From Aces to Angels

Coda

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A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since the heady days of what, in my opinion, were aptly dubbed the 'Swingin' Sixties.' Unfortunately some of that water was not too clean. As it turned out, Danny and Jackie deferred their decision to go to England for the moment. Jackie started to go out with a girl while Danny, who was quite political, joined the Young Socialist movement (I even went to the odd meeting myself and learned about the finer points of dialectical materialism) and played the odd gig locally with various groups. 
  In late '69/early'70 Jackie joined the 'Angels' after the bass player left. A while after that Danny also joined when Tommy left. At one stage for a short time, the three of us actually played in that band together (but strictly no blues).
 The three of us playing together once more sort of rekindled the old spirit and in spite of the fact that Blues Etcetera were now officially defunct and we didn't have any intention of making a comeback, we compensated for Gerry Mc Clean's no blues policy by resuming to play the odd night over at the Go-Go and the Jet Club. In the spring of 1970 there'd been a fire up in the Casbah (apparently caused by an electrical fault) which gutted the place, so the entertainment was now transferred to the Hayloft. 
  Due to the fact that we no longer had a P.A system or  transport, we now used the Green Angels' equipment and van (with the kind permission of Gerry of course). I have to admit though that in both the Go-Go and the Jet Club  the old magic didn't seem to be there anymore. A lot of the old regulars had gone and the blues didn't seem to mean much to the present audience. Jackie stayed with the Angels for a few months but after his girlfriend invited him over to London for the summer, he was replaced by Sean Gallaher, a fine young bassist from Stewartstown. 
  As time went on it became obvious that the Green Angels weren't doing a pile of work either, so in between times I did an occasional night with Tommy and Colm who now had a band called 'The Professionals' (Jackie also played with them briefly when he returned from England). In addition, Colm and myself played a Saturday afternoon in a pub. To further supplement our earnings Tommy and I (when the Angels or The Pros weren't out) sometimes played a Saturday night dinner dance with the late Mike Mc Williams and the City Quartet. It may appear here that I was earning a fortune. I certainly wasn't, for the few bob I did earn was hastily gobbled up by a horde of debtors waiting in the wings. I'm getting a bit morose here again, so if you don't mind me interrupting myself (as somebody once quipped), there is one other little anecdote ( not entirely amusing) that I think is worth relating.
  One night on a gig at the Jet Club in March '71 (which, strangely enough, was still going, albeit on its last legs as a rock and blues venue), I noticed that Danny didn't appear to be his usual self. He looked as if his mind was elsewhere. As everybody has a quiet night now and again I didn't really dwell on it. Later when I ran him and Jackie home, over a cup of Jackie's stewed tea, Danny handed me a piece of paper asking me to have a look at it. Puzzled, I opened it up, and not being a betting man it took me a couple of moments to realise that it was a bookies' slip. It took me another minute to catch on that it was a bet for the Muhammed Ali-Joe Frazier fight which had taken place the previous night. My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I noticed that the wager was for almost 4oo smackers,not much by today's standards, but a fair little sum in 1971 for a young working class boy.   What made it all the more surprising was the fact that like myself, except for the odd session of Stud poker, Danny was not a gambling man. Then the penny dropped. He'd bet on Ali and Ali had lost the fight. No wonder he looked pre-occupied on the gig I thought, and said so.
  He explained that he'd agonised over it for a few days and couldn't really concentrate on anything else. He was convinced that Ali (formerly Cassius Clay) just couldn't be beaten so he withdrew every penny he had in the bank (or perhaps it was the Credit Union) and stuck it on him. Although he tried his best to hide it, I could tell by the look on his face that he was devasted and on the verge of a nervous breakdown. There wasn't much Jackie or I could do by way of commiseration and it took him a long time to come to terms with his moment of foolishness. I'm not sure if he ever got over it.
  Danny and I stayed with the Green Angels until they folded in the summer of 1971. By this stage the Go-Go was shut down and all the blues gigs had now dried up. After that, Ken and Peggy embarked on new enterprises. In the late seventies/early eighties they ran the New York New York nightclub for a while then left for America.
  After the demolition of the Go-Go I lost contact with Tommy Mc Menamin and since 1971 I've played with a lot of bands of all descriptions.
I was extremely saddened to learn of Tommy's death in 1986 at the relatively young age of fifty two. As well as Tommy, two other members of the old Jokers, Danny Mc Laughlin and Johnny Peel are now deceased.
  Looking back, in spite of the fact that tales of the sixties were prone to exaggeration, I can say now that the decade from 1960 to 1970 was the most enjoyable period of my career, especially '66 to '69 when I had Blues Etcetera. Although that phase lasted less than four years, in retrospect, it felt like ten. At the time the idea that the blues revival wasn't going to last forever never entered our minds. We had good times and bad but overall it was an important part of my life.
