Autobiography

From my very earliest recollections, I have always been involved in music and sound. In my pre-school years, I used to dash to the radio every time a favourite tune was aired and turn up the volume dial. When I eventually found what were making the sounds I liked so much, via TV shows like 6 O'clock Rock and Bandstand, I knew I'd found my instrument: the electric guitar. It was not until 1960 when the family moved to Albury, that I got serious. I was given an acoustic guitar but I did find it hard as I am left-handed and the guitar was strung normally.

After a few lessons, I graduated to a Guyatone electric and a small amp. My early influences were the Shadows, Ventures, and jazz players like Herb Ellis, Joe Pass, etc. Within a few months, I was playing at my high-school dances and the local army barracks with a very talented player called Jock Farley. We recorded some tunes at the local radio station and they were broadcast many times. One of them was the beautiful, Marie Elena which Jock handled wonderfully. From all of this exposure I acquired an understanding of pop, rock and jazz styles, plus basic melodic and harmonic concepts.

Stage fright was never a problem -- I loved entertaining people. In addition, I was exposed to show music via my parents, such soundtracks, as "South Pacific" and "The King and I" particularly impressed me, because of the colourful orchestrations and clever melodies. One thing I will always remember is going to the movies with my parents to see Sparticus: the opening credits music sent chills down my spine. Years later I learnt that Alex North, one of Hollywood's most respected composers, wrote the score. This fascination with movie music continues to this day.

Around the same time, I saw on TV a movie called the Uninvited. This has a beautiful love theme - "Stella by Starlight" -- which is one of the jazz staples for improvisation. Victor Young was the composer and Miles Davis has recorded Stella amongst others. I recorded this tune with the Electric Guitar Orchestra in 1979, and use it as an example of ballad writing with some of my students these days. I was not happy at school; there was no way of furthering my musical studies and ambitions sitting behind a desk. (It's no different these days- the education system still leaves a lot wanting when it comes to art). The only thing that kept me there was the piddling hour or so a week I had for music lessons.

I started writing my own compositions at home out of frustration, just on staff paper - no guitar. The first one I completed was called "The Kraaken Wakes" after a sci-fi novel I'd recently read. Rubbish, really, but I was learning, which is more than I can say for school. At sixteen, I left school and was looking for a position as a guitarist in a pro band - ANY pro band. My rig was now a Pre-L Strat, and a Moody Amp. Surf music was in and the Beatles were the rage. Still, I was more interested in jazz and art music, most of my time observing jazz bands at Sydney venues, that is, when they would let me in - I was still sixteen.

I finally landed a gig at the Gas Lash - a dive of a joint near Central in lower Elizabeth St. It was a coffeehouse, but all sorts of substances were consumed there. Here I met the members of my first truly pro band, Monday's Children. Don McCormack from the Id played drums, Bob Welsh, Keys, and one Bob Thomson played bass. The vocalist was Keith Evans who later moved to England with Leslie Gibb, the Bee Gees sister. Through Leslie, I met Barry and the twins, and was invited to play bass and guitar (uncredited) on their album, Spicks and Specks. I was supposed to join the band, but they moved to England instead. Before this, the original Monday's Children appeared on ABC's Be Our Guest with Jackie Weaver. Boy is that lady short-sighted; she was running into props and scenery the whole shoot! Christmas 1966, saw the band, with a reduced line-up, take up residency at the OP-POP Disco in Surfers Paradise. I

t was the very first disco on the Gold Coast. Here I used my Strat and Golden Tone Amp. The amp sounded great, until it blew up. I spent most days in the sun and sand and at night we played. I got my first taste of pop stardom at this gig. Girls were on tap, just like the beer and I thought of installing a revolving door at the flat. Unfortunately, for us, the management of the nightclub was crooked, and we were not paid. Donnie confronted them and we got some money but the bubble had burst.

After the fiasco on the Gold Coast, we returned to Sydney and went our separate ways. Donnie played with Jeff St John & the Id, Bob free-lanced, and Keith Evans went to England, with Leslie and Bee Gees. The only thing good about Surfer's those days was the nightlife and the women - everything else was rather tacky. I was broke and living at home, I even considered returning to banking (I had worked in the Commonwealth Bank for three months just after leaving school). ¦One day I was in Nicholson's Music Store (now Allens), in Pitt St when I ran into Harry Brus, the bassist (who later worked with Renee Geyer). He was gigging at the Easter Show with a Kiwi outfit called The Dave Miller Set. They needed a guitarist. I auditioned and within days, I was doing four shows a day backing Ronnie Burns and Donna Gaye. Johnny Young was the star and had his own group. This was the first time I had seen unbridled hysteria from an audience. Teenyboppers, all.

Dave Miller and Ray Mulholland had come over from NZ after a string of hits in their respective groups, The Byrds, and The Rayders. Spin Records had just signed Dave and he was looking to continue with the Easter Show band (none of us pestered him-as is commonly thought). After Dave returned from New Zealand, where he married Corinne Turner), the Dave Miller Set was formed. The rehearsals were not going well, as the material was commercial pop and we just did not have the band members to make a big sound. There was only guitar, bass and drums and most songs came off sounding a little thin. Harry was a good showman and a WOW with the girls, but I felt we needed a stronger rhythmic base. After discussions with Dave, we replaced Harry with Bob Thomson. It was not long before we were in the studio recording our first single, a very bland pop ditty, why, Why, Why. The deficiencies became apparent in the arrangement when I heard the playback. We had to change direction, especially for live work. Nobody else sang except for Dave and soon we would be competing with good harmony outfits like The Twilights for gigs. We had to find a niche.

