Make mine a large one

I wanted to throw in a few memories about a weird day I once had in outback Australia with The Lovemakers.

We had all travelled from the coast in a toyota van at about 190kms all the way. There were 5 of us and the trip took about 10 hours so by the time we got in it was dark and we were all on ROODAR watch. mainly because those big roo's are killers if you hit them. Scott was peering out of the windows like his life depended on it - which it did.

We had traversed a million miles of bog all when we finally hit town to be greeted with a cold beer and knowing looks from the locals.

All good then. Beer and barbeques commence and everyone is really happy to be there.

Next day check out the gig - 650 people from all over the outback are coming to see the guys and it's fraught with tension. This being Country and Western land hardly anyone had even heard a synth let alone the Lovemakers.

I will tell you more about this as and when I get time but lets concentrate on Conan the sound man for now.

Conan is - as his name suggests - enormous. A true man mountain. When he speaks the floor rumbles and he is decked out in black T shirt and miniscule shorts that reveal a musculature that resembles Arnie on steroids. His mere presence makes the room shrink.

He has just driven from tropical Queensland in a 6 cylinder van that has 3 operations pots for over 2 days and he needs a beer or 2. He is not in the mood to listen to some fussy americans about how they want their foldback to sound. Suffice to say the day does not begin well.

In a room decorated with ballons and tinsel Conan stands prodly behind his Mad Max desk and turns knobs and sliders as if they were Scott Blondes neck. Every request for " a bit more guitar" is greeted with a rumble of thunder as the thunder god controls his rage. Only Lisa is not intimidated. Her tits are like a shield of steel and she knows she can have any man in the room if she wants. Except me! Today I am the manger and therefore a sexless manipulator of all mankind - not to be trusted.

Sound check finishes a bit early. About 1 hour early and all are worried about the forthcoming gig.

What to do?

Manager me slips into full on bullshit mode and attempts the "fucking wankers' approach. "Bloody yanks etc etc.

It has some effect and I get a partial ackowledgement of my existence which I take as a good sign.

Right leave it there.

Back to hotel - beer o clock.

Back to gig for first of 2 sets. OH FUCK ! Sound is terrible. Conan the destroyer makes the band sound like the mouseketeers.

Much doom ensues - we have another set to come and the audience are restless and confused. Who are these american limp dicks? Some people have driven over 500 km to be here.

Wallet time I think.

Off to the bar to buy 12 cans of jack and Coke. Nothing else said - just put them in eyeline of Conan and retreat gracefuly.

Set 2 is a masterpiece. Aurally and visually it is the best show I ever saw them play. Conan makes the rickety old sound system as sweet as a million dollar rig. Audience in raptures.

The Moral

Every man can be bought - you just need to know the price.