From Aces to Angels

If it wasn't for Bad Luck...

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  After the break up of the Jokers, the first thing I had to do was undertake the odious task of making a fresh claim at the dole and thereafter signing on casual. Musically I was now in limbo. While it was a bit of crack playing the Casbah and the Go-Go, I'd had my fill of playing pops, country and other commercial types of music and had still been practising and listening to the blues. 
  Over at the club, feeling I needed an outlet for my 'Devil's Music,' I'd been slipping in the odd number like 'St. Louis Blues' and 'Georgia,' but it wasn't enough. I really wanted to form a proper blues band but I couldn't think of any likewise minded musicians. But not only that, now with three mouths to feed, I couldn't really afford to start on an enterprise that might come to nought, so I just decided to stick it out for another while.
  Nevertheless, by the end of November I was once again feeling very dissatisfied and unfulfilled by the music I was playing. The urge to play the blues was stronger than ever but the same old problems remained. This time I really thought about it because I think by this stage I'd made up my mind that by hook or by crook I just had to play the blues.
  Then an idea struck me. By now Jackie had decided to stay on bass and gotten himself another amplifier (a forty watt Wem). Danny had also gotten himself a modest drum kit and was practising hard. I wondered if they'd be interested in forming a blues group just to do the odd gig, for to be honest, I couldn't foresee a great deal of work coming our way. I put it to them and gave them a couple of records to listen to before they made up their minds.
  About a week later they got back to me, and said they'd liked the music. After a long discussion they agreed that forming a blues group was a good idea and the sooner we got started the better. 
  We discussed among other things, musical policy, and as Jackie and Danny were both interested in Bob Dylan's music we decided that initially we wouldn't confine ourselves just to blues, but include a few Dylan numbers and also a bit of soul music which all three of us liked. Over time I learned to appreciate some of Dylan's work as well and even sang a few of his songs.
  We thought about getting a rhythm guitarist, but after consideration, opted to keep the group just as a three piece. We thought this was injecting a little bit of originality into the band as blues and rock trios were almost unheard of then. The only other three piece bands that we were aware of were 'Cream' (who were the first and were now massive in England), and Rory Gallaher's 'Taste' in the Republic. As far as we knew there were none in Northern Ireland at that stage.
  We then had to come up with a name that accurately reflected the music we were playing. After considering a number of titles including 'Sonhouse' after the old blues singer Eddie 'Son' House (and, believe it or not, 'The Blues Brothers') we eventually settled for 'Blues Etcetera.'
  As well as the few records I'd accrued, we'd gotten our hands on another couple of blues albums including John Mayall's 'Bluesbreakers' L.P., featuring Eric 'God' Clapton on guitar. We'd also procured a couple of Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett, Bob Dylan and a couple of miscellaneous albums.
  My love for the blues wasn't confined to the more heavier electric variety, but I was greatly influenced by the more subtle jazzy type blues of people like Joe Williams and Jimmy Witherspoon. Unfortunately we had to limit ourselves to just a few numbers in this category as we suspected that any potential future audiences would want to hear more of the former.
  In early December we began rehearsing in our little front room in Wellington Street, albeit quietly so as not to disturb the neighbours. Luckily enough, my wife's aunt was out working all day in one of the shirt factories, so we didn't annoy her either. Jackie and me played through one amplifier while Danny just drummed on chairs covered with pieces of cloth. It wasn't entirely satisfactory but we could do little else under the circumstances. 
  All we needed now was a P.A. system and a van and we were all set to boogie. We rehearsed almost every day for about three weeks and managed to build up a reasonable repertoire. We took a break for Christmas and the New Year but a few days into January '67 we resumed. 
  As well as rehearsing together, I practised like mad day and night on both guitar and harmonica (which pleased neither my wife nor her aunt). I was keen to try and master the old 'bottleneck' style and develop my 'bending' and vibrato techniques. To the annoyance of the rest of the family, Danny and Jackie did likewise.
  In addition, I decided once again to try my hand at songwriting, this time exclusively blues material. I really went on a binge and surprised myself by the amount of material I was coming up with, both words and music. I thought I was Rodgers and Hammerstein all rolled into one but when I look back at it now I realise that those first efforts were pretty pathetic. But I also realise that the more I wrote, the better I became.
