Eve function (1975 going into 1976) somewhere in Johannesburg where Harry brought along an amplifier he'd built that he said would work perfectly with the Hammond.
"It'll make it nice and loud" he said.
Half way through the gig the amp started smoking and then caught on fire!

We scraped through the rest of the night with a very feeble sounding Hammond, didn't get paid properly because our equipment was faulty and after that the band dissolved with each member going their own way.

A great pity as "The Bad Boys" was a really good band and holds fond memories of some serious Rock and Roll.

Shortly after this episode I received a phone call asking me if I would like to join the band "Tank" who at that stage were performing in Port Elizabeth.

I knew most of the guys from that line up of Tank so I trundled off to Port Elizabeth to perform at a really cool venue called "Is America".

Great band; doing all the current hits of the time (1976), and of course some good songs from previous years.
For personal reasons, I regretfully only stayed with them for three months and then returned to Johannesburg to play at The Top of The Carlton Hotel.

This is the prelude to "A long gig in 1976".

Early Seventies (continued)

 After a long break, here we are, back in remembrance mode again!

There have been quite a few bands that I've been involved with in the past many months, (these I will mention in future articles) and as a result, have been away from the blogging side of the computer for a while!

Getting back to Louis and the Bad Boys - Downtown Johannesburg 1975.

Cannot remember the name of the club, but it was in the center of Johannesburg not far from The Carlton Center.

Having once again no gear, I managed, with the assistance of the club's manager, to hire an Organ,  Amp. and Speaker. Unbeknown to me, the club manager had some dubious connections and if anyone refused his request....!!

So I had this Organ - can't remember the make - we rehearsed and played some serious renditions of Deep Purple, Uriah Heep, Styx, Hendrix etc. etc.

The club gained popularity, and was eventually becoming "The Place to Be" - the band was cooking and becoming really tight.
One night, this guy - I can still remember his face - walked past the stage and handed each of us some tablets. "Take these Brother, they'll do good things".

Needless to say, they did good things! I remember going into the kitchen after the gig and ordering three plates of chips! and then drinking all sorts of rubbish! Not good, I tell you, and never again! (or so I thought)!

After a few weeks at this gig, I had an altercation with one of the manager's brothers. My jacket had been on the back of one of the chairs, and at the end of the gig, it was gone.

I started to complain, and the argument became heated about my missing jacket, next thing there was a gun in my face from this stupid testosterone infused gun wielding idiot! complaining that I was making a scene! - I decided, for health reasons, to forget about the jacket...

During the time we were there, we played now and then at a Hotel in a town called Vereeniging. There was this guy - enormous Afrikaans chap, I think his name was Mr. Brewaar, I might be wrong, anyway, he thought the band was brilliant. Could we please perform at his hotel.

Transport was scarce in those days. I didn't drive, the Bass player had a beaten up car, the Drummer's car was also in decrepit mode, so somehow, we managed to organize transport from Johannesburg to Vereeniging! (about 2 hours drive).

I still remember the band playing our heavy rock to this crowd of Afrikaners who had never heard of Styx! -  Hendrix maybe...

Louis had the ability to slip into Afrikaans mode and play and sing an entire repertoire of rude and lewd Afrikaans folk songs - much to the delight of the public.

After which we did our Deep Purple routine and I was rocking this poor organ back and forth.
Long hair flaying, Louis flying, Bass and Drums thundering and before I knew what was happening, the organ, which by this time was tilted on it's side (while still playing it ), slipped, and next thing it had fallen off the stage, crashing to the floor!
The crowd thought this was brilliant! The organ was still groaning as I tried to salvage it - I must have been stronger in those days as I managed to pick it up and get it sorted for the remainder of the gig!
Somehow it never quite sounded the same after that...

The hire company were never quite sure why their organ looked a little strange and sounded a little different!


We were at the Johannesburg Club for about four months when we were offered a gig at the Skyline Hotel, Hillbrow.
This was the ticket - no more paying R11:00 a month for my Bachelor Flat!

We now had a contract for three months, with an option for a further three months - accommodation plus food, plus salary!! This was the one!

With stardom in mind, we signed the contract, only to discover that it was just another gig, albeit regular work. The accommodation was average, the food edible, the crowd ranging from okay to horrendous. One night, there was a fight on the streets of Hillbrow which tumbled into our gig. Next thing I'm ducking behind the organ as shots are being fired towards the stage!!

There was a Lebonese gang chasing after who knows what, and the fight landed in our gig -people ducking behind chairs and tables, me hoping the Hammond (I had a Hammond L100 by now) was bullet proof!

