It's never too late to share some old fun

 Yours truly never stopped playing music but in the late 90s I was hosted in a music magazine as the guitar player of a band who had just released their debut CD.

For those who might not know or remember, this was the time that Lars Ulrich had much more hair and Natalie Imbruglia was successfully "Torn":

But these guys got enough money and publicity over the years so let's go back to the band pictured in the first place.

I can't wait to comment on some bits of our photos. First of all, just so that you know, I am the youngest one kneeling down bottom left in the big picture. I don't know if it shows that I feel uncomfortable but I definitely did and the reason was the motorcycle boots I was wearing: they were too tough to bend in order to kneel properly. However, I think it's easier to tell that the drummer (guy on the right at the same picture) is unhappy. Why? He told me the story as soon as the photo shoot was over: On his way to the theater where we were waiting him to start the photo session he had an accident. A cub driver ignored a stop sign resulting in him and his moped going over the cub and landing a few meters away. There is a little stain on his bright jeans (at his left thigh) because of that. He survived this scratch free. Unbelievable. Me and the bass player (tallest bearded guy) took his bike to the mechanic next day. With a pregnant wife he was too busy to do so.

That interview had some funny bits as well. It took place at our basement rehearsal studio at the center of Athens, a place which was flooding on every single rain so the unwritten law was that in case of bad weather someone should rush there ASAP. First time I did so I was wet to the bone after arriving there with my bike and no rain gear so when I finished mapping the floor I tried to dry my pants using a hot plate as iron. Didn't really like the result - don't try this at home. So, we met a journalist from the magazine to interview us at this basement/rehearsal studio/shit hole thingy, a surprisingly kind and cultivated guy. He felt positive about our music (we played a couple of tunes for him) and I replied "the neighbours don't necessarily share the same opinion". He liked that line so he put it in the printed magazine. It is true that an old guy was visiting us almost on every rehearsal complaining about "the noise" though we had isolated the studio as much as we could, or better say afford. On every visit of his I got more and more the feeling that he mostly wanted someone to talk to hence he wasn't as bitching as this might sound like. The way he mimicked the sound of drums was priceless and became a constant joke between us "derapa deroopa, derapa deroopa". Wish I had recorded this but no cell phones (we could afford) back then.

I recall with a smile how we tried to promote ourselves back in the day. Remember, internet and cell phones where almost unknown words. On the positive side, magazines like this one where still surviving feeling comfortable to pay a photographer for a photo session for the most unknown band in the world. But we had no money and support other than ourselves and our empty pockets. The singer/guitar player (the guy who kneels on the right) had the idea for us to go and meet DJs at bars clubs and radios to give them our CD (FYI I didn't play on that album as I joined the band on its release). For days we were touring such places at night around Athens, the three of us (drummer was a too busy soon to be father) in a small pick up track of the singer's mother who used it to carry stuff for her pharmacy store. No other choice since this was the only 4 wheeler we all had (the rest of us being bikers). This wasn't a bad idea actually and some DJs were surprised we put the effort to do so since they didn't know any other band promoting themselves like this. Some were kind enough (or brave?) to play the CD to the public while we were still chatting with them. That same tiny truck was also our only way to carry our gear for the gigs we had around the city. Yes, we couldn't skip a stop by the traffic police as the car wasn't licensed to carry other than pharmacy stuff. Luckily didn't get a ticket (don't know why - god (if there's any) loves rock 'n roll or knew we had no money to pay anyway?). Not all good ideas help you to take off and this was one more of them. What definitely didn't help was the chaotic appointments we had, with me and the singer being the most loyal (if not the only ones). Nothing is as nerve wrecking as someone being late for a soundcheck. That led me to decide to call it a day, though the guys were really good hearted and gave me space to do my thing. Especially with the bass player we had an extra bond as bikers and we used to visit a bunch of bars at nights extra frequently which led to eliminating the money in my pocket even though life was so much cheaper then than it is now. Additionally, I knew I couldn't skip joining the army in a year or so and I didn't want to compromise them since I could see in their eyes the lust to finally make it - that "now or never" thing. And they already had their previous guitar player abandoning them on day 1 of their debut's recordings. As I was about to tell them so, they tell me they've booked us to open for the most famous band at that time at one of the most famous live clubs of Athens so I just couldn't rain on their parade. That gig was sold out and the place was so crowded that I had to swim in a pool of audience to make it on stage from backstage. We start the first tune with a drum intro and I could sense how stressed the drummer was for starting his first "big" gig solo but soon someone else would be in much worse situation: The singer. The front row kids, stoned beyond imagination, had pulled off the cables from his guitar's effects so he had to bend over and fix the mess. Not an easy job to do in the dark, especially since he had a short of complicated DIY power unit to feed all his stuff. The whole thing looked like spaghetti thrown from a roof top. As I see him struggling I try to make with my guitar the (extended out of necessity) intro sound not obviously fucked up. Close to what would feel like "too late" he manages to fix the mess in front a sold out place waiting for him to open his mouth and we continue as planned. We had surprisingly good sound due to the guy behind the mixing board who knew what to do and the fact that the venue had new gear since it was freshly renovated was super welcome. Close to the end of our set, the manager of the headliner band came to the side of the stage to talk to me while we were still playing our last tune and yelled at my right ear to finish after this. Frustrated I nodded OK and as he walks away he accidentally disconnects my power supply. Fortunately took me way much less time than the poor singer to fix this.