  During this period also, Tommy had left the Go-Go and accepted an offer to join a band from Ballymena called 'The Green Angels.' Colm then went back to drums and the trio was completed by bassist Jim Doherty who also filled in with us in the Jokers now and again. Occasionally we were joined on stage by various musicians including the aforementioned Jackie Boyd. Jackie was accompanied sometimes by a young guitarist/singer called Mickey Mc Gill who specialised in Simon and Garfunkel numbers.
  In the meantime I had purchased an old Morris minibus from a man who lived in the Brandywell area and whose name I can't even remember. This old wagon in days to come would prove to cause us a lot of grief. To begin with, on the first night I got it, it broke down as I was coming back from the club. It also had to be parked at the top of Wellington street each night because it wouldn't start in the mornings. On top of that the handbrake didn't work, the doors didn't lock and it was very difficult to engage first or reverse gears at times. At the time I didn't care what kind of condition it was in, because it was the first vehicle I'd ever owned, I drove around in it as proud as Punch.
  Crock and all as it was, I spent a good deal of my time trying to make it look presentable. I washed it regularly, made little curtains for it and even painted it black with an ordinary paintbrush. A relative and friend of mine, John Cassidy, who also lived in the flats and was quite artistic and good with his hands, made us up an eye-catching multi-coloured sign for the window which dramatically proclaimed 'Hear the night Sound of Blues Etcetera.' John had a predilection for all things American and I always thought that someday he would live in America. As a matter of fact he lives quite near me today and we're still good friends. 
  We were eager now to get ourselves a couple of gigs but we still hadn't a P.A. As well as that we couldn't think of any venues in town where blues music was played. The 'in' places for groups at the time seemed to be the Embassy Beat Club and the Trend Club in the Melville Hotel, although we'd heard that the latter wasn't going too well and was on the verge of closing again. Both clubs were managed by a Mr. Robert Ferris (now a successful member of that noble profession so beloved by everybody, the Estate Agents) but we didn't think we were quite ready for those.
  Then one day early in the new year, a letter arrived from the Housing Trust offering us a flat in the Rossville Complex. My wife and myself excitedly went down to to check it out and because of the size of the place and all the mod cons available, decided almost immediately to accept. We were all new fangled with facilities like an inside lav' (two actually) and a jawbox. I must say at this point that initially the Rossville flats were considered quite luxurious, especially by people used to living in cold and cramped conditions. In time they became one of Derry's biggest slums and I think everybody in the world now knows their history. 

  I was still pondering about the problem of getting a gig when something unexpected happened. Colm had a serious disagreement with Ken and as a result lost his job in the club (although we continued to play together in the Casbah). Ken, who was aware that I was in the process of forming a group, then approached me with a view to taking over from Colm and Jim. This put me in an awkward position, for on the one hand it was a perfect opportunity to get the group tightened up, but on the other I felt a bit guilty about Colm. It didn't matter to Jim as he'd already decided to go to England. Still if I didn't take the job, Ken would only get some other band.
  I decided to accept, so I approached Colm and explained to him that because of my impending move to Rossville flats and the financial obligations that would entail, I couldn't afford to turn the offer down. In fairness to him he said he understood perfectly and assured me that it wasn't my fault that he'd been sacked. He graciously  wished me the best of luck, so a couple of days later Blues Etcetera were now the resident band in the Whisky a Go-Go. This also provided us with a place to rehearse properly which we did a couple of times a week.
  Just before we started, we struck up a deal with Ken in which he agreed to sell us the Jokers' old P.A. system. We undertook to play a couple of nights a week in the club free of charge until it was paid for. This would take a while but at least now, basic and all as it was, we had enough gear to enable us to take on any gigs that might crop up. The gear itself consisted of a fifty watt Vortexion amp., a Schaller echo unit, three microphones and stands and a pair of speaker cabinets each containing an eighteen inch speaker and a 'tweeter.'
  While the audience at the club was not the ideal one to debut to, the feeling of our first night on stage playing the blues to anyone was exhilarating. At first we were a bit apprehensive as to how we would go down but the crowd seemed to accept us okay. Danny was especially nervous as it was his first gig (other than Liz's disastrous talent contest the previous year). We still got the odd request for a number that Colm and I had done but otherwise most people didn't seem to mind as long as the music was danceable.
