..think I told you of a band I was with at one time named Apathy. God what a motley crew.
Singer/ writer:- Eddie(great arse) Reeder.
Guitar/ vocals:- Glen Stoner
Bass/Dope :- Mark Thomson
Sax/harmonica/vocals :- John ebbury.,
Drums/vocals :- Brian "BP" Hillier
Well off we went in our Ford trannie, like so many good men before us and as them, we got punctures, had breakdowns and got lost. But eventually we got there. Bath that is, land of cydie apples and people how say things like "get off moi land".
But we are smarter than the average band, we got us gigs for all three nights in a local boozer, plus B&B. (they paid us as well, must have thought we were famous).
Anyhow, Friday early man -really early, find pub, move into our rooms (that's a joke) thought we had landed on our feet until that moment. Got settled as best we could and then with baited breath (what's all that about?) off we trundle to "THE FEST", the one and only Bath jazz and blues. Of course on arrival, we're at the wrong gate. So with panic setting in, off we go again to find the right gate. WE HAVE ARRIVED, a very nice gentleman asks, "where the f<>k have you lot been" a man with a delightful voice, & the tone of someone who ate tacks for breakfast. Standing 6 feet 21 inches, weighing in at a mere 20 stone, bald head, no neck and such friendly tattoos with lots of that lovely blood colour. "Get your f**** arses on that f***** stage your f***** late" he remarked in that sweet tone and & charming manner. Off we went, feeling so much better for the experience of meeting such a colourful character.
With the help of some quite large gentleman, who very kindly but in a less than caring manner, somehow got our gear on the stage, we set up and got ready to start.
We were supposed to do a half an hour spot, but due to the type of idiot bands, who can't find their way to a gig without getting lost, or getting punctures or breaking down (some people are just so irresponsible) we had to keep going for about 75 minutes.
OK, bearing in mind it was lunch time, we went down!! 'nuff said I think!
After staying around for a while to watch one or two of the other bands (when they finally got there) to lend our support, off we went back to the local hostelry, with our gear by now very carefully thrown off of the stage and restored to our trannie. We were supplied with some mouth watering grey stuff the landlord assured us was soup, followed by some wondrous stuff in between what appeared to look similar to bread, at last washed down with an excellent brew. We thought that the food (if was that) must have been just to get our mouths ready for the brew... couldn't have been any other reason for it's existence.
Glen, never let it be said that he would move from a bar until he is certain it really is closed, decided he might just hang on a while to have a wee nip or two.
Mark, thought he may just go and freshen up with a little tote on some of his "herbal medication".
Eddie, (have I mentioned her a*se?) decided to go and relax man and although smuggling was frowned upon in this establishment, she had somehow got her hubbie into her room. (lucky ***).
John (giss a tote on that man) was torn between, having a drink or 2 with Glen, or to make sure Mark could cope on his own with his "herbals".
And I stayed for further refreshment alongside Glen and John.
And so this well oiled machine, apart from the traveling, did a second day, this time a little later on, which was just as well because the night before, for some strange reason we had played, I think, had a beer or three I think, and went to bed.. I think. We appeared to go down rather better, god knows how, but that's life. I think those people out there must be doing something strange, I thought we were sh*t! Unless it was open day for the hearingly challenged!
Sunday, yes made it man!!
Playing late at the fest, so lunch time at the pub - great!- and I got some sleep, heaven, sheer heaven. Lunch time third day of a great fest, what more could any self respecting drummer need?
Everyone very nearly sober, everyone had got some sleep, although they tell me Glen had a little bit of a problem, with there being a bar so close and was found sleepwalking on several occasions.
Everybody played well, we even started to sound something close to a band, so warming up nicely. All went well, people had even come in to see us from the fest, or was it just for the cheap beer? Anyway - good gig, landlord pleased and his rooms (still not sure that's what you would call them) were full. All's well with the world apart from John, who single handedly had decided to help everybody with their medication, but still up for it man, no problemo and then fell down for some strange reason.
2 hours later and there we are, nice and dark, the heat of the foot lights. It all looked great from where I was, a real buzz. Into the third number, all of us playing our little hearts out, going down a storm and here he comes Mr John Ebbury, normally a great blues harmonica player, blowing his brains out, looking cool with his long spindle-ly legs hanging out of the bottom of what some silly sod called shorts, when he must just have blown a little too hard and I'm sure it had nothing at all to do with all that medication, he wet himself. But being a true pro, kept right on playing. But we must have played a blinder, as a coupla guys on the side of the stage, like little children, got so excited they made themselves sick... Some people just never grow up do they? :)
Hope you enjoy this tale of the glamour of being a rock star!
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