 |
Behind every successful band there's a whole host of
stuff going on behind the scenes that the average devotee
or head never gets to see. The meticulous planning that
goes into every live show can take hours but the punter
only witnesses the end result - the thirty minutes
(including encores) of Stage Action as a band like Gama
go through their paces, belting out the hits. |
The Head Honcho in the Gama Road Crew was a
strategically shaved monkey who, as part of the
terms of his parole, was known by his real name, Steve Reeves (the bloated one in the picture).
As stubborn as a mule - many people thought he
looked like one, too - there was no doubt he was
brilliant at lifting heavy objects. Once famously dubbed
"the unacceptable
face of British Industry" by tennis ace Ann Jones, Reeves proved a
hard taskmaster who prided himself not on his
appearance (for that would have been ludicrous!)
but on his organisational powers which were
legendary in the music industry. As one German
commentator put it, Reeves could indeed
"organise a piss-up in a Brauerei".
During his time with the band, Reeves kept a diary which, although demonstrating a degree of illiteracy hitherto unclassified by educationalists, provided a wealth of detail and a first rate insight into life on the road with a top-notch rock band like Vasco da Gama. These memoirs are to be published next year by the Lesbian Press and, according to a spokes-man-hater, will justify a popular hatred of men and broaden it's appeal Reeves left the organisation six months after the band split in late 1979 when he realised that he had not been paid for nearly a year and that the van was now empty.
Reeves' right hand man, and the brains of the
team was Bazza Walrus-Keough,
49, a fiddle player who had once released an
album of East European thigh slapping songs but
who preferred life out of the spotlight. The
Walrus was a gritty, tough, no-nonsense
Yorkshireman who, in addition to being gritty,
was tough and would stand no nonsense. He had
previously worked with the stones during a stint
as a gardener and had looked after the stranglers
during their stay in Armley. It was this
impressive CV (or resume if you're American)
which had landed him the job with Gama. Far more
popular and approachable than Reeves (clearly not
difficult) the Walrus quit minutes after the end
of the Gama Farewell Concerto at The Albert Hall,
Knaresboro to go into licensed premises. The
Walrus is 49.
The junior of the three man team was Stoaty Herringbone. Stoaty, so-called because
he could do a great impression of a stoat, had
been hired by Reeves who had been impressed by
this impressive impression and because he had got
the impression that if he could off-load some of
his work load by the bucket load onto the round
shoulders of the young stoat then he would have
more time to devote to perfecting his own (at
that time unimpressive) impression of a
strategically shaved monkey. The Stoat turned out
to be an excellent lifter of heavy things and his
level of commitment and enthusiasm allowed Reeves
to spend more time with his feet up, eating
bananas. As a result Reeves became a real monkey
and the Stoat saw that the work got done.
Immediately following the Gama
Farewell Concerto at the Concertgebouw in
Pudsey, the Stoat announced his
retirement from no business like Show
Biz, claiming that there were "no
people like show people, like, no people
I know". He now works as a
self-employed impersonator of furry
mammals and lives in a wall.
All stoats mentioned in this feature are fictitious and any relevance to any stoat living or dead is purely coincidental and should be accepted in a stoat-like manner. Any person with a grievance should phone the Stoat Line - have pen and paper ready, this item is not available in any shop.