by
David Booker

After all these years I am still playing music full time. I moved to Denver Colorado, USA in 1981 from London, where I had been involved with the music scene since 1970.

I went through the whole pub rock thing in London. My activities included playing in folk-rock band Eclection, putting out two singles on Polydor with a band called "Swampfox" (lots of BBC airplay on those), getting an album deal with Limey on RCA, working with TS Tony McPhee as his bass player for a while, auditioning for Badfinger (they told me I had the gig—one more guy to see, it was Joey Molland), Manfred Mann's Earthband (Manfred asked me back to play 3 times with him but I did not get the gig) and finally working 3 gigs a week on the pub scene and doing a day job in advertising.

I spent 10 years in London, mostly living in a one room, cold water flat. Ten years of sex, booze and rock ’n’ roll with a little cocaine on the side. It was time to move on—to the USA. But first, let's go back to the beginning.

I was born to Denton based parents. My dad, Tom Bowker, was captain of Denton St Lawrence Cricket Club and had played with Sir Leary Constantine’s team in "friendlies" with the England players in the 30s.

Dad with my mum. 1938. (Still dating)

In 1949, I was 15 months old and my brother was 4—suddenly my dad was dead (mastoid in ear punctured). My Mum moved us all to Prestwich and bought a big house at 203 Heywood Road—that's where my first memories appear.

203 Heywood Rd Prestwich, Manchester age 3 1950.

Denton Central School shot. Age 6.

Mum moved all the family, aunt and grandparents, in together but it did not work out, so back to Denton and a house opposite where we used to live on Sunningdale Rd.

When I was about 8, I heard Lonnie Donegan doing "Rock Island Line" on the radio and then Elvis' "Heartbreak Hotel." It must have been 1955 or '56. The next thing I know I'm told we are moving to America to be with my Aunt Peggy, who had married a GI in the war and was living in Connecticut.

Lonnie Donegan recorded Leadbelly's "Rock Island Line" in the mid fifties. It sold 3 million copies in UK alone and shot to number one forever, sparking off thousands of guitar sales to people like Pete Townsend, Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck...

Bridgeport, Connecticut was like a mixture of Grease and The Fonz—very surreal but I loved it over there. The radio was nothing like the BBC—it played Chuck Berry, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, the Coasters, Dell Vikings, Bo Diddley and Elvis, day and night—you name it, I heard it.

After two years of this we moved back to UK. By now I had a step-dad and this time it was Wilmslow, Cheshire where I grew up from age 11 to the time I left for Beirut, age 21, in 1968.

My friend Carl's dad, (The Neilsons) took us to New York City for the circus, and a day sightseeing. My brother Tom, and me (10) coming up from the subway. March, 1957.

By 1958, my brother, Tom, started buying Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley and Jerry Lee Lewis 45s and Little Richard EPs—I remember saving up 5/6d to buy my first ever single—Buddy Holly's "Think It Over."

16 Strawberry Lane, Wilmslow Cheshire. We lived here when we got back from USA. 1958 'till I split in 1969. The University of Chuck, Bo and Carl.

Shortly after enrolling at Manchester Royal College of Art, Tom was now bringing home LPs of Chuck, Bo, and Carl Perkins; he was also bringing home EPs of Muddy Waters.

From there I started discovering blues artists by myself. Pretty soon I had several 45s on the Pye R'n'B label by Howlin' Wolf, and other Chess artists. I found an LP called Authentic R'n'B with names like Slim Harpo, Lightnin' Slim and Lazy Lester. This kind of stuff really got me excited. The beat, the swamp grooves, ethereal harmonicas—I was hooked for life.

2 VERY influential LP's One Dozen Berries-Chuck Berry, and GO! Bo Diddley-Bo Diddley. Played em' to death at home in Wilmslow.

Chuck and Bo were so enormously popular in UK, PYE Records put out combined EP's (45s with 2 tracks each on them) there were several volumes of these for those folks who could not get enough.

2 more LPs from my youth. American Folk Blues Festival from 1962, and my introduction to Louisiana Swamp Blues;' Authentic R&B, 1963.

I was getting bored with Boy Scouts. Opposite the Scout hall lived a guy called Mick Rhodes who played guitar. My brother and I had dabbled in guitar playing; we knew E, A, D, and B, and had jammed on "Blue Suede Shoes" continuously in the house. My brother by now had his own electric guitar with a Selmer amp and was gigging around Manchester with one of his art school buddies.

First Gig Wilmslow Secondary Modern School dance, 1962.