  Early in February, John Mayall released his 'A Hard Road' album from which we lifted a few numbers. Over the months I came to appreciate Mayall's type of blues and even to this day he's one of the few British blues artists that I really like. Judging by all the reports, he was a hard taskmaster and put a lot of musicians through his hands.
  Featured on that album was a new guitarist called Peter Green (although Mayall released a single called 'Sittin'  in the Rain' in January which featured Green's composition 'Out of Reach' on the flipside). As soon as I heard him I was turned on to his playing and thought he was a far more tasteful player than Clapton (whom I didn't like much anyway). 
  I no sooner had listened to the album until I was playing another of Green's own compositions, the haunting instrumental (no pun intended), 'The Supernatural,' which was top heavy with heaps of wailing, controlled 'feedback' and loads of echo. To get this effect I stuck a mic in front of my amp and turned up all the knobs on the old Schaller. Later in the year Mayall released another couple of albums, 'Crusade' and 'The Blues Alone.' We covered a couple of numbers from each and although heavily influenced by both him and Peter Green, I found myself deliberately trying not to sound like either of them. I was striving hard to try and develop my own style.
  Now a little bit of Peter Green's history. In 1965 Eric Clapton, who was playing with Mayall at the time, Did a runner to Greece or somewhere. Mayall used several guitarists after that but eventually employed Peter Green who he thought was pretty good. Unfortunately he was only there a week when Clapton returned and poor Peter, not surprisingly very miffed, got the boot again.  
  Clapton then proceeded to cut the 'Bluesbreakers' album with Mayall but left again shortly after that when he announced that he was going to form 'Cream' with Ginger Baker and Jack Bruce. Once more Mayall approached Green and offered him the job which he accepted.
  In early spring we bade farewell to Wellington Street and took up residence in 30 Garvan Place on the third floor of Rossville Flats.
  They say that after the feast comes the reckoning, so now we were faced with the expensive task of paying a rent about six times what we were paying to my wife's aunt. In addition there was the little matter of getting a few bits of furniture and some floor covering for our new home. In the case of the former the dole helped us out a bit. The latter was taken care of by us reluctantly getting hefty loans from both the Credit Union and the Provident Cheque Company (now Povident Personal Credit) which, because of the high interest charged (mainly by the latter), would take forever to pay back. Because we just couldn't afford it at the time, we decided to leave the decorating for another while. 
  There was one sad aspect to all this. Sadly we had to get rid of poor Joker as dogs (and other animals) were not allowed in the flats. For a while this upset the whole family but unfortunately we didn't have much say in the matter.
  After about three months playing nightly in the club, we had really tightened up our sound and had improved individually. We now included in our programme our own version of Booker T. & The M.G.'s 'Green Onions' and the driving blues instrumental 'Steppin' Out.' These songs featured extended guitar solos and a good deal of head shaking and eyeball rolling. I don't mean to sound flippant here but I was really getting into the music.
  We agreed that we would try and avoid commercial type gimmicks except perhaps musical ones. For example we did a version of the old classic 'Baby Please Don't Go,' with just harmonica and hand clapping by way of accompaniment.
  We also included songs like 'The death of J.B. Lenoir' by John Mayall and those lyrical marathons, 'Sad eyed Lady of the Lowlands' and 'Visions of Johanna' from Bob Dylan's 'Blonde on Blonde' album. Our repertoire was enhanced further by a fifteen minute long medley of soul music that we called 'The Collab' (short for 'collaboration') which included songs like 'Land of 1000 Dances' and 'Hold on I'm Comim.' We enjoyed this because it involved eager audience participation.
  Sometimes it wasn't such a good idea to encourage the audience to join in as we discovered when we did the aforementioned 'Baby please don't Go.' Like I said, the only percussion in this particular number was hand-clapping. Unfortunately some members of the audience had an abysmal sense of time and clapped on the wrong beat. This made any sensible rendition of the said song very difficult indeed.
  As we weren't really equipped instrumentally (soul music called for a lot of brass), we decided to limit our soul programme and the only other songs we included were the slow ballads, 'I've been Lovin' you too Long' and 'When a Man loves a Woman.' We even slipped in a couple of originals which really gave me a buzz. We had a few other musical aces up our sleeves and a few more in our heads.
