Gibbos War Stories

A decent truck can mean the difference between a great gig and a night full of grief. Back in the eighties I went back to work for Rick Doolan who was the original drummer in Bandanna. He had re-formed the band and had put together a nice little PA system. The “truck” he’d bought was a classic. It was actually an old bus that had been converted to carry a racing car. It had a big roller door in the back leading to a large storage area where the PA lived. In the front was plenty of seats and even a few beds which was bloody luxurious for those of us used to crappy old trucks that broke down regularly.

Tha band had picked up a gig at a biker show in Queensland one particular weekend and, as they didn’t need to take the whole crew or the PA system, it was decided that we’d pull all the uneeded gear out to lighten the load and help the old bus travel a bit faster. Rick had organised a friend to bring around another truck just to use as storage for the PA system. It was a beauty! I’m pretty sure it was an old International with a smallish pan on the back.

This is a very similar model to the truck in question except ours had a pan on the back. The bus in the background also looks a bit like the one mentioned earlier.

It was pretty beat up and was not registered but it would do. We managed to back the truck up to the bus and unloaded all the stuff the band didn’t need into it. That should have meant a weekend off for me as my Brother had drawn the short straw to drive the band in the bus to Queensland.

Not so fast Gibbo! Later that afternoon, just as the band was leaving, we got a call from a Heavy Metal band looking for a system for that night. After a short deliberation it was decided that myself and the lighting guy Wally would take the old truck and do the gig. Money is money after all…

The first challenge was getting it started. We didn’t have a key so you had to twist the ignition wires together and short the solenoid on the starter with the dipstick. Great! We eventually got the old thing going and made it to the gig, a Heavy Metal extravaganza at the Bayview Tavern in Gladesville. The gig actually went quite well. The bands were all happy with our gear and the job we did. They even offered to hang around and help us load the truck at the end of the night. All went well until we got to the last few cases… which now mysteriously didn’t fit back into the truck! Well we eventually had to pull half of the gear back out to repack it, several times. There is nothing worse than doing your work three or four times.

After what seemed like an eternity we managed to fit all of the pieces into the puzzle and we set off for an hour long drive home. Seeing as the truck wasn’t registered we had to keep an eye out for cops. The condition of the truck would have been a giveaway. About half way home we were starting to relax… until the bonnet came loose and with a massive bang, flew up to cover the windscreen. Gee that makes it hard to drive! I managed to peer through a small gap under the bonnet in order to pull the truck over to the curb.

Wally and I then had to try and get the bonnet closed and latched but it was completely bent out of shape. Eventually we both climbed on it and jumped up and down until it managed to latch shut. The trouble was that we needed to get under the bonnet to get the thing started again. Shit! Well, we managed that and even got the bonnet to latch once more. Soon we were on our way again but just as we were starting to calm down a bit, the bloody truck ran out of fuel. This was starting to become a very long night indeed! Luckily for us a car soon stopped and offered help. I could have just about kissed the guy. He had his whole family with him but still insisted that I squeeze in so he could take me to a service station. He even waited around and gave me a lift back to the truck. What a legend!

By this stage the 1 hour drive home had turned into a 4 hour saga and I’d well and truly had enough. I said to Wally “if this thing stops again I’m leaving it on the side of the road” and I meant it. Just as I spoke the back of the truck started to wander from side to side, making it awful hard to steer. I couldn’t believe it. This thing had more tricks up its’ sleeve than David Copperfield. By now we were only a few kilometres from home so I decided to just keep driving. It didn’t really matter to me if the bloody wheels fell off by this time. As we turned the last corner the truck lurched sideways and we heard a loud sound like metal breaking. Oblivious to the self destructing truck I managed to actually get it all the way into the driveway. We were home! It was at this point that I discovered that there was only one wheel nut left on each of the back wheels and about 4 of the wheel studs had snapped off. We probably wouldn’t have made it if it had been 50 metres further.

Some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed.

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Good old Gary Glitter has been in the news again lately for all the wrong reasons. It brought to mind a story my brother told me which was told to him by the one and only Peter Ward. I hope I do the story justice.

Peter was working with Gary Glitter during one of his comeback tours. After one show about half way through the tour, Gary called a meeting of the band an crew to inform them that the rest of the tour was to be cancelled. Now, quite naturally, everyone was a bit shocked at this news and were keen to know what had happened.

Gary went on to inform them that during that nights performance he had “left his body” and had floated out amongst the crowd and had, for the first time ever, seen himself perform. What he had seen though had not made him happy. He had seen himself as a silly old bastard who was too old for cavorting about the stage singing glam music. All he could see was a bloke who was well past his prime and was being laughed at. His career was over!

You can imagine the atmosphere in that meeting. It was quite sombre and you could feel the tension in the air. Everyone was worried about getting sacked half way through the tour and Gary was worried about being an embarrasing old fool. Most of them were sitting around, heads down, contemplating this terrible news.

