INDEX
The Practice Room – YFC Pretoria office /storage facility.
The 7th Avenue Practice room, a space provided by YFC, was the scene for many wonderful memories. We practice there, but spent more time laughing and enjoying each others company that making serious music. Yet is was this camaraderie that gelled the band together, and that closeness showed up in performances, far more than musical talent.
That Famous Practise
Lindsay remembers: Our practises were always terrific fun. Many of them happened in a large back room off an alley at the end of an arcade in the Patterson’s building. We would drive the van (illegally, but it was night anyway) down the arcade and park it at the end in front of the YFC office, and then offload any equipment we needed to practise with – amps, mics, stands, cables, etc. The room was chaotic because it was used as an office and a storeroom by YFC and into the chaos we would bring guitars and equipment. The perk for us was that it was free and because it was downtown at night we could make as much noise as we liked without any complaints. The volume was usually loud. We would go through songs and using the chords, work out instrumental accompaniments. Getting harmonies right would be done acappella and usually without mics. I remember working out “Shut de Door” that way. Everyone had his say but often Theo would have the final choice.
One night we were thundering away when an older man opened the door and came in. He turned out to be Portuguese and drunk – his speech was very slurred and the strong accent didn’t make understanding him any easier. He had obviously heard the racket and was curious to find out what was making the noise, but, when he walked (staggered?) past the van parked at the end of the passage he had seen that oil was leaking slowly from some part of the engine onto the tiled floor. In he came and we struck up a really bizarre conversation. We didn’t understand him because he kept mentioning “wallish” which, after many misunderstandings, turned out to be “oil.” That’s when we worked out what he actually meant. We, of course, explained that we were a band and that this was our practise time. That’s when he walked up to a microphone and held it to his ear. Sanity was wrecked there and then and we all howled with laughter. I clearly remember Steve lying helpless on the floor amidst his drums and laughing uncontrollably.
The BandWagon-Aways Loading & Unloading
THE BLACK BOX!
Lindsay remembers: I’m the least technical guy in the universe, but for me the unforgettable memory of the technology in 7th Avenue centres around the dreaded “Black Box”! (cue dramatic horror music.) The black box was wooden, about 70 cms square and about 110 cms high, with 4 coaster wheels at the bottom. In the bottom compartment was the main amplifier that powered the entire PA system. The amp contained, let’s just say heavy stuff. Above the amp was a hollow container which was stuffed full of cables, mics, various electronic paraphernalia and (cue dramatic music again!) the Snake! Pythonic, long, thick and HEAVY! The rigmarole was to lift the Black Box out of the van and wheel it into every venue we played at. It was like trying to move an uncooperative elephant. Of course, after the gig, we would have to pack it and wheel it back. There was an art to packing it also.
The van was jam-packed floor to ceiling with other equipment – a lot of the following: mic stands, monitor speakers, two BIG Eliminator bins, the Roland Strings Keyboard case, about ten guitars…I won’t go on. That van worked and 7th Avenue, apart from being devastatingly good-looking and superb musically, also had the strongest, fittest guys of any band on the planet! Mainly due to the Black Box and the vast amount of equipment.
I often drove the van and one of the funniest events of my life was late one Saturday night. We had just played a very successful Superally in Orange Grove and we were headed for Pretoria. I was at the wheel, Steve next to me and Theo on the other side. The van was packed to capacity and heavy. Somewhere in Houghton I slowed down for a traffic light and as I did so, the Roland Strings Keyboard Case at the top of all the equipment at the back of the van, slid forward slowly and unstoppably and gently pushed Steve’s head against the windowscreen. You couldn’t have scripted that one, we howled with laughter.
There was another classic event later also (I think) with Steve and Theo. For some reason the van was parked at my house in Brooklyn and we had to take it somewhere to play. As usual, it was loaded. We reversed out of the driveway and the motor stopped and wouldn’t start. The only thing to do was to push-start it – not easy when the van weighs a tonne. I think either Theo (Les?) was driving, but I’m not at all sure. I do know that Steve and I were pushing and sweating(!) to get the beast up to speed so that whoever was at the wheel could slip it into 2nd gear and turn the engine to start it. It was under these testing conditions that I said the phrase “The things I do for God.” that caused Steve to lose it completely and end up helpless with laughter lying on the road.
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