Moments Like These: A Glance Back Through Personal Archives

Standing (from left): Cameraman Peter 'Rooda' Warren, the  lighting guy, sound engineer Mark Stewart, guitarist Gary Verberne, bon vivant Mike 'Snapper' Knapp, guitarist Dan McCartin. Front: Film soundman Bruce Adams, singer Mark Kennedy, writer Chris Bourke, and Dave Dobbyn.

 

What were you up to back then?
I was the editor/staff writer of Rip It Up. I'd been on board since February when Russell Brown left to do his OE and Murray Cammick wanted to concentrate on Shake! magazine. I was doing an 'on the road' story, which is on-line if you Google 'Dobbyn' with 'Luck of the Irish'. The tour was great fun, of course, but it was going badly. It was a small town tour, which is a romantic idea but it means your crowds are small yet your overheads are just the same as if you were playing the Bell Block. And the rural economy was suffering as the subsidies had just been removed and they were going cold turkey. Dave's manager Roger King had flown to Auckland the day of this pic to add a few more dates in Auckland, at places like the Mon Desir and Wildside. Dave had just been acquitted of being the scapegoat of Aotea Square, and was re-grouping. This was supposed to be a rehearsal for DD Smash mark III, but he got side-tracked. During the tour he played me two demos on his Walkman of the soundtrack he was doing for Footrot Flats. The songs were 'Slice of Heaven' and 'You Oughta Be In Love'.

What was your relationship to the others in the photo?
Cordial. Lots of cordial.

Tell us what some of them are doing these days.
Peter Janes is a freelance cameraman extraordinaire. In 1969 he shot the original video for the Fourmyula's Nature in Wellington's Botanic Gardens, and he later filmed the Enemy - or was it Toy Love? - cavorting in a Dunedin graveyard. That caused a big fuss. He filmed the Dobbyn tour for a documentary that was never completed. Some clips were used in the Give It a Whirl series: that caused some flashbacks.
I haven't seen Peter Warren for years. Allegedly he played in a heavy metal band in Eastern Europe, and now he might be in Christchurch. The guys from Stewart Sound I never saw again, and Bruce Adams exiled himself to Great Barrier. Mike Knapp became the Warratahs' drummer, was back and forth across the Tasman a lot doing lighting at the Sydney Opera House, then returned home to run the performing arts centre in Hamilton. (A lot of work went into that hair each morning, Snap has his own little hole in the ozone layer.)
Gary Verberne was Ashburton's guitar virtuoso, and a true gentleman. Whenever we meet he reminds me that I saved his life on this tour. The next night we were in Matamata, and only 45 people showed up. Just as the band was going on stage I went back to the bedroom I was sharing with Gary. He was trapped in the toilet and was banging on the door, panicking. It wouldn't open from the outside, either, so I got a knife and took the hinges off.
Dan McCartin and Mark Kennedy are my cousins from Taihape, and at that stage they were still in the afterglow of their 15 minutes of infamy as Daggy and the Dickheads. In 1982 they drove up to Auckland with a leg of lamb in the boot and their drum cymbals wrapped in woolpacks. Ian Morris produced their EP 'Brothers' and Les White, another ex-Dude, became their bass player. And I finally got the nerve to introduce myself to Murray Cammick. (I thought he'd be an arrogant hipster, like they seemed to be on the NME. But after meeting Mark, the first thing Murray did was make him a tape of Otis Redding. So I knew he'd be okay.) Dan and Mark are still music obsessed, thinking more of the song they're writing than the paddock they're about to muster. And the guy in the hat? He was last seen winning the Battle of Britain all over again singing Welcome Home in Hyde Park. 

What have you been doing since?
After Rip It Up I traveled a bit in the States then returned to the Listener where I'd been a staff writer before Murray made me the offer I couldn't refuse. I became the arts and books editor there, then left to write a biography of Crowded House, 'Something So Strong'. Their first record came out at the time of this photo, but nobody had heard it or was taking any notice. Six months later they played a living room party in Auckland where I became a convert. Six months after that America discovered Don't Dream It's Over.
For the last five years I've been producing National Radio's Saturday morning programme with Kim Hill and John Campbell. But I've taken a year out to research a book at the National Library on the early history of popular music in New Zealand. It'll be like a prequel to John Dix's legendary 'Stranded in Paradise', covering the 40 years prior to Johnny Devlin. Its working title is 'Blue Smoke Gets in Your Eyes'.

Tell us about writing a book. What is the process?
Popular culture - especially pop music - wasn't really written about till the late '50s. So for the dance band era I've had to go through a lot of newspapers and magazines to find every mention of music I could. Luckily there's a jazz archivist in Auckland, Dennis Huggard, who has been compiling information for years. I've also interviewed a lot of musicians - the oldest being 93 - and people like Eldred Stebbing. I'm really looking forward to the writing, when I can see some results, because doing a book like this takes more stamina than flair. You shape the big picture in the back of your mind while taking one small step at a time. I can see it's going to take at least two years. But the stories are there - sex and drugs aren't prominent but there was plenty of illicit boozing and some great musicians. I walk around the streets with my head in the past, picturing the art deco radio theatre just off Queen Street, or the Majestic Cabaret in Wellington - so many locations have gone. But the building where 'Blue Smoke' was recorded still exists, as does the Orange Ballroom where Bill Sevesi held court - and the Civic, of course. A barge used to come up through the floor after the film, full of musicians. They'd play a song or two and encourage people to come to the dance afterward at the Wintergarden.

What are your recollections of the music media when you started compared to now?
Radio was diabolical, except for pockets like Barry Jenkin, 2XS and the student stations. Commercial radio was the enemy of New Zealand music for most of the '80s; they didn't even want to play Slice of Heaven. As far as music writing went, well the '80s were better than the '50s. And quality rather than the overwhelming quantity of today. Nationwide the only outlets were Rip It Up and the columns in the Listener, but there were strong local writers like Roy Colbert in Dunedin, Rob White in Christchurch and Colin Hogg and Phil Gifford in Auckland. Gary Steel covered Wellington. The Auckland Star was essential reading on a Thursday night for its gig guide and music features. Paul Ellis took over from Colin at the Star but Metro never forgave him for writing "the late Chuck Berry".

What is important to you in music and in writing?
I like music writing that leads you back to the music, that adds something extra you hadn't heard. There are music writers who are sociologists, or wanting to show how hip they are, or for whom music is just a stepping stone for their own creativity (or self-indulgence). Personality is crucial, but so is credibility: there are music writers who I love reading, but would never buy one of their recommendations, or with great taste but lousy syntax. It's a lot harder to make a good record than it is to write a review slagging it off.

What's on your playlist right now ?
 Downloading - emusic.com is Mecca - causes attention deficit disorder, so it's songs rather than albums. At the moment I have 1920s Fletcher Henderson and '70s funk on shuffle. Ellington slides nicely into Dimmer, and then I hear a connection to Curtis Mayfield. I go from Allen Toussaint to Jacques Loussier, Slim Harpo to Slim Dusty. M Ward rather than Eminem. Recent female singers like Alice Smith, Alice Russell, the Be Good Tanyas. Old New Zealanders like Rex