Eventually the cops arrived and the situation was dissolved. Fortunately, I never had the need to discover whether the Hammond was indeed bullet proof as the shots were fired wild and nobody or any instrument was hurt or disfigured!

This was not the Rock 'n Roll that I had dreamed about.

During our residence at The Skyline Hotel, we were invited to play at The Ellis Park Rock Festival.
This was a Rock Festival that featured a variety of bands.

All the gear was supplied - An enormous PA, monitors, Amps, Mikes etc. including a Yellow Hammond C3.
Who in their right, left or distorted mind paints a Hammond Yellow? or any colour for goodness sake!

We were booked for an afternoon slot to enable us to get back to the Skyline for our evening regular gig.


Prior to our performance, I had noticed the keyboard player from one of the other bands fiddling around with the keyboard of the Hammond. I thought nothing of it until later when we were playing.

When I used to play the Hammond, one of the tricks I used was where I would use the palm of my left hand and do a whoosh from left to right along the entire length of the keyboard, creating a really cool effect.
I had been doing it for years (with the Hammond of course - do it on a modern day synth and it would probably break the keys!)

We were playing probably "Smoke on the Water" and it was my keyboard solo coming up. I started the solo with the "Whoosh" and the entire keyboard turned red. I looked at my left hand and there was blood everywhere!

At this stage of the band's career, Louis had a rather interesting relationship with alcohol and other substances and before we went on, we discovered that he was flying once again!

I looked at him, held up my hand and he said play on! So there I was, bleeding profusely, playing on.
Next thing, this paramedic is bandaging my left hand whilst I'm soloing with my right!

I can never prove it, but I'm sure there must have been a razor blade inserted in between the keys of that Hammond - there is no other explanation as to why my left hand would cut open like it did.

Later that night, we are back at the Skyline Hotel, doing our regular gig. The wound is still oozing yet we're still playing!
The opposition party tells Louis that I need stitches - his response - he'll play the night!
To which I did another "Whoosh", this time on my Hammond, and once again there was blood everywhere!

Off now to the Emergency Unit at the local hospital - wound sorted!

This was the beginning of the decline of Louis and the Bad Boys. We, (the three of us) decided that we couldn't work like this.

Years later I sold that Hammond, but before doing so, stripped it down to check all the wiring and tone wheel generator were okay. When I removed the lower keyboard and discovered all these stains on the metal below, the memories of that dreadful event came flooding back.

My hand healed and it was a while before I did the dreaded "Whoosh" again! 

One evening at the Skyline Hotel, we couldn't find Louis - went to his room, knocked on the door - nothing.
We went to the hotel reception and they sent one of the porters upstairs with a spare key to his room as we were getting a bit concerned.
We found Louis on the floor with the wire from the hotel room ceiling light wrapped around his neck and the light fitting half way out of the ceiling! He'd tried, unsuccessfully, to hang himself...

We received our first warning from management.
In retrospect, the three of us should have moved on then, but this was Rock 'n Roll and the band was really hot.

The second and final warning came a few weeks later.

Once again we're on stage, the place is packed and no sign of Louis. The hotel room routine was duly checked with no result.
At the back of the stage was a curtain and behind that, was an area used for storage.
One of us, I can't remember who, pulled back the curtain and there was Louis completely passed out!
None of us could wake him up, it was almost 8pm - time to start.

I came up with this brainwave - what if we short the stage power supply, then we can't play?
Nobody had heard of unplugged in those days...

We lifted up this cover that was on the floor behind the curtain and there were all the plugs. So very carefully we linked the earth with the positive and negative terminals, switched on a Bang! All the power went - not just the stage but the entire club!

The manager came along to inspect the power supply, discovered our handiwork, then saw Louis flat on his back - that was it - fired!!

The next morning we were packing, Louis said he was leaving the band, so there we were:
No gig, no guitarist - what now? And then along came Harry... 

Early Seventies

Back again! It's been a while but unfortunately life tends to get in the way...

We're now back in 1975 and I've flown from Johannesburg to Durban to join this six piece band. They had a three month contract at a hotel in Durban, with potentially loads of future work lined up for them throughout the country.
The agency that had the band on its books was at that time the biggest agency in South Africa.
Anyone who was in the industry here at that time will know who I'm talking about!

This particular agency introduced a system that they dubbed the "sliding scale" commission deal. What it meant was that the more money they managed to negotiate for the band at a particular gig, the more commission they took. This ranged from 10%  up to 25%!
A large amount of unhappy musicians were playing at venues around the country.
The problem was that these guys (the agents) had worked deals with the various hotels, clubs, restaurants etc., whereby they signed "sole agency" contracts, so that the venues had to book the musicians through them - the agents - (even if they didn't want to).
If a band or an act were to approach the venue directly, they would be told that they had to contact the agency if they would like to work at that particular gig.
So as per normal, the musicians got themselves screwed!

