Glastonbury fest - 1981 - those were the days - back then you could simply turn up - pitch your tent right down the front by the stage (no permanent metal pyramids then - oh no !) .. and from the relaxing vantage point of your canvas home - watch the on-stage activities ... I turned up that year with Jim and Andy M. (where are you now guyz ?) - and assorted girl-friends and promptly went about erecting tents etc - well actually - Jim turned up with new girl in tow - and immediatly dropped some acid - prior to attempting to put up never-before-erected 6-birther - in the dark ... only one thing to do - get mashed with him and roll around on da-floor - completly thrashing tent ... I seem to recall having a moment that lasted around the whole night - where I was convinced my keys had somehow become lost in the vast expanse of grassy-fields - and in that tripped-out-paranoid-way - spent hours searching in the dark for them - only to discover next morning (as the trip turned to that buzzy-anoying-come-down we all know and hate) - that they were of course in my pockets - oh .. how we laughed and laughed at that one (in between being completly pissed off that we could not sleep, that is!! )
anyway - whats going on with this damn story - oh yeah - that 8-armed-muppet - Animal ? - nope not him --- "DRUM ROLL PLEAZE..." (no look I said drum roll - not bloody drum-solo - goddam it )... it is ::: Ginger Baker ......
what a man - what a myth - what a damn bloody boring load of bashing on old tins and boxes ...
where tha bleedin heck is this story goin - no where but it is now time to have a Festival Award Ceremony ...
Award For Most Daring Festival Act Ever
(and indeed the most valued) - goes to guy in the crowd with bloody big rock and good aim ... mid-way through mr.g-baker and his band of gormless mates set - and at the point where Ginger (first name terms now you will notice), has been pounding the fuck out of his kit for at least 48 hours in one of his trade-mark solos ... - da-man-wiv-da-stone hurls it from the crowd over the heads of the first dozen rows of spectators and splat into head of Ginger - knocking him clean off his stool ... instantly terminating the dreadful din he was making with his sticks and skins ... instant cheers from the crowd, and much appreciative laughter - Baker exits stage-left - head now a fountain of red ..... only to return some 10 minutes later surrounded by hairy-biker-types shouting in the mic .. "Ginger wants to see tha guy that threw the rock - backstage NOW..." ... not too suprisingly - he had by this time run-like-fuck ....
Drummers - doncha just love to chuck rocks at them !! now where did I put that damn 808 ??
1 comment:
Oh yea...flashbacks...I seem to remember a particularly potent strain of acid circulating around Glasto that year called Pink Spaceships. It was my first trip and although I only took half a tab I was still orbiting thirty six hours later. I recall an attempt to get into a Mini Gem kit-car and thinking it wasn't real because it was so tiny.
Poor old Ginger "And all I wanted to do was play Rock!" Baker,eh? I think Decline and Fall came on after that incident and said "This one's for the bastard that hit Ginger! It's called "Curtains for You!"
Cool stuff...
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