I decided to play with Mick Rhodes. He had a drummer friend Derek Chadwick who was older than me...everybody was older than me at this point! We started playing regularly in Mick's front room, doing Shadows tunes and "Walk Don't Run" and "Perfidia" by The Ventures. We called ourselves "The Echoes." It was 1961 or 62. A school dance was coming up and I was allowed to take The Echoes to play at my school, Wilmslow Secondary Modern. It was my first gig! I sang and played rhythm on a borrowed Lucky 7 guitar, with Derek and Mick.

We did really well as I recall. I think we put everything, including vocals, through Mick’s Vox amp! Shortly after that Mick said we should try out Cliff Bowes on vocals and Joe Henshall on bass—then we would have a real band.

It came together fast; Cliff had standards and charisma that rubbed off on me, he had experience in live gigs and booking and instinctively I picked up a lot from him at a very young age. He was a very special guy, may he rest in peace.

We became Cliff Bowes and the Arrows. With Cliff’s high standards, we became a popular group and the gigs started coming in. I was getting confidence in this game. My fanaticism for R'n'B and Chuck Berry was getting the better of me.

Cliff was doing Gene Vincent, and more Gene Vincent, which I liked but I wanted to get raw and rockin’ with some of those Bo Diddley beats.

I recruited two school friends and a grammar school kid Gordon Thornton on drums and announced I was forming my own band—at age 16. The Drifting Hearts were born!

Cliff Bowes and The Arrows at Mere Country Club about 1963 (David far left).

 

L-R: David: guitar, vocals; Pete Faulkner: bass; Gordon Thornton: drums; Barry Gouldsborough: vocals.

The years 1963, '64 and '65 proved to be quite interesting years. The Drifting Hearts were playing regularly at local youth clubs, and had supported The Four Pennies and Herman’s Hermits. One evening at the Jungfrau, we opened for Ivan’s Meads.

The rest of the guys were not paying attention, because I was floored with the Meads’ performance that night. Their interpretations of material by Howlin' Wolf, Jimmy Witherspoon and John Lee Hooker inspired me to go up to one of them and let it be known if they ever needed anyone, they should ring me.

Onstage at Bury Palais 1964. The place where Herman's Hermits had built up such a following before international stardom. David on lefthand Hofner Beatle bass; Ivan Robinson: vocals maracas; Roger Cox: guitar; Ian Howard: drums. Alan Powell replaced Howard, and Mayall came in shortly afterwards.

Three weeks later, I am working as a junior production guy in an ad agency in Manchester (Wilson Advertising) when my Mum calls me and says Ivan’s Meads want you, on bass. Within days, I was a Mead. The Meads were based out of Middleton, miles from Wilmslow and it was a tough haul, day job, rehearse after work, last train home from Piccadilly station to Wilmslow, then walk home from the station about a mile or two. This was 3 or 4 times a week, plus gigs all over the place in places like Bury Palais. We added Alan Powell on drums and Rod Mayall on Farfisa Organ.

Hitting the big time! with Sonny Boy Williamson and Rod Mayall (right) David on left of picture. Free Trade Hall Manchester 1964.

Shortly after this I began to realize that these guys intended to go pro any minute. I was exhausted by this double life I was leading and decided to call it quits with the band. It was an amicable parting and I decided to form something a little closer to home.

I called the new band "The Big City Blues" after the recent Howlin' Wolf mini tour with Chris Barber and Long John Baldry that came to Manchester.

Taking a leaf out of the Cliff Bowes' playbook, I decided to become lead singer which would give me more time to book and promote things more efficiently.

 

 

 

First ever demo. A James Brown tune.

 

Strongest line-up of the Big City Blues - Moss: saxophone; Quick: drums; Bowker: vocals, harp; Burrows: bass; Ron Walker: guitar (not in picture).

I started picking up the phone and hassling the Abadi Bros at the Twisted Wheel for gigs. It paid off. After playing a few off nights at the Wheel, we were awarded the honour of backing Champion Jack Dupree at the Blackpool and Manchester Wheel Venues. The guitar player, Ron Walker, was still only 15!

Champion Jack Dupree playing our drum kit. November 1965. We backed him on several appearances at legendary world famous Manchester, and Blackpool Twisted Wheel clubs.

We did a great job, and backed Jack again at the Manchester Sports Guild, about a year or two later. I started to get interested in playing sax after we added a great sax player to the line-up, Dave Moss. He played me some Sonny Rollins which I thought was amazing. We were doing some stuff by Mose Allison and Jimmy Witherspoon and I loved James Brown and Junior Walker. I wanted to get funky...I bought my own sax. I always have had an instinct for when something has played itself out and to make a move onward, over, under sideways or down. By 1966 The Big City Blues were on the ropes, nothing was happening; even the word "blues" had a dated ring to it. The future lay in funky R'n'B as being laid down by James Brown and Otis Redding.

