Chapter 1

I was going through one of those low points in my life. The band had broken up acrimoniously, I was bored and seemingly friendless in the big city.

I guess I looked a mess, too. 5 years of constant struggle, drugs, arguments tempered with rather infrequent bouts of high excitement.

The band started out as a bunch of mates who used to jam after school. Anyone who had their own gear was welcome to hang out and if they knew how to play it was a bonus.

Shane, the drummer could do a reasonable 4/4. Bruce had ambitions to play progressive rock like Emerson Lake and Palmer, his heroes. He had an electric mandolin and a pal had built him a crude synthesiser with a bank of oscillators.

We went through a few bass players until we came across Ari, an Indonesian. He was always stoned and wore black clothes and dark glasses.

We thought he was cool and the girls loved him.

My main asset was that my gear was bought and paid for, well mostly. A Gibson SG Custom with an Orange amp and speaker. The bright orange amp cabinets clashed awfully with the bright red guitar but it just added to our off-beat concept of ourselves.

We made a horrible noise that only marginally improved as we learned how to play in the same key and tempo. Occasionally the gods of music would smile and we'd hit on a period when we were all cooking to the same tune. We'd grin stupidly at each other and carry on until the drummer started to speed up or someone lost the key. The thunk of a bum note would spoil the magic.

We carried about 5 tunes to the local 'Battle of the Bands' competition and came third. More a statement on the quality of the opposition. I remember the second place-getter's guitarist playing rock and roll while lying on his back with a beautiful Gibson Les Paul, all pearly white and spotless. He looked about 14 years old.

The winners were a liveried pub band who could play pretty well. They'd brought a crowd of fans along who cheered at everything they did and sat stoney-faced through the other acts.

We were the only 'Prog' band on the bill and I have to say we played a faultless set. We had been practising for a year after all. We poured dead leaves over the drummer and Ari stood an a Persian carpet. Bruce kicked shit out of his amplifier while giving major to his synthesiser. He played electric mandolin with his teeth and head-butted the keyboard. All to absolute silence from the partisan audience.

We did get better musically and became regulars on the University circuit. But with only 7 Universities, 6 Teacher's colleges and about a dozen Technical Colleges and Agricultural Schools it was impossible to make any money.

We could have chanced our arm on the other side of the Tasman Sea, in Australia, but our agent didn't think the Aussies were ready for our kind of music. They suggested we learn a few hard rock numbers as Black Sabbath were all the rage. I was keen and even bought a fuzz box and effects pedals. Bruce, however wanted a Mellotron and a Coral Electric Sitar like his latest hero from 'Yes'.

Then Shane, our drummer left to get married, Ari went back to Indonesia and it was just the two of us. Then Bruce took off to Auckland to do Art/Music happenings with his mate from the 'Tall Dwarves' and that was it, gigless.

I did a bit of busking with my Yamaha Folk Guitar but it was cold in winter and there was a positive boom in busking going on. Whole bands would set up at night in the little parks and drown out everyone playing acoustic. Disgruntled I moved to the Railway Station but again I ran into competition with guys who'd been gigging there for years.

So it was I found myself at this park by the beach, sitting on a bench just picking out a few tunes to myself. A bunch of young people were playing some organised games, softball, hoops, that sort of thing, while having a BBQ.

They were all fresh faced and bright-eyed, clean cut, unlike me, and around their late teens. I thought the girls were uniformly gorgeous in that 'girl next door' kind of look. Different to the 'overly made up' party girls that used to hang out at the gigs.

It wasn't long before some dude came over to hear what I was doing. All white teeth and short hair like a Morman missionary. Of course I played to the audience a little with a few flourishes up the scales. A couple of girls came over and hummed a tune to me asking if I could play it.

Well it was a simple G.C.A thing and I soon had it. They began to sing, shyly at first but with increasing gusto. Lyrics about 'the lord my God' had me figuring they were a Christian group.

Religion had never been a part of my life. My parents were agnostic, I think, and although they packed us off to Sunday School for a few weeks, I found the river a far more interesting place to be. I went a couple of times then started sneaking off.

That day at the park I was looking for some normalcy. Since school I had lived a crazy existance of drummers covered in dead leaves, people

competing to be the most outrageous, drugs, alcohol and deafening halls full of sound.

These people were so 'nice' in that 'normal' sort of way, and simply enjoying themselves and being friends. I desperately wanted some of that.

I even started singing to their corny little numbers and smiled when they began clapping and dancing to the beat. I had an audience and I was enjoying myself.

The guy introduced himself as John. They were from the local 'Assembly of God' and often came to the park on Sundays for 'fellowship.' He told me he'd played in a metal band in Australia and rode a Ariel Square Four customised motorcycle. That is before he'd found God who'd changed his life.

I was fascinated by his story, especially by the motorcycle, and we talked at length about how he'd turned it into a showpiece. I remember all the details, the chrome work, the airscoops on the back cylinders to improve cooling and the airbrushing and lacquering. The guy was a genius!

There was demure Diane and blond Nancy who got everyone to call her 'Nan'.

I think there was a 'Freddie' who was 14 and a 'Chrissie' who was twelve.

But Nan had me interested, not just because she was blond and 17 but also because she was a Canadian from Toronto and so damned interesting.

John invited me to their meeting that evening and suggested the girls and I do a number for the congregation. As long as Nan was going to be there I could think I've nothing I'd like better.

