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!