Just then the sax player pipes up and asks:

“Gary?”
“Yes”
“You know…when you left your body and floated out amongst the audience?”
“Yes”
“Well… how did my sax sound? Was it alright?”

At this point the room erupted into uncontrolled laughter, including Gary, and the tour was suddenly back on.

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I saw on the tele this morning that preparations are under way for our Chinese community to celebrate their New Year. It brought to mind a tour I did around this time of year back in the early 1990’s. It was a short run with a British band by the name of Neds Atomic Dustbin.

They were quite a whacky bunch of dudes who seemed to take themselves far too seriously but overall they were alright. They are probably the only band I’ve ever seen with two bass players. That’s right folks…two!

This was what was known as a “Yo-Yo” tour. It went Sydney, Brisbane, Melbourne & back to Sydney. For those outside Australia this means doing a gig, travelling North for about 1000k’s then going south for about 1800k’s then going back north for about 800k’s. Tops! Luckily time didn’t permit us to do the Brisbane gig & so they flew up we drove to Melbourne. Our lighting rigger had some stuff to take care of so he decided to fly down and meet us in Melbourne. My brother and I arrived in Melbourne at about 4am after an uneventful drive down. The plan was to arrive early, get a decent sleep, do the gig, then have another decent sleep before casually driving back to Sydney for the last gig. Sometimes things don’t go to plan but eh?

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I had the pleasure on Saturday night of going to see the amazing Jeff Lang at the Brass Monkey in Cronulla. What a great show. In my experience it’s not often that a single person with an acoustic guitar can be entertaining for more than about 10 minutes but Jeff is one of the exceptions.

I first saw Jeff play at the second of the infamous Yella Rock concerts in 1992. In those days he was a long haired young lad playing a bluesy/rock sort of mix with an electric guitar and a full band. A bit different to the sauve chap in a suit that performed on Saturday night.

Where I got to know him a little better was the Albert Collins tour of 1992 when Jeff was the support act. I was the system engineer on that tour and got to do sound for Jeffs Band. What a blast. His band were great for a bunch of relatively inexperienced young blokes and they were blown away with being on tour with a talent such as Albert Collins.

It wasn’t only Jeff who was impressed. Albert Collins himself was hugely impressed with the Jeff Lang Band and promised to help promote Jeff to “the right people”. It was a great compliment but a worthy one. Jeff has gone on to become a consumate performer and has sold the odd album or two. Do yourself a favour & check him out if you get the chance.

Something you probably won’t get to see though is one of Jeffs famous “nudey stage runs”. After quite a few of the shows on that tour Jeff would appear on stage to do a quick nude lap during the packup! I’m not sure that it is a tradition that continues to this day or not. Ask him if you see him.

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Here is a classic road story from Craig “Lumpy” Martin.

It was 1991/2 and the band America were touring Australia. It was a A1 Audio gig. The tour started well and was on whole not a bad tour. Lots of driving and days off did not figure in the tour schedule or the book of lies as it became known. The Tour went for three weeks or so. The band brought with them there own FOH Guy( Buck i think) and the professor doing stage. The tour is going well and everybody is have a fine time except for the FOH Guy. Every day the rider would turn up and there would be a stack of beetroot on it. This pissed the FOH guy off and he complained bitterly to anybody whom would listen.


The last to shows of the tour were Newcastle Leagues followed by Ingleburn RSL. The show in Newcastle goes well and the band hang around and deal with the liggers and schmoozers. When the ligging and schmoozing has finished the band jump into their bus and head back to Sydney. We finish the load out about 40 minutes after the band had left. Jump in the car and try to break the world land speed record for the fastest trip from Newcastle to the Manzil or was it Springfields then? (bit shady on that)

Anyway as we approach the bridge at the Hawkesbury River there are hazard lights in the distance. As we approach the flashing lights it is the bands bus. We pull up to check if everyone is ok. No problems except the band is trying to pull rank and want the crew to stay with the bus and give them the tarago. Needless to say this did not happen. Any way this act of boldness on the bands behalf meant the the last night of the tour would have to be one to remember. Load in for the Ingleburn gig was the usual 2.00pm. As mentioned before the FOH guy was well and truly pissed off at seeing beetroot on the rider every night. On the way to load in we stopped at the supermarket and purchased 4×5kg cans of beetroot. Upon arriving at the gig the beetroot was delivered to the kitchen of the club and was asked to be delivered to the band room on platters when the rider was delivered.

During the load in we discovered the the club had its own a full size stuffed horse. The horse would become the star of the show. Ok so we have this horse mounted on to dolleys ( bottom of wedge cases I think) and the horse is masked off backstage between the back curtain legs and the cyc. There is a clear passage that runs directly behind the drummer, is about 6 ft wide and has a rope running from the horse on one side of the stage to the Audio tech on the other side. The last song of the set was horse with no name. As the band played the intro, the lights we dimmed and the special rigged early in the day was slowly coming up where the horse was due to appear. Just as the light starts to appear, the head of the horse pokes out from between the curtain. The band keeps playing away and the crowd start to notice the horse at the rear of the stage. As the song goes on more and more of the horse is revealed. As the horse is almost fully revealed the crowd is now point and yell at the band to turn around. The drummer was the first to turn, as he turned and saw a full size horse with frank in big back gaff letters on it, making it’s way across the stage, he totally lost it closely followed by the rest of the band. That was the end of the show and the tour. Upon arriving back in the band room after the show, the rider was being delivered. The look on the FOH guys face as he open platter after platter of beetroot was priceless. When all the crew were back in the band room for post gig refreshments, they informed the crew that nobody had ever used a full size stuffed horse to stuff them up. The also asked way we call the horse Frank, that was easy they rode Frank all the way to the bank.