Now this was a new experience for me. How do you get to know a girl who was not a groupie and was not waiting to be asked to fuck? I was not used to just hanging out with people in that way, so I decided to just go along with whatever happened.

I scrubbed my hair and tied it back. Donned some reasonable clothes and cleaned the bike boots. Finding the AOG hall was easy but, when confronted with all these welcoming 'straight' people, I felt out of place. There was nobody that looked like me. I'd never seen so many suits in one place except at the railway station in the morning.

John sat beside me up the front and kept a running commentary of what was happening. It was difficult for me to suspend judgement but I tried hard and haleluyahed at the appropriate times. At one point the whole congregation got up and began speaking in tongues. If I wasn't so stunned at the sight I would have burst out laughing. It was so funny watching it, like everyone was on Quaaludes or something.

So the time came for my gig and I collected my practice amp and electric guitar from back stage. I then had to endure the Pastor introducing me as their new 'friend in Jesus' while everyone cheered and clapped. The girls trooped up and I counted them in for the first number.

Not long into the first chorus and the whole congregation began to join in, stamping their feet and clapping along. I began to have fun after a while and got a little bolder, introducing a few little runs and a lead break or two. All in all it went down well and the girls had enjoyed themselves.

Afterwards we had supper and people came up congratulating me on my playing and welcoming me to the congregation.

'Hadn't I picked the songs up quickly?'

Well, excuse me, but it wasn't the hardest set I've had to learn. They were mostly in 'G' and in 4/4 or 3/4. Not like the fiddly time changes and strange discordance I'd been expected to do with the band.

After supper I was asked to sign the book then John asked me upstairs. It was decked out like a sound studio with acoustic tiling and a control room. Inside my voice became disembodied and remote, like it just floated around me. A large window was on the angled ceiling, unblinded, you could see the stars.

John and another guy began to talk, encouraging me to pray and let Jesus into my heart, or something. Their voices played with my head, confused and disorientated me. I felt detached and terrified, no doubt the after effects of years of drug-taking were exerting themselves.

Their voices rose in volume, 'ask for Jesus' and 'out Devil'. I was scared, I wanted to go home, but I didn't think I'd be allowed to leave unless I did what they wanted. So I prayed, under the big window, and imagined a beam of light was coming down to baptise me with it's rays.

Afterwards I ran to the van and escaped leaving the precious Gibson guitar backstage.

The next day I rang John to ask him if I could retrieve the guitar and amp and we agreed to meet at the hall that evening. He said that Monday nights there were bible classes and maybe I'd like to join in.

'Maybe, ' I thought, 'especially if Nan was going to be there.'

She was and I stayed. It was painless enough and afterwards I treated everyone to a little piece I'd been practicing for a while, an early Genesis instrumental based on a classical theme. It was difficult to play and it was cold, my fingers didn't move so quickly, but no-one seemed to notice that I missed a few notes. Nan smiled when I'd finished and that's what counted.

John told me about this Christian camp they were going on and asked if I'd be interested in coming along. They would be doing some concerts for some of the local congregations and would I like to join the band?

"Everyone was going," he told me and I looked at Nan, who looked back shyly and I said yes.

On Wednesday I met the rest of the band and the singers, who included Nan, to my relief. They already had a guitarist so I stepped in as extra rhythm.

It was strange working with a new band, with different temperaments and personalities. I felt I had to play my way in, to gain their respect, but really they were just a straight up backing band. The first rehearsal I wanted to cut loose with some lead breaks but I soon learned to restrain myself.

Nan and I were getting on pretty well. I practised my charming smile and complimented her on her singing. It was Okay, just a little whispy for my liking.

The next night I was out the back of the hall having a quiet cigarette when she appeared.

"There you are," she said, "don't you know smoking is bad for your health?"

I agreed and offered her one. To my surprise she accepted it and told me she hadn't had a Lucky Strike since coming to New Zealand. We listened to the voices from inside to see if they were coming nearer as we smoked like a pair of naughty children.

"So what was it like playing in a band?" she asked.

I told her a little about the life, the booze and the dope, the lack of money, the infighting, the groupies and the hassles with managers and promoters.

She told me about her childhood in Canada, about coming to New Zealand and the differences and similarities of the people. She could relate to living in a country with a bigger neighbour. I told her the Tasman is a big sea and Australia is a long way from NZ compared to Canada with the USA.

"We're not overun with Aussies yet," I told her.

"Americans can drive to Toronto from Buffalo or Detroit in a few hours," she replied.

We agreed that Americans and Aussies were a pain in the arse. Curiously she never mentioned Jesus once, I thought that was significant.

We returned to the hall, keeping a little away from people in case they could smell the smoke.

After rehearsal I offered her a lift home and she stayed back while I played around a little with my effects pedals. We had a little impromptu jam with her banging enthusiastically on the drums while I clowned around on guitar.

I drove her home and she smiled and said she'd really enjoyed herself. Before getting out of the car she bent forward and gave me a little kiss on the lips. My lips tingled long after I'd arrived home.

The next day my Bible lessons arrived in the mail. I was expected to read and interpret some prescribed texts and send them back. I opened the envelop, then threw it's contents in the rubbish bin.

In those days I could think of nothing else but music, bikes and women in variable order. Religion just didn't get a look in. Later on I'd make my own choices, but then I really couldn't have cared less.

I really don't think the AOG leaders cared why I chose to come along to their activities. I guess to them everything was God's work anyway and if 'HE' chose to bait me with a beautiful woman, well... Fair means and foul, if in the end they saved another soul, that's all that counted.