So here I am at this total dump of a hotel two blocks from Durban's beachfront. I think it may have been called the Astra Hotel? It was near the Four Seasons as far as I remember.

For those of us in the band that were awake early enough in the morning, breakfast was served in the Dining Room.
I can still remember the breakfast cereal being left out in bowls the previous night with Durban's notorious cockroaches crawling all over the food. The cereal was stale from being left overnight and full of who knows what diseases.
This was Rock 'n Roll.

I had been booked to join this band as the keyboard player. At that time, any keyboard player had to have a Hammond Organ (because that was the sound then - although it was changing). And you had to have an Electric Piano, possibly a Hohner Clavinet and a Synthesiser of some make.
That's why most keyboard players from the seventies were broke - we had to have all this gear to get "the sound".

I had arrived in Durban with the previous argument (a two year affair of hellish dimensions), a suitcase and no gear! (I didn't have any keyboards then!)
They had a piano at the gig so I managed with that for a few days.
I went to one of the local music shops and hired a Hammond BC Organ and Speaker cabinet. I had never heard of the BC.
I knew the B3, but this was something else. In retrospect, the music shop probably couldn't sell it and that's why they agreed to me hiring it in the hope that I may buy the poor thing!
I think the BC title may have been taken from Biblical times! This thing was ancient, and was certainly not a Rock 'n Roll organ.
I have since researched the machine and have discovered that it dates back to 1937! Rock 'n Roll was not even a dream back then.

Getting back to the gig - at this hotel, the General Manager decided that this would be the perfect venue for cabaret.

We had been booked as a rock / commercial band playing hit parade numbers etc.
Imagine our surprise when we were presented with this "double act" from the U.K. who were to perform cabaret. They were a husband and wife "team".

The cabaret rehearsals were a joke.
The husband from the act presents the band with a pile of badly written sheet music and says "right, let's go!" 
The only member of the band that could read music was me, so I wrote out chord charts for the other guys so that at least we could get through the material.
We somehow scraped through his dreadful act, which among other things included a really bad impression of Mick Jagger and Elvis.
Funny how some memories never fade even if you want them to!

When we had finally finished rehearsing with him, we had his wife's act to sort out.
She was even more dreadful!
Real corny one liners and "comedy" mixed with badly sung songs.
She'd definitely never heard of Spike Milligan or Monty Python, or anybody who was funny.
And when you hear the same bad jokes night after night and realise the act is dying a death you wonder why the act is still in the game.
Can't they see that it's not working?
This pair were obviously from the B, if not the C cabaret circuit in the U.K.

Years later I discovered from a dear friend who was the Housekeeper at a very different hotel, that her father (the Housekeeper's) was the General Manager at this dump, and that the cabaret "artist duo" was his brother and sister in law!
Nepotism rules I tell you!

We'd been there possibly a month when things started to go wrong.
The "Cabaret Artists" were now getting cheesed off with the fact that the crowd were more interested in the band than them.
The crowd started heckling the act with the intention of getting the band to play, so that they could party. (Which if you think about it, that's what it was all about).

As a result we were fired! We weren't attracting the right crowd etc. etc. What a load of cobblers!

Fortunately for us, the General Manager of another Durban Hotel, "The Savoy" (also since long gone), in the Berea area, had heard us playing and asked us if we'd like the gig.

His deal was: I know you guys are in trouble, so I'll give you food and accommodation in return for the music. If the place starts pumping, then we can negotiate a contract with money!

Those were the days when club owners, managers, agents etc. actually came to listen to various acts.
Not any more I'm afraid.
Now it's 'do you have a web site?, where can I find you on You Tube?!'

The only problem was that this particular hotel hadn't had bands, or music there for a while.
In fact the music that they had before, appeared to be a cocktail pianist with maybe a singer.
This was apparent when we arrived at the venue to be confronted with a stage only big enough to hold a grand piano and a mike stand.

Being me, the first thing I did was try the piano. I played a few notes or chords only to be affronted by this diabolical muffled metallic sound!
I thought what on earth?! (These days it's wtf?) but I didn't use that terminology back then and still don't now!
I lifted the lid of this poor old Grand Piano - it was a Beckstein if you don't mind - to discover it had sea sand inside -How?!? and waiter's trays all over the strings.
Now that is really WTF!!

Needless to say, we didn't use the piano. It was removed and we had to set up very cramped on the stage.
Unfortunately because the venue hadn't had music for a while, the manager's advertising etc., didn't really work and the venue never really took off.