Festival Records was at a different location in Pyrmont in those days, and the recording studio was only a minor part of the organization. It was mainly a distributor for overseas labels- their biggest Aussie act was Johnny O'Keefe. The Studio was small, about 12x16x16 feet, and was covered in white acoustic tiles. Very sterile - the engineers wore white cover-coats and the whole atmosphere was sad and scary. The control room was half the size and all the gear was a limped lime green colour. The mixer was valve and so were the tape machines - the only good feature. The speakers were AWA and probably rated at around 50 watts each. In fact, I do not even think it was stereo! We had to record very softly, as to not overload the stuff, and it is a wonder it sounded any good at all. I was using a Fender Telecaster Deluxe with a Vox AC 30TB at the time, having just sold my Stratocaster. I have regretted that ever since, as the Strat was a Pre-L Series that played like a dream and would now be worth a small fortune. I remember looking for the local convenience in the building, at one point stumbling into the cutting room, sorry, is this the toilet? I asked, the mastering engineer was N0T amused!

One of the first significant gigs we scored was the weekend ski-train to Thredbo. At the time, skiing was not that big except for the die-hards and this was one of the first attempts to promote it to the masses. We started from Central at about 8pm and attempted to play a few brackets. The power was very dodgy and after a few ales we were a bit that way ourselves. Every time the train turned a corner or slowed down either an amp or one of us would fall over. I was glad to get to bed that night as I had picked up a sweet young thing earlier on. In this case, the rolling motion of the train helped immeasurably once we were tucked away in the sleeper compartment.

With Bob playing bass the group was a lot more solid but we were still having problems with style. We were basically doing covers but with only a trio backing. Some of the more orchestrated things were sounding a little thin. I happened to be at Nicholson's Music Store one afternoon and picked up two new releases: "Strange Brew" by Cream and "Hey Joe" by Jimi Hendrix. Cream were good and I had heard Clapton before With John Mayall and the Yardbirds, but Jimi was another thing altogether. "Stone Free", the B-side was a good example of what a small group could do, and after playing both records to the guys, we all agreed that this was the direction to go in. By the New Zealand tour of Christmas '67, we had most of the Hendrix and Cream releases covered.

We left for Kiwi land aboard the "Himalaya" on Dec. 3. It was a play for passage deal. Alcohol was very cheap on board, with Bob and me taking full advantage of the 15-cent nips of Bacardi and Coke. The power supply for our amps was not stable and by our third night, the P.A. and Bob's bass amp had blown up. My Vox was still operating, so everybody went through that - it was not a good sound. Ray Mulholland ended up doing drum solos in every number. New parts were flown from Sydney to Suva, Fiji, where we picked them up, plus the ship got a better regulator. Apparently, Vox Amps have a secondary transformer or choke, which permits operation under adverse conditions. Auckland was our first stop. Dave rented an old federation style house in an inner-city suburb, where we stayed for the duration.

Whilst In Suva I had purchased a sitar and drove everyone crazy in the house by practicing my ragas late at night. Most of my days were taken up sightseeing and taking photographs. We were well received at the venues but the perturbations on board the Himalaya had taken their toll on the Vox amp, Both Bob and I invested in new Jansen stacks 100-watt rms. heads with two quad boxes each. These were Kiwi amps modelled on the Fender design. The tone was not as nice as the Vox but they were LOUD!

After Auckland we gigged in Rotarua, which smelled like rotten eggs, then on to Wellington. The country's capital was definitely the windy city but still it had its charm. By this, time "Why Why Why?" had been released in Australia. It was selling well in NSW but zip elsewhere, it finally reached the lower rungs of the top 40 and sank without a trace. Christchurch was our last stop, Dave's hometown. Very English, with some of the best examples of Victorian and Quasi-Federation architecture that I have ever seen. Small town vibe - very friendly people, probably the most enjoyable part of the stay.

By Feb. 1968, we were back In Sydney playing a residency at the OP-POP nightclub in Castlereagh St. This lasted six weeks, and in that time, I had the pleasure of seeing The Twilights perform -- definitely excellent. Next we recorded our second single for Spin, "Hope". An apt title. The higher power and coverage of the Jansen Amps was giving us the edge over other Sydney groups. Our act was including longer songs with improvisatory segments to reflect that. Our gigs were expanding to include Newcastle and Wollongong. By the middle of the year, we had Hope in the charts and had polled at no. 7 in the Go-Set national popularity charts. Not bad for a band that had visited that Holy Grail of Oz Rock: Melbourne? Dave brought along a pre-release copy of Led Zeppelin 1 to rehearsals one day, and we proceeded to cover every viable tune on it. By the time it was released here, we had been performing most of it on stage for over five months! This added to our credibility to no end with the punters.

By August 1968, Hope had reached the top twenty list. The groupie credibility had risen greatly by the end of the year, partly in fact by the revamp of our stage material. Group improvisation was extending the songs and most of the pop ditties were being replaced. Most of it was spontaneous - some worked, some did not. In any event, to the audience it was good entertainment. We had huge fan followings in Newcastle and Wollongong. By August, I was writing a guitar column for Go-Set magazine, which was run by David Elfick, who later became a successful film producer. All this time I had kept up my practice of the sitar, and In August I picked up a custom job especially made for me in India. This would soon be featured on the third DMS single, "Get Together" for Spin Records.

