He must have been around 48 because I
was about 13…

He’s nearly 80 now.

(And I’m far closer to the age he was then
than I ever thought was going to be
possible).

He was
standing by the
buffet table,
his band had just
played and they had this dirty great-big
fuck-off feed waiting for them.

The Seekers.

Or The New Seekers.

Judith Durham wasn’t there anyway.

So it wasn’t really The Seekers.

My dad’s best friend was the promoter
of the show. And he suggested we go.

That meant driving halfway across the
island to see a pretty shitty show.

The promoter-guy’s son was into
the video game Skate Or Die, and
the band Suicidal Tendencies. And
as we walked backstage, with our passes,
after the gig,
he yelled out, really loudly, in this phoney
American accent he peddled for no real reason,

“Oh my gosh! Did that suck!??”

He had just finished
saying that
as we got to the door of the
Green Room
and standing right there,
by the aforementioned
food-station, was Athol
Guy. He wanted to meet
everyone and anyone
that he was sure wanted
to meet him.

We breezed on past.

It was explained we were
the promoter’s kids. And
friends.

And in fact I was
staff…

They’d offered me the job
of selling programs. And by offer, I mean
they told me I had to do it.

And I had stood by the merch-table
trying to sell $20 souvenir
programs – and I sold a few.
They paid me $20 for my night’s work.

Athol Guy
had this big grin – probably thinking
about the money he saved on those slave-wages.
He stood as upright as his double
bass.

He was the man.

And this was his band.

The Seekers. Celebrating – at that
time – some 25 years in the
game, or whatever it was.

They were dreadful.

And worse than the $20
payoff, we were given
a copy of their greatest hits
CD. (New versions, no Judith
Durham). And they all stood
around and signed the CD.

Athol Guy went last.
And signed his name larger
than anyone else.

I remember he had this
giant bit of salmon hanging
from the corner of his top
lip.

He shook my hand,
told me I was their youngest
fan.

My friend – the Skate or Die
for lifer – said loudly right at him,
“No he’s not!”

And we laughed after, as we discussed
how Athol Guy had just figured that
meant there was someone younger,
even than me, that was a fan of the
band. This imposter version. With
Julie Anthony sitting in.

Athol Guy kicked everyone
out of the backstage area,
said they were old and it was
time for bed.

I remember looking at the 48-year-old
guy and figuring him close to 80 then.

This was my first backstage
experience.

And I’ve hated being backstage
ever since.

Unless you are in the band, or
connected to the venue, or the immediate
touring party, you have no business there.

And even then, it’s
touch and go.

Speaking of which,

as soon as Athol Guy
shook my hand,
I knew it was time
to leave.

Even before he
kicked us
out – so he could
finish that salmon,
hanging there
like a Red Rubber
Ball.

свернуть