The band were also keen to return to Cape Town - where there was potential work, I was keen to return to Johannesburg - where I thought there was work and as a result, that was the end of that band for me.

I landed up not returning to Johannesburg, but went down to Port Elizabeth for almost three months due to financial constraints.

When I finally returned to Johannesburg I discovered that the previous argument was nicely shacked up with my supposed "best friend"!


Unwittingly the guy did me a monster favour!

We move on, only to discover what the next curve ball is that life will throw at us....

So I found a flat in down town Johannesburg. This place was right next to the railway line, so sleep was a rather rare commodity in the early mornings, but as with everything, you get used to it.
This flat was a bachelor and the rental was R11 a month!!!
I know this was 1975 but R11 a month?
Only problem was it was communal ablutions etc., but who cares? it was fine for the time.

I had to watch the pennies after the Durban fiasco and at that time had no gig, so every second day I would buy a roll of Rowntrees Fruit Pastilles and that would be the meal sorted for the day.
On the alternate days I would go to this restaurant / cafeteria a few blocks away where they made the most amazing plate of chips and that would be my meal.
I would cover them with All Gold Tomato sauce, Worcester sauce, HP sauce, salt and vinegar - those chips were sooo nice!

That was my diet! I lived like that for a couple of months.  (I'll bring out the violin in a minute)!

During that time I was visiting all the recording studios, looking for session work etc. (found a few), and going to venues listening to bands.

One day I walked past this club in town and outside they had this poster which said:
Louis and the Bad Boys.

There were four photo slots on the poster and in the slots were Louis Greef (guitar), Ronnie Robot (bass), Andre Smith (drums), and the fourth slot had a question mark (?).
So I walk in to this club and there is the band (a three piece) and Louis, who I'd known from when he was with Omega Ltd., rushes up, gives me a bear hug and says "where the F... have you been !?! I've been looking for you for months!"
The question mark slot had now been filled.

This was my introduction to some serious Rock 'n Roll.

To be continued ....

From Restaurant gigs to Stardom!

It was after our first interesting three month stint in Bulawayo as the "Five Piece to end all Trios" (see previous blog), that Anton and I enjoyed a successful few months of being unemployed musicians.
In those days, bands worked in three month cycles at various venues. You would be booked for three months at a hotel or restaurant with a mutual option to renew the contract for a further three months; providing both the management and the band were happy with the agreement.
If you didn't have a contract sorted at least a month before your existing contract finished, there was a strong chance that you may not have work for the following three month cycle.

Back in Johannesburg after Bulawayo 1977, we tried different styles of music, various line ups - duo, trio etc. and at one time a seven piece band with a brass section; had numerous "auditions" - I hate that word too - but to no avail.

The live-in argument was unimpressed... she thought she was living with a potentially wealthy rock star.

At one stage, whilst not playing, I decided to take my Hammond L100 to pieces in order to rebuild the cabinet.
When I bought it, I reckoned it would look really cool if it was split in half (similar to the bigger B3 model).
So I duly modified the cabinet and voila! there was this customized Hammond L100. Later on I decided to sell it, as I now had the A100, (that's another story), so I stripped the entire organ. Unsolder-ed all the leads and wires (there were over a hundred if I remember correctly), and very carefully wrote everything down as to what went where. 

I stored all the parts at Anton's flat as there was no room at my place. Somewhere along the way, Anton moved from Hillbrow to Berea.
All the Hammond parts went along with the move, and it must have been almost a year later that I had rebuilt the cabinet, and it was now time to put it all back together.
All the parts were there.
All the wires, all the leads, the two keyboards, the amplifier and speakers, the volume pedal, the dreaded tone wheel generator - everything; except my very carefully written down diagrams telling me what went where!
If only we'd had digital cameras in those days.

Eventually the Hammond was sorted, but for some reason the top C on the upper keyboard would not play all the tones from the drawbars. There was one missing - the very top register.
It didn't seem to bother the guy that eventually bought it - in retrospect maybe he couldn't hear those high frequencies!
I often wonder where my very first Hammond is now.
I still have the A100 and now an M100 as well, courtesy of my in laws, Leon and Ruth.

I've sidetracked again!
After all those auditions and different line ups, things were not looking all that marvelous and then we received a call from a long time friend Gene. He was playing drums with a band at this Greek restaurant in Kempton Park called Adam's Inn.
It transpired that the keyboard player and bass player from the resident band were leaving and would we be interested in playing restaurant music for the next six months, maybe even longer.


It was time to make a choice. Do I keep on "auditioning" with all sorts of ridiculous line-ups still believing that musical ability may count for something, or do we look at reality - the rent, bills, music shop accounts and the inevitable evening argument.