Our producer at Festival had changed to Pat Aulton, a multitalented individual whose pride and joy was his extensive collection of pornographic material. A year or so later he had a big hit with a version of The Lion Sleeps Tonight. Pat did the mixing and most of the background vocals on our records, and was responsible for the George Martin-esque string arrangement on "Mr. Guy Fawkes". Festival had moved to their current location in Pyrmont by this time and that is where we cut "Get Together". The song was another wimpy pop ditty that we re-arranged to feature my sitar. The studio was much bigger than the original but the control room was still tiny and no new equipment had been installed. Pat was just a lot better at getting a good sound up, so our recording quality improved. Dave wrote the B-side of "Get Together" -- a trend I did not much go for. The band got arranging credits but Dave pocketed all the royalties. In fact, I have NEVER received ANY real payments from DMS product -- so much for Dave's great management skills.

After more promotion and tri-state touring, we headed off to New Zealand again at Christmas. This time it seemed more like a holiday, especially for Dave and Ray. I opted to stay in Auckland until the gigs started in Wellington, as I had a girlfriend there. Other than the playing, I had seen it all before and was really starting to get restless.

Whilst in Wellington, to ward off the boredom, I went to the local cinema. I saw a movie called "For a Few Dollars More", starring Clint Eastwood, Lee Van Cleef, and directed by Sergio Leone. It was so different to your usual John Wayne type oater, and the music by Ennio Morricone was brilliant. It re-sparked an interest in orchestration, which continues to this day. Soon I was lobbying the others in DMS to feature some instrumentals based on what I had heard - they worked. Very similar in some ways to the Shadows style, they had a sense of drama that appealed to the audience. Because there were no records of the soundtrack, I saw the movie repeatedly, and memorized the melodies.

B ob started to get home sick for Mother England and I had to talk him out of leaving in the middle of the tour. Bob was very frustrated with Ray's drumming style, as Ray was very four on the floor type rock (Ray was a valuable member in other ways- e.g.: handyman and electrician) but Bob was used to the Soulier type of syncopated bass drum patterns. Bob Thomson was probably the best ensemble bass player I have worked with; I could rely on him as an anchor for my impro passages. The main reason that the on stage improvisations worked so well was that Bob and I could read each other very well musically, and Ray and Dave just followed along the best they could. Whilst gigging in Newcastle, mainly at a venue called Bus Stop, I had met a young lady by the name of Liza Biscoe and we had fallen in love. She was a real jaw-dropper. Upon returning from our tour, I popped the question. We set the wedding date for late in 1969. Luckily, DMS was a regular visitor to Newcastle at that time so we saw each other regularly.

The band was going through some changes, though, and it was not long before Bob gave his notice. In Suva, Fiji -- before the NZ tour -- I had replaced my Fender Telecaster with a Gibson SG guitar similar to Angus Young's. The sound was thicker and fatter, but it fell to pieces within months. So much for Yank manufacturing. On our return from NZ, Dave began to play rhythm guitar with the band. It did not help. It rather muddied everything up, and at our first major show in Sydney at the old Trocadero in George St, we bombed badly. (Dave was a little too old to be a teenybopper idol).

Late in 1968 we were being booked through two agencies: NOVA, run by Peter Conyngham and D.M.E. which was run by Dal Myles, a TV and Radio personality. Dal used to manage a band named Heart and Soul, which featured a brass section. We used to gig with them around Sydney venues and their bass player; one Leith Corbett made friends with Dave and me. He was very out-going and loved Hendrix. Really, he was a frustrated guitarist playing bass. Leith had great technique but only average sense of rhythm, which struck me as odd since his band was billed as an R&B outfit. He expressed his frustration with Heart and Soul a number of times hinting that heÕd like to leave if he could find the right band to go to.

By March 1968, Bob had left to return to England and Leith was in. He had a much more up vibe than Bob, but I was not convinced he was the right player. There was no time to ponder, as we were solidly booked until the middle of the year. March saw us back at Festival Records to cut Mr. Guy Fawkes. Get Together had not done well, so a change of direction was required. The new song came from Eire Apparent, an English group Jimi Hendrix had produced. Pat Aulton and we heavied it up a bit, adding strings and some basic studio trickery to it and it was easily the best record we ever did. Leith supplied a vocal counter-line on the bass, which Pat then wrote the strings around. At this point, the old Jansen rig of mine was on its last legs. I bought a custom Lenard rig from one John Burnett in Cammeray. Leith also bought a rig, a gigantic 800-watt bass monster with 18-inch speakers. In addition, my Gibson SG had died and Leith loaned me his Gibson ES 345. This was a wonderful instrument, which I used gratefully for almost a year. Some of the jams we did at Bus Stop, me with the ES and Leith with his Burns Bison Bass, were classic.