That’s all for now, more as the memory fades back.

Craig Martin.

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I have added the the great Weekend Warriors site to the link roll today. They offer a four or five week course to get old players back “onto the tools” and to get them together with like minded people who want to play without all the hassle of joining a band. You can find them at Weekend Warriors.

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Have a go at this.
Some plonker gets turpsed at work to the point of pissing in his bin, and somehow his employer has to cough up $10,000 for sacking him? What the?
I’ve never admitted this before folks, but, once I did the same thing. Now I want my money.
It was 1993 and I was touring with blues legend Albert Collins.

The Master of the Telecaster, Albert Collins.

The last night of the tour was at Balmain RSL and was huge. We couldn’t load out that night & that usually means hitting the turps in a big way. Well, I must admit to having one or two refreshing ales that night and ended up back at the hotel quite maggoted. In a startling replay of that famous “one day you’re gunna get caught with your pants down” advertisement, I got up in the middle of the night for a slash. To say I was still under the influence and slightly dissoriented would be an understatment. I managed to open the wrong door and locked myself out of the room, drunk as a skunk, busting for a piss and only dressed in my undies.

I tried banging on the door to wake up my youngest brother who I was sharing the room with, but to no avail so off I staggered along the hall looking for a toilet. No toilets anywhere but what about this convenient bin? It was probably the longest piss of my life. I think I went close to filling it.
Now I had to try and get back into my room as being found asleep in the hallway next to a bin full of piss would not be good. I knocked and banged continuously for about 5 minutes when I managed to wake my other brother in the next room. “What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled.
“7$!@$&nhq8&%@)!!” I replied as I collapsed onto the spare bed.

The loadout the next morning was a very slow one indeed.
Update:
If you’d like a taste of how Albert & The Icebreakers sounded then try this album, Live 92/93, which was recorded later on that same tour. It’s an absolute beauty.

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The Wombat Switch.

I don’t even know if it is a term that is still used. Back about 20 years ago “Wombatting” was something you did to the support band to sabotage them. You know, turn the amps down a bit or pull down the master volume on the EQ or something. Sometimes it was because they were a threat to the main act, sometimes just because it was fun to watch their crew try to work out why the PA system is suddenly a lot quieter than it should be. A test if you will. A bit like sending the apprentice to the shop for a can of striped paint. I can honestly say that I have never done it and never been asked to do it by a band but I have been the victim once or twice when I was first starting out.

The first time was a beauty. We (Bandanna) had picked up a gig supporting Mad Gorilla at the Greenfield Tavern.

The Gorilla’s in full flight.
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Stage diving and crowd surfing is a phenomenon that has become popular over the last 10 or 15 years. The idea being that after diving from the stage, the crowd will catch you and you won’t end up on your arse on the floor. When the crowd is in good form you can stay aloft for quite awhile.

This is what it looks like when all goes to plan. From a Celibate Rifles gig on the Sunshine Coast.

When it doesn’t work, it can occasionally lead to tears. I was having a bourbon with my Brother on the weekend when he told me a funny story I thought I’d share here.

He was working with the Hoodoo Gurus on their last ever tour and was doing a gig at Sawtell RSL on the NSW north coast. The club is typical of most. Stage, dancefloor then an area for tables & chairs all set up in nice long rows. Quite often you will set up the mixing position at the rear of the dancefloor in front of the tables. This is usually an unobtrusive spot but, depending on the act and venue, you still need to create a “bunker” out of roadcases to keep the punters and their drinks off the gear when they get rowdy.

This particular night the band and crowd were in great form and the stage diving was progressing well. Suddenly my brother noticed a guy at the back of the room. He had climbed onto the table and seemed to be trying to work out whether he could dive from the tables, over the mixing bunker, and into the crowd from the rear.

Off he went at blinding speed along the tables with drinks flying everywhere. After a few stumbles along the way, he hit the end of the row of tables at pace and launched himself into the air. Having underestimated both the distance and his ability to fly he ended up landing face first on the mixing console which knocked him out cold! Security was called and the guy was carried off for treatment. This all came as quite a surprise to the poor bugger standing there operating the sound gear that night. They normally don’t attack from the rear.

My brother says they spent quite a while on their hands and knees looking for knobs that the guy knocked off the mixer with his face. They didn’t find them all and he still suspects that the guy left that night with a mixer knob embedded in his forehead!

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