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!

A Long Gig in 1976 (continued)

Why I'm going back 37 years in my life I'm not sure. Maybe I'm trying to convince myself that playing with all those different musicians was character building.

After being fired from "The Top of The Carlton" on New Year's Eve 1976, I spent the next couple of days contemplating what the future may hold for an unemployed musician with numerous accounts at the local music shops.
I had a Hohner Electric Piano on appro', my dream synth Arp Odyssey was at that stage still a dream, the Hammond L100 wasn't paid for yet,and neither was my Marshall 100 Watt Lead Amp that I used to power my two home built "Leslie" cabinets.
Home built sounds so much better than home made...

In those days you could buy a "Leslie" kit from a company called Polliacks in Johannesburg.
At that stage I hadn't had the opportunity to learn to drive, let alone own a car, so you can picture this: I take the bus from Hillbrow to town; the next bus will drop me near Polliacks.
I then walk to the company, buy the "Leslie" kit which comprised of a polystyrene drum, drive belt, motor etc. and was subsequently quite a handful. Then walk back to the bus stop, wait for the bus to town, catch the connecting bus to Hillbrow and then walk back to the flat, only to be in time for the four o'clock argument.

This of course was another way to build character...

I've always been very handy with woodwork and as a result made this brilliant "Leslie" speaker cabinet that ultimately had two revolving drums - one at the top and one at the bottom. The sound was amazing!
The only problem was that I'd built it in the flat and had failed to measure the width of the flat's front door.
I, nor anybody else could get the speaker cabinet out of the flat!
With my woodworking skills in those days, I didn't glue and screw everything together (luckily), so I managed to take it all to bits, remeasure, and landed up with two smaller and much more manageable cabinets.

I've become a bit side tracked here talking about my gear from the 70's.

The "Carlton" contract was due to finish end of January 1977.
My dear friend Anton and I had decided to form a trio which we thought was going to be the trio to end all trios.
Anton knew this drummer Gary, from Cape Town. He moved up to Johannesburg three months before the "Carlton" gig was finishing. We made this arrangement with the "Top of The Carlton" manager that we could rehearse after the band's performance.
So what would happen was we'd play our cheesy repertoire, back whatever "cabaret" act was booked, play more cheesy stuff and finish at more or less 1:00 am. (The gig was from 9 till 1).
The others in the band would then go home and Anton, myself and Gary would rehearse from around 2:00am till about 4:00am, sometimes 5:00am. 
Gary had a car - so no taxis for us in the wee hours Jim!
And more importantly no 4:00am arguments - she was asleep.

The hotel manager and the 'band leader' decided in their infinite wisdom that they needed me back to finish the last month of the contract. Not being in a financial situation to tell them to shove it, plus we were quite pleased with the "free" rehearsal room, I agreed.
The remainder of the contract was without incident except after the one late rehearsal.
It must have been about 4:00 am, and we were finished, (in more ways than one), when one of the night cleaning staff asked us if we could please give him a lift home.
We said as long as Gary doesn't mind - Gary's cool, so we all pile into the car and take this guy to Soweto!
In 1977 in South Africa, you did not go to Soweto at 4:30 in the morning unless your were up to something nefarious.
We, in our non political innocence, go sailing into Soweto, following the cleaners directions, only to discover a set of serious headlights following us.
When we'd dropped our friend at his house, these huge cops got out the police van that had been following us and demanded that they escort us to the police station.
We were interrogated for possibly an hour! What are you doing here?, How do you know where this man lives etc. etc. Plus we all had long hair and were musicians - obviously part of the uprising!
After a lot of talking we were allowed to leave, but not without a police escort to make sure we really did leave.
My one and only time in Soweto.

A long gig in 1976

In 1976 I played at the Top of The Carlton Hotel in Johannesburg, at that time one of the most prestigious hotels in South Africa.
I'll never forget walking through the foyer and approaching the lifts and before your finger was even near the button you would receive the most painful static electric shock! So much for expensive hotel carpets.
And this was before you were to start playing the piano - with shocked fingers. After this had happened a few times I would hang around the elevator until someone else pressed the button and they could get zapped.
Amazingly I was never late for the gig even if it meant waiting a while for some poor unsuspecting guest. I sometimes wandered what the receptionists thought of this long haired musician lurking around the foyer.
In those days my hair was half way down to my waist and of course being the Carlton, they wanted the "correct image" and told me to cut my hair - wrong thing to "tell" a 20 year old up and coming Rock Star what to do with his hair. I needed the money and the work so I cut it a little bit.
Not enough! boomed the General Manager and also the Band Leader who was so far up the G.M.'s you know what, that he never saw daylight.
So I agreed to wear my hair in a ponytail, with a velvet band to tie it up in.
Post 1990, lawyers etc. wore their hair in ponytails, but in 1976 if you wore your hair in a ponytail there would be a few raised eyebrows and you were regarded as having questionable sexual preferences.
Apart from having the most cheesy repertoire one could imagine, the band also backed cabaret.
Now as in all fields of the arts there is good and there is bad. With the cabaret artists that came over from England and the U.S. there were also two categories - bad and absolute rubbish.
These were the acts that were working the B circuit overseas, coming out here, earning big money and thinking they were Sinatra or Bassey!
One of the first acts that I encountered was this woman who had a voice that could stop an army at five thousand paces. Her finale number was a piece called Jerusalem - not the Emerson, Lake and Palmer version needless to say.
She presents everyone with the music, I look at the chart and the introduction chords are the most complicated I'd ever seen. I didn't know you could fit that many dots on a page.

I can read music, but this was something else. There are players who'll take one look and play the piece straight away. Not me - I was more interested in learning the intro to Jon Lord's Lazy.
So I took my pencil and started to write guidelines next to the chords so I could figure out what they were. 
This voice, that would make fingernails on a chalk board desirable says, what do you think you're doing?
I'm just putting some guidelines in, I say.
You are defacing my music she screams, and demands that the General Manager is called immediately.
Giving the word humility a different meaning, I am told by the G.M., the Band Leader and this Sow, that my Hammond Organ playing is good, but my Piano playing needs a lot of practice.

I hated it and stuck it out for 8 months.
New Year's Eve 1976 and we are backstage and Anton, my dear friend and also the Bass Player (with longer hair than mine) says, it's New Year's Eve, why don't you scrap the ponytail and "let your hair down"?
So I did.
I get on stage and the Band Leader (how I detest that expression) says, where's your ponytail?
I say, come on it's New Year's Eve.
He says, either you put your hair in a pony tail right now or else you can F... Off out of my band!
I say, are you serious?
He says, either you put your hair in a pony tail right now or else you can F... Off out of my band!

I switch off the Hammond, pack up my Violin etc. and left, with threats of 'you'll never work in this city again' echoing in my ears.
Down in the foyer the cabaret artist had just arrived (one of the better ones).
A: Hello Gordon, where are you going?
Me: I've just been fired!
A: What about my act?
Me: Speak to the Band Leader!
Took a taxi back to my flat in Hillbrow and spent a very quiet New Year's Eve.

To be continued ...