by Ian Gillan
Whenever I mentioned his name, it would either be ignored or passed off, or dealt with in terms of, ‘Oh, you’re not going to work with him again, are you?’ The fact that Steve’s a great writer didn’t seem to matter, and it got to the stage where various flash young guitar players who didn’t know shit would say, ‘What’s Ian doing with Steve still around?’ then to find it demeaning that he’d play on the Liverpool cabaret circuit so he could feed his wife and kids.
Well, it all became very difficult, and, when it came to preparing for the next album, Toolbox, it was strongly suggested that I work with new people, except that I’d already made up my mind I was going to keep Steve on board, and play the ‘suits’ and others at their own game! So I brought in Bernie Tormé, Mel Galley and Leslie West from his band, Mountain, whose reputation was considerable, with fine songs, such as ‘Mississippi Queen’, ‘Blood of the Sun’ and ‘Theme from an Imaginary Western’ (also known as ‘Theme for an Imaginary Western’), to their credit. On top of that, Leslie’s personal standing as a musician was similarly excellent, since he’d recorded or performed with the likes of Jeff Beck, Joe Walsh, Van Halen and Jimi Hendrix, no less!
So Leslie came over from the States, and stayed at the house with us, as we all fell into the spirit of the new project, and embraced the politics that surrounded it. Eventually, the record company people came out to hear the demos, and the session began with, ‘Now this is by Steve,’ and we’d run through a song or two, before they were passed over; and we moved to, ‘And this has Leslie on it,’ and they’d all say it was great, without being told that, although Leslie was on it, Steve had written it, and was also playing! Further down the line it was becoming increasingly obvious that the people from the record company were extremely confused as to what may or may not be a good song, finally to conclude that perhaps we should forget who wrote the material and just select on merit!
Events would dictate that Steve would not play on the next tour, although he started with it as a musician, and worked on Toolbox, for which the pressure was really on, with fan expectations high. ‘Come on, Ian, we need a rock album!’ To which my response would be, ‘Yeah, right, I’m gonna scream from start to finish on every song!’
At the same time as this was happening, the search for new musicians came onto the agenda, and it began against the backdrop that the Naked Thunder tour had been one long drinking session, to which end my nearest and dearest were now laying it on the line: ‘Enough is enough, Ian, or it’s going to be all over!’
I kept hearing that I had to stop drinking (fair enough), quit smoking (no problem), lose some weight (it’ll just drop off), and that it was only when I’d got a grip on my life that people in the business would take me seriously again. So this was pretty much the chorus of comment from Phil Banfield, Al Dutton and B. In fact, Phil and Al said they’d quit unless I got my career under control again, and, although B didn’t go so far, it was plain I had to do something about myself.
Now, believe it or not, I had absolutely no idea how much my image was hurting me, because I’d figured out that, so long as I was writing and singing well, I’d just have to wait for the tide to turn, and all would be back on track and how it used to be when I was at my best. But it wasn’t an opinion that was shared, because here were my dear friends and wife spelling out the reality, and the thought of losing them was too much to bear. And so I called on the old ‘thinking position’ again, and emerged from it having decided to revive an old and much-ignored promise. When Phil says ‘jump’, I jump! (Well, sometimes!)
Phil has a great attitude to management. He simply reckons he’s been engaged to do a job honestly, and to the best of his ability, and that from time to time he’ll do it so well that he’ll be able to take some commission. We have never had a contract, and have been together now for quite some time, during which we’ve both made our share of mistakes, but hopefully learned from them also. And then, as already mentioned, I had Al, who’d become such a valued part of my inner circle, while – although he’d been working with other artists, including his old buddy Jeff Beck and Judas Priest, to mention just two of his stellar associations – his commitment to supporting my revival was fantastic.
Whoever Al is with can know they have a person of refreshing openness, and if there’s something difficult to be said, you can rely on him to say it. Tour managers are a special breed of no-nonsense types, and they have to be, because one minute they’ll be quietly putting their obnoxious charges to bed in a hotel that’s had enough, and where their staff just want to go home, but then, a few hours later, they’ll be charming an airline out of having to pay so much as $2, 000 for excess baggage. Their responsibilities are enormous, and many a hopeless situation has been rescued, thanks to the experience of people like Al and Colin Hart.
