Swipe

My old friend claimed influences such as Brian Eno, Peter Gabriel's Genesis, Yes, Emerson Lake and Palmer, Premiata Forneria Marconi... In short, progressive rock, English style.

I'd venture Vanilla Fudge, but he'd scoff. Americans didn't play prog rock as she was written.

I didn't actually mind most of that - at least, when they actually played songs rather than 30 minute symphonies. But, Brian Eno was just a little too far out for me at the time. My tastes hadn't run much past Deep Purple and Black Sabbath. Jefferson Airplane, Grateful Dead and English folk was my little secret.

Bruce wanted to form a band. I was barely out of High School and with my first pay I'd bought a second hand drum kit. A friend of ours, 'Rock,' acquired himself an electric guitar, a genuine Burns Bison. We were in business. Rock was still at school so we used the hall as a rehearsal space.

Bruce electrified his mandolin and a mate had built him a bank of oscillators. The result was not unlike inoculation time at the cattery.

"Give us a 4/4, Don?"

"A 4 what?" I replied. I'd had the drums a week and I couldn't even change a drum head. I'd no musical training whatsoever and didn't know a time signature if I fell over one.

"Like this, tat, tat, tat, TAT..."

"Oh!"

In truth, the only reason I chose the drums was because I thought it was easy to play. I'd also bought an acoustic guitar and a fly string banjo - upon neither of which could I form so much as a basic chord.

The name of the band was 'Swipe,' Bruce's idea. He didn't know it was also the name of a domestic cleaner. 'Swipe, the cleanest band in town,' was to haunt us during our short career.

Bruce and Rock immediately launched into a jam that was impossible to drum to. Suddenly, they'd change times without saying anything, leaving me banging aimlessly trying to pick it up again. After a while I was completely ignored, so I wandered off to fetch a beer.

Eventually, one day I turned up for practice to find this other guy, Shane, in my seat. He did know how to play, but lacked a kit. From then on my role was to provide the drum kit and hump the fucking thing around.

A bass player answered the advertisement, Ari, an Indonesian guy who was stoned most of the time. He always wore shades and his well groomed long hair never moved when he shook his head.

That's the other thing. Both Shane and Ari were babe magnets and that fact became more important than actually playing music.

We did have a couple of good songs - mostly when Bruce left his horrendous home built Moog synthesiser alone. The kind of Brian Eno, John Cale pre-punk stuff really rocked - a bit like 'Babies on Fire" - but, the symphonic, early Genesis/Yes was going way beyond our collective expertise.

Our first gig was in Wellington, at the Opera House, no less. We'd entered into some rock quest thing.

Bruce wanted a persian carpet to stand on, like Greg Lake. Shane wanted dead leaves poured all over him like some dude in King Crimson. As official roadie, I tried to cater for all the band's needs. Ari got trashed all on his own, however, as he was a part time dealer.

We came third, behind a rock and roll outfit, whose 15 year old guitar whizz played a pearly white Les Paul. The winner was some outfit in matching clothes and choreography playing old sixties stuff like the Tremeloes.

The world clearly wasn't ready for 'Swipe,' yet.

Bruce went up to Auckland and held art/spoken word events until emigrating to Australia. Rock, eventually wound up in Canada, a history professor. Ari went back to Indonesia and Shane got married.

By then, another pal, Dave, had bought himself a Rickenbacker and plastered 'Never Mind the Bollocks,' over it. 'Domestic Blