Wednesday, 29 July 2009

A short history of me as a musician 60's - 2001

Way back in the mists of time, long before The Beatles,there was a kind of music they called skiffle, and yer man was Lonnie Donegan. The best thing about skiffle was that, a bit like punk,anyone could do it. Not only that, you didn't have to go to a music shop to buy an instrument,you could make your own.I made my first bass from an old tea chest, a broom handle and a length of thick string, A 'T' chest bass was a must for a skiffle group. along with a washboard.Back then in the late fifties these were easy to come by, although today you'ld be hard pressedto find either. I was never in a skiffle group but I used to have fun just thumping away on it in our dads garage pretending I was on that old rock island line. I remember being dead chuffed whenI learned how to play the opening bass part to Roy Orbisons' Sweet dream baby, not skiffle,but pop music of the time, and a number 1, so my appitite was wetted. 

By the age of 12 or 13 me and my friend Mala used to go to St Perrins, a church hall near us in Roose, where every Friday they would put on local groups. I used to stand at the front by the stage just aching to take part in this amazing music the groups made. As I recall it was all, or mostly Americanmusic that you never heard on the radio, what they used to call rhythm & blues, and of course Rock n roll. Chuck Berry was a staple of all the bands and itwas at St Perrins that for me it all began. The joint was a rockin, and being an old timber building it would shake tothe sound of the bass. Not that amps were that big back then, 30watts being the biggest you could buy.The top group, back then was The tornadoes, who changed their name to Johnny and the Trendsetters, and my hero was the guy called Johnny, who played a Jazz bass, although I didn't know what its name was, but I knew what it sounded like and it was what I now aspired to, the t chest was not going to get me into a group, what I needed was an electric

bass guitar, the problem was going to be persuading my parents to buy me one, or save up my meagre pocket money for years to get one.

Finally some time in about 1963 I bought a RED Hofner senetor from a lad down the road, I think it cost me 20 quid, but that sounds like a lot of money for back in 63, but I now owned an electric bass, all I had to do now was learn how to play it

So I now had the Bass guitar, and now it was time to learn how to play it, so as there were no teachers about I bought The Chas McDevit and Shirley Douglas how to play bass guitar tutor. Mala got himself a kit of drums and we set about starting to learning some songs, in my bedroom. It wasn't long before my dad found us a place to practice in an old joiners workshop. That was great cause we could set up our gear and go down there as much as we wanted. Fingers bled and we recruited a couple of guitarists and before too long we were asked to play our first gig at a friends party in a church hall on Walney. The only things that I remember from this gig was the plume of white smoke that eminated from the PA blowing up, well not exactly a PA as we now know it but it went kaput big style.The other thing I remember was that somebody stole the money that theyld collected to pay our expences.

Our next gig was a big one as somehow we got asked to play at the rink, a huge gig at the time, on boxing day, with the legendry Rue and the rockets from Carlisle. The Cynix with an X were up and running.It was 1964 and the beat boom was in full swing and we were a part of it, except we were some way from the epicentre, in Barrow, and Liverpool was where it was happening and we were probably pretty rough but we had a rodie with a Morris 1000 van and we were playing village halls all over the southern lakes. Village halls were the gigs back then, the pubs still had old blokes playing a piano. The next step up would be to get a gig at the Public Hall in Barrow. The Public Hall had a gig every Saturday night, there was a resident Big band, a hang over from the 40s and 50s that played dance music for the punters to dance to. It was that cusp of a period between real dancing and jiving. We finally got a gig there, the band played an early slot, when no-one was there, the beat group played from 10-45 till 11-35 then the big band came on to play the Last waltz. That was the signal for everyone to try and get a partner that they could walk home, and a time for a drunken snog. The Big band were clinging on to a past that was fast dissappearing, but we just accepted the protocol and did our thing, it was a glamorous gig and it was confirmation that we were now a proper group on the circuit. Next stop would be the top gig in town the pinicle of any groups ambition in 64 the 99 caberet club, where some big names on the pop scene came to play. Getting a gig there was going to prove a big step for the Cynix, but also would prove to be the end of the Cynix, and the start of the Carnaby Squares

The 99 Club in Dalkieth street in Barrow in the 60s was owned by Scrap metal impresario Sammy Morgan, who ran a srap metal yard in Hindpool road where now stands the Hollywood Park complex. He was Mr Big in the world of showbiz around Barrow, and beyond. He used to smoke big fat cigars and stand at the mezzenine bar at the back of his club holding court with the visiting stars of the day.