It's amazing what malnutrition can do to one's musical expectations.

A friend with a van very kindly transported all the gear from our flats in Hillbrow / Berea to the gig in Kempton Park.

As to rehearsals for this gig, they just didn't exist! Having spoken to Gene (whose band it now was!), about rehearsals, he says "relax, it'll be fine"!

Fortunately he also played guitar, so he knew the keys that the songs were in and what chords were involved.
On the first night he's calling songs that neither Anton or I had ever heard of. But he's making up for it by calling out the chords while he's playing drums, and singing as well!
Every time he sang a song it was different - he couldn't remember the words, or else didn't know them, wouldn't have them written down, so he'd make them up as the song was going.
We were sometimes in hysterics as to what he was singing... 

The dining audience and Adam, the owner, were non the wiser.

Because it was a Greek restaurant, Adam asked if we could play Zorba the Greek?
I duly learnt the piece on the violin, and we played it almost every night.

We'd been there a few weeks, had "learnt" Gene's repertoire, threw in a few of our own songs, and were now pretty confident we could handle the restaurant scene.

The first night we played Zorba, this guy comes along and starts dancing in a Greek fashion.

In those days, when I played the fiddle, I always played with my eyes closed.
To the uninitiated, the piece starts slowly, and with every verse, becomes a little faster until the tempo is quite frantic.
 Imagine my horror when as the piece gets going I hear this crash!
I knew that Gene's cymbals did certainly not sound like that - my eyes flew open and there was this Greek traditionalist, smashing plates on the dance floor!
I can still see Adam's face beaming with joy as his customers were obviously enjoying the music, but more importantly, were buying his cheapo plates to smash!

On one particular night, I'm playing Zorba merrily away when this guy stumbles on to the dance floor carrying a pile of plates. (I knew this, as I had my eyes wide open by now).
 He must have been holding at least twenty of them which he was intending to smash in front of the band in his appreciation of the music.
I think he'd had maybe one Ouzo too many because as he reached for the first one, he stumbled and his entire collection of bought plates crashed onto the dance floor.
He was most put out as he had not had the privilege of smashing them himself, so he went back to Adam, bought some more and this time approached the floor more carefully in order to break his plates.
By this time we had played Zorba at least five times through as he kept requesting the song so that he could do his ritual of plate smashing!

Due to previously mentioned financial constraints, I had no means of transport.
Carrying guitars, my violin and a few bits extra, Anton and I would take the bus from Hillbrow to the Johannesburg train station, take the train from Central Johannesburg to Kempton Park, and then walk to the gig.
We never thought we'd be mugged or anything, we just did it!
I can still smell the strange aroma of the inside of the train compartment - it was like a burning electrical, rubber type shorting of something?
I remember asking the ticket collector what that strange smell was. He looked at me as though I was mad, slapped his forehead and said "Ek Weet Nie!" (that's Afrikaans for - I don't know).
As I recall, that was his stock answer for just about any question he was asked.
Not the brightest chap!

We had been there for possibly four months when Anton and I were approached by one of Johannesburg's less illustrious music agents to attend a meeting.
Another waste of time we thought.
The reason for this meeting was to put together a five piece band that would be support act for Australia's John Paul Young and his Band on their first South African Tour.
We were to open the show in Durban, and then back to perform with them in Johannesburg.
The remaining concerts were already organized with other support acts.

We thought this is it! This is the break - we are on our way...

Adam was not happy that his resident band was shortly to become his non resident band, but was very understanding and let us go.
Gene, in the meantime had to find another keyboard player and bass player.
I'm not sure how they played Zorba after that, but there were no doubt many plates still being broken!

We called the support band Trigger.
A very fine guitarist from the U.K. John; Anton on bass, a loose cannon on drums - in retrospect quite scary - , myself on keyboards and fiddle, and a lady vocalist Desi.
We rehearsed flat out for three weeks and then went on the road.

We boarded this luxury bus and headed for Durban. The gear was traveling separately.
The John Paul Young Band and their road crew were following later.
When we arrived in Durban, we were greeted by this mob of teenage girls!
I thought, that was a quick rise to fame!
They all wanted our autographs.
That was what one did in those days.
There was no email, yahoo, facebook, whatsapp etc., you actually wrote down the person's name, address maybe, and got him or her to sign it.

We signed our names happily away thinking today Durban, tomorrow who knows? 
Unbeknown to us, they thought that we were the John Paul Young Band.
So somewhere in the world, there are a number of middle aged women with our autographs thinking, who are these people and why did we want their signatures?

