Episode Four..Craigtoun Calling

That was the message on the back of the T-shirts for the ill fated (well financially anyway) Fife Aid Festival of 1988. The idea was to raise money and awareness of touchy feely green issues by gathering together a big load of energy wasting sound and light equipment and running it all for the best part of two days. Add in a load of cars, vans and gas guzzling trucks and there was no doubt that we could save the planet..maaaaan.

Big George and The Business were invited, via the Pictish Embassy, to perform on one of the secondary stages and we reached the park on the outside of St Andrew’s without undue hassle. Mother Nature, ungrateful biatch that she was, had other ideas though. Performances had been stopped on Stage B due to large concentration of water gathered in the tarpaulin directly above the above the monitor desk. It looked like it was going to burst any second, and a team of stagehands were trying to coax it off the front of the stage with long brushes.

Eventually the all clear was given, the gear was set up and George and co began the set. I had been instructed to go out front for a bit to check out the sound, and to prod the engineer if necessary. All was fine, so I stood for a bit marvelling at the antics of the mud sliding maniacs in the crowd. I was then asked by a fella in a suit ( A suit? In this weather?) who the guy playing guitar was. “That’s Big George” says I. “He’s bloody good eh?” replied the suit. “Sure is” I agreed.

I never thought any more about it….

After the well received performance, we all proceeded to enter the festival spirit and head for the Main Stage. Jack Bruce was great, Runrig were Runrig and (though no one knew this at the time) Marillion were doing their last show with Fish.

After a night in the van listening to more rain, we emerged to the news that the organisers wanted us to hang around, as they needed a stand by band for Day 2. There were rumours that John Martyn may not be showing up to do his slot between Rick Wakeman and Van Morrison. A good few hours of hanging about ensued. I wandered for a while and saw sets by Steve Hackett, Davy Spillane, and Phil Manzanera and his all star band. “That looks like Scott Gorham of Lizzy,” I thought at one point, and on moving closer to the stage it was!

Eventually band, crew and hangers on were ushered to the back stage area to set up in case we had to take the stage in a hurry. Alas it was not to be as a car rolled up, and John Martyn rolled out. We were consoled with a bottle if whisky and loitered in the stage side tent for a while. I spotted Mr Fish outside, and I asked him in for a drink. He politely declined as he was off to see John Martyn play.

After a while we decided to head out front to watch Van Morrison close the show, which he did in classic fashion with a pick up band that he had only met a few days before.

After the last notes, George and I found ourselves backstage and this is when it got weird. I was approached yet again by that same man in the suit. “Big George?” he said “I’d like to introduce…”

“You don’t need to introduce him!” said George “Awright Fish? How ya doin?” A brief meeting of kindred spirits ensued, until Fish remarked that the wife was giving him the “we’re leaving” look.

We left for home knackered but happy.

Epilogue

Just after the Fife Aid show, an article in The List reported that George had been asked to join Fish’s solo band. No one knew where this had come from.

We crossed paths again on a few occasions, BGB supported him on a warm up tour in 1992 and George played guitar on an unsuccessful World Cup song featuring Fish on vocals. This led to the guys playing at his 40^th birthday party, memories of which are dim but I’m sure there was an encounter with Tony Hadley at one point.

“I know you” says George “You’re a singer, right?”

Foghorn Tony replies, “That’s right”

“Hawd on, I’ve got it.” Says George “Deep Purple?!!”

The answer was unclear…

Part Three..bits and pieces

Some random short bursts and one liners from vans, shows, parties and the like.

After one if the first few gigs, while dropping off the legendary jazzer Tony McLellan, Jimmy Dewar asks me “What do you prefer to be called, is it Ricky, Richie, Richard or what?”

“I don’t really mind” I reply

“Anything but Dick eh?” says Jimmy

I still use that to this day.

***********

A friend of my father once asked George “What height are you”

“About six foot”

“Is that why they call you Big George”?

“Nope”

***********

While searching for a gig somewhere in the Highlands, Shifty enquired of a young local “Do you know where the Copacabana Barn is?”

“Are you Big George?” he replied

“Naw!!! Ahhm Big George!” replied the man in question.

It was an actual barn folks; the gear went in through the farmyard while avoiding all manner of animals. The PA was mounted on haystacks and it was so cold the guitars kept going out of tune; we had to ask the “management” to point the heaters at the “stage” to warm it up now and then.

After spending the night at the Aberdeen home Marlene Ross, late and much-missed Runrig manager, George performed with an all-star local line up at Caesar’s Palace. He had burst his trousers the night before I seem to remember…resulting in an interesting pop out incident.

BG and I were then billeted at a local bed and breakfast, to be awoken the next day by a crazy Welshman offering us a champagne breakfast. “I’ve only got the champagne, mind you,” he explained. This was not a problem.