Toolbox was produced by Chris Tsangarides (‘Tangled Hairdo’, as he became known – the s is silent), and we used Battery Studios in London, where the line-up was to change once again. Given our new impetus, Chris had said there was only one drummer we could possibly use to get what we were after, and so we found ourselves driving to Gatwick Airport to meet a flight from Oakland, California, and the one and only Leonard Haze! Chris had briefed me a bit on Lenny’s past with the band Y&T (originally known as Yesterday & Today), so, when this funny-looking guy with a little potbelly wheeled through customs, I walked up, hand outstretched, and said, ‘Leonard Haze, I’m pleased to meet you. I understand you’re known as “The Mayor of Hell”!’
He looked at me and wheezed, ‘That’s right, and pretty soon I hope to become president!’ However, his words tailed away, because, as he looked past me, his eyes said hotdog, and so we crossed to the stand, where Lenny ordered a couple – with ‘the works’. Now I should mention that Chris was wearing some smart casual clothes, and, as Lenny chomped his first bite, most of ‘the works’ – mustard, chillies, ketchup and onions – exploded through his fingers and onto Chris’s new loafers. Welcome aboard, Lenny!
A few hours later, and installed at the Swiss Cottage Hotel where we were staying, Steve, Chris and I were frantically ploughing through our address books in search of a new bass player, at which moment Lenny woke up and said, ‘I know just the guy!’ So we bought him a pint of cider, and he delivered the goods – and I mean the goods, because a couple of days later we were back at the airport to meet one of the most imposing characters I’ve ever come across: Brett Bloomfield (ex-Starship) from San Francisco. Well I just couldn’t believe my eyes, because the guy was about nine foot four, with a lean muscular frame, black shiny hair down to his arse and lips that made Mick Jagger’s looked pursed! Furthermore his five-string guitars are made out of entire oak trees, and that man can play!
So everything was in place, except a storm cloud appeared, in that, a little while before all of this began, I’d taken B to the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford for tests on her heart, and, at the end of the day, we were sitting at a desk opposite her consultant, Brian Gribbin. Of course, we both knew what was going to be said, as he quietly explained that B needed an operation to replace a faulty valve in her heart, and that it should be carried out quite soon, because there was the real danger she could collapse in the garden, where she expended so much effort. A small tear ran down her face as we rose, gave our thanks and stumbled out to the car.
By the time we were home, she was making plans, and, within days, the coffee table was littered with medical books, as she set about learning everything she could about the heart. The medical books looked bizarrely interesting, lying alongside her gardening literature! As with everything that B does, she approached this crisis head on, which is not to imply she’s confrontational, just that she does have great courage and strength. However, as you might appreciate, this was not the best moment for me to be making a new record!
There comes a time in your life when you go through a door, and that time for me was Wednesday, 24 April 1991, as I held my darling Bumble’s hand. She was ghostly white, the recovery ward was d
eathly quiet, and I went through ‘that door’. You can hardly see the scar now.
One of the questions I’m often asked is, ‘What do you do when a tour ends, and you’re back home?’ To which I proudly reply, ‘Exactly what my wife tells me!’ In fact when I get back, and sometimes I’ve been away for several months, I’m given just two days to reacquire a domestic attitude, by which I mean two days to get rid of strutting my stuff, and then it’s, ‘Here’s a list of things that need doing around the house!’ Oh, and I’m allowed to be a rock star only on Fridays, and then, as I’m slipping outside the door for a pint at the local, there’s an even chance I’ll be thumbed back upstairs, because I’m not bleedin’ colour-coordinated! Now that’s hard to take, but you’d be looking at a fool if you thought I didn’t love it!
