From Aces to Angels

Rockin' at the Embassy

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    By the time the Embassy gig came around we were very happy with our repertoire. We were brimming with confidence, but not over confident. At the same time we realised that we were feeling a bit nervous as we sat in my flat on the night of the gig. It was like waiting to go on stage at the Palladium or something.
  Not only were we excited about playing the gig but we were also looking forward to hearing Zoot Money and his band. Alas it wasn't to be. Shortly before he was due to appear he cancelled all his Northern Ireland gigs. His place was taken by a band from Belfast called 'The Wheels of Time.'
  We had already set up our gear that afternoon and now we only had about an hour to go before our most important gig to date. Once more we looked at the entertainment page in the Derry Journal. We smiled with childish pride as the words in the ad for the Embassy, 'Tonight. First appearance of Derry's latest blues group, 'Blues Etcetera'  jumped out at us. We specified that they used the whole word 'Etcetera' rather than the abbreviated form 'Etc.' Because the complete word was rarely used, we thought it was quite eye catching and looked more professional.
  About half an hour before we were due to go on stage, we arrived in the Embassy Club changing room now feeling a little bit more nervous than we'd been at the flat, but certainly not overwhelmed by the occasion. Eagerly we tuned up our instruments. The Embassy was packed and there was a terricif buzz about the place.
  That half hour seemed like an eternity but at last we walked on stage to shouts and whistles from people who knew us. At the top of his voice, Danny counted four in and we launched ourselves into the Elmore James classic 'Dust my Blues.'
  Nowadays the number 'Dust my Blues' is a bit of a cliche because it's format has been copied so many times, but in the sixties in Derry it was unheard of except by a few blues fans. One of our friends, 'big' Eddie Harrigan (sadly now deceas) ednever got it right for he repeatedly asked us to play 'Dusty Road Blues.' We didn't know what to expect but were completely taken aback by the reaction of the crowd. 
  As soon as we started playing, dozens of people, most of them teenagers (called 'teenyboppers' in the sixties) who, we thought, would probably prefer pop to blues, gathered at the front of the stage and started freaking out. I must stress that they weren't all teenagers, for more 'mature' folks (i.e. people in their twenties and maybe even a few in their thirties) were headbanging, or whatever was the sixties equivalent, as well.
  In addition to the ravers at the front, there were dozens more standing behind them just watching and we eyed a few local musicians sussing us out. Of course we did on this occasion what all musicians do when they know they're being watched by other musicians. We pretended not to notice.
  In the midst of all this there were the mods and rockers doing their respective 'things'. The whole scene caused us to recoil slightly, but it was a great feeling. It was a completely different feeling from playing in showbands for we got the distinct impression that they were actually listening to the music we were playing.
  We followed up Dust my Blues with an original, 'Take away the Woman,' and the reaction was something similar. Then to a generous round of applause for both, we slipped in a couple of slower numbers, a Bob Dylan song, 'It's all over now Baby Blue' and a Willie Dixon Number, 'I can't quit you Baby.' We lifted the tempo again and rounded off that particular set of numbers with 'Steppin' Out.' Once more the throng at the front of the stage nearly went berserk.
  The rest of the night seemed to go by in a flash, and when we eventually played our last number the crowd wouldn't let us off without an encore. We finally ended the gig by launching ourselves into another Willie Dixon song called 'Spoonful' which incorporated one of my tour de force (euphemism for long drawn out) guitar solos. Then to loud applause and shouts for more we walked off the stage buzzing. 
  Well before we came on stage we weren't sure, but now we were certain that the blues had arrived in Derry. Backstage a couple of musicians complimented us and asked me how I got my 'sound.' When I told them that it was the result of an electronic fluke they were none the wiser.
  You might get the impression that what I've just described may sound a bit conceited, but in all modesty that's exactly what happened on our first gig in the Embassy Club.
  We never had a chance to talk to the crowd or hear the other band, for during the interval we had to dismantle our gear, take it down six stories in the Embassy lift and load it into the van. The reason for this being, that as soon as we heard that Zoot Money wasn't playing, we agreed with Ken to come back over to the club and play our usual stint. This would save us the trouble of having to find another group as we agreed we would if we got an outside gig. We were still buzzing as we played the club and we definitely had a new spring in our musical step.