Backstage the band was over excited while I was thinking that I'd better split soon cause every step from now on would be more and more uncomfortable to quit - I joined them at the party backstage nevertheless. In the same week I quitted. I told them I could play any gig till they find someone new but they were too unhappy to just say "OK fine". Totally understood. I brought them another guy with whom they later played at a big open venue of a festival (Placebo played next day there), good bloke and player but not a match for them. He told me "you're stupid to loose that gig" and a month later when he was out too said "yeah, I got you now..."

No contact with the guys and a couple of years later when I was at an island serving as an airman for the Greek Air Force a mate comes to me and says "hey, that band you told me you used to play with, I heard them on radio and recorded the tune. Wanna hear?" I gladly did and found out that they had just released a single. A nice FM pop rock track. Made me smile.

Many years later I am at a huge store to buy some tools and as I reach for the elevator I see the bass player and the singer. A wow moment for all of us. We chatted a bit and the bass guy says at the end: I'll do a party in a few days...wanna come? My honest "sure let me know when" led him to sms me a couple of days later. The kind of parties this guy hosts are marathons. They start around noon till...who knows... I arrived early and soon find myself helping with grilling chicken chops and such. "Good old Orestis...always eager to help..." said the host with his beard surrounding his big smile. I actually really felt like home at his place once again, a feeling I didn't have in other ones. The attendees helped on that too. I was wondering "why I don't meet such people more often?". The drummer showed up later, he was more than happy to meet me after all these years and so was I. Proposed to form a band again but the host said "I'm not forming a band with Orestis again" which made us all laugh. The singer didn't come. He looked kinda too anxious in that accidental meeting we had days ago. I have a couple of answers why but I'll keep them for me.

We never met with the guys again and it's already another good bunch of years ever since...

No shortage of funny stories from that era when the band was desperately looking for a gig but here's one I can't keep for myself:

I'm hanging out with the bass player as usual one night and after a few drinks he tells me "you know what? In the morning while working (he was a driver) I passed through a place at Thivon avenue and it looked big and was reading "Live music soon". Let's go have a look...fancy?" I go like "Man...that area is full of industrial stuff and crap folk music. How come there'll be a place for us there?" He insisted and since I am a km eater we climbed on our bikes and went there. We arrive at a deserted dodgy area, get off our bikes and walk towards the entrance of that "venue". It was closed, dark, looked big indeed but not even close to anything hospitable for music like ours (rock oriented). As soon as we decide to leave it behind since no one was around, an old guy comes in an old long 60s OPEL, looks briefly at as and parks his car at the place's lot. Total movie scene: The guy steps out of the car and sees a tall chubby bearded guy (bass player) with a slim hairy one (me) waiting at the door with their motorbikes...what would he think? I put my innocent smile to ease things, he asks "what are you looking for gentlemen?" and the bass player explains him that we're a band looking for gigs etc. As far as I recall we didn't talk much that night but exchanged contacts and told him to come again with the band to talk about a potential gig. In order to give us his phone he pressed a zero receipt on his cashier machine - I still have it!

Next day or two, we meet with the band in our rehearsal studio and explain them the whole thing. Drummer's first reaction to bass guy: "Are you fucking serious? There's nothing except shit folk music and brothels around there". Somehow the singer was convinced to meet the owner at the venue and see what is what (desperate for a gig, easy to convince) so in a few days the three of us (except the busy as usual soon to be father drummer) arrive at the "potential venue of our potential gig". The owner started the story of his life. He used to play the trumpet and he also wrote the lyrics to one of the most famous Greek songs. The second impressed me to be honest since this song can come to the lips of every Greek above 50 (curious what it sounds like? Click here). I recall him saying that he's disgusted by the music industry and the night in general, that he would never allow his daughter to follow his lifestyle etc. At some point he wanted to show off how powerful his 1KW PA was and the venue flooded with shitty frequencies as he turned up the amplifier. It was obvious that we were at a shit place and the owner was desperate to save his wreckage but the band was also desperate to play so in a combination of desperations the singer (who did most of the negotiations) agreed to play.

So, next Saturday night we were supposed to go there and play. We load all our instruments and gear on that singer's mum's little truck and arrive there for soundcheck. The guys from the band (actually the singer) had invited a journalist to come and see us. We set up our instruments, do a sound check and take a rest before the "show". Time was closing in so the place started playing music which...couldn't be anything else than shit music - that's all they had :) We looked to each other with a cross between "WTF" and "I told ya" and had a first approach with the owner letting the singer do the negotiations as usual. I recall the owner saying "wait till the audience gets drunk and then FUCK THEM". Well, there was actually no audience to fuck except the singer's girlfriend, the journalist and his gf, a hardcore fan of ours who followed us everywhere and another 3-4 local thugs who showed up probably cause they had no money to go further :) Shit music went on and I said to the singer to go tell him it's over. So, we repack all our gear, reload all that stuff on the truck and leave the place. I remember how impressed the journalist and his gf were going like:

"Wow, you guys really put effort on that!"

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