Stax and Motown sounds ruled in Manchester now. I must have driven my mother crazy as I attempted to learn every soul lick in the book from records played repeatedly over and over again in the kitchen, while my Mum was trying to watch TV.

I had a Selmer Mk6 tenor sax screeching all over the house for hours on end. Finally, I actually got it down and within 6 months I was in The Gin House run by Kevin Bowden, the keyboard player.

Kevin had a Vox Continental which was the next best thing to a Hammond in those days! I was hired as a second horn player. A guy called Phil was the main tenor sax man and soon the two tenors were sounding great as a section in this funky Gin House band.

The Gin House: Back: Melia, Burrows, Walker, Front: Bowden, Bowker.

One by one members of The Big City Blues were recruited, and one day after drunkenly hitting an old age pensioners' bus on the way to the Blackpool Wheel while driving the band, Phil was fired and suddenly I was the singing sax player/front man.

Enter Roger Eagle, the famous Wheel DJ, and his partner Laurence Selcoe, who approached us with the idea of backing Milton James, "The Boy From New York City."

Milton was young, gifted and black. He was sensational, so we changed our name to Milton James and the Milton James Band. We played all over Lancashire, Yorkshire and down to Nottingham. Wherever we went, we wowed 'em and got booked back immediately. Milton did an amazing Alvin Cash style dance routine and knocked 'em dead everywhere we went.

For the first time in music, I felt we were creating a "buzz" in the business; Eagle and Selcoe were delivering the goods, and the gigs. I'll never know quite where Milton was from, but it sure wasn't New York City! We played along with it though, even adopting fake American accents onstage to impress the girls. It worked! It all ended rather suddenly when we demanded more money and refused to cart Milton's PA around any more! Rather childish when you think about it now, but it was a big deal back then!

"The Boy From New York City". . . Ahem!

I went back to my day job in advertising, by this time I was with another agency, Ingham Butterworth. It was 1967 I took a break from playing...until the phone rang.

I had been put into a production department at Ingham Butterworth with two ignorant twits who kinda got on my nerves every day so I was not a happy camper at this job. Picking up the phone I heard Alan Powell’s voice on the line.

" 'Daydo' (that's what he called me) I just joined The Richard Kent Style. Their sax player is leaving, we are going to Germany and then we are backing Del Shannon for 3 weeks. After that it's Paul Jones and Dave Berry. It's time to quit your job."

I took one look around me and within 2 days I was a member of The Richard Kent Style on tenor.

L-R: Bowker, Alan Powell, Neil Levine, Harvey Starr, Ron Smith, Harvey Rose.

It all panned out nicely for a while—I enjoyed Germany, Del was great to work with and so were Paul and Dave Berry. We recorded a single for MCA, "Love Will Shake the World Awake," which was abysmal, though the 'B' side "Crocodile Tears" rocked nicely with John Verity’s guitar and reasonable harp from me. We did some nice BBC sessions in London, went to Belgium with Dave Berry and did 5 weeks in Portugal at Estoril, but there was something missing.

I was not making much money, I had just turned 21 and there seemed to be endless cabaret up in Newcastle and Sunderland and Sheffield and Stockton on Tees and Middlesborough—it just did not seem we were going anywhere.

 

 

 

Fairly historical line-up!

 

Richard Kent (Harvey Starr) and David Bowker reunited in Denver 2008 where they both now live.

I played on the last 45 release "A Little Bit O' Soul" on Mercury, which had been a USA hit for a band called "The Music Explosion" but it flopped miserably when we covered it. I was not looking forward to another extended stream of chicken-in-a-basket gigs.

45 rpm single

A chance meeting with the Fagin-like Kirk St. James helped me to see a way out of this situation. My Mum once told me "Never trust a Brummie" and she was right in two cases; my dealings with Kirk St. James and later, the girl I married then divorced were from Birmingham. Both were bad choices for me. Let’s deal with Roland Alex Boyce aka "Kirk St. James"—Roland—Kirk get it?

The man could sing like Jimmy Witherspoon or Johnny Taylor. He had a magnificent voice and some may remember him winning New Faces on the Beeb in the 70s and also in a cameo role in John Goodman’s movie "King Ralph."

He had a thick Birmingham accent and was a member of a Birmingham band The Nomads in the early 60s. He appeared on the Manchester scene quite suddenly and was holding down a house gig at Bredbury Hall in Stockport with Studio One, a horn/Hammond organ band comprising of mainly old Big City Blues/Gin House band members.