  Next day we called down to the Embassy to see Mr. Ferris (I didn't have a phone in those days so all our business was done either by word of mouth or letter). There was a public phone below the flats which I used occasionally but most of the time this was out of order. He agreed that we went down well with the crowd and gave us one date a month until the end of the year. Some of the dates were on our own and some were supporting other bands. That was fine with us and we left the Embassy happy men and feeling as if we were the Beatles.
  On our way down to, and in the Leprechaun cafe, we were regularly accosted by young fans telling us how much they enjoyed our music the previous night. By the time I got home I could hardly get in the door, my head was so inflated.
  Between then and our next date, we really worked hard at our programme and stage presentation, for by now we were determined to really make a success of the band.
  On the 1st. August we once more stepped on to the Embassy stage, and once again the place was packed. On our last date we played for two hours, but on this occasion we had to play for three. We didn't mind, and as a matter of fact were looking forward to it as we now had a four hour programme and wanted to show what we could do. Our problem now was which songs to leave out. As well as a few new covers (albeit our own versions), our programme now included another couple of originals and another Bob Dylan twelve minuter, 'Desolation Row.'   But now our piece de resistence. We had worked hard and had now developed a routine where we made our stage entrance one at a time. This began with Danny coming on and starting to drum. It was a song I'd written for that specific purpose called 'You're So Sweet,' the intention being to try and build up the tension and excitement. It was a simple idea but it had the desired effect and went down a bomb with the audience. As soon as Danny struck his first beat, like on our first appearance the crowd started to freak out.
  Jackie soon followed and started to play a bass riff and the crowd freaked out even more. Then I made my entrance. It wasn't dramatic for I sauntered on casually clapping in time to the beat. The crowd didn't need to be asked for they immediately started to clap as well. Then I began to play a lead guitar riff in unison with the bass, Danny increased the volume and the heads started bouncing off the front of the stage. I suppose it was the equivalent of the showband 'showstopper' only this time it took place before the show even started. 
  This time we went down even better than we did on our first appearance. We came off the stage completely soaked in sweat but once again very satisfied with the reception from the crowd. On this occasion we did get a chance to talk to people and hand out some photographs. Overall we were more than happy about the way things were going.

  When I think of it now, playing five minute guitar solos and songs that lasted twelve minutes or more  seemed a bit over the top and possibly could have induced a lot of terminal boredom. Surprisingly it didn't, it was just accepted as part of the whole musical scene. We were even repeatedly asked to play those same songs more than once on the same night. We thought that to comply with such requests would definitely have been pushing it, so graciously, we usually declined. The only complaint we got was when some young lady was caught on the dance floor with a would be suitor she wasn't too fond of. Lyrically speaking, back then (amd even today) I hadn't a clue what either Desolation Row or Visions of Johanna were about but they were great songs all the same.
  During that summer of 1967 while we were still belting out he blues, without warning, the 'Flower Power' phenomenon exploded on the poor unsuspecting public. This began in America (where else?) when Scott MacKenzie released his No.1 hit 'If you're going to San Francisco.' It's main adherents were the so called 'Flower Children' who spent most of their time sticking buttercups and daisies down the barrels of soldiers' rifles. Their hearts were in the right place, and I don't doubt their sincerity, but I'm afraid all this escapism did little to bring peace to the world.
  Nevertheless, while I didn't wear flowers in my hair, nor wasn't lucky enough to attend a 'love in,' I'm afraid I was caught up in the whole psychedelic atmosphere and have to own up to adorning myself in a colourful kaftan and headband, albeit on stage only (I can still smell the joss sticks).
  I was joined of course by Jackie and Danny. This foray into hippydom didn't last long, and soon I was back to my old jeans, black T-shirt and suede, tan coloured waistcoat in which I kept my harmonicas and slide. In the midst of all this, another important event happened in the form of my fourth child (my last by my first marriage), a boy who was born on 12th August.
  For the rest of that year we seemed to go from strength to strength, and on the basis of our couple of appearances in the Embassy, we secured a fair bit of work locally. As a matter of fact we were doing so well that we decided to sign off the dole and go self-employed for a while to see how it went. By now we also had cleared our outstanding debt with Ken so we were on the pig's back.
  For some reason we became the darlings of the educational establishments and as well as getting gigs in Magee College, we were also booked to play in places like the 'Tech' (The Strand Technical College now The North West College of Technology), who had just opened a new extension in October, and Pennyburn Youth Club who held their dances in Pennyburn School Assembly Hall. We were grateful for these gigs for there was still only the one bona fide club in town for beat and blues, the Embassy.