  Somebody once said to me that it was bad news to have brothers in the same band, and while we had our differences (occasionally serious), generally speaking we got on very well. I think our interest in the music and dedication to the group helped us to overcome any personal difficulties that may have arisen.
  In the course of my research I found that most musicians were eager to talk about 'the old days,' and generally enjoyed their reminiscences. On the other hand, there were those who viewed the sixties with indifference and even one or two who sneered at the very idea of discussing it. I have a sneaking suspicion that they couldn't admit to feeling nostalgic because to them it was tatamount to admitting that they were growing old. In a way they're probably right, but who cares? We can't stay young forever.
Who am I kidding? Deep down I wish we could. 
  The heady sixties was also the catalyst that sparked off my creative side, for as I related earlier, I'd written my first song in 1965 while with the Jokers. When we were approaching the end of the Blues Etcetera phase we played about 50% originals and our aim was to eventually have a 100% original programme. Unfortunately it wasn't to be.
  Even though we were working nearly every night, I'll concede that overall it was not my best from a monetary point of view, because even by sixties standards the wages paid to musicians were... well shall we say, not enough to retire on. In the case of Blues Etcetera I think it was a measure of our inexperience at handling the business end of the music scene, for looking back I think now that we definitely undercharged especially when we played places like the Embassy which was doing big business. Ah but I suppose that that's all part of the learning process.
  Far be it from me to try and claim that we were another Cream in the making, for to be perfectly frank, although we had built up a good following in the city and surrounding districts, our fame further afield was limited. In addition, I'd like to point out that neither Jackie, Danny or myself ever claimed to be the world's greatest musicians. We tried to play our music to the best of our ability and avoided letting ourselves become embroiled in a sort of competition with our fellow       musicians, an attitude which, unfortunately was prevalent among some bands. Our philosophy was simple, get out there, play the music you like and enjoy it.
  I've often cast my mind back and tried to ask myself honestly if Blues Etcetera were as relevant to the local blues scene as I remember them to be and not just wishful thinking exaggerated by time. After pondering the questions, the answers I came up with were, 'perhaps not' and 'possibly.' But then again, a few well known musicians I've talked to today, claim that Blues Etcetera were the inspiration for them to take up an instrument or form a band, so who am I to argue?
  It was a decade of innovation (not least of all with the inception of those raisers of testosterone levels, the micro-mini and the 'see through' blouse), sexual experimentation, and student revolts. Not forgetting of course that it was capped in August 1969 by two spectacular events, the unforgettable Woodstock Music Festival and the 'Eagle' touching down in Mare Tranquilitatis on the Lunar surface (a feat that some folks today claim was a massive hoax). Unfortunately, even if genuine, the latter was for all the wrong reasons, for despite the fact that it was a great technical achievement, regrettably the Americans' motivation for putting a man on the moon had more to do with cocking a snook at the Russians than the noble quest for human knowledge.
  There were numerous trends both in dress and hair styles. Styles like the Beehive and Beatle Cut hairdos, the Midi, the Maxi, hipsters, hot pants and a whole rake  of other get ups. There was one trend in the late sixties that I think most people have forgotten about because I very rarely hear it mentioned. That was when girls started wearing long coats made of PVC (vinyl). This apparel was famous for the racket it made when the wearer walked or carried out some other physical activity. We knew one young girl, an acquaintance of Danny's, who made so much noise when she moved, we nicknamed her 'creak-creak.' 
  There was also a new language invented with phrases like 'Grab a piece of the action' and 'What's your bag man?' to quote just a couple. Around the town there was an energetic and vibrant music scene (of all styles), and it seemed as if there was a permanent buzz in the air; a euphoria almost. In a way it reminded me of my childhood, for it seemed as if the sun was always shining. 
  In reality it wasn't all sunshine. The Vietnam war still raged, and racial riots were common in America. It was a decade of assassination (two of the most notable being the killing of John F. Kennedy in November '63 and Martin 'Luther' King in '68), political corruption (which hasn't changed much), and the invention of those horrible passion killers, the tights. Locally, too, there was the adverse side, like the people of Springtown Camp and other slums agitating for decent housing, the running down of the shirt factories, and the erection of that abomination, the Rossville Flats complex. Then there was the scandal of the 'faceless men,' which resulted in the new University going to Coleraine instead of Derry.
  It has to be acknowledged too that through that period there was a wave of naive idealism and innocent rebellion intended to change the world. Unfortunately it didn't succeed and in certain respects the world appears to be in a worse state than ever. Still, in spite of all these 'negative vibes' I was in my element.
  Sometimes I sit and wonder if it was all one great illusion. Was the intoxicating euphoria of the era a consequence of me being just the right age? Would I have seen things in the same light if I had've been a little bit older? I suppose I could speculate until the cows come home, but what would be the point? The fact remains that what I've written was my perception, given the circumstances at the time.
