I was saddened by the tragic and untimely death of Steve Lee, the singer of Gottard, a great band that we have worked with many times over the years. He was passionate about his singing and had a vitality that brightened any room. This is a huge loss. Our thoughts go out to Brigitte, his family, and his band mates.,
RG
Stresa, Italy, 21st July 2010
The occasion; lunch in a secluded restaurant under a roof of vine leaves, slivers of sunlight dappling bright patches on the dozen or so customers – a random cast of characters, tourists, locals, mostly couples. It is a family-run business, waiters quick and efficient, sure-footedly dispensing breadbaskets and menus with practiced hands and seasoned smiles.
Diners and their secret lives; young and old, thick and thin, bellies, shorts, summer dresses, muffled conversations, occasional laughter.
Who’s complaining?
Let’s face it; life traveling with a band on the road can be pretty boring at times. The sudden transition from banality to mind-searing, adrenaline-pumping activity is reward in itself; a purging of the endless hurry-up-and-wait tedium that characterizes this nomadic way of life. We each have our own ways of dealing with this and I honestly don’t know what others get up to in their time off the stage but for me (when I’m not complaining) it’s a mixture of reading, Internet, television, food or exploring the vicinity.
Around 1960, when I was about 14, my father, mother and my sister Christine moved west out of London and settled in Pinner, Middlesex where my parents took over The Oddfellows Arms pub. My sister and I had to change schools of course, and I found myself going to Harrow County Grammar School for Boys on Gayton Road, Harrow. The syllabus was different from my previous school, Sir Walter St.John’s Grammar School in Battersea, and that, coupled with the fact that I was a bit of a dreamer, meant that I was held back for a year, something that some would be embarrassed about, but I didn’t mind; it was an extra year before I really had to get my act together and get a job or something.
A few years ago, I had descended from my hotel room a trifle early before a concert. I was sitting in the bar having a swift half when someone recognized me. “Aren’t you excited?” he inquired excitedly, quivering with his own. I politely asked him what about. He stared at me incredulously, “Tonight, the concert is tonight.” “Oh that, no, not particularly excited,” I replied, rather too nonchalantly.