45 rpm single on Mercury

I used to go down to see him as often as I could whenever I was not gigging with The Richard Kent Style. I'm not sure how I was offered this very shaky gig to go to Beirut, Lebanon for 3 months but he must have got me at the right time as I was disgruntled with the way things were working out for me in The Richard Kent Style. I had recently started seriously dating Davina Goldstein, a singer who had just left The Dollies female singing group. We spent a lot of time listening to Paul Butterfield’s Pigboy Crabshaw and Electric Flag's (featuring Mike Bloomfield) Long Time Comin albums together. I was thinking "This is the gal for me" but it was not to be. The offer of a trip to Beirut was too tempting to pass up; Davina said she could handle waiting 3 months. So off I went into one of the biggest disaster gigs of my life...but you know, I would not have missed it for the world.

Kirk had assembled quite possibly the strangest ensemble known to man.

Les Crompton (lead) and Ray Gibson (drums) were a couple of lovable 'eee by gummies’ from the Glossop/Stockport area; and Pete Marsh on Hammond was a posh, nervous, cigarette smoking guy. They all could play but we had not played together—in fact we did not get to rehearse till we got to Beirut. Fortunately we gelled rather well; I was on bass and vocals.

We had been scheduled to include two go-go dancers for this strange soul revue, via our agent Ted Lemon (yes he was called that, you can't make stuff like this up) in London; we met them on the plane as we left on our flight from Heathrow.

The girls actually were Soho strippers, Penny Blue and Helen (her last name eludes me). After awhile I got into a raging affair with Helen and upon returning to London was knocking off Penny too—but that's another story! Upon arriving in Beirut we were met by a grinning cocky disco looking guy in an orange shirt, white bell bottoms and white boots; his name was Tony Coe, former roadie for Geno Washington and he was the club DJ at Rasputin’s or "Raspoutine" as some called it.

Kirk St. James singing in Beirut club Raspoutine, 1968.

Once we got our gear set up, we underwent rapid rehearsals to knock the band into shape before we started our "engagement." Initially I did not like Tony at all but eventually we got to be great friends. He lives in Ipswich now and we call/email each other every week 40 years later. He is my brother. Our accommodations were cramped but later we got separate roomier apartments. Unfortunately everything is next to a Mosque in Beirut, so we were awakened repeatedly by loud calls to Allah day and night. We got used to it.

The club Rasputin was owned by an upscale French hooker—a real hard-assed bitch. We had to use transformers to equalise the voltage in our amps.

One night they over-heated and the one that was attached to the organ amp set on fire while we were playing; the fire spread to the stage backdrop. We extinguished it with seltzer bottles but it made a hell of a lot of smoke.

The owner came in and in a typically arrogant French accent said, "Vot is dis? Dis smoke? I do not pay you to make smoke!" I said "Lady your club was on fire we just put it out."

She just turned and walked away. Amazing.

 

The Band left to right: Gibson, Bowker, Marsh, Crompton

Beirut is famous for its American University and back in '68 there was little or no violence. It was known as the Paris of the East, which it was. There were gorgeous Arab girls in mini skirts everywhere and I met a girl named Janet McRobert. Her Dad was Scottish, a pilot for Middle East Airlines, liked jazz and used to drink a lot. Janet spoke fluent Arabic and had a friend called Hodda, who was gorgeous. Both girls fancied me but I opted for Janet, as the idea of confronting Janet's drunken dad appealed to me more than getting tied to a camel and butt fucked by a bunch of angry Arabs should anything go wrong!

Onstage with go-go dancer/stripper "Penny Blue" on a quiet night; Club Raspoutine Beirut, Lebanon 1968.

Upstairs at Rasputin's we ate in the restaurant carte blanche, pigging-out day after day. One day I recall in conversation around a meal someone saying this place will be a bloodbath soon. We kept on gigging and never thought anything about it until one night the Israelis decided to lay a commando raid on the airport and actually blew up 6 Middle East Airline jets.

Things started to deteriorate after that, especially the regular money became rather irregular in arriving in our pockets.

When I left Kirk, with Pete Marsh to play Barbarellas they got the DJ at the club to play bass. It's Tony Coe—he was a roadie with Geno Washington and a London club DJ.

Pete Marsh and I had decided to leave Kirk’s little set-up (some argument about PA rental that Kirk was charging the band for...it was not even his own PA) and we started working a rival club called "Barbarella's" as a Brian Auger/Crazy World Of Arthur Brown-style organ trio using a talented Iranian student guy on drums, Abi.

One early morning taxi ride home after the gig, we were stopped by the Lebanese police. They were bummed about their airport being violated and were looking for Israeli "spies." Pete Marsh and I were with some student friends and both of us were singled out for arrest. After the cops had checked our passports, we were asked to get out of the taxi and get in a jeep. We had machine guns trained on us, so we quickly obliged! We could not read Arabic and had missed the fact that our visas had run out, so the club owner was called to bail us out.