We finished Toolbox, which included ‘Hang Me out to Dry’, ‘Dirty Dog’, ‘Candy Horizon’, ‘Don’t Hold Me Back’, ‘Pictures of Hell’, ‘Dancing Nylon Shirt’ (Parts 1 and 2), ‘Gassed Up’, ‘Everything I Need’ and ‘Toolbox’ itself. The album was well liked, albeit with mixed reviews, and by the way, ‘Toolbox’ is a reference to exactly what you think it is!
However, we felt let down by our label, East West, who gave no real leverage to the project and its promotion – in fact, all the ideas seemed to flow from the artists’ side, including the design, on which I worked with Manjeet Khangura of Electric Echo, and which we got sorted right down to the condom freebies in the Toolbox packaging!
A hat shaped head
A shoe shaped foot
A kennel shaped dog
A dancing nylon shirt.
A man shaped woman
Balloon shaped air
Glass shaped beer
A dancing nylon shirt.
After Naked Thunder, it seemed that everybody was confused again, but, with this new record, Chris Welch for Metal Hammer wrote along the lines that, if Toolbox wasn’t a great success, then maybe rock ’n’ roll was really dead. Well thanks, Chris, but that’s a lot of weight to carry! Rock ’n’ roll will never die, because it’s proactive. It’s also elusive to the pundits and the industry, and it always generates from ‘underground’. It’s equally very personal to musicians and fans alike, and you can’t ever bag it. It’s not a fashion: it’s an attitude!
So the album was out, and we went back on the road, this time keeping Steve Morris, from the Naked Thunder project. Also, we had Lenny Haze and Brett Bloomfield on board, with tour manager Al Dutton to keep the show on track, and Jim (Jim Bob) McLean as production manager and sound man. Graham (Squiffy) Underwood also came along, and he and Lenny became attached at the hip!
At a time when the worldwide recession was really beginning to bite, and promoters were cancelling dates, the new Ian Gillan Band was setting out on a tour, which would take us through twenty-seven countries, including many new places along the way:
July
Ukraine Zaporozhye and Kiev
Latvia Riga and Liepāja
Russia Moscow
After playing these challenging territories, we returned to the UK for some October shows, before moving through Europe in November; taking in Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Poland, Czechoslovakia and Spain. As Bill Reid used to say, ‘Timing is of the essence,’ as our tiny entourage simply travelled everywhere, and it was fantastic!
You know, it’s not just the shows that give life to a tour: it’s also the company you travel with, and the camaraderie that develops. It is these things, along with the sights you experience as you travel vast distances, and meet the different people, with their wonderfully different cultures which are so different to our values and beliefs – all of these moments play a key part in the fabric of the rock ’n’ roll I so passionately believe in.
On the banks of the River Dnieper in Zaporozhye, Ukraine, just a few klicks (kilometres) downriver from Kiev, we were invited to a barbecue. It so happens that the Cossacks of that territory seemed none too fond of the people of Kiev, so, when it was my turn to propose a toast to new friends, I became aware of mutterings when I mentioned the name of the city, and the fact that we’d played there two nights before. Not wishing to offend our hosts, and now being well away from Kiev, I said (through the interpreter) that the water seemed much warmer here, than further upstream, and, with this observation, the mood seemed to lighten, as I also suggested (to the Cossacks) that this incredible phenomenon was probably caused by the fact that I’d pissed in the river when I was swimming in the freezing waters of Kiev. Well this provoked much talking behind hands, as toothy smiles slowly turned to gales of unrestrained laughter, and my nimble and contrived insult to their neighbours cemented my status as a true friend!
Much vodka (or was it more vodka) was then consumed, the interpreter was given a break and we continued in the international language of brotherly love, which concluded with my explaining that my father came from Scotland, and I couldn’t understand a single word he said to me until I was a man. So, on the strength of that, we drank some more, laughed some more, and talked around the fire, under the stars, and deep into the night.
Meanwhile, rumblings of discontent could almost be heard from the office back in London, as the tour drifted towards a new phase of shows, and the pressure to replace Steve increased.
The only personal criticism I could ever level at Steve was that his movement on stage made the pyramids look lively, but, apart from that, he’s a great guy, an impeccable musician and an ongoing associate to this very day. It’s just that the others felt the chemistry wasn’t quite right, and he took the news like the big man he is.