"Mr. Guy Fawkes" was released late July 1969 to positive reviews. It became the thinking manÕs alternative to "The Real Thing"! In addition, we had figured very heavily in the polls as Group, Vocalist and Guitarist. Leith and I became very close friends and used to hang out a lot together. He had a great supply of ganja and it became the norm to be out there on the gigs, this lead to some outrageous antics by us, rapt attention from the audience, and a puzzled look from Dave and Ray. At sometime in the last six months of that year, we were up in Coffs Harbor on the return leg of a Queensland tour when the boredom set in again. The gig that night went off like a rocket. Halfway through the third set, Leith went berserk rolling around the floor, playing the bass on his head. I followed suit. Dave and Ray walked off stage. The audience was with us all the way. Dead silence. We would run out of licks. Quickly, I strung together some chords and a melody Da, Da- Da- da-da- Da, Da. I yelled the changes out to Leith - Seasons of Change had been born. After the gig, I wrote it down in manuscript, as the punters had reacted very well to it. Later I ran it by Dave who liked it but could not hit the high B in the line. I shelved it for the future.

Indonesia. Sticky one day, shitty the next. Nova agency had booked us in Jakarta for ten days in August 1969. We went with Mike Furber, and Nicki Bradley, both of whom we backed. DMS was billed as Beatles Dari Australia. Boy, were they in for a surprise. We were greeted at the airport by town official and the media. Roll out the pop star act! We were taken to a beautiful guest home on the out-skirts of the city. In the first few days, we could do no wrong. Every meal was a banquet and nothing was too good for us. We could not find any smoko at first so we resorted to ÔCratiksÕ, a local clove cigarette. We pestered the local TV producer and finally scored. The venue was an enclosed sports arena in a complex just outside of the capital similar to the Homebush site for the Sydney 2000 Olympics. It was the most amazingly desolate place. Leith and I lit up upon arrival. The scoobs were pre-rolled, watermarked and Government Issue, the rehearsal was a very enlightening experience! We had to use very small Fender amplifiers and they WERE NOT MIKED. The sound was something like mosquitoes buzzing around in a large public toilet. Still, there were more than enough distractions around the place to keep everybody happy.

One night we were invited to a nightclub for an exclusive party in our honour. We were then introduced to about ten beautiful girls who were either models or airhostesses or actresses. In addition, we had credit at the roulette wheel and blackjack tables. I really did not think much of it at the time. As I was sampling some fine old Black label scotch (Johnnie Walker) and enjoying one of our last pre-rolled scoobs, Ray came up to me and whispered in my ear that the girls were laid on for our personal enjoyment and that IÕd better get cracking if I wanted to score a good one. After the tip-off, I went cracking all night. After the first few days, our supply ran out. One of our erstwhile roadies, Jo-Jo said he would supply in exchange for the beer in the cooler. Good Deal. Half an hour later, he returned with a suspicious bulge under his jumper... Was it a sub-machine gun? No, it was super-heads! Too strong. A fifty-fifty mix with tobacco and a filter was needed to enjoy. Cannot remember too much about the next few daze! The gigs were not going well at all, most of the audience walked out. Our sound, which relied on mega-watt stacks, was just not happening through the tweazy little Fenders. Most of the tour was cancelled and Dave had to get the police chief (who was an amateur jazz musician) to bail us out of the country. Before we left, Leith tipped about half a pound of mull down the toilet.

On our return, we immediately stepped into a tour of NSW, but I was not happy. By this time in the DMS history, Dave and Ray were smoking joints at the gigs along with Leith and the usual gaggle of hangers-on. Depending on the type and strength, we either went on-stage as a bunch of giggling idiots or as a focused and tight band. Casual sex had been happening since the very beginning of the DMS with all members participating, even the married ones, now it was getting out of control. (A result of increased publicity from the Guy Fawkes success.) Plenty of myths about Guy Fawkes have surfaced over the years but really; it was just another cover that Dave found. Again, like Seasons of Change, it generally sucked in live performance. The B-sides of the DMS material is more accurate to the real sound of the band on stage. I had been on the road now for almost two and a half years and I was looking forward to getting married to Liza and having a rest. Musically, the band was going in a heavier, more improvisational direction but was only jelling rarely and it was not long before Ray, the drummer, left. Mike McCormack was his replacement, and not a good one, as his sense of rhythm was no better than RayÕs. (Leith calls him the Bush Pig).

In November 1969, Liza and I got married at Christ Church Cathedral in Newcastle after a day of bongs and booze. We played that night at some hall in the city and then ate at a local lobster restaurant. The next DMS single flopped. We were living on borrowed time. Contrary to other accounts of the DMSÕ demise, it had very little to do with the so-called radio ban: the fifth DMS single, does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is? was hasty and ill conceived - more of a Dave Miller solo effort than anything to do with the band. DaveÕs voice was simply wrong for the type of music that was becoming popular at the time; whereas the bands live, performances were actually still hitting the mark. Just after Christmas 1969, Dave disbanded the group. He had done his five single deal with Spin, and wanted a solo career.

Looking back from an almost 30 year distance, I can acknowledge DaveÕs contribution to Aussie Rock. He was a very perceptive businessperson and a great showman. ¦The business and PR side of music was something of a mystery to me. In addition, I was just about to find out how hard it could be without a safety net. Mr. Guy Fawkes had reached the national top 5 by the end of 1969, and it seemed a fitting way for DMS to sign off. Dave went into a solo project, "Reflections of a Pie-in-the-Ear" for Spin. Leith, Mike and I went looking for a singer. It did not take long before Leith turned up with Neale Johns. A small person with a huge voice, Neale was very taciturn, the very opposite personality to DaveÕs. He could sing the blues and had excellent range, again, the direct opposite to Dave.