 The 99 was open 7 days aweek and was a real caberet club insomuch as it put on a variety show every week. First act on would be a solo singer or a duet. next would be a magician, or perhap a comedian, then the last act would be some 'big' act like a group or TV star singer. On Monday night it would be local band night, and this band would have usually played the Sunday lunch time session, 12 til 3pm. In 65 the Cynics got to play one of these slots, and we must have done OK because at the end of the gig we were approached by a short bald man in a suit that looked a lot like an accountant. In fact it was the 99 clubs accountant who's name was Alan Diamond. Alan asked us if we had a manager, which we didn't, and invited us to come and meet him at his office at Sams scrapyard. Alan was responsible for booking all the acts into the 99 club and in the age old aproach said that he would like to manage us and make us into stars.

 It was an offer we couldn't refuse, and although we would have to come up with a new name we jumped at the offer. Alan had lots of contacts in the business and it seemed like we were about to be catapulted to fame and fortune. He arranged for us to go to
London to meet Troy Tempest who used to send lots of acts up north round the clubs. He gave us some dreadful pop song to go away and learn and soon we would be in the recording studio. Nothing ever came of this, but I seem to remember Alan decideing we needed a girl singer to front the band now with the new name of THE CARNABY SQARES, oh well it sounded hip at the time.

 Mala took umbrage at this suggestion, and promptly left, Alan was trying to turn us into an all round caberet group and so we drafted in a new drummer. The girl singer never really worked out and the band went on to spend the next three years playing with all the stars that came and played at the club. Tom Jones being the biggest, but we played with Hermans Hermits, The Searchers, Manfred Mann, The Mersy Beats and many more I can't recall. Alan did well getting us gigs all over the North West including a gig at the original Cavern Club in Liverpool. We now had a hot band and in 68 we were playing on the same bill as Pink Floyd at a university ball in
Some time in 69 the band broke up, I'm not sure why, musical differences maybe but I was never going to be a caberet musician and I had my eye on moving out of Barrow and getting down to London which was the only place to be for a budding Rock n Roll star, and the rest of the band were home birds, so just after Christmas at the start of 1970 I packed my guitar and a suitcase and headed for the Big city, London town

.I walked out through the gates of Vickers for the last time at Christmas in 1969 and in the new year of 1970 I headed for London and the big time. In Barrow I had been some kind of minor celeb, but London was to be a big awakening, here I was just one of thousands of wanna bes'. It was going to be much harder than I had imagined, but I was full of confidence and excited by the prospect of being at the centre of the music industry, for the world, London was still the epicentre of where it all happened.

In those days the way to get into a band and break into the biz was through the musicians wanted pages of a weekly magazine called the Melody Maker. It came out every Thursday, but if you went into the centre of
London, Soho, you could get it on Wednesday. So that's what any aspiring musician would do, and You'ld buy it and take it round to the Giaconda cafe in Denmark street and sit and comb through the ads in the back of the paper.Denmark sreet was the street known as "Tin pan alley", just off the Charing cross road, about 50yds long and the home of the major publishers. The Giaconda was a place that you just might get discovered, you know bump into some star producer or writer looking for a new bass player for their next hit record. I never met anybody famous or otherwise but I would sit there with my copy of the Melody Maker and check the ads anyway.
Auditions were the order of the day, and I'ld never done an audition in my life. They were scary, but it was something if you even got to do one, so it was pretty amazing when yo got one in a rehearsal room in Sheperds bush with a new band that was just forming and I was offered the gig. The guy that was forming the band had been with a band called Episode 6, and their old singer had just left the band to become the singer in Deep Purple, a huge band at the time, so I thought I must be on to something here, this must be a ticket to the big time.Deep Purple were to figure later in my career, but for now I'ld got a job with this new band that called themselves Hassle, crap name but who cares, this was at least recognition that I was an OK bass player.

They were a serious band insomuch as they wanted to practice every day, or at least 5 days a week, 10 till 6pm. We didn't have any gigs, but Tony, the leader had good connections, and I felt we were going to go places, and go places we did.After about six months of rehearsing original material we auditioned for a gig in a casino in the Lebonon. Tony knew an agent who pulled this gig for us, it would pay us each £50 a week,probably the equivelant of £250 nowadays. we could continue our rehearsals out there, doing covers at the gig, and make money at the same time.