We got out of jail about 7 a.m., quite a night! I remember the cops brandishing their guns in an intimidating way while we were inside. Pete was shaking, but I said, "Don't show them you are scared, I am too, but keep smiling!"

Next day we got our passports updated and at the end of the week the bail/bribe money to the cops that had been paid by the club owner was deducted from our pay!

The go-go girls were allowed to leave after 3 months but the club took up their option of a further 3 months with the band, so we were trapped to say the least, thanks to Ted Lemon.

Organ trio formed with Marsh, playing rival club Barbarella's in 1968.

We took to smoking Lebanese Gold, the best hashish in the world. It was smoked through a water device, a hookah or hubbly bubbly as they called it—it knocked me out every night as we listened to The Beatles’ White Album and Supersession by Bloomfield and Al Kooper. God, were we hip or what? One day Tony and I, who were roommates by now, heard a shuffling in the oven. We called in some of the guys to investigate and found a rat had been living in it, for how long we did not know (must have been the hashish!). Anyway, we lit some paper to flush him out and it did! It darted out, ran across the kitchen through the living room, bedroom and down the shower hole in the bathroom. When we looked up there were five guys standing on chairs screaming—I was one of them! The darn thing was HUGE!

Eventually the day came when we were due to finally leave for home—our apartment rent was in arrears and no one seemed to be responsible. Club Rasputine was practically bankrupt, so no help from there. Our "representative" link guy to the infamous Ted Lemon,  was a character called "Remi," could not be found, and the cops (summoned by the landlord) said that we were not leaving until it had been paid.

After a whip round all was OK but our funds were severely depleted. We just wanted to get out of there, so we embarked on a plane to Sofia Bulgaria where we were laid up for 3 days until we could board our connecting flight on our twin prop Bulgarian Airlines plane to London. It was February in Bulgaria—snowy and cold. It was still a Communist country back then; I recall that everything was grey, damp, and miserable. There was nothing edible—we ate dry bread and drank vodka—but drummer Ray got laid for the first time in six months!

The word got out that there was a British band in town. We were invited to play a student dance which I learned later was illegal; the Communist authorities did not allow rock performances. The kids went crazy! We had some amps and drums supplied but no PA so we played "Spoonful" for half an hour plus a couple of other blues tunes. We were so caught up in being literally carried offstage by these ecstatic kids that I failed to notice all my albums and tapes that I was carrying round (we carted our stuff everywhere so it wouldn't get swiped) had disappeared after we finished!

Freezing in Sofia Bulgaria en route to London from Beirut Feb 1969. Kirk and David.

As we got off the plane at Heathrow, after a hair-raising flight full of turbulence (we had to walk to the terminal) I remember getting on my knees and kissing the cold wet tarmac. We were back in England! I had returned home to Wilmslow with the proverbial tail between my legs. Davina had moved on and we were no longer an item; I didn't blame her one bit. I had struck up a relationship with Janet in Beirut and I remember her visiting Wilmslow for a few days. We hooked up in London a couple of years later, when she moved finally with her parents to Ilford, Essex but it fizzled out eventually and I often wonder—she was really more Arab than British, so I imagine she may still be in the Middle East.

I joined a band called "Money" for a very short time almost immediately on my return from the Beirut experience. Martin Tetlow, organist for The Big City Blues and Studio One Band, was in the band, which was led by a superb guitarist, Alan Faulkner, and they were looking for a singer. I jumped in, eventually becoming bassist/singer, but sadly after 2 months the money finally ran out and just when all was seemingly lost once again the phone rang.

After getting back to Manchester from Beirut, I joined "Money" just long enough for this picture to be taken at the back of our house in Wilmslow! L-R: Bowker: bass, vocals; Dave Melia: drums; Martin Tetlow: organ; Alan Faulkner: guitar, vocals.

Sponge

It was guitarist Barry "Taz" Reynolds from one of the last Ivan’s Meads line–ups; they were just called "Mead" after Ivan left. He was now in a band called "Sponge," being handled by our old friends, Kennedy Street Artists.

It appeared that sax man Jack Lancaster had left to join Blodwyn Pig and I was asked if I would be interested in a gig in the Bahamas doubling on bass and sax and recording an album for Deram when we got back. I thought about it, for a nano second, then said "yes."

Off to Bahamas with "Sponge" L-R: Graham Harrop: guitar; Larry Arends: drums; Brian Chapman: organ; Barry Reynolds: guitar, vocals; Bowker: bass, vocals.

Within days I was on a plane to Freeport on Grand Bahama Island for 2 months of sun, sea, sex and ego-tripping from this would be rock-star band who were soooo serious about, quote "writing." It was May 1969. After a short stop in Bermuda we landed in Freeport, where we started shagging almost as we got off the plane. It was outrageous; we all were. Our behaviour was, to say the least, unsavoury.