The show went well, but unfortunately all the South African audiences wanted to see was an act from somewhere other than home.

The night we opened the concert in Johannesburg, John the guitarist was missing.
Remember that this was long before Cell phones and as a result, we didn't know where on earth he was.
We were due on stage in an hour.
This was the big opener - Durban had been the warm up.
We were all in the dressing room backstage waiting and wandering where he was. The non illustrious music agent walked in with his daughter demanding to know where John was.
His venomous attack on the professionalism of the band was somewhat diminished by the fact that his daughter (possibly in her late twenties) was wearing a totally see through top - much to the delight of the male remainder of the band.

John strolled in about 15 minutes before we were due on stage, high as a kite.
He explained that he'd driven down to Swaziland with his girlfriend to buy some really cool marijuana and had car trouble on the way back.
The loose cannon drummer was so furious that he hit him.
It was then that I realized that this was not going to be it.
We were not on our way to anywhere...

We did the gig and that, unfortunately was the end of "Trigger" - no shots had been fired!
 

Off to Bulawayo (continued)

It must have been a special night, or else it may have been the build up of a 'brand new band from South Africa'; whatever it was, the place was packed.
We decided to start with one of the pieces featuring the fiddle (violin).
Some folks call it a violin, others call it a fiddle.
Many people have asked me what is the difference between a Violin and a Fiddle and I tell them it's the spelling...
After we'd finished our first number, (which received polite response), Bobby says to me 'right, stop showing off with the violin and play something they can dance to'
It was then that I realized we were in the wrong venue and were possibly Not the Trio to end all Trios.
The Bulawayo audience were looking for the current Hit Parade songs which we were certainly not playing. This was a typical example of the music agents placing the bands / artists in the wrong venues, and when you were in the "wrong" venue, you were forced to change your repertoire to suit the audience, or else you lost the gig.
Back home, in South Africa if that happened, it wouldn't be so bad because at least you may be able to find Plan B, but stuck in another country, it was a different scenario.

At this particular gig there was a guitarist, Alex, who had been part of a band that had played there a while before. I never managed to establish how long before, but it seemed as though it had been quite some time.
When the band were due to leave, this particular Alex was unable to go with them because his Passport had expired (also British), and he was unable to leave the country.
He therefore became the 'resident guitarist' at 'Las Vegas Club'. A brilliant Jazz guitarist with a knowledge of every jazz chord in the book and possibly a few more.
The "Trio" to end all Trios had now become a four piece, whether we liked it or not, with a jazz guitarist adding fourteen chords to every bar where there should only be two!

We learned a few 'Hit Parade' songs to keep Bobby and the patrons happy, but we were rather disillusioned about our musical careers.
The next addition to the Trio to end all Trios, was the arrival of the 'Cabaret Artist' and his wife.
He was a singer of dubious descent and his 'wife' was a stripper.
Bobby informed us that this was the new resident 'Entertainments Manager' and would become part of the band.
We were now a five piece Trio to end all Trios!

The 'Entertainments Manager' was insanely jealous of his 'wife', and when she was performing her dance, he was always waiting off stage to see if everything was going smoothly.
Apart from her two main assets that had been endorsed by the Silicone industry, (I'd never seen boobs that refused to move), she also had a pet python.
The python would slither and slide and entwine itself all over her almost naked body much to the delight of the male audiences.   
The ladies were allowed in to the club after the Strip Show.

One particular weekend the club was full of army guys who had been in the bush for maybe three months. This time of course was during the war, and these guys would come to the various clubs and drink like there was no tomorrow.
So here we are doing our gig and you could feel the tension in the air as though some thing was about to happen, but you didn't know what.
The stripper started her act and halfway through, one of the army guys grabbed one of her non moveable boobs. She slapped him across the face, he tried to slap her back, someone else climbed into him and then the 'Entertainments Manager' got stuck in to these guys.
Next thing we know, Bobby is in amongst this fight which had just erupted. Everyone was fighting with anyone - it was like a Wild West Movie except this was for real. The Rhodesian Police arrived and eventually things returned to 'normal'.
We had been instructed to carry on playing regardless of what was happening!
I was really glad I had the Hammond between me and the crowd.
The next morning we saw Bobby. He was wearing sunglasses in the nightclub. In my naivete I thought why is he wearing really dark glasses inside the club? - He had two black eyes from the previous night's rumpus!