So in November 1970 we flew out to Lebonon to do a three month residency,which turned into a six month stint, and eventually broke up the band, but thats another story. The place we played was seemingly the biggest casino in the world, and Lebonon was like the Switzerland of the Middle East, not at all like the strife torn place it is today.We lived in apartments right on the beach and had a great time, and made lots of money, this seemed like an ideal way to make a living to me. But all good things come to an end and in April 1971 we flew back to
London, but the band broke up shortly afterwards. Back to the back pages of the Melody Maker

After Lebonon, and back in London I was now thinking of myself as a pro musician, and this meant I needed to find a gig that paid. The Melody Maker didn't have that many paid gigs in the musicians wanted classifieds, in fact the classic tag line of the day was "no bread heads" need apply. I suppose after the gig in Lebonon I had become one and was looking to continue earning money by playing music.

Among the ads one week was a bass player wanted for a band playing a residency in 
Bremerhaven, in Germany. I went along to the audition in Holloway road and got the gig, but the guys that I auditioned with were not the band, they were sort of a surrogate who were choosing the musician to send out to Germany, so it was a bit weird, but I'ld got the gig so I took the ferry and my gear and set out for Bremerhaven on the north coast of Germany.

The band had been playing these residencies for a few years and this was a months work at a non-descript club in the town. It was not a great band, they did covers, and I got paid, thats all I recall. A month turned into two months, but I was soon back in
London, and the back pages of the MM.
I was in and out of a series of bands that wern't going anywhere when I joined a country rock band with a guy called Wez Mcgee who seemed to be on the cusp of breaking into the fringe country rock thing, and I liked his stuff, and best of all I seemed to be on the same wave length. We recorded an album, my first taste of pro studios so I stayed with it but in the end it didn't fly and it came to a close, although Wez continued to be a mate, and the drummer Maurice became my next door neighbour, and we did lots of other gigs together over the years.

Next band was born out of the remnants of the band that went to Lebonon, plus a guitarist from
birmingham with a fashionable afro haircut of the time who's name was Smoke, and this band was called Gnasher and it was 1973

Ah yes Gnasher, me on bass, Kit Towlson on guitar, Roger Brewer on Drums and Smoke Abingdon on lead guitar. Kit and Roger had been in the band that went to Lebonon and Smoke was from Birmingham and had been playing with Kit in a band called Egypt, just after the Lebonon gig. Smoke and Kit were living at a big house in Highgate that had a few other musos living there. The Landlady lived on the premises, she was an aspiring writer, I think, and a cool person. Housing a bunch of aspiring artists full of testosterone and drug induced hijinks must have been a nightmare. The house was awash with music 24/7 and each day me and Roger would arrive every morning to practice in the tiny basement of 67 Cromwell ave. In the next room to Kit lived Rod Davis who was guitarist in Silverhead who were signed to Purple records. The other band members would often be popping in for a cuppa and a spliff. Bass player Nigel ended up in LA a few years later and turned up in a little band called Blondie, whilst their singer Michel des Bares found his fame in the Power Station and played the Philly leg of Live aid. But that was years later, for now it was  1972 and we were all fledgling stars in the making, or so we thought
A good friend of ours, from the Lebonon gig was Mick Hodgekinson, Hammond player, who had got himself into a signed band, and lived just around the corner, so to speak in Crouch end. He was a frequent visitor and a sort of surrogate fifth member of Gnasher. It was Mick who eventually got us introduced to EMI publishing and the Heath brothers, sons of the famous Ted Heath, 50's band leader.
Before we could make these connections though we had to have some sort of a demo tape. Studios were out of the question as we were all barely surviving on the dole and the cost of going into a studio was way beyond our means. There was no home studio equipment back in those days. However Kit had a Revox reel to reel tape machine, with big ten inch spools of 1/4 inch tape, which could do stuff called sound on sound. How it worked was like this.
You could record something, say a guitar, onto one side of the stereo tape, then play that back and record a vocal onto the other track. On this second take you could send the original guitar to be mixed with the new vocal so that if you played back this 2nd take it would have both guitar and vocal on the same track, hence sound on sound. 