Drinking was the main problem; we discovered a cocktail called a "Zombie" which is what it literally turned you into. Our stage antics were outrageous; we had falling down competitions.

One night I fell, and ripped my velvet bellbottoms from the arse to the flyhole. I was wearing no underwear they were that tight, so I was kneeling onstage playing bass with my "knob" exposed to the audience. I heard a crash behind me. Drummer Larry was laughing so hard he had fallen backwards off his drum stool, legs in the air was all I could see. I rushed offstage and changed into my jeans pretty sharpish.

The aptly named The Jokers Wild Club,where we went nuts for 2 (or was it 3) months.

The club we played was called the "Jokers Wild" and it was appropriately named for Sponge.

Offstage things were not so good. I did not get along with any of the guys and it was just a matter of time, waiting out the gig, till I got back to UK to decide what to do. Meanwhile I had a lot of fun while I was there and old friends from Beirut, showed up. The Rebel Rousers (of Cliff Bennett fame) who I had met in Beirut arrived and we hung out quite a lot.

The Bahamas

Back in '69 the Bahamas were beautiful and I would like to go back there one day. At that time they were still flying the British flag but now they are independent and I imagine a lot has changed. I remember one girl I was seeing; her dad had a plane and business in Nassau, so it was arranged for me to experience a great day trip over to Nassau which was absolutely beautiful. The plane flew low over clear sky blue ocean, white sand bars, and the island of Nassau, though touristy was exquisite in every way. Those pirates in days of yore sure could find great places to hide out!

The Jokers in the Jokers Wild Club. Sponge getting a few down before the second set.

The Bahamas trip was a journey of a lifetime but after 2 months it was time to get on that plane and go...back to London. This time I was not going back to Manchester.

Once back in the UK, the band scattered for home. Most of them went back to Manchester and they did eventually record that LP, as "Pacific Drift." The album sank without trace.

Barry Reynolds went on to work with Joe Cocker and Marianne Faithfull, write material for Grace Jones and later produced an album of his own in 1981. He covered Dan Hicks' "I Scare Myself," which was the title of his 1981 release.

London

I had decided to try my luck in London; a girl I had met in The Bahamas told me to look her up, so I did. Her sister was married to Tony Brown who managed Deep Purple. They were about to do a concert with the Royal Philharmonic at the Albert Hall. Would I like to go? Sure. Well, it was a spectacular show, blending classical with rock and they released an album shortly after the event. Tony Brown said to me, "Roger Glover has health problems and might have to leave. Could you do the job?" Well I said "Yes I could" but I guess he must have made a miraculous recovery as it did not go any further than that!

In my determination to stay in London, I was blowing my Bahamas money very rapidly on hotel bills.

I joined a band called "Jo Jo Gunn." Dave Wendells, an ex-Rebel Rouser, was the lead guitarist. They seemed to be unaware that there was an American band of the same name. After playing a few London gigs, we went to Germany for a while. The club owner refused to pay us, pulling a gun on Wendells, so we split back to London. By this time I was sleeping rough; sometimes in the band’s transit and sometimes under an organ cover at Orange studios—I knew the engineer who would let me in at night but I had to skedaddle in the morning. I even spent one night in Hyde Park with my bass—now that was scary.

I also recall one or two nights at the bottom of a roadie friend’s bed. He insisted I leave by the window every morning so his roommates would not complain.

I got some demos recorded at Orange with a band called "Valhalla"; Mick Hodgkinson, on organ, and a guy called Simon Fox on drums. The situation fizzled out, and frustration was mounting. Wendells got me a gig at Batley variety club for a week backing Billy J Kramer. I think Mick H. was on keyboard on that one. After that I traded my Vox pearl shaped bass in for a Fender precision. I had made a little money on this gig, now I was set for an audition with The Iveys.

Audition for The Iveys

The Iveys were a Liverpool band; their bass player had left when they all decided to come to London to sign with Apple, The Beatles’ label. My audition went well and they said, "You are the only bass player who can sing harmonies. Looks like you got the gig."

They played me a song called "Come And Get It"—a catchy pop tune.

They said, "We have a guaranteed hit here; we have one more guy to check out." His name happened to be Joey Molland, a McCartney look-alike. So that was that, no gig for yours truly. Within weeks, the record was a huge hit and the band now was known as "Badfinger."

O'Hara's Playboys

As the 60s were coming to a close, my next audition was with O'Hara's Playboys, another band I had met in Beirut. The difference was they got paid and left before anyone was blowing anything up. I went up to Seven Sisters Bingo Hall to audition. Tony Coe came with me; we had hooked up somehow after he finally got back from Beirut.

