The Eejit

Chapter 9: Easy

Chapter 9 Easy

I was fairly sure that I would never get used to playing the big civic arenas I suddenly found myself in. By way of contrast, Dave and the band seemed to grow another foot or so when they bounded out onto the stage whereas, in all honesty, I felt dwarfed by it all. I remember that this was the first moment that it struck me that this thing I thought I loved doing, could also feel overwhelmingly oppressive too.

A few days after the show in Derby I was in the back of Dave's brother Stuart's car with Dave and Laura, Dave's partner, heading to St Austell in Cornwall for the next show at the Coliseum. I felt more comfortable on this occasion. We had holidayed in Cornwall every summer as kids in the days before you could fly to Ireland for a tenner, and eventually my parents ended up buying a house there near Tintagel.

I remember the car journey well for many reasons. The excitement of being on the road, the early spring great weather, the feeling of foreboding at what the next gig might be like and the eclectic mix of people I was travelling with. Dave was always thoughtful and spoke only if he felt he had something insightful to add to what was going on around him. When you spoke – as I did a lot - you could see his brow furrow behind his shades as he processed the crap I was coming out with. He was that genuine artistic sponge that absorbs and processes everything. It made the things he did say more impactful too. Stuart was the antithesis of this. He was larger than life, definitely a 'one of the lads' type, and reminded me of a northern comedian, except he was genuinely funny. I liked Stuart immensely and there was never a dull moment when he was around. You didn't have to be cool when you were with Stuart because he wasn't interested or impressed by that. There was a yin and yang in how he and Dave dovetailed in and around each other. It was always respectful and accommodating though, despite the marked differences in approach. It was a lovely coexistence that seemed familiar without being worn; it probably worked well in the school playgrounds of their childhood days too.

Laura Kelly was different again. Laura was American, sharply pretty with piercing eyes and short dark hair. She was Irish by heritage, which we had in common and she was super bright, which sadly we did not. Having been struck by how open and warm everyone I had met thus far had been, I understood that Laura would be more discerning and private. She was however quite political, an area where we found common ground and when the opportunity arose, which it did rarely, we would talk Reagan and Thatcher, Northern Ireland, religion and all the topics that don't accompany rock and roll tours. My impression was that she was not at ease in these tour surroundings, another thing we had in common, but she had a vital role in providing sanctuary from the madness to Dave, which she did well.

We arrived a day early in St Austell so that we could make the most of the great weather that had accompanied our journey down. We checked into the Carlyon Bay Hotel, which seemed unusually plush for the bus load of musicians and roadies who now swarmed the opulent corridors and grounds. Stuart was kind enough to share his room with me for the 2 nights of our stay. Getting a bed to sleep in when you are the support act (to the support act!) is lottery win on a rock and roll tour.

The hotel was full of extremely well – dressed, black American men. It wasn't until I got talking with one the other guests who had asked me about my guitar that I found to my delight we were sharing the hotel with The Commodores and their extensive road crew. They were due to play the Coliseum tonight ahead of our gig tomorrow. I was soon introduced to JD Nichol and 'Clyde' Orange who had been permanent fixtures with the band since not long after I was born. I couldn't believe my current run of good fortune. Not only was I on tour with a great rock and roll band playing big venues to some of the most accommodating fans on earth, I was now lounging around in a posh hotel talking utter shite with the guys who wrote Easy, Nightshift and Three Times a Lady. These guys had done it all and been everywhere and yet, like Dave, Twist and Eddie from The Alarm had the courtesy to treat me as an equal or at least a fellow musician. I was in deep.