However getting the right balance between guitar and vocal was a bit touch and go as there was no way to alter the levels afterwards. You could repeat this process by sending your recording of two things back to track one and add another instrument, although that meant wiping off your very first guitar. You could go on repeating this to and fro recording, adding layer upon layer as long as you wanted. The only problem though was that as each layer went on the first few layers became less defined, you would lose clarity. So to achieve a decent demo you could only do about six or seven layers.
We got pretty good at anticipating how sounds would degrade. For instance we would record the bass guitar early on, very trebley, sounding like Duane Eddy, maybe second take, so that by the time we had bounced it five or six times it would sound like a bass as the degradation set in. 

So many times you would find that you had miscalculated the volume of an earlier bounce and the recording would have to be abandoned and started again, it was tedious.
We did actually get some good results though now and again and even managed to get one of our demos cut to the B side of one of our singles. Something unheard of at the time, but that's another story.

So with our demos of original Gnasher songs we approached all the major and minor labels we could get appointments with. We met with rejection after rejection until one day we were introduced to a minor arm of the mighty EMI recording company. This was a music publishing company called Robbins music. We met the Heath brothers who seemed to see some potential in us and wanted to hear more of our stuff. Their offices were in a little back alley behind Denmark St, Tin Pan Alley, the hub of the industry, maybe this was the start of something big.

The next week we arrived with more demos and sat down in their plush offices to wow them, hopefully with our new stuff. Now we were not a pop band, we were serious sensitive artistes, the kind of band that were destined to make albums, not trite pop singles, our music was for grown ups, we were on the sophisticated side of rock music and wanted to be taken seriously.

 We did have our lighter side, but that wasn't Gnasher, So imagine our horror when at the end of our demo suddenly coming out of the speakers is a silly song we had recorded as a bit of a laugh one stoned afternoon called Baby your my Doughnut. It shouldn't have been on that tape but it was. Our credibility was at once shot to pieces, cringe. We leaped up to hit the stop button but Nick said hold on, lets hear this through, I like the sound of this.

 The next thing we know is we're signing a publishing contract with Robbins Music to make a one off single. We were adamant that this couldn't be a Gnasher record, so they suggested we record it under a pseudonym. We became "Bill Esher and the Beacons" and were booked into a studio owned by Dick James, who published all the early Beatles records. He had a new label called Jam records and we were to be one of his first signings to this new label. We were a bit apprehensive about this strange twist of fate but happy to go along with it as it meant we got to record in a proper studio and you never know we might get a novelty pop hit and make some money, after all we were in a hit stable with Dick James.

 As it turned out this was a label set up for Dicks son to play with, and perhaps his son wasn't quite as astute as his dad, but a few months later Baby your my doughnut by Bill Esher and the beacons hit the record shops and we waited for it to sweep the nation, but it didn't.
I was responsible for writing this little gem, and I had got to sing lead vocals on my first single, signed to EMI publishing, the only way was up.

Meanwhile Gnasher were starting to pick up gigs here and there, but they were thin on the ground so we decided to try for gigs in Germany where lots of English bands seemed to find favour. We managed to get a months work in a club in Munich called the PN Hit house. We took a small truck that belonged to Roger, and also my Morris 1000, as a run about once we got there.It took us two and a half days to get there, finally finding the club at two in the afternoon. 

We met with the owner who told us to get set up so we could do the audition. Audition!, we thought we were booked, but no, not unless Mr Neumann approved. Luckily we passed and were booked for the month. You start to play at 9pm, for forty five minutes, then have a fifteen minute break, then play another forty five minutes. You do that until 4am and then you can finish, Monday ze club est closed you have holiday. I think we made about £250 for the week, for the whole band. We stayed in a bleak apartment  in a tower block with bunk beds, and no cooking facilities, that belonged to Herr Neumann. 

We were a bit of a hit in Munich, and although it was hard work we were young and had the stamina and the drugs to see us through. By the time we made it back to England we were a very tight little unit and ready to storm the London scene. We managed to blag gigs at the famous Marquee club and the Speakeasy but there would be weeks between gigs, it was frustrating after so much playing in Germany.
Things began to move on the recording side of things though, we had managed to get some interest from Deep Purples' record label, but it was slow going.

 In the meantime Nick and Tim had us do another one off single. We were to be the session band for a writer of theirs called Gideon who had written a song for Princess Annes wedding. It was a sickly sweet sort of a song but we got to put a song of ours on the B side. We would go under the name of the Cromwell brothers, after the road in Highgate where we practised. Nobody seemed so catch the irony of the band name and it was released to an unsuspecting world a few weeks before the big day. It sank without trace.