Back to the Cabaret clubs with O'Haras Playboys. L-R - Bill Simpson: guitar, vocals; John O'Hara: vocals; Bowker: bass; Wee Davy McHarg: drums; and Tony ? - his last name eludes me: guitar, vocals.

It would appear that after we left, someone had slipped Tony a "mickey"; he was arrested and woke up in jail. After he got out, he luckily joined a band that was going to Dubai, as their bass player. After getting the bread together, he finally made it back on his own several months after we did.

Tony had hooked up (pardon the expression) with Penny and Helen, the go-go chicks that were stripping and living in Soho. Tony had moved in with the girls (nice) and was DJ at The Bag 'O' Nails, Scotch of St. James and Die Fledermous. After Tony bent John O'Hara's ear to my advantage, I got the gig and had no choice but to move to Sheffield for a life of chicken-in-a-basket gigs again. I had come full circle. The money was good though and once more I plunged into a life of drinking and getting as many chicks as I could handle. I was allowed to do two lead vocals "Come Together" by The Beatles and "Let's Work Together" by Canned Heat, who had the hit at the time.

Audition with Jeff Beck

Jeff Beck.

While I was in O'Hara's Playboys, Jack Barrie, the manager of the Marquee Club, got me an audition with, of all people, Jeff Beck. I got a train down to London, then another one to Ashford, Kent, where I was picked up by Jeff and Cozy Powell in a red Mustang. They had an 8 track in the player. They asked me if I knew who it was and I replied "Yes, it’s Buddy Guy." They looked at each other...maybe?

Our destination was Noel Redding’s house (sorry about the name dropping here)—it was like a dream sequence. We went into a room full of Marshall stacks. Beck said, "Pick one and plug in"—so I did. By this time I was a nervous wreck. It gets a bit blurry from here; I think we did some Howlin' Wolf stuff like "I Ain’t Superstitious," maybe a shuffle or two, I was completely intimidated, and I just know I made a fool of myself.

Within 45 minutes I was back on the train—Sheffield bound. End of that story! The album that came out several months later was Rough And Ready with Clive Chaman just kicking arse on bass.

Our "Driver" Roadie Tony Coe, sporting his world famous white boots.

Back to O’Haras. One night there was a knock on the door it was Tony Coe—the DJ life was not going too well. I convinced John O'Hara that he was the roadie we were looking for so he hired Tony on the spot. Next day, Tony's first day driving the van, he backed into a parked car in the petrol station while we were getting gas for the gig!

O'Hara turned round to me in his heavy Scottish brogue and said, "I thut' yu sid he cuid dreeve." Oh Lord! Anyway, Tony roadied with us as the situation in the Playboys began to decline. I told Tony I was going back to London for another try—I was a glutton for punishment in those days!

After I left, I did not see Tony for another eight years. He went back to Ipswich and I went to London. Again. It was 1970. I had a Marshall stack and money in the bank. I went to London, got a flat with some pals and got a day job operating a folding machine in a Xerox shop. From there I went to Harrods, selling ladies’ shoes and after that, selling stereo gear in Soho.

I joined folk singer Dorris Henderson’s Eclection on bass and toured with The Faces on a short tour. While in Birmingham, I met the other Brummie, my future wife Pauline!

1970-71 Eclection - Dorris Henderson: vocals; Eric Johns: acoustic guitar; Brian Chatton: organ; Dave Bowker: bass; Steve Smith: drums.

Swampfox

I recorded two singles for Polydor with a band called "Swampfox." I knew two of the guys through the Beirut experience—they were in the band that had been there before us. We covered Tony Joe White’s "I Got A Thing About You Baby," which was produced by The Beatles' Tony Bramwell and got a lot of daytime airplay on the BBC. One of Elton John’s backing singers, Leslie Duncan, sang some harmonies and Allan Clarke of The Hollies played harmonica! It was what you might call a turntable "hit" but no chart action on that. The follow up, "Miss America" flopped miserably!

 

The Seychelles

After answering an ad in the Melody Maker, I met my buddy Ric Adams and we played in a country trio Western Union for a while and that took us to the Seychelles, just in time to recover from my divorce from Pauline.

Having no fun at all in the Seychelles 1972.

I took another more rockin' outfit back to the Seychelles for a few weeks then formed pub rock band Grand Slam with Ric Adams. Our friend Tony Owens was in the band for a while and we did the usual rounds of playing the clubs like the Marquee, etc. Grand Slam were getting a lot of encores all around greater London, but not much interest from anywhere else. I was booking gigs from the telephone booth across the street from my flat in Muswell Hill! I didn't even have a phone back then! Constantly shifting personnel became our eventual downfall, coupled with an offer to me from RCA to join a band called "Limey."