We endured a number of Cabaret acts at that gig. Towards the end of our three month stay this pompous twit Jeff arrived for his two week stint.
Completely full of himself, thought he was the real deal and to top it all, thought the ladies loved him.
He treated the band like dirt, trying to put us down in front of the crowd.
On his last night's performance I thought to myself 'right, now it's our turn'.
His finale number was a song that began with a piano introduction. I didn't tell Anton or Alex, but I started the song in a higher key than it was meant to be. I knew that in the original key he could only just reach the top notes, so with this 'new' key, he would be finished.
I'm playing away and he starts singing and he knew something wasn't right because he turned around and glared at me. I just smiled back and carried on playing. He gets to the high part and I thought he was going to rupture himself.
At that point in the song the rest of the band came in - in the other key.
I can still see Anton's face as he realized what I'd done to this poor fool - the whole band fell apart, the audience were in hysterics and the 'artist' looked like he wanted to kill me!
He left the next day, not so full of himself.

Around the corner from Las Vegas Club was the best burger joint ever. Owned by some Greek guy who it appeared never slept because almost any time of the day or night you could get one of his amazing burgers.

At that stage of events in Rhodesia, it was recommended that anyone traveling from Bulawayo, or anywhere for that matter, to the border, should do so in convoy with an army escort. This was due to an ever increasing amount of terrorist attacks on civilians.
During our three month stay in Bulawayo, Gary had, amongst other interests, been fine tuning and modifying his Datsun 120Y.
He'd had enough of the gig, was missing Cape Town and basically wanted to get out of there as soon as he could.
So when we were due to leave he said he's not driving with any convoy, he's going alone. I was keen to get back to Johannesburg to start organizing the next stage of my career, so Gary and I drove from Bulawayo to Beitbridge at approximately 170kph all the way!
All those fine tunings paid off I tell you.
By the time we had crossed back into South Africa it was night time and there we were hurtling towards Johannesburg.
I told him that there was no need to go that fast any more, as we had left the terrorists way behind in Rhodesia.
Gary liked to drive fast.
It must have been close to midnight and we were thundering along when I saw in the distance a black shape in the middle of the road.
Slow down Gary, I said, there's something up ahead.
Luckily he listened and when we came to a stop there was this enormous black bull standing sideways in the road. We would have been wiped out instantly.
After that, the drive to Johannesburg was somewhat more sedate...

The gear eventually arrived back safely, Anton was back, Gary decided he was quitting the band;
and the "Trio" to end all Trios had unfortunately met its end.

Off to Bulawayo

Back in time to the seventies once again, where I remember the "Trio" to end all Trios - Anton, Gary and myself.
Anton on Bass Guitar, Electric Guitar and Vocals; Gary on Drums, Percussion and Vocals; and myself on Keyboards, Electric Violin and Vocals.
We had rehearsed for about 3 months in the early hours of the morning at The Top of The Carlton Hotel Johannesburg, and we were now ready to take on the world...
The world at that time was of course the dreaded three month contract at some venue around South Africa or its neighbouring countries, with a possible option to stay on at the gig for a further three months.
There were so many venues in all the main cities and towns and so many different bands available - the competition was quite fierce.
So here we are; the "Trio" to end all Trios fully rehearsed with what we thought was a killer repertoire. We had some Emerson, Lake and Palmer; Uriah Heep; Deep Purple; The Peddlers etc.; a few pieces featuring my Electric Violin - this was going to stun the audiences.

We were of course an unknown band.
Some unknown bands were sent to what was then known as Rhodesia, and if the unknown bands did well in Rhodesia, there was a very good chance that they would be well received back home in South Africa.

As a musician with a fair amount of equipment, you were expected to have some means of transport to enable you to travel, with your equipment, to and from the various gigs.
Financial constraints, the inability to drive and naturally no driver's license prohibited me from purchasing any means of transport, and therefore I was totally reliant on other people to move the gear.
You will have guessed by now that our first gig was in Rhodesia in the town of Bulawayo.
The venue was called 'Las Vegas Club'.
Well, they sent a truck from Bulawayo to Johannesburg to collect us, and all our gear.
Gary had a Datsun 120Y (I think), and he drove ahead while we chugged along in this rather dilapidated old hulk.
Anton, myself and the driver were in the front seats and unbeknown to anybody except the driver, we had a passenger on board in the truck section.
We arrive, after I cannot remember how many hours of driving, at the border (Beitbridge), where they need to inspect the vehicle.
After checking the passports etc. of these long haired musicians, the customs folk inspect the truck.
We all go round to the back of the truck where the customs officials open the twin doors, and out stumbles some guy who we'd never set eyes on before!
'I need the bathroom' he mumbles and runs off in search of the loo!
This guy had been cooped up inside the dark confines of the back of the truck amongst all our gear for at least eight hours.
It transpired that he was a friend of the driver and needed a free trip to Bulawayo. That's when, in hindsight, we should have said turn around, we're going home.
The problem was that he had a British Passport that had expired almost 10 years previously and therefore couldn't travel across any borders legally. So in actual fact he was trying to smuggle across into Rhodesia with our unwitting help!
All I remember about him is that his name was Dennis, he had blond / brown curly hair, wore glasses, looked very disheveled and was so laid back about the turn of events. The fact that the customs people wouldn't let him through the border didn't seem to bother him.
I sometimes wonder how, and if, he ever made it back to Johannesburg.