Whilst our serious demos went to Purple we kept feeding silly pop stuff to Nick and Tim at Robbins music. Next to take their fancy was a killer track called Monster Reggae. This time we would go by the name of Frank n Stein. We had a one off deal with Rhino records, a true reggae/ska label that had its offices in Harlsden. We had studio time booked in Pathway studios in  Islington where the likes of Elvis Costello recorded, but we had no time to record a B side.

 The record company wanted to just put the backing track on the B side, with a bit of Dub mixing which was normal practice for reggae records, but we had other ideas. We wanted maximum royalties with two songs, an A and a B side. Nick and Tim wouldn't cough up for anymore studio time so we went in for plan B. We had this idea that we could record this other song on Kits Revox. We had become pretty good at making demos at home and figured we could present them with a track that would be good enough for a B side, and so Tutankhamen was born.

When we presented it to Nick and Tim they told us that the dynamics of the sound wouldn't be able to be cut by the mastering engineer, but we insisted they at least try. Nobody cuts records recorded on a Revox they said, it can't be done. Well as it turned out they could and so it went onto the B side and for me it was the best record that we ever made. In fact you can find it today on the internet as a rare classic of British reggae, so there, we was vindicated. In fact the record didn't chart but I think it sold over 1000.

And then we finally were signed up by Purple records and the days of silly pop records was behind us. Roger Glover, Deep Purples bass player was assigned as our producer and we were booked into George Martins studio, Air London, high above Oxford Circus in the heart of London. We recorded a couple of tracks for our first single and headed off back to Munich for another month at th PN club.
We got back hoping to see our first Gnasher single ready for release, but it seemed to be stuck in the works somewhere. We were expecting to get back in the studio straight away to start recording our album but world events were about to put paid to this. Our first single, Medina road sneaked out to very little fanfare, and flopped. Not that it was a bad record, it was excellent, but not exactly pop chart stuff.

The next thing that happened was way beyond our control as the Arabs hiked the price of oil. Oil is the primary ingredients for making vynal records and suddenly it was in very short supply. So the record companies stopped making records by unknown bands like ours and put whatever vynal they could lay their hands on to making records by their stars, the bands that would definitely sell. In the case of Purple records that meant Deep Purple. Our carers went on hold for more than a year, we did some sessions for purple as backing singers on other peoples records, but not on our own. With this frustration came rifts in the band and within a year we had our musical differences and the band split up.

We, that is Gnasher were a whisker away from where we would do tours and have hit albums, but it was not to be. We were often rowed in as session singers for projects that also never made it but all the time I was getting experience in the way you worked in top class studios with class musicians. 

We hung out at the Speakeasy, and the Marquee with the wanna be stars but was always in the background just soaking it up . Gnasher could have been big, but all of a sudden we were left high and dry as punk rock roared onto the scene and overnight we were old hat. Three part harmony groups were dead in the water as 
London took a U turn back to the essence of rock n roll, and we were too far down the line to claw our way back.

The band did one more tour of
Germany, that finished at the famous Star club in Hamburg where The Beatles had played a decade earlier. That was it I'ld followed my heros, tread in their footsteps and now we were old hat, time to move on. Goodbye to Purple records, goodbye to EMI, and hello to Fringe theatre.
Back with my old mate Maurice from the Wez Mcgee days I was playing bass at the Albany Empire. This wasn't so bad as the world of fringe was quite a hip thing to be doing and whats more I was being paid as a pro musician again something that had been lacking in my time in Gnasher.

Somewhere about now I joined Brett Marvin and the Thunder bolts who had had a number one with
Seaside shuffle in the early 70s. They were really a jug band and played blues and we did constant tours of the University circuit. We made a record that was Tony Blackburns record of the week on radio 1, but it never really flew and soon it was time to look for new horizons.

This was about 1978 and it was time to take a break from
London and the music scene, it was time to go traveling. The next 12 months were taken up with various jobs outside the music biz saving up to go on a trip to South America, and Machu Pitchu, the ancient lost city of the Incas.

1979 -1980 were taken up with this adventure which ended up in visiting friends in North America, and almost staying there but after a few months in 
Woodstock we returned to London. The route to stardom had taken a few strange turns and once back in London it never really clicked again. The scene moves on so fast and I was out of step with it all.

