The Eejit

Chapter 13: Hard Travellin'

There were two things you needed to know about Charlie 'Chuck' Ferguson: the first was that he was an absolutely top fucking guy and the second, in an entirely unrelated matter, was that he wasn't American; he was from Toronto, Canada.

Chuck was an imposing looking guy with a broad physique, a mass of curly brown hair and a look in his eyes that said 'Hey Buddy' and 'Fuck You' in equal measure. He was, however, impeccably polite and had the enviable ability to make time for everyone who needed it. He was a good laugh but had limits that he wasn't scared to let know about, if you were taking the mickey. He was organised, hard - working, talented and fair. For these and other reasons, he was the tour manager on the very substantial upcoming tour I was about to do with Dave Sharp and The Barnstormers around the UK and Ireland.

Chuck was a very talented sound guy. That was what he did normally. The sound guy, for those of you who don't know, is the person you see at concerts stood behind the big mixing desk in the middle of the venue bang opposite the centre of the stage. They are as frequently responsible for your enjoyment of a show as the act you have paid to see. Frequently, but not always. I have worked with many in my time. Some have been pretty good, some have been deaf as a post, some have decided that they had a duty to add a layer of audio effects that simply defied explanation and some have just been assholes. I have been an asshole to some in return but this is like being rude to a waiter. Expect jiz on your chips.

Chuck was none of these. He was exceptional. It was rumoured he turned down a Dylan tour because Bob only offered a gloved hand to shake. Chuck wouldn't have stood for such rudeness from anyone.

One of the first things he did when trying to gauge how to reproduce my sound through a PA, was to have me play and sing to him without any amplification. He actually listened to me sing some of my songs and insisted that I play him a variety so that he could understand what I was trying to do. No one had ever taken the time to do this before and it made me feel infinitely more confident about playing live and it made me feel that, despite being a solo acoustic act on this tour, I wouldn't be alone during any performance. I have worked with many sound guys who look at the sparsity of a solo performer with an acoustic guitar and seek to add sounds and effects that simply aren't there. And that was what made him awesome as a sound guy; he listened to his artists and, in doing so with me, Chuck understood exactly what was needed to be done in order to make an essentially simple sound land effectively with a large crowd in a noisy venue.

Chuck was not only the tour manager and the sound engineer, he was the social worker, friend, colleague, confidante, driver and defender of our honour too. Where Ma Dougherty brought succour, respite and shelter from the storm, Chuck brought strength and leadership. Both worked their asses off for us to ensure that by the time we hit the stage on any given night in any given town or city, we would be fed, rested, restrung, revived and ready to go. In my case, I might add that this list included an inexhaustible supply of cans of Guinness.

Willie Nelson once famously tried to ban smoking marijuana from his tour group whilst he tried in vain to kick his infamous habit. All his crew were given leaflets entitled "You Want Dope – Willie Says Nope!" Later it is said that he turned up at one venue to find nothing ready or put together by his crew and most of the stuff still piled on the tour buses. All the crew were wearing T shirts with the immortal retort "NO BLOW, NO SHOW". And the rest is history. I was a bit like this with Guinness.

The work that goes into organising a tour is monumental.

Chuck arrived in the UK well ahead of the tour starting to add dates and oversee as much of the arrangements for the next few months as possible. He stayed at my parents house and they adored him. He was the son they'd always hoped for but failed to coax out of me or my older brother Rory. He was polite, on time, interesting and interested, he showered every day and, disturbingly, mother liked the way he smelt.