We eventually arrived in Bulawayo at about 4pm. to be greeted by the club owner Bobby.
'Plans have changed' he said, 'you have to start tonight'.
The original plan was that we would arrive, unpack, sleep, set up the next day, do the sound check and start the following night.
Mad scramble to set up the gear etc. and start that night - that's how it was in those days...

To be continued...

I'm Still Standing!

Fast forward to 2013, Monday 1st July.

The day before, I was fixing leaks in the garage after a most horrendous storm we had here in Cape Town the previous week. I had to allow the walls to dry before I could sort out the problems.
As a result, I was up and down the step ladder and stretching in all sorts of awkward positions.

My handyman skills have improved over the years and I can now fix almost anything except my motorcar.
In the 80's and early 90's, I had a Volkswagen Combi 2l Air cooled engine. After six engine replacements I almost knew how to fix it if something went wrong.
That old faithful was finally ruined by some genius mechanic that assured me that he could convert the Van to a water cooled vehicle.
With my naivete, ignorance and faith in the human race blossoming in all directions, I said fine, how long will it take?
About five days was the reply.
I give the go ahead.
Five WEEKS later, having borrowed Laverne's car (Mazda 323 at that time) to put all the gear in to play some crummy gigs, I take receipt of said or rather unsaid Combi.
This twit had assured me he would put in a 2 litre water cooled engine.
I received my poor old Van powered by a Golf 1600 engine with a 1400 carburetor and as a result the van could barely do more than 60kmh unloaded! and was overheating!!
The genius mechanic was nowhere to be found.
I then moved on to another Volkswagen. This time a 2.5 Caravelle fuel injection with all the trimmings - this was the luxury we'd all been missing. Electric windows, air conditioning, central locking, power steering...

Except when I opened the engine compartment - I thought I'd been transported to a NASA convention seminar - I didn't have a clue.
Talking about power steering, my dear old van needed a week's workout at the gym just to turn the steering wheel..

Getting back to Monday!
That morning I woke up with pains in both arms and tightness in the chest.
I thought "you poor fool, you've over done it with the D.I.Y. again."
Took two pain killers and it went away.
Even though I think I'm still 19, I'm actually living in the body of - dare I say it - an aging rock and roller.   
Later in the morning I was recording some music in my home studio and the same sensation returned. This time it was a tightening of the neck, jaw, chest and arms and my fingers wouldn't play the notes I was looking for on the keyboard.

Five years previously (2008) I suffered a major heart attack and the symptoms were the same.
At that time I had no idea what was happening to me. The first "funny feeling" was on the Monday (1st July 2008!) - I had a tightness in the chest and felt strange.
The next day I experienced another "funny feeling" but slightly worse and the following day (Wednesday 3rd July 2008) everything went ballistic.
Crushing chest pain, pain in both arms, hands, neck, jaw, head and I thought - I've got terminal cancer and am not going to make it!
I was rushed to the local Medi Cross, thanks to my family's quick thinking and actions.
Then off to Vincent Pallotti Hospital where this brilliant heart surgeon fixed me up with a stent. My main right artery was completely blocked.
Whilst he was sorting me out (I was awake during the procedure), he's talking to me and says, 'You look familiar, what do you do?'
I'm a Professional Musician, I reply.
Didn't you play in The Beatles tribute show at The Roxy Revue Bar at Grand West Casino? he asks casually, as I'm lying there thinking that any thing I say may be my last words.
Yes, I reply, I was on Keyboards, 12 String Guitar and Vocals.
Yes! that's right, he says. You were brilliant, don't worry, I'm not going to let Anything happen to you!
Later that night I thought, lucky he saw me on a good night...

Getting back, once again, to Monday 1st July 2013!
So this time round when that excruciating pain hit me I thought this is what I really hope it isn't!
But it was - another heart attack. Almost 5 years to the day!
Once again, by ambulance off to Vincent Pallotti. This time 2 stents - 2 blocked arteries.
Because I was aware of the symptoms this time, the damage was not as severe as before and it was regarded as a minor heart attack.
Seemed major enough to me I tell you!  


I now have a plan.

In five years time - July 2018 - I'm leaving town, so that if it happens again I'll be able to avoid it!