   No one is perfect, and there isn't a man (or woman) on this earth who hasn't regretted some things they've done, and who hasn't wished they could go back and change them. Well I'm no exception, and if I had the chance, there's a couple of things that I would definitely go back and change. Obviously we can't travel back in time, so I try not to dwell on my past mistakes.
Having said that, I can state in all honesty that I have never knowingly took advantage of, or cheated anybody. This may sound a bit sanctimonious but it's the truth. Some people would say that to progress in life perhaps I should have been a bit more ruthless, but it's my belief that once you lose your integrity you lose everything.
  Shortly after the demise of the Green Angels, Danny, Jackie and myself joined forces with the McCauley brothers who also lived in the flats and who had a group called 'Gemini.' We put together what was probably one of the last, if not the last showband to be formed in Derry. We were joined on keyboards by Joe Mc Colgan and decided for obvious reasons to call the band 'The Brotherhood.' We put all the money we had into this venture hoping we'd make a success of it.

  Unfortunately, due to a variety of adverse circumstances including a disastrous tour of England which almost became the precursor to me committing suicide, the band only lasted about seven months. After that, I joined a band called 'The Playboys' and Danny and Jackie went their separate ways. Danny decided that he was definitely going to England after all but Jackie stayed home and joined one of the local pub groups which were now beginning to take over from the showbands. The Mc Cauley brothers reformed 'Gemini' and the last I heard, Joe Mc Colgan was doing a few gigs in America.
  So, in the spring of '72 I ran Danny over to catch the train for the boat to England. On the platform we talked for a short time, then, with more than a little sadness we shook hands and parted company. I stood for a moment and watched the train pull out, then made my way gloomily back to the Brotherhood's old Ford Transit van. On the way home, just for a moment I actually felt the old waterworks welling up and had to struggle to keep my emotions in check.
  When I look back at it now, that seven month period (exacerbated by the scam that was the transition to decimal currency) was my worst financially and probably sounded the death knell for my marriage. It also put the kibosh on my relationship with the Gibson SG Special that I'd managed to purchase on the never-never while with the Angels. Unfortunately since the Angels broke up I got behind in a few of the payments and I sort of hoped they would forget about me and write it off.
  It was a forlorn hope, for one day Gerry Mc Clean, who went guarantor for me, arrived at the flat and informed me that Evans of Lisburn were going to take him to court if I didn't give the guitar back. He appeared very embarrassed and expressed regret about having to embark on his mission of repossession. I wished at that moment that I hated Gerry so I could've told him to piss off back to Ballymena. Unfortunately things were made very awkward for me by the fact that he treated me fairly and I liked him. Under these circumstances there was very little I could do but fight back the tears as I watched him rather apologetically depart with my beloved guitar.
  It was a bit of an embarrassment for me as well having to explain to everybody that I'd no guitar but I managed to get my hands on a Shaftesbury copy of a Gibson Les Paul. Considering that it wasn't the genuine article, it wasn't a bad instrument. I recall miserably that things were so bad at that stage I was reduced to boiling my guitar strings (to clean them), something I hadn't done since my skiffle days.
  The early seventies  were dark days indeed for Derry in general, but especially for the Bogside, Brandywell and Creggan areas, with internment, Bloody Sunday and Operation Motorman. The only positive thing I can say about that time was despite all the stress, I managed to give up the fags although I still smoked cigars for a couple of years after that. I eventually managed to give them up as well.
  Coming right up to date, it was a devastating blow to myself, Jackie  and all the family, when on the sixteenth of December 1998, Danny, while waiting for a by-pass operation, died of a heart attack at the age of forty nine. He left behind a grieving partner, who was soon to be his wife, and two young children. 
  Writing about the Blues Etcetera phase was quite painful at times, for I was constantly conscious of the fact that Danny was no longer here. Every now and again the wish to talk to him once more was almost overpowering and on occasional moments of forgetfulness I was even on the verge of phoning him with a query I had. As well as missing him, I felt as if the story wasn't complete without his contribution. For years I thought about writing this book and now regret not having written it sooner.
  Our grief was compounded by the fact that Kathleen, a heavy smoker, had died from lung cancer at the age of fifty five four months previous. I myself, in 1994, stared death in the face a couple of times. I'm glad to be able to report that on both occasions death blinked first, and now, after having had a pacemaker fitted and a quadruple by-pass operation performed, relatively speaking I'm feeling fit and well (but no marathons).
  To complete the picture, Jackie is also waiting for a by-pass operation (it's congenital apparently) which is scheduled to take place in January 2001. If you're reading this, hopefully it's over and he's well on the way to recovery, but whether he'll ever play again is another story. If Danny had have lived long enough to have his operation, I was seriously considering asking them to form a band and call it 'The By-Pass Blues Band.'
