Before the internet, when landlines ruled the world,  when queueing for the phone box at the end of the road was a social event in itself, and Buzby would inform you that “It’s cheaper after six”, we tended to manage our social lives around the telephone.  Imagine a world without Facebook, or without email and Google.  Those of you who can remember will be nodding sagely, and remembering about how you’d meet new people through the medium of the pub, and friends of friends.  This was proper socialising – you used this interaction with people face to face to find out about them. You’d do this at work, or at play – you maintained a mental list of people you knew who did this or did that, who had a brother that had welding equipment, and you used this knowledge – at work, school or at play.

Now, back then, if you were in a band, you’d advertise for a like minded muso on a notice board at school, or a rehearsal studio or plain just ask around.  If you were serious/pretentious (in this context, the terms are interchangeable), you’d advertise in the back of the New Musical Express or Melody Maker, and some weirdo would turn up….but I digress, and I have yet to write my rant about drummers.   The ad would run something like this :

Bassist required, must be into Ultravox/Psychedlic Furs/Only Ones for gigging band [*].  No Grebos, metal freaks or skinheads need apply.  We’re serious and ready for the big time – are you? call Mark on 01375 123456 (if my Mum answers, hang up).

You get the picture.  We knew a lot of people by reputation, and often, the friend of a friend network would yield the phone number of that person because he was going out with the drummers sisters wife (think about it…) who worked in the same shop as your next door neighbour’s cousin.  Easy, yes?  I think that we held and processed more information about our peers than we do today. The Social Network? No, it is nothing more than a replacement for the queue for the phone box at the end of the road.

I joined a band as a bass player (invited by the keyboard player who was an old schoolmate whose Mum had been a girlfriend of my Dad before I was born – see how this works?) and our stated aim was to become as good as if not better than another local band who had just had a musical difference with this band’s guitarist and said keyboard player. That was your motivation back then, to be as good as if not better than a perceived rival band. A rival band was one you’d been in and got kicked out of, or they’d had press coverage and you hadn’t.  I had a one to one rivalry there straight out of the box, with the bass player of that band. Simple as that.   We went to see them play, and then I realised that I’d seen them years before.  I noted that my rival, such as he was, was older than me, and not to put too fine a point on it, better than I was. In fact, this chap was the best bassist I’d seen in years, he could sing, and there was no competition really, but you have to have something to aim for, right?  We shared the same tin hut to rehearse in and that he stored his bass bin there, and I used it when I couldn’t be bothered to lug my amp about it.  I thought he knew, but I figured I’d be for the high jump if he caught me.  Unabashed, I soldiered on in this band, and I recruited someone I knew who’d had the same piano teacher as me who was into the same stuff and was presently looking for his big break out of the mundane world of hairdressing.  Keeping up at the back?

We played one gig, and imploded in a myriad of autistic differences (similar to artistic differences, but we were unable to articulate them) and the hairdresser went off to be famous, and I went on to join another friend of a bloke who managed a bunch of lads who were into Paul Weller, who needed showing how it was all done.   I played extensively with this bunch – rode in the back of transits, drank a lot of Pils and Brandy, tried to coax the drummer and the bassist take the same drugs at the same time (there is little worse than playing live with a speeding drummer and a stoned bassist) and generally had a lot of fun for a few years.

Fast forward to a few decades later, and I found that this perceived rival of mine had made a comment of a website where copies of his album have been downloaded. Did I mention he was a lot better than me? Well, he achieved the holy grail of a record deal, and now in the present day was both trying to discourage it’s download (you can’t buy the original and no, it wasn’t ever out on CD) and at the same time trying to come to terms with the fact that there were still people out there that liked it.

I emailed him.  Something was bugging me about a misconception I’d had when I was younger.  It occurred to me that I’d not spoken to him because I (yep, me…) had decided he’d not be much interested in talking to someone younger and less talented than him. Especially not someone who had regularly purloined his equipment.  Weird, thinking back on it, but it made sense at the time.

Last sunday, he come over for sunday lunch, and we had a great time, telling stories and reminiscing about the old days.  It was one of those times that an acquaintance becomes the friend you haven’t met yet.

The serious bit – and a lecture to my children.

Just because someone appears to be better at something than you, don’t assume they aren’t an approachable human being.  There is almost certainly a friend there that you haven’t met yet.  Smile and say hello, make their acquaintance – if you don’t, it might take you another 30 years.  As Ian Dury would have it “What a waste”.

Slainche, Kirk.  You really have to self-release that second album, you know. Anyway, the rehearsal studio is booked for a laugh and a bash when you come back to the UK for a holiday….

[*] An utterly meaningless term, which could mean that you are actually gigging, you plan to gig, you may gig if it all works out – the phrase covered the musical situation of a band so well, it is probably one of the biggest muso lies ever told…. that and “no, never heard that before. You think it sounds the same? Well, I never”….