We rehearsed in my garage in Epping at first, then at the Hornsby Police Boys Club on weekdays. We pulled up every blues standard and original we could think of and soon had an impressive song list. We were looking for a name - a drummer friend of mine, Wayne Thomas of Flake gave me a book, which had about 500 possible band names in it. ÔWhitefeatherÕ & ÔHeavyfeatherÕ were two of them. Heavy became black and we had it. At this point, I took some rolls of infa-red film, which became our first publicity stills. They were shot in a graveyard in Ashfield and looked very spooky. At one session in Hornsby, an engineer named John Zuliaka taped us for a demo. This tape I would love to hear now. It was sent to EMI and Festival. Both sent back contracts to sign. We were to book through NOVA and one John Sinclair was our PR man.

We signed up to Essex Music under John Brummel and to FestivalÕs new Infinity label, headed by JohnÕs brother David Sinclair. Things were just beginning to happen when Leith and Mike defected. Dave Miller had poached them for his LP recording project. My career had stalled - it had been months since I had earned any money, and my marriage was heading for the rocks. I busied myself writing more riffs and an instrumental called MangoÕs Theme, which was inspired by LeoneÕs Dollar Westerns. Neale contacted me with good news - he had found a rhythm section recently arrived from Perth. Al Kash, an American, played drums, and Bob Fortesque, bass. They were simpler players than Leith and Mike and the music gelled immediately. We were booked into the Manly Vale Pub soon after, and the crowd went wild. Blackfeather had finally arrived! We started recording our LP soon after at Festival. Richard Batchens engineered and we did The Rat and Long legged lovely. Richard was a good engineer, and later in his career recorded the first Cold Chisel album. His background was in radio and specialized in live recording.

By this time, I was playing another Stratocaster and had swapped my sitar for a Watkins Copycat tape-echo unit. The tube pre-amp in the Watkins was great. It overdrove to front end of the Lenard Amp perfectly. We rehearsed in a venue owned by one John Spooner in lower Elizabeth St and he and I became friends. He also ran Jonathon Night Club in Broadway and the band used to drop in there after gigs for a drink and a blow. At that time, he had two resident bands, Sherbet and Fraternity. The latter were very good. Bon Scott was their vocalist and his skill at jazz standards impressed me. We became close friends.

The later sessions at Festival featured Bon and Johnny Bisset, their keyboard player, and I borrowed Mick Jurds' Strauss Guitar Amp for some songs. Seasons of Change had started life as a jam on stage at Coffs Harbor, and were developed at Hornsby Police Boys Club. Neale supplied the title and the chorus, myself furnishing the rest. It never made it on stage - always sounding empty and half-baked. It reminded me of Ye Olde English Tudor Music, but, as luck would have it, other people loved it. That included Bruce Howe of Fraternity, and the Flying Circus of "Hayride" fame. Bon Scott played recorder on the Blackfeather recording of the song, and the key was changed from E minor to E flat minor to accommodate Neale's range. We had a lot of trouble getting the recorder to play in tune and there are still notes that make me cringe when I listen to it. I used an old gut string acoustic of Richard Batchens, de-tuned a semitone. I remember Richard used a Neumann U67 valve mike on both instruments. We were still stuck using two 4-track recorders a la Sgt Pepper.

for the LP. Considerable time and audio quality was lost in the process of bouncing sub-mixes from machine to machine. At one point, we had to erase a brilliant vocal take from Neale to overdub a string section for Seasons of Change. He was NOT happy. The vocal that was released was not as good, as Neale was suffering from a cold at the time - he really had to push to reach the high B-flat in the verses.

The following track was "Mango's Theme" -- this also featured a string section. Festival would not let me take a copy of the backing, so I had to sit in the studio counting the bars and cue points and then working from memory at home. Still, I was happy with the result and the section leader, Lal Kuring, was very helpful. The music was based on quasi-eastern scales and was basically an improvisation using a bolero rhythm in the middle leading to a key change of F# for the solo. The recorded version is only a shadow of what the track was like live - people used to riot at venues. The Rat, last on the LP, had a free improvisation section in the middle. The concept was to blow and then edit the best bits together later. At the date, things were going well until I broke the whammy-bar off my Strat - Al took over with a drum solo and Bon followed him on Timbales. Upon playback, I felt it lacked something, and after a few sleepless nights, decided to add backward tape effects plus flanging and half-speed dialogue. Batchens scratched his head then wheeled in two more tape machines. If you listen to this section carefully, you can hear where I broke the whammy bar plus make out the words: "It's uptight, outta sight baby, oooh it feels good right up there." The cover art Sinclair decided on was good, but miles away from the original submission which depicted the devil emerging out of the top of a mountain - very similar to one part of Disney's "Fantasia" movie. The title, At the mountains of Madness came from a H.P. Lovecraft novel.

By the time the LP was released I had become a very good friend with Bon and all the members of Fraternity. They had wanted to cover seasons of Change in the style of King Crimson, using mellotrons and such, so before they left to live in Adelaide. Bruce Howe, the leader, approached Sinclair for permission to cover the song. Bon, Bruce and I sat in the A&R office and extracted a verbal agreement from David that Festival would, at no time release Blackfeather version as a single in competition to Fraternity's. Guess what... Festival broke the agreement as soon as they saw Fraternity's version top the Adelaide charts. This really sullied my relationship with the guys. I could also no longer respect David Sinclair. To top all this off, my marriage had broken down permanently. Part of the reason was we were out touring in the boon-docks a lot and were not being paid for weeks after. I complained bitterly to Peter Conyngham at NOVA agency, but got very little response. There was in-fighting in the group as well -- Al Kash, the drummer, particularly was very disheartened.