So it was replacement time, and, after the show in Barcelona, (15 December 1991), Dean Howard – formerly with T’Pau – joined the band, having been introduced by Al Dutton. Well, the first thing you notice about Dean, if you look down, is that his feet seem to be heading in almost opposite directions – a sort of ‘ten to two’ on a clock face. However, apart from that minor observation, I have to say that he was the perfect ingredient we needed to complete the recipe I was after for this wonderful band; and from his first show with us in Istanbul, Turkey (30 January 1992), the magic was with us – in spades! Even though he forgot every arrangement and key, his charisma and guitar playing gave me, Brett and Lenny the chance to deliver – and we most certainly did that!
Brett was an awesome sight, and, wearing black tights and Doc Marten boots, he rampaged around stage like a crazed rhino, while Dean would be every girl’s dream in his tatty jeans, Docs and a silly grin on his face! Lenny and I would be cracking up all night, as performances reflected our rock-’n’-roll intention, and we played two great shows in Greece before travelling to Australia for a schedule that took us through Sydney, Adelaide, Melbourne and Perth. We then moved back into Europe: Sweden, Denmark, Norway and Finland.
It was during all of this intensive activity that I got some good advice from a promoter, John Alphonso, when we spoke in a hotel room of my future. I asked John direct what he thought I should do with my career, to which his response was given in simple words and without embellishment.
‘Ian, it’s up to you!’ he said, and I pondered on this for quite some time. In the meantime I was with people I related to, and loved, and so we travelled on, always breaking new territory and making new friendships, until we arrived in La Paz, Bolivia, on 30 April 1992.
Perched in a nest high up in the Andes, La Paz is the highest city in the world. After a long journey from London, via Miami and Bogotá, we arrived just before dawn to scenes of great excitement, before we were whisked away to a press conference, where the first question I was asked was, ‘What do you think of Bolivia?’ Well I was tired, and it was still the crack of dawn, so I replied, to my shame, ‘It’s very dark, isn’t it?’
The point is that most people want to be thought of with affection, and I guess this was the same as my asking after a show, ‘Did you enjoy it?’ So I tend not to ask! Music is a wonderful medium that can transcend all languages, cultures, religions, politics and general st
rife, while so many people have also made love and conceived their children accompanied by their favourite artists!
We arrived exhausted at our hotel, where tea was offered, made from coca leaves. I was interested, as ever, to understand more about nature’s goodness and gifts, and it was explained to me that, in order to relieve aches and pains, the leaves from the coca tree are chewed by the Indians, and it’s been that way since time began. Indeed, it’s seen as natural, and as innocent to the Bolivians, as tea is to Europeans, although, since the leaves are also the source of the ‘evil cocaine’, the situation doesn’t sit well with those who have the fingers of the world pointing at them!
Still, there was a show to do, and in the stadium at La Paz, I nearly passed out during the first song. The problem was I’d never given much thought to how the atmosphere way up where we were to perform might affect us, but, as I’d quickly learn, the air is so thin at such altitudes that strangers can have a hard time doing anything physical. And so Lenny and I suffered a lot that night, although every second was worth it.
Before we flew out between towering mountain peaks the next day, I waved a heartfelt farewell to this isolated little city, with its generous people and culture, so far removed from the exploitation of mankind!
Onwards – ever onwards – the tour continued into Montevideo (Uruguay), and then to São Paulo, Belo Horizonte and Curitiba (Pine Nut Land) in Brazil. Mexico followed Chile, and, while we were in that part of the world, we met a bunch of British sailors after one of our shows. In fact we’d easily picked them out from the stage, because they were waving their ship’s flag, and, after a couple of beers backstage, Chief Petty Officer Taff Kemble and the lads invited us to board their travelling workplace the next day, where they gave us a guided tour, and we had a great time. In some ways it brought back memories of that very different and quite shambolic tour of a ship I’d experienced with Episode Six, when we were shown around the aircraft carrier in Beirut; but, right now and in Brazil, our confidence was sky high, and the break from work with our new fans was both welcome, and appreciated.