Retrospect
By Graham Spence, 2006
(The early years)
What was to become a life long journey began when I was about seven years old.
With two friends, I would trundle off to the local shop and ask for empty cardboard boxes. These were used as drums; cane from a garden would be used as drum sticks. Walking sticks, cricket bats or anything we could hold like a guitar would suffice. A length of string attached to one of these objects would run to the back of more cardboard boxes which portrayed the lead wire and amplifiers. Low-tech eh! Sad I know, but that’s how it was – virtual reality.
These early simulations gave way to my first guitar one Christmas when I acquired a martin-Collette acoustic. The action on it was much better than bats and things, and now, I had audio.
I was fascinated by the look and sound of all musical instruments – except brass - and I was eager to familiarise myself with as many as I could. My mother was musical so there was always a piano in the home and I would go between this and the guitar.
None of my pop and rock heroes played the piano, so I was always trying to escape to guitar, bass or drums. However, it became apparent that I had a certain amount of natural ability for the piano when I was heard improvising having had no previous experience. So I persevered, but for a short while only, and looked at the basic rudiments of music, orchestration and piano via the Royal School of Music.
I soon had an itch to pursue my interest in other instruments; I was never keen with the piano and was eager to move from its restrictions to the synthesizer. I had also reached a stage where I wanted to play in a rock band. In desperation; I began to ask everyone I knew if they could play something. In the sparsely populated area where he lived it would always be a struggle. Sheep, farmers and builders were of little use to me! I eventually got two others who were passable, not really committed, but it was a start. We began rehearsals at my parent’s home on Sunday afternoons until our first gig. After about a year, one of them left his brief musical encounter for agricultural college. The guitarist and I persevered awhile longer until he left in the summer. Yes, he was a farmer, and it was time to make hay.
Not long after, I moved my music equipment into an empty cottage on a, guess what, farm. From there I worked with other people. There was no rent to pay - something you would not expect these days - we just fed the electric metre when necessary. It was ideal; the nearest neighbours were two fields away so the noise factor was never a hassle for anyone. At break times we would sit outside on the garden wall looking across open fields and hills. After evening sessions in the winter, as we left the building, the last one out would have to turn the light off and fumble around in the dark to lock the rehearsal room door with the primitive lock that we had fitted. The next task was to stumble along a passageway to the front door where the others were waiting. Then off we went into the night and one step closer. Closer to what, I’m still not sure?
I went back there while filming a music DVD. Surprisingly, Very little had changed; it was strange walking in the old rooms of the house again. The stairs to the second rehearsal room felt very fragile. Like these situations do, it evoked many memories - mainly naive.
The first band that I was working with from there soon encountered the ‘house of death’ working men’s club. I can’t remember who got the gig but it soon became apparent that the crowd were not compatible with our repertoire. Glittery suits and a change of cloth at half-time was the order of the day, coupled with the inevitable ’’play something we know’’ syndrome. We knew while we were playing through the first set that the red card was imminent. It was the final straw. As we launched into our rendition of ‘Hey Joe’ the sing-along ‘’plastic eared’’ audience mumbled and spluttered into their beers, before submitting. At least we were paid-off!
By 1974 I became tired of the commercial scene and searched for something more musically demanding and adventurous. I found this in the progressive rock area. I was also intrigued with the keyboard synthesizer pioneers who were mainly based in Germany and France.
Next stop was Sale, Greater Manchester. I went there after placing an advert in the national ‘Melody Maker’. The band that answered the advert had just retuned from Denmark and required a keyboards player and new bassist before returning to work there. The band was led by Peter Coldwell, a guitarist / vocalist from London who had a reputable agent. He made all the decisions and motivated the band to rehearse - or tried to. It soon became apparent that the new bassist was virtually nocturnal. I remembered he unwisely slept in a room with windows closed and a paraffin heater burning. Somehow he survived. Most days he surfaced from his room about 1400 hrs. Our drummer, Dave Smith, was a diabetic who pumped more sugar than insulin; consequently he was often unwell and couldn’t be bothered with the necessary work. These negative contributions led to the band line-up inevitably failing regardless of us having passports ready for our departure. Realising this, my departure came first.
While at Manchester, I had got to know the band who rehearsed in the room next door. They played their own work of a progressive rock nature. I remember thinking at the time that I was in the wrong room. They were the kind of band I had been looking for. One of them told me their keyboards player was not cutting it, plus he didn’t sing. I discussed the possibility of joining them. Less than a week later, just after I had arrived back at my dales home, they contacted me. I quickly returned to the city to start work on their repertoire. It was worth waiting for. We all got along very well and the music soon began to sound tight. I didn’t realise how big they were at first, they had established themselves with good management and were gigging the university and college circuit. This was the best door that had opened so far; I had about six weeks to learn the set before the first concert. I worked on the set most afternoons and evenings, as well as the official full band sessions. They were called ‘’Lactivy’’ and had grown a substantial following since their debut gig in March 1971. My first gig with them was Liverpool University on July 15 1976. Having been used to smoky bar gigs, this was suddenly a much higher level, and one that suited me fine. We worked what I call ‘cluster’ concerts. Maybe ten in two weeks, then a few weeks off before the same again.