As "Seasons" rushed into the national top ten, even more pressure was being applied. It got to the point where no one was on speaking terms in the band. The album and single were doing very well in the charts and the Press was having a field day with us, but we had lost Al Kash. Hastily, he was replaced with Terry Gascoigne, a jazz-rock drummer. It did not work. Next Bob Fortesque left, Harry Brus replaced him and brought in new drummer, Steve Webb. This was better but the rift between Neale and me was widen-ing. We called it a day after an intense argument at Festival one afternoon. Unfortunately for me when Neale left, he took the name and agent with him. Peter Conyngham had registered Blackfeather as a business name of his. (If this ass-hole act had happened to me even two or three years later, Mr. Conyngham would have ended up in hospital for major knee reconstruction surgery!) Harry, Steve and I tried to continue but finding a suitable singer was a tall order in such a short space of time. We did a couple of gigs for Mike Chugg but my heart was not in it. We folded.

Luckily, I had been offered a permanent gig at JonathonÕs Night Club playing guitar in the house band, Hunger. The band featured Bobby Turner on vocals, and Bob Gebert on B3 Hammond organ and Fender Rhodes Piano. Barry Leif joined not long after. I was playing rhythm guitar and comps in this outfit and Tamla-Motown covers were high on the song list. Around this period, I had discovered the aural delights of Mr. Frank Zappa (thanks to my then bong buddy Bill Shattock) via We're Only in It for the Money, Uncle Meat and Hot Rats. This gave me the inspiration to study classical and jazz harmony more closely and to commence a practice routine for guitar, which I use to this day. The other area, which Zappa opened up, was in the production of interesting stereo imaging and the editing of the material. Mahavishnu John McLaughlin was next in my new found influences, introduced to me by my then girlfriend, Jennifer.

Over the years, my technique had become suitably narrow for the music I was performing, but this person really brought home the need to expand my writing more material. Festival had just taken delivery of a second hand Neve console, Studer multi-track and JBL monitors, my contract was still viable and I set to work as I had started to find my own path. The first few tracks were recorded by R. Batchens on the old Festival set-up - four tracks with bouncing, these included A.M. Mail to Mullagawudji. When the new gear arrived, the project was shelved until the stuff was installed. By this time, my gear had also changed. Now I was using a Gibson Les Paul Recording Guitar with a Dan Armstrong Amp. This was a Les Paul model, which was seriously under-rated. Players did not like the lower transformer-coupled output, but to me it was great, as I could pull Fender tones from it as well. Very fast neck, and to this day I regret parting with it when I did. John Spooner, the owner of Jonathons, was a bit of a slave driver - we played three nights a week and rehearsed for two days - all for a very nominal sum of money. Barry Leif was the first to quit after a very intense argument with the boss.

The band pushed on, and unexpectedly came an offer from WEA Records. G. Wayne Thomas ("Open up your Heart") and Phil Greenup wanted to put a super-group together and feature John English, fresh from J.C.Superstar -the rock opera. The line-up was: Jon and Bobbi (vox), Gebert (keys), Larry Duryea (percussion - Taman Shud), Teddy Toi (bass - Max Merrit), Steve Webb and myself from Blackfeather. Things went swimmingly for a while, until the initial funds ran out. By that time, we had recorded an LP at Roger Savage's new studio in Melbourne. We had a week to do it in and though the band played well, production was very ordinary - I had about six hours to do twenty guitar over-dubs. This lack of money unfortunately showed in the final pressing. As a result, the group vanished very quickly. It was called Duck, the LP: laid. How apt!! I did, however, get to use the band members as session people on my own project at Festival -- one positive in a sea of negatives at the time. In addition, I used members of a Kiwi band called Blerta, which featured the late, great Bruno Lawrence (T.V. program Frontline) on drums. He was fantastic! I gave him the more complex songs, which contained mixed meters, and such, most of which he nailed in one take. Featured vox were by Bobbi Turner (ne- Marchini), Jeff St John, and Barry Leif. The budget also ran to Symphony Orchestra players on which I could inflict my newly found arranging skills.

At the beginning of '73, Richard Batchens had gone and I started working with Martin Erdman. Martin had a long history in the recording industry, which had started in the mid 50s. Recently he had had great success with "The Lords Prayer" with Sister Janet Mead. Festival was still installing their new studio gear, so we recorded some backings at ATA in Glebe. Here, the late Duncan McGuire engineered. In addition, by this time, John Spooner had come on board as lyricist for my LP. All through this period, I studied eight hours a day at my music - orchestration and harmony being uppermost priorities. I was finding the guitar limited, as many chords and voicings are impractical or impossible. I secured an old upright piano from Jennifer and installed it in the garage. It was well I did, as Martin started giving me work arranging songs for Jeff St John, Barry Leif and Sister Janet Mead.