Someday, all this will be yours... Posing in my one-room pad in London (Muswell Hill) 1975 no phone, shared bathroom, electricity from a 10p meter on the wall, a one plate stove, and no heat. It all seemed normal at the time.

Limey

The single and album were released and we toured with Andy Fairweather Lowe...but the music scene was changing; the punk scene was emerging. I began working in sales again, selling jeans this time.

Limey LP. Released: 1976

Limey: Brian Engel, Center; Ian Kewley, top left; Bowker, bottom left; Robin LeMesurier, top right; Pat McInerney, bottom right.

Tony TS McPhee

Tony TS McPhee asked me to join him for a while in Terraplane. We gigged a little, with Rory Gallagher’s drummer Wilgar Campbell on drums. I had been playing every Sunday at the Spurs in Tottenham; there wasn't a week went by that I wasn't in some new line-up or project.

Tony T.S McPhee was primarily known for leading Britain's legendary Groundhogs (there is yet another incarnation of them playing an touring to this day) but for awhile he decided to use myself, and Rory Gallagher's drummer Wilgar Campbell (R.I.P) and go out as "Terraplane." It was fun while it lasted. "T.S." stands for "tough shit."

Adams, Bowker and Cook

A line-up called "ABC" —Adams, Bowker and Cook—got a track on the famous Honky Tonk Demos LP released by Charlie Gillett, now a famous BBC announcer.

I was then asked to audition for Manfred Mann's Earthband. Manfred asked me back to rehearse several times but again no luck.

Manfred Mann
Charlie Gillett's words to me all those years ago were "If you want to play R&B and Blues, go to the country where it came from." So here I am.
Honky Tonk Demos (on Charlie Gillett's Oval Records) featured first Dire Straights' demo of "Sultans of Swing" It also included Adams Bowker Cook (ABC) "Rhythm On The Radio," which was also released as a single.

Kenny

The pop band Kenny tried a musical come back; I was in Kenny for a while. We went to Germany for four fun days of TV and bad lip synching to our new demos!

Back to 9-5 and The Regulars

Shortly after this, I took a holiday to the USA for 8 weeks. I came back to the UK and got a job in an Ad Agency—Doyle Dane Bernbach on Baker St. Tony Coe and I had recently found each other again and we put a nice little band, The Regulars, together which gigged every weekend—Friday, Saturday and Sundays—and I was booking gigs from my office in the agency. It was a very happy time.

Playing a college gig in London 1979/80 with Tony on congas and vocals. Rest of line-up was Tommy Willis on lap steel and guitar; Phil Rosenberg: guitar; Roger Downing: vibes; Andy Walton: drums.

But the memories of my amazing trip to the States were luring me back...haunting me and it was getting too much.

I needed to get out of England.

Everybody thought I was nuts to quit my job and just leave but I had that lemming-like urge that we all get from time to time.

The final goodbye to the UK

Mal and Boiler were two infamous roadies who had roadied for everyone including Limey, Strider, The Faces and many more "name acts." They were actually working with Rod Stewart when I ran into them in the Marquee bar in London in 1980.

I told them I was thinking about coming over to the USA for a trip, so they gave me their hotel address in LA and of course when I went over for my "looking around" holiday I looked them up.

We went to Disneyland, ate at Barney’s Beanery and got pretty drunk. All in all, my 8 week vacation in the USA had a mind blowing effect on me. I visited Denver, Los Angeles, Phoenix, St Louis, New York and all points in between! I returned to England determined to move back permanently one day.

Once back in England I took up the option of a job I was offered prior to my trip by Doyle, Dane, Bernbach, an Ad Agency on Baker Street. I think I only got the job because I was willing to join the agency football team which needed beefing up a bit—I was hired as soon as I mentioned I played any left position and had a strong left foot! Pretty soon I had been promoted to the position of production guy in charge of the Volkswagen account—responsible for 400 dealership ads appearing on time every week in papers throughout the British Isles. After meeting deadline or as near as I could on Fridays, I was out the door to gig with my band The Regulars with my buddy Tony Coe, who would come in from Ipswich every weekend.

I would return to DDB knackered on Monday morning after playing hard Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. I was doing OK; I had a job, money, a good band, and a beautiful Armenian girlfriend, Markrid. Sunday afternoons were spent with Tony browsing record stores in Camden Town before going to our night gig. We had recorded some powerful demos of my originals which sounded great. These were pretty darned happy times for me but something was missing.

It must be Friday at Doyle Dane Bernbach advertising. Tony Coe and me, probably about to leave for a gig.

Off to the USA
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