  We had also added the towns of Strabane and Moville to our list of venues for a possible world tour. Other gigs we'd secured locally were the Cameo and the 'Pat's Hall' (now demolished) in the Waterside.
  One pleasant spin-off from the Pennyburn gig was that I was approached by a young girl and asked if I would be interested in transporting the girls' netball team to their matches. Now you can imagine what sort of effect this had on my young mind being the only male in a mini-bus full of females and I even got paid for the pleasure. If you're reading this Roisin Lynch, you're to blame. 
  The gigs that we enjoyed most that year in the Embassy  were the two pop and blues festivals, one in September and the other in December. There were a few groups from around Northern Ireland in the former and the Derry Journal was kind enough to give us our first write up and   publish our photograph. For the latter we were joined on stage by two other excellent local groups, Limb 16 and Speakeasy. The place was crammed to the doors on both occasions and all proceeds from the second went to some worthwhile charity.
  I remember on that night one young lady asked me if I was on drugs because, apparently, on stage I acted as if I was stoned. As far as mind altering substances were concerned, the rock and blues scene was a bit different from the showband one. While most showband members could get off on alcohol, on the rock and blues circuit 'pot' and 'speed' was your ticket to ride the buzzwagon. 
  I must say that I didn't feel the need for any of these, for music was my drug and it was a powerful one. I know you probably won't believe me, but I'm not sure if Jackie and Danny were into drugs at that time.  
  As far as the female fan's question was concerned, once on stage, I became oblivious to all around me except the music. I suppose to her it appeared as if I was out of it so her curiousity was perhaps understandable. But then again, just because my eyes were rolling in my head, buckets of sweat were pouring down my face and I jumped around like a madman, was that sufficient reason to come to the conclusion that I was freaked out on something?
  I was now living on the high from blues music and literally ate and slept the stuff. Sometimes it even kept me awake half the night (or in my case, half the day). I was constantly thinking up new ideas for songs and the band and swore then that I would be a blues musician for the rest of my life. I vowed I would never go back to playing in Showbands or play any other type of music. Of course I still played middle of the road music up in the Casbah With Colm, but I had no intention of doing that indefinitely.
  Unfortunately for me, all this euphoria had a down side and it came in the form of having an adverse effect on my domestic life. Each night after the gig the three of us usually went to a late night cafe for something to eat (usually pie, beans and a pint of milk) and have a chat about the band. After that I would go back to the flat, take out the guitar and sit until the early morning composing and drinking gallons of tea.
  I'd gotten my hands on an old second hand tape recorder, and found that because of the distractions during the day, like keeping four young children occupied (the eldest of whom hadn't even started school yet), I could concentrate better and be more creative in the quietness of the night.
  On other occasions I would go up to my parents house with Danny and Jackie where, with a few friends, we would play poker and listen to music. When I think about it now it probably was a bit selfish for although they didn't complain, I'm sure the noise must have annoyed my parents and anybody else sleeping in the house. Just for the record I very seldom came away winning money.
  These nightly romps frequently saw me crawling into bed at seven in the morning and that meant that I usually lay on until the afternoon and was away again to the Casbah at eight. I was now a fully fledged 'night owl' and couldn't seem to function properly in the daylight hours. These days things are a bit different. I'm mostly in bed by 11:30 and up at 7:30. I suppose you could say that I'm now a fully fledged lark.
  I suppose, understandably, my nocturnal adventures  annoyed my wife, for it caused unpleasant arguing and bickering as she was now convinced that I was gallivanting. In spite of this, I felt by now that I'd found my musical niche and wasn't about to give it up easily. 
  The old tape recorder I mentioned was a primitive piece of technology which incorporated a 'magic eye' for monitoring the sound input and reminded me of a spirit level. Still, I took it over to the club one night and recorded us with the vague notion of sending it off sometime to somebody important in the recording business.
  In those days getting a recording deal was no mean feat for it entailed getting a demo tape done which was way beyond the means of most struggling musicians. It's a bit easier these days with the advent of home studios and such, but it's still difficult. The recording I did I never sent to anybody and it has long since vanish. edAnyway I'm not sure if I would want to hear it again. I prefer to remember what I think we sounded like and not how we possibly did sound.

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