Through this period, I gained invaluable experience voicing brass, woodwind and string parts, as well as flying one of the first Neve consoles in the city. No wonder Rupert Neve is so respected now, as his designs from the vintage period still sound beautiful 30 years later. Believe me, all you gear-sluts out there, the new generation of mixers do represent great value but are certainly not in the same class (or planet) as Mr. NevesÕ wonders. Martin and I enjoyed a good working relationship, but I think some of my production ideas were a little radical for him, although he was very supportive. ¦After Duck fucked up, I formed Eclipse, a power instrumental trio. We worked the local pubs and wine bars of the inner city and after some months had developed quite a solid fan base.

One gig we liked was French's Wine Bar in Oxford St. We played Mondays and the place was packed. It as perfect for me to try out new ideas on the guitar, and being a trio, gave me the space to stretch out. All the practice routines were starting to pay off and I felt, for the first time in ages, that I was musically breaking new ground. Tony Anderson played drums, and Gary Evans played bass in Eclipse, I poached both off Leith Corbett, who they had been gigging with around Taylor Square. Leith left for England not long after, got married and raised a studio. There he stayed until, sadly, his wife Rachael died (drug O.D.) After the tragedy, he moved to Spain for five years. He returned to Australia in the late eighties, and settled in southern NSW. After about nine months with Eclipse we had added an electric violin and Moog synth to the line up. Unfortunately, although it sounded bigger, our pay packet did not grow accordingly. It did not take long before the group disbanded.

By this time, I had met Charles Fisher of Trafalgar Studios and Jackie Orzacsky the bassist with Hungarian rock group Sirius. He had immigrated to Australia and needed work. I hired him for some of the Festival projects and after a while we formed yet another power/jazz trio. French's Wine bar had recently expanded downstairs and the big group of the moment was Crossfire - a jazz-rock outfit with some very good talent on board. Our trio also played there, mainly as rehearsals for Jackie's forthcoming LP project "Morning in Beramiada". This was a collection of Jackie's tunes which had a distinctly Euro vibe. Interesting melodies and plenty of colour in the orchestrations made the material very stimulating for me. Actually, we did the recording twice: once with Joe Tattersall, the drummer in the trio, and a second time with Graeme Morgan and pianist Peter Jones from Melbourne. Charles Fisher and engineer John Sayers felt that the latter combination best suited the style. My Pity for the Victim project was dragging on and on, the reason being that it was so expensive Festival could only budget x amount of dollars a year. It turned out costing about $100,000 by today's standards! Only 1000 copies were pressed and because I could not promote it (too costly for the personnel) it sank without a trace. Same fate awaited JackieÕs effort: no promotion and no band equalled instant bomb.

1974 saw my tenure at Festival end and my finances were at an all time low. I had had a good run for the last eight years, I thought, and maybe it was time to try something new as a direction but I didnÕt know what. I had been studying composition for a long time and that coupled with my engineering experience at Festival should be of some value. I surmised. At some point I ran into Paul Radcliffe - late of King Fox - a rather talented if hedonistic bassist, guitarist - singer. He had worked at Essex Music at the start of the seventies and had actually transcribed seasons for sheet music release. He was in a band called currents - a jazz-rock sextet - and they were short a guitarist. Yippee... I was employed again. Within this sea of confusion, the chopping and changing of line-ups etc, I was studying increasingly, slowly formulating a method for identifying scales and their relationships to chords. Jazz substitution had always fascinated me but there did not seem to be a method for categorizing them.

I spent six months in Ô76 working on a system that was logical, not realizing that I would soon be teaching the same things to others. One of my greatest influences has been Igor Stravinsky. I had only heard the name a few times and certainly not amongst my peers in the rock world. Then, in 1971, I tuned into ABC radio one day and was struck dumb by the music blasting forth. I listened to the end to find out who was responsible for turning my ear on its ear. It was The Rite of Spring. An announcer continued by saying that the composer, Igor Stravinsky, had just died at the age of 89. For years after that, the music stuck in my subconscious, but it was not until mid 1978 that I could afford to buy records and pocket scores of his compositions to study and hear them back on a decent hi-fi system. Recommended!! They still induce a state of awe in me to this day.

Anyway, back on the ranch, somewhere later in 1973, I changed my rig again. The Les Paul was worn out and the Dan Armstrong really sucked anyway, so first thing I did was trade the guitar in on a Gibson L-6s. Big mistake! The ceramic magnet pick-ups were bright and powerful but had no tone and, to make matters worse, I was in the middle of Jackie's recording. As a stopgap, I played my recently acquired Gibson Howard Roberts semi-acoustic, which helped, in the recording studio, but live it fed back mercilessly. As for the amp situation - I had seen John McLaughlin live recently and had noted his little amp ... a Mesa Boogie Mark I. I rang Randall Smith in California and ordered one. Best choice ever. Stanley Clarke was big, and he used Alembic bases on his recordings. I reasoned that if the bass sounds that good, the guitar should be as good. I ordered one with the 25.5-inch scale neck.

Nothing could prepare me for the shock when I took delivery. It was a behemoth, Fenders are the same scale but the neck is set into the body so a normal person can reach the headstock easily. This monster had 24 frets and they ended where the body began! It was like playing a small bass. That said, the sound was beautiful and very flexible. Again, ceramic pick-ups were used but they passed through active electronics with quasi-parametric tone controls so any tone could be easily dialled up. The workmanship was also the best. EMG did a similar concept a few years later, which is still quite popular. I used this instrument until 1976 when I traded it back to Alembic for a custom guitar with seven strings and a new generation of electronics. This guitar I still use to this day.