We were then treated to a mid day strip joint (yes mid day, blazing sunshine and all) where George was initially denied entry on account of not having a shirt on. Having taken our seats in the sparsely attended venue, we were served with a pint and some stovies while an aged exotic dancer tried to drive folk wild. Classy joint…

(Please note that the above three incidents may not have taken place on the same day.or the same week..but they sure add up to a fun packed twenty fours any way you look at it)

******

To pass time during soundchecks, George would often be heard chanting “Biko! Bikoooo!” while bass drums were being done. “Get the juke box on!!” was also used as a pit down for lesser musicians.

*****

I never actually saw this one, but Shifty once told me of a “musical differences” incident between Big G and a drummer..don’t ask me which one.

It got to the stage where George was told to “stick his band up his arse” to which he replied “ Right! That’s it..OUTSIDE!”. The fact that the van was in motion at the time made no odds, and the two scrappers hit the ground with arms and legs flailing. The fact that they were both rather blootered, and wearing rather large and cumbersome greatcoats made sure that no serious damage was done.

There was a wee frisson the next day, but most of it was resolved.

We’ll finish with some true words imparted to me by George Ross Watt the celebrated philosopher.

“Richie, there’s folk that wear glasses..and there’s specky bastards”.

Til the next time troops…

Episode 2

Working with Big George and The Business really was a scaled down version of a major rock band on the road. It was all there, with moments that even Spinal Tap would not have experienced. The band went to eleven every night, whether on a big stage in Montreal or in a barn in the North of Scotland. Yes folks we gigged here, there and everywhere inbetween!

Let’s switch to memory shuffle function and see what comes up….

This one could have been 1992, as I remember Neil Young’s Harvest Moon had just come out. The German company who had released the CD version of The Alleged Album has gathered together a motley collection of the artists on the label (BGB were the only artists who were both still alive or gigging regularly)

to do a gig at the Manchester International 2.

It sounds good doesn’t it? Prepare for the reality..

We were advised to be there as early as possible for the soundcheck, so all converged at George Ross Watt HQ at stupid o’clock to await Shifty and the van. Gear loaded and bodies on seats front and back we headed South, with much banter and the usual soundtrack on the cassette machine.

Manchester itself was located without much of a problem, but the location of the International 2 itself proved to be more elusive. I remember passing Strangeways Prison on at least two occasions, once on the left and once on the right. The alleged map was again consulted, and a new route planned.

We seemed to be in the right area when we spotted an AA sign pointing us in the direction of “Psychedelic Rave-Manchester International 2”. George commented, “That’d better be an old fucking sign!” Having located the venue, we tried to get in. After some Glesga strength hammering on doors and windows, we managed to find someone. They called for the “promoter”, who was the UK arm of the Worldwide Records operation.

Chris was from Cheshire, and perhaps the slowest person (in terms of both movement and intellect) I have ever encountered. “The PA is not due until 4pm” he informed us, as we looked at the current time of 11am. “We thought you’d be late so got you to come down early, but don’t worry you can book into the hotel now.” He gave us directions for the hotel, but advised that we would have to assume the identities of a local firm of builders as the hotel “weren’t too keen on musicians”. The explanation given was that a running battle between The Orb and the Chippendales had once taken place in the hotel corridors. We doubted our ability to match this.

The hotel was indeed posh, a converted warehouse in Manchester City Centre, and we somehow managed to pass as an out take from Auf Wiedersehen Pet to get checked in. Deke and I shared a room, which seemed to be right in the very heart of the building. Wondering why there were still windows in such a location, we opened the curtains to reveal a fake New York skyline. No wonder a fight broke out. Relaxing was done for a short period….

After following the length of string, we again passed Strangeways and arrived back at the utter dive that was the International. Chris informed us, as if we couldn’t already see, that things were behind schedule. There was good news however, the beer had arrived and was in the dressing room. He actually meant the venue’s kitchen, but there was indeed beer. Beer of 3.5% ABV….

We did our best but it was not having anywhere near the desired effect, or indeed any effect. Imagine the joy that ensued when George located some that was 4.2%! The soundcheck was duly done at was then announced that the chaps would not be on stage until 10pm. Appearing above one half of obscure 70’s one tiny hit wonders Medicine Head and Pete Brown (lyricist for Cream) but below utterly unheard of 70’s prog band Body was indeed the icing on the cake! We retired again to the dressing room, having decided that an increased quantity of a decreased strength bevvy may be the way forward.

This kinda captures it…

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=4120297&id=1981034659

The BGB performance itself was as per the usual high standard, though the gig was running later and later. So late if fact that the plug was pulled and the lights turned on during the “triumphant” headline performance by Body, who I was surprised to see on stage as I though most of there were fellow road crew types taking advantage of the low percentage rider!

We returned home with a sober song in our hearts.