Parts 16 to 20
It’s all rock and roll to me – Part 16
There were long periods where I would spend my days hanging out at Nightingale’s place in Windsor. Windsor was an arty inner city ‘colorful’ neighborhood where everyone was either on their way up or their way down.
We would sit around in Nightingale’s tiny one bedroom flat drinking endless cups of coffee, talking about agents (who was good, who was a rip off), gigs (where they and who’s booking), songs (who’s writing the good ones), singing technique (gossip about local singers) and an assortment of ‘Sex and the City’ style banter (you can fill this one in for yourself).
Tallulah (her semi-permanent house guest) would rouse himself from his on the floor mattress at about 3pm, touch up his ceramic nails, throw on a colorful caftan and be out the door for breakfast down Chapel Street.
Tallulah was such a scream to have around, we didn’t need much television back then as Winsdor was a constant stream of characters each more outrageous than the last.
We would ply Tallulah for stories about singing in recording studios. Did he know any stars? What was the dirt? He had loads of stories but seemingly never much money.
My friend was starting to get fed up with this ‘high flying session singer’ who never seemed to throw anything into the kitty. Nightingale shrugged it off for a while. She had begun a torrid affair with a testosterone fueled business man and was in no mind to worry about Tallulah.
Slowly it was dawning upon us that all was not as it seemed in Tallulah land.
It’s all rock ‘n’ roll to me – Part 17
Nightingale and I found ourselves in the outpatients department of a major hospital. Over previous couple of months, Tallulah’s behaviour had become increasingly erratic. When Nightingale had eventually questioned him about where he was going and why there was no money in the kitty, he had become increasingly agitated and sometimes mildly violent. He was making good money but what was he doing with it?
One day, in a fit of curiosity, she decided to tail him in her car, as he went off to do a session in a recording studio. She noticed that he parked his car in Greville Street, a super cool and funky part of Prahran. He then disappeared into a coffee shop and she patiently sat and watched from her car as he stayed there for hours.
Back at home, naturally, she confronted him but he wasn’t ready to have his delusion shattered. He took it badly and slammed her against the wall. He stormed off and she rang me for help.
So, as I said, Nightingale and I found ourselves in the outpatients department of a major hospital. But it wasn’t to see a medical doctor, it was to see a psychiatric doctor about reporting Tallulah’s behaviour to get him some help (read ‘taken away’). Needless to say, were both pretty scared to go back to the flat.
It turns out that Tallulah was not a session singer and in fact could not sing at all. He had never been near a recording studio in his life and the whole thing had been one big fabrication. He was actually on the dole and using all of his money for ceramic nails, clothes, make up and socializing.
Everything became clear now. Not just the lack of money but also his behaviour when I invited him to record backing vocals at my home studio. I remember him grabbing my guitar tuner to try to have something to pitch to saying ‘we use these in this big studios all the time’. It did seem a bit strange but I shrugged it off.
Back at the hospital, there was nothing they could do for Tallulah. He would have to admit himself voluntarily. They could not ‘ come and take him away’ based on our testimony. This was a dilemma.
It’s all rock ‘n’ roll to me – Part 18
My life had become a revolving door and people were moving rapidly in and out. Tallulah had cleared off for Adelaide quick smart to lick his wounds, soon after his delusional fantasies had been so unceremoniously dismantled.
I was putting my first cover band together and the audition process was driving me crazy. It seems like you’d just find a keyboard player and the guitarist would move on. He’d settle in then the drummer would leave. Everybody had different motivations, different life circumstances and varying levels of dedication to their music. Blah di blah di blah…
However, I was about to meet some pivotal people in my life. One in particular came to audition for the position of keyboard player. In those days, in the early 80s, keyboard players were as rare as hen’s teeth and a much coveted.
New synths were coming out nearly every month and radio was awash with the latest big fat synth sounds. Drum machines were starting to hit the market and the once almighty guitarist was being relegated to a bit of rhythm and the odd solo. Keyboards were expensive to buy and cheap to sell, by the time you’re ready to sell (which might have been one year later) no one wanted them. It would set you back a quite few thousand fun vouchers (dollars), to be a keyboard player and the depreciation was a killer.