Currents were the first large ensemble I had worked with live since Duck. Greg Taylor (editor of RAM magazine) and Andy Ross (late of Mondo Rock) played reeds, Paul Radcliffe, bass, Peter Kelly - Drums, and John Levine, keys. Most of the songs were originals and were very interesting - probably more so than Jackie's. We used to share nights with Crossfire, who by then had a bigger profile. The main venue was French's Wine bar and both groups packed them in. John Levine was studying composition at uni. In addition, at one point he hired me to play both guitar and bass for a modern ballet he had just written called Visionary Figures at the Seymour Centre. This was also a great experience for me as some of the music was improvised on the spot to complement the dancers. These days, the music would be classed as ambient - plenty of drones and sound FX.

Jackie called one day to find out about my touring with Marcia Hines. He was now her Musical Director. I said yes, on condition that we played some of his instrumentals in the warm-up bracket. Andy Ross also took the gig, the music was very boring and Marcia herself had very contrasting mood swings, to put it mildly (must have been all that cocaine she stuck up her nose). The worst part was Perth, nice place, but we were stuck there for two weeks and it became a prison for me. When we returned to Sydney I pledged to myself that I would not do that sort of gig again just because I was short of money - we did not even get to play any of JackieÕs material. I was very glad that Currents got it together again. This time we got to do 2JJ concerts and plenty of studio recordings. It made the small pay packets bearable. We had a large, loyal fan base and, if we had lasted a bit longer, we would have had a recording released.

Currents disbanded in 1976. Barry Farrell of FarrellÕs Music asked me to tour with him to promote Mesa Boogie amps and Alembic guitars mid 1976. I put together a backing tape and did one-man shows down the Eastern Seaboard for six weeks. Financially, I was broke. My relationship with Jennifer was on the rocks. (Funny how women and money interact). Tony Anderson, the drummer I had worked with earlier in Eclipse suggested I might try teaching, as he knew someone who wanted lessons from me. This was John Hardaker, and he became my first legitimate student. This was late in 1976. All my studying was paying off at last, and John stayed in lessons a couple of years. I moved to Dover Heights, near South Head late that year and started advertising in Rolling Stone and Ram Magazine. The phone ran hot. Every guitarist in Sydney seemed to come out of the woodwork! (In the first few years, a number of, now, familiar names passed through the doors: Rex Goh, Eric McCusker, and Colin Hay, to name a few) I was in business at last.

Within a year, I had set up a small studio in the back bedroom (project studio?). I bought a Teac 3340-s 4-track recorder, Tannoy and Auratone speakers and some Sennheiser mikes amongst other things, and started buying Stravinsky recordings. What a buzz. To cater for students, I started recording backings of rock, jazz, standard tunes, and any that I really liked I would put guitars on and mix them down. It was crude, but it worked. As this became more popular I bought a series of drum backings on LP records - Drum Drops, probably the first drum loops on the planet, and used them with bass, guitar, and acoustic piano. I acquired another tape recorder and started mixing down my efforts. These masters still exist to this day. Someday, I will compile and remaster the best of these and release them on a CD series. In addition, I had a real piano and this helped me to no end in figuring out the more complex voicings associated with jazz standards (every guitarist should have a keyboard).

The last project I was involved in before 1980 was an instrumental combo called The Electric Guitar Orchestra. This included John Levine from Currents. We did each other's compositions and the band featured two of my students on guitars. They were John Comino and Steve Robinson (no relation) who specialized in double-neck twelve-string electric. I even arranged part of the Firebird Suite by good ole Igor (Stravinsky) and we did some special Radio broadcasts via 2JJJ. The band was recorded by Willie Rout of Wirra Willa Studios as part of a grant I had received from the Arts Council.

Early in 1980 I married again. The lady's name was Robyn Walkinshaw, it lasted three years. She was an aspiring vocalist, but when things bogged down, as they do, she left. Next thing I know, she's living with one Jon Blake, soapie star, and budding Mel Gibson clone. We all know what happen to Mr. Blake. I liked his mum, Mascot, a violinist with the SSO, and my heart goes out to her now that Jon is bed-ridden. As for Robyn, the last I saw of her was on Derrin Hinch's show on Sydney's Channel 7 in 1990. She had had breast implants and they had gone horribly wrong! Her bust was badly scared and she was looking for compensation. Poor girl; she could never leave well enough alone.

Just for the record, I will attempt to rate the commercial releases through the above period (1967 to 1976). The ratings are based on the perceived recording quality and my personal insight about record production.

1) Morning in Beramiada. Cleanest of all. Pristine sounds and excellent balance. Pity the production team were such assholes.

2) At The Mountains of Madness. 'Live' type recording, some good stereo. Bit harsh in places. Needs remastering.

3) Dave Miller Set singles. Good recordings for the time and place. Very compressed sound, resulting in narrow dynamics, which was good for radio play at the time. Certainly would be better if remixed now.

4) Pity for the Victim. Patchy. Done in a number of studios and dubbed a few times too many. My first attempt at production. Good ideas not fully realised. Needs remixing/ remastering.

5) Laid by Duck. Very good performances compromised by poor production values. Done on a shoestring. G. Wayne Thomas (producer) should have never given up his day gig!