  Now don't let it be said that we didn't suffer for our art, for we had to push the old wagon on a regular basis and in spite of being in and out of the garage, nobody could seem to figure out what was wrong with it. And it still had to be parked on a hill, this time in Fahan Street, for despite the fact that I replaced the battery, it still wouldn't start in the mornings.
  I remember one night I was giving the staff a lift home when at the top of Distillery Brae (a very steep hill) I missed first gear and stalled the engine. As the handbrake still wasn't working properly (the footbrake wasn't that great either) it started to run back downhill gathering momentum. Then everybody panicked and with a chorus of yelps and screams they all deserted the sinking ship leaving me to my fate. I let the wagon run back against a wall where I was able to engage first gear and get her started again. Reluctantly, on this occasion everybody climbed back in but it was the last time they did so.
  In the meantime over at the club we occasionally were gettting the odd shout of 'For f...'s sake wud yees stop playin' that oul jazz and play somethin' decent!' (usually by a local female) which, to be honest, sort of got to us a bit. On the other hand there were those who really appreciated what we were doing and regularly applauded us and requested songs that they now came to know. This encouraged us and made us more determined to continue playing the blues. Through time we learned to ignore the former and gratefully acknowledge the latter. 
  Ken himself didn't know what to make of us. Initially, while admitting that he thought we were good at what we were doing, he wasn't too sure about the music itself. I think he was expecting a more commercial type of rhythm 'n' blues. As time went on he could see for himself that we weren't doing too badly, so came to accept, and even like, the new sounds emanating from the club.
  In fact he actually remarked that our sound was so good that it sounded as if there were a lot more than three on the stage. He even suggested (in all seriousness) that we change our name to '3=9' but flattered and all as we were, as our American friends say 'we took a raincheck' on that one.
  While determined in the main to stick to our guns and play what we wanted to play, occasionally we would compromise and play the odd song like 'Walkin' the Dog' by the Stones or 'The House of the Rising Sun' by the Animals. On pain of being lynched, one number we had to play regularly was the old favourite, the Limbo, which everybody enjoyed. We even enjoyed it ourselves.  
  This policy applied only to the club and it was strictly business as usual regarding any outside gigs that might come our way. In retrospect this attitude may have seemed a litle naive and possibly even a bit pretentious, but it stemmed from a genuine desire to play good music.
  In those days most blues guitarists used two basic accessories. They were the new fangled gadgets like 'fuzz boxes' and 'treble boosters' but I had neither. Before that all we had was built in 'tremolo' and old noisy magnetic tape driven echo units. I didn't really like treble boosters for I found them a bit too harsh and grating on the nerves. I preferred a less cutting sound. As far as the fuzz box was concerned I didn't really need one for I made an important discovery.
  One day as I was experimenting with different sounds and footering around with the  controls of my amp (I was still using the old thirty watt Selmer), I discoverd quite by accident that if I disconnected the reverb unit  and pressed the footswitch, it boosted the volume and distorted the sound slightly. Not being an electronics expert I had no idea why this happened but it didn't matter.
  Combining this with a certain positioning of my semi-solid guitar in front of the speakers and deft use of the 'handbrake,' I could get great sustain and hold it for as long as I wished. Suddenly I realised that it was the sound I was searching for and I worked hard at refining it. Nowadays there's a bewildering array of sophisicated gadgets for all types of musicians to play with.
  As a result of playing in the club we established a couple of contacts which enabled us to get a few gigs in the Sea Eagle and the Crossed Keys club in Ballykelly R.A.F. base (now occupied by the army). We were pleasantly surprised to discover that we went down well in both places. Strangely enough, in spite of the fact that a lot of Americans were into what we were doing (especially a young lad called Clem who was absolutely gone on Bob Dylan), the powers that be wouldn't book us for the American Base claiming that we weren't suitable. Play country or pop they said, and we'll book you, but we said 'no thanks.' Clem insisted that it was a disgrace that they wouldn't give us a gig and swore he would get us in sometime. He never did.
  The British navyman who helped get us into Sea Eagle was a blues fanatic and a bit of a character. Good friend and all as he became, I'm afraid his name now escapes me. Every night he was at the club he pestered us to let him up on the stage with us but we had to refuse as Ken, for safety reasons, only allowed the band up on that hallowed podium. Eventually he plagued us so much that I asked Ken to grant him a special dispensation and allow him up. Ken agreed as long as I kept an eye on him and made sure he didn't fall off.