  The bands I played with over the thirty years between 1970 and 2000 (it only seems like yesterday) ranged from the completely unheard of, to the more widely known 'Plattermen,' albeit a completely different band from the Rob Strong and the Plattermen of the sixties. 
  I never lost my love of the blues, and even while I was playing in commercial cover bands, I tried to keep a little blues thing going on the side. In fact in late '75/early '76 we took up a residency in the Casbah (now housed in a large portacabin) with a band called 'Stack.' In later years this was to become the launching pad for Derry's most famous group, 'The Undertones' (since broken up) who a lot of people classified as 'Punk' but, and I hope they'll forgive me for saying so, whom I considered to be a bit too clean-cut and innocent for that category. Well I mean, unless my old memory fails me, I don't recall ever seeing Feargal Sharkey or Mickey Bradley with safety pins through their noses and spitting on people.  And while they played a mean set , I don't  think that 
 'My Perfect Cousin' was liable to start a world revolution.                                                       Over the same period Jackie and Danny also played with numerous bands and Danny was playing right up to his death. Besides the Green Angels, there were other bands that the three of us played together in, including a couple of blues bands. In the early nineties I tentatively suggested reforming Blues Etcetera, not just to embark on a nostalgic trip, but as a going concern. Unfortunately they didn't share my enthusiasm and didn't think a comeback would work, so after briefly considering getting two other musicians, I abandoned the idea.
  Throughout the sixties Mayall produced seven or eight albums and as I mentioned earlier, we always covered one or two numbers off each. Lest I give the impression that I was pre-occupied with John Mayall, I would just like to say that I was also heavily into the American blues scene where it all originated. Among the men I admired were great artists like Buddy Guy and Johnny Young to mention just a couple.
  One thing I regret was the fact that I never got to see  Mayall live (by now he'd earned himself the title of 'The Father of British Blues'). He's been living in America for a long time now and as far as I know has only made one live appearance in Ireland. Perhaps he'll put that to rights in the near future, but he'll need to hurry up as he's well into his sixties now and I heard a rumour (hopefully unfounded) that he has health problems.
  In a sense he was a man after my own heart for he liked to sing the blues without adhering too rigidly to the traditional 'twelve bar' blues format but not straying too far from it either. I did get a second chance to hear Peter Green, albeit under less than pleasant circumstances.
  After a few years of world wide success, in the early seventies Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac's bubble suddenly burst. There were obviously internal problems. Green himself went a bit off the rails (something that I suspected when he released his, 'The Green Manalishi with the Two Pronged Crown' in May '70). He got heavily involved in drugs and mysticism, gave up playing and eventually became a total recluse.
  A few years ago there was a documentary on T.V. about Green and the possibility of a comeback. When I saw the documentary I balked, for it appeared as if poor Peter was a bit confused and couldn't string more than a half dozen notes together. Still, I knew he'd been out of the business for quite a long time so hopefully in time he'd return to his old self. But alas it wasn't to be.
  A few months later, on a tour of Ireland, he made an appearance in Mc Crory's in Culdaff and I went along to see him. Shortly after he came on stage backed up by musicians including the well known drummer Cozy Powell, it was clear that he still wasn't sure what he was doing. He played very little, another guitarist (who I wasn't too keen on) doing most of the lead work.  
  Now and again a quick flash of the old Peter Green came through but overall I couldn't believe that this was the same man who wrote classics like 'Black Magic Woman' and 'Albatross' in the sixties. I came away wishing that I hadn't come and could've just remembered him as he was. I was more angry than disappointed, for it was obvious that some money grabbing idiot had decided to make a quick buck by exploiting Peter Green's past achievements and in the process had only managed to make him look like a fool. Shortly after that, Cozy Powell was tragically killed in a road accident and I haven't heard of Peter since.
  As recently as 1999, with three other musicians, I formed a blues band but sadly it didn't last. It was a pity, for in the short time it endured I met a right few old friends from the Blues Etcetera days including one attractive and loyal female fan called Anne Corr. She came to all our gigs, so if you're reading this Anne, thanks to you and all our other fans from yesteryear. One thing I can say though is, that in all the later blues bands I played in, hard as I tried, I was never able to recapture the spirit and sense of musical freedom that I felt in the sixties.
  My wife and I split up in '76, were divorced near the end of the seventies, but I remarried in 1983. Now all my children, except Rachael, are adults and have families of their own. A couple of them are quite musical, but haven't opted (for good or bad) to follow a career in music. Most of my brothers and sisters though play musical instruments. At the last count (including Danny) there were four guitarists, two bass players and a drummer. Hopefully members of their families will keep the tradition alive.

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