I was about ten years younger than the rest of the band members, but that was never a problem. I got to know many other people in the Manchester music scene at the time. In particular the late Melvin Pritchard who had played drums for ‘Barclay James Harvest’ since it’s inception in 1967. Phil, our bassist had lived only a few doors away from Melvin many years ago and had kept in contact. While I was in Manchester that year B.J.H. were recording ‘’Octoberan’’. I was with Phil and Melvin one day and I remember him asking Melvin about the idea of us playing support for their album tour. We never did but it was close, the support had only just been finalised. The few live improvised sessions I played with Melvin and Phil are particularly memorable. Now that I had established myself with the band, I moved back to my parent’s home in the dales to start work on other projects for when we were not gigging.
Next stop was Newcastle for a session and discussion with a Scottish band that were based there. Nothing developed, as was the case with my next trip to a covers band in Leicester who specialised in alcohol and various other substances more than music.
I returned home disillusioned. Gigs with Lactivy were down to an annual three weeks tour, which was fine, but with forty nine weeks of the year remaining I needed to find other projects to work on. Instead of pursuing bands, I decided to turn my attention to song-writing and wrote my first song. Considering how things were at the time, it was appropriately named ‘‘World Weary’’. I recorded the song and flip-side in January 1977 without any financial backing. Although the record did gain some positive media coverage, with no serious injection it was never going to break. Radio presenter and former host of the seventies ’Old Grey Whistle Test’, Bob Harris, took a few copies off me while he was up this way with the Yorkshire based band ‘Wally’. I was very naïve as to how the industry worked in those days, looking back it was always destined for oblivion.
In October that year a musician had heard of my recording and contacted me to suggest that we should put a band together to promote the single locally. We eventually formed the band ‘’Emmanuel’’, but quickly aborted the idea of plugging the record. Instead we worked on creating music which developed into a simplistic ‘’prog rock’’ sound. This band curdled right on the ‘use-by ‘date, May 1979.
Although I experimented with ideas and a few musicians, the early eighties held very little. These were none productive years. To be an artist you have to be an optimist or a masochist. I’ll settle for realistic optimism, life is miserable without it! Anyway, to make a living I attempted the almost impossible task – for me anyway - of getting on to the commercial club circuit. It sounds like a nauseating idea now. I learned a two hour set of covers and attended many club audition nights. Ouch….. It was a waste of memory power and energy! I must have believed that I could actually pull it off. I was advised by one agent to head for the folk club scene. So, deluded as I surely was, I shuffled my repertoire around to incorporate some of my own work to mingle with folk songs. I played numerous bar gigs but never got on to the folk circuit. It seemed like the whole world and his wife, dog, cat and goldfish were all wailing folk songs. There was enough going on in those circles, it was jaded and full just like the whole music scene is now.
Things improved slightly in 1985 when I recorded my debut album, ‘’Induced Sleep’’ - now deleted. I formed ‘Graham Spence Rock Ensemble’ the following summer by recruited fellow dales-man and bass player Barry McDougall. To complete the band I discovered two reputable musicians. From Bradford, Trevor Smith drums, and guitarist Dave Nutbrown from Wakefield who had past associations with Bill Nelson’s ‘Be-Bop Deluxe’. We never gigged much. In October a road accident took the life of Barry while travelling to a gig. Trevor Smith then left the band shortly afterwards. Dave and I used a bassist and drummer we called – ‘Dick’ and ‘Dora’ - for a large concert which had been booked in advance. I should have cancelled really, but the gig was too good to miss. We were not really on it; the newcomers were not suitable musically or personally. I knew while I was playing that I didn’t want to do this anymore. I had finally had it with bands. The host of the gig was threatening to pull the plugs on the amplifiers before we went on because the background music was too loud. Not a bright idea with a 4,000 watt system! My sound engineer rightly told them ‘’If you do we will sue’’ for what would have been inevitable damage.
After some time had passed I lumbered myself with a three piece acoustic group. It must have been a momentary lapse of reasoning. I had obviously temporarily forgotten the hassle associated with bands. I was soon reminded!
In 1991 I remained solo, and that’s how it has been ever since. Publishing began and I fitted-out my first studio. Mission accomplished! I had finally found what had been a very illusive niche. The ideas flowed like rushing water in the form of two relatively quick albums. A great deal followed, and hopefully there will be more to come?