  The first night he joined us on stage he sat at the side listening to every note, his eyes rolling in his head. He sat there for a while then suddenly he got up and disappeared behind my amp. He then literally stuck his head inside my amp and proceeded to indulge in all sorts of bodily contortions. I looked at Jackie and Danny and they looked at me. Nutter, we all thought, but that's where he remained for the rest of the night.
  He went through the same routine on subsequent occasions and really appeared to get a buzz from this sound experience. I don't know where that man is today, but where ever he is I'm sure he must be stone deaf or at least suffering from tinnitus.
  Our first gig in Ballykelly was a bit of an experience. On the way into the village the wagon had one of it's turns and we had to push it the whole way into the club (approximately three quarters of a mile). After the gig it took ourselves and half a squadron of Air Force men to get it started again. We consoled ourselves with the thought that whenever we became famous we'd buy ourselves a new one.
  As well as going down well on our first outside gigs,  a few people around the town had heard good reports about us playing at the club and were inquiring as to when we would be 'going public.' One of those people was a good friend of Jackie's called, 'wee' Jimmy Doherty. Jimmy was another blues and Bob Dylan fanatic, who was also a very talented professional footballer. He played for Derry City for a number of years and struck fear and terror into the hearts of the opposition. I had the privilege of seeing him in action on many occasions. Actually Jackie himself was quite a good footballer but as far as I'm aware, never had any professional ambitions. 
  In time Jimmy was to become a good friend and one of our biggest fans. Now and then he even accompanied us on gigs to help set up the gear. So with all this recognition of our latent talents, and a bit of encouragement from Jimmy, we now felt ready to inflict ourselves on the general Derry public.
  Recently I made contact with Jimmy again after more than thirty years through his son Peter and my sixteen year old daughter (by my second marriage) Rachael's mutual interest in music. It was with deep regret and sadness that lately I learned of the death of Jimmy's other son Adrian, another talented footballer, in a tragic accident on the Continent. 
  Feeling confident in our abilities, I decided to take a dander down to the Embassy and have a chat with Bobby Ferris. I gave him the lowdown on the group and he seemed interested but told me he couldn't book us without hearing us. He asked us to do an audition, which we eventually did a couple of days later. 
  I wasn't too keen on doing auditions because I'm of the opinion that the artists aren't allowed to play long enough to give a true picture of their capabilities. We did it anyway and Ferris must have been happy enough for he gave us a date on Tuesday 4th July, about a month hence, when we shared the bill with the well known British heads, Zoot Money and his Big Roll Band. That night the three of us were behaving like children on Christmas Eve at the thought of playing to our home crowd.
  Our next move was to get a photo taken for 'handout' and newspaper purposes. We contacted a professional photographer and he took a few mugshots. Unfortunately they wouldn't be ready for our first Embassy gig which disappointed us bit, for we wanted to arrive on the scene in a blaze of publicity.
  We used the four weeks in between to polish up our stage show and add a few more good numbers to the programme. We now were really adventurous and included jazz numbers like Dave Brubeck's 'Take Five' and our own arrangements of songs like the old 'Mary Poppins' favourite, 'Chim Chim Cherie' and 'The Shadow of your Smile.' We also added another couple of my own compositions including an instrumental called 'Three Quarter Blues.' which brought the total of originals up to eight. This number, played in a very fast three-four time, gave Danny and Jackie an opportunity (albeit hesitatingly at first) to perform a solo on their respective instruments.
  In the middle of all this, to my dismay, Peter Green left The Bluesbreakers to form Fleetwood Mac. He obviously wasn't happy with Mayall either. Green's shoes were filled by another young guitarist called Mick Taylor, who later went on to have a brief flirtation with the Rolling Stones.
  Among the other cover versions we did was an Albert King number entitled, 'Oh Pretty Woman' (not to be confused with the Roy Orbison number of the same name). We even had Danny, who'd never sung a note in his life, joining in on the vocals. He sung two songs, Robert Johnston's 'Crossroads' and a number called 'Checkin' up on my Baby.' One other number we rehearsed in that session was a song I really enjoyed singing, another Albert King classic called 'Born under a Bad Sign' which contained the classic line, 'If it wasn't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all.'

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