So this bloke comes to the house for the audition. The house that I was living in at the time had three or four entrances and it was confusing if you’d never been there before. I heard a faint knock right at the other end of the house and I went round the outside to bring him to the back studio. When I saw him, I had a déjà vu moment that was a bit like a volcano erupting. I recognised him, even though I’d never met him and for some reason, I went into mild shock.
I remember pasting a smile on my face and inviting him in. The audition went well but we knew that he would not stay with us. There were bands out there that were already established with lots of work. We wished him well.
One thing, however, was going right. My songs were starting to pull together and sound like the songs on the radio.
It’s all rock and roll to me – Part 19
The year was 1983 and I didn’t know it at the time, but I was starting to find direction. It was like I had found the current in the water and I could finally move towards midstream.
In the meantime, the cover band that I had been putting together, was not working out. We couldn’t find a keyboard player, so in an attempt to make a few dollars, I started auditioning for bands that were already working.
For my first audition, I rocked up to Dane rehearsal studios in Brunswick. This was a huge converted warehouse with lots of black cubicles full of crappy PAs and guitarists with the volume on 11. If you walked by a cubicle with a heavy metal band blasting away, the sound spill was deafening.
Anyway, I walked into the the rehearsal room to meet the guys and who should be on keyboards but the bloke that we were auditioning a couple of weeks ago. I know Melbourne was a small place musically but this was ridiculous. Let’s call him ‘Keyboard Man’.
To cut a long story short, I got the gig and we started to work. I distinctly remember playing the Astrodome in Traralgon. A big barn of a place, packed to the rafters with punters letting off a lot of steam.
In the days before the Internet, play stations and .05 alcohol restrictions, cover band gigs were really popular. It was not uncommon, for a cover band to have roadies and full production. That is almost unheard of now except for big-name bands.
This band didn’t last long before it imploded but I got to know Keyboard Man a lot better and made a few more contacts. The bass player had a cutting edge studio in his home and fancied himself a producer. I needed a new demo which was really current and I had a new batch of songs ready for love.
It’s all rock and roll to me – Part 20
This was an exciting time for me and an exciting time to be in the music scene in Melbourne. Melbourne had a reputation of being the rock capital of Australia and indeed it was. If you wanted to make it in music, you had to make in Melbourne. Funnily enough, most of the major record labels all had head offices in Sydney although Mushroom music was a very successful Australian label based in Melbourne. Everybody wanted ‘in’ at Mushroom.
The inner-city was a hot pot of festering creativity. Fitzroy, Brunswick, St Kilda, Collingwood, Prahran, were like beacons for young unemployed musicians leaving the suburbs looking for stardom. If you could get a gig at the ESPY or ‘The Venue’ you were definitely in a position to be seen.
The industry ‘currency’ of the day was to know Molly Meldrum. Molly Meldrum was one of Australia’s most successful music producers and music show hosts. He was a force to be reckoned within the industry and was well liked and well respected. It seems like if you ‘knew Molly’ that you could fast track your way to the top. If I had a dollar so every musician who told me that they’ knew Molly’.
I started working with the ‘wannabe’ producer. This new batch of recordings was really coming up well, he did have his finger on the pulse and they had that current, new edge vibe.
While all this was going on, I was still teaching singing to get by. I had one particular students, Cary, who was my age and we had so much in common. After class, we would sit and talk about bands and what was going on in the industry. We also used to talk about the supernatural a lot, we both found it fascinating.
He told me about this new bands that he’d seen play live and he knew a couple of the guys. He thought they would make it really big. They’d just chosen a name, Hunters and collectors. Apparently they were hunting and collecting song ideas. Too easy.
I started to notice that Cary had missed a few lessons, so I rang his number to see what was happening. His mum answered the phone and when I asked after Cary, she burst into tears and handed the phone to her sister. Her sister told me that Cary had died of a number of weeks ago. She told me that Cary had spoken of me often and they did not have my number to contact me.
It was quite a few months later, that I realized that the night before Cary died, I had had this weird dream about him not being able to put on his shoes and then he drove away, with some guy at the wheel of a lovely convertible car, saying that he was going somewhere really nice.
Hunters and Collectors did go on to become very successful.