I joined an Irish band playing lots of gigs on the London Irish circuit whilst still writing songs and looking for that elusive new publishing contract that never came. By 1986 it was time to call it a day and I finally left
London for a holiday back in the Lake district to regroup. I found a caravan for rent in the Rusland valley and thought maybe I would stay for the summer of 88 before going back to London, but I never made it back
In 1989 I was in the old Northern sounds music shop in Duke street where I ran into an old friend from way back when. Reg Jordan was the dad of the younger Reg Jordan who played in guitar in The Tornadoes back in the early 60's down at St Perrins. I sort of new Daddy Reg, who played Drums. Reg was at this point in time 78 and still playing the clubs when ever he could get a gig.

I jokingly said do you need a bass player, and I gave him my number, not expecting a call but lo and behold Reg rang me a couple of weeks later to tell me he'ld come across this guy busking in Barrow. He'ld gone to visit him in this big house in Coniston, where he lived with his wife. His name was Ewan, his wife was called Juliet and they were into Blues.

Reg said they were interested in doing some gigs if he got any thing going. The next week I was in the Commadore in grange looking for solo gigs, just to bring in a few bob. They didn't do solo stuff, just bands so I said I've got a blues band if you want one, and clinched a gig in a couple of weeks time. I called Reg, and Reg called Ewan and we all met up at my new house in Lindal to jam out some blues tunes to see if it would work. Two weeks later we were the Lakeland Hill Billy Blues band playing in Grange.

It went well, and not long after that we had recruited two other members and had got our selves a regular gig at the Stickle Barn in The Landale valley. We were now the Lakes Blues Band. We played together with Reg for another couple of years, doing the summer residency at the Stickle Barn besides lots of other gigs in between. The Band went through a few changes, Reg left just after he turned 80, and we got in Grant Aspinal on drums.

The Band continued playing together for the next 15 years till about 2004. In the meantime I had set up a recording studio in an old Bomb shelter in The Ellers in Ulverston.
It was Known as Southlake studio and ran from 89 to 2002. Check the older posts link to see concluding chapter of this tale of me as a musician

Southlake studio

The Lakes Blues band played gigs throughout the 90s, we were special, it was one of those bands where everything just clicked. It all started I suppose at the Sticklebarn in the Landales. We had this residency that we played each summer in 91 and 92 every Thursday and Saturday. Each gig was a party and the enjoyment of the band would rub off onto the audience. We played for the cragrats that would come to the lakes to climb and to party, and to the bikers that would head for the Sticklebarn every weekend just cause the Lakes Blues Band were playing.

Then we pulled a residency at the
Queens inRawlinson street in Barrow. That Sunday night gig would last for 4 years and was full every week. We did Blues, rock n roll reggae, and lots of original material. and made a couple of pretty good albums, recorded in my studio in Ulverston.
Southlake studio, was opened in 1990 in an old bomb shelter in Ulverston. It was a sixteen track studio, and the only pro studio in Furness at the time. I hadn't run a studio before but it seemed like a good idea as I had all this gear that I'ld brought up fromLondon.

Most of the local bands recorded there and it became a sort of focus for the Furness music scene. In 1995 I formed the Ulverston contemporary music association and got some funding from the newly formed Lottery. That was when we started to put on an annual awards night at the
Coro to celebrate the original bands in the area. They were highly successful events that ran until 2000.

In about 1998 the internet started up and the studio got plugged into that revolution. You can relive the results of our efforts at We had about 50 bands on our site and even did web cams from sessions at the studio. It was an exciting time to be running a studio in the nineties with so many great local bands.

 In 2002 I closed the studio in the bombshelter and moved to
Ford Park, and the Coach house where we are to this day.
The Lakes Blues band sort of dissolved in about 2003 as members went their own ways, I ran a songwriters open mike night at the Hope and anchor for a couple of years, but that finished in 2004 when the pub changed Landlords.

Nowadays I mostly just record stuff, still writeing songs and playing with me old mates from the Lakes blues band. Me Ewan and Juje made an album in 2009 called the beat combo, great little album, and so it goes on. 

Putting on Gig in the garden twice a year and doing the odd gig.

So thats a History of me and music, It began all that time ago in Barrow in Furness and ended up back in Furness. It's been a brilliant adventure, and although I never made the big time I have had the most wonderful of times,met some amazing people, and I'm still in love with live music.
Boogie on brothers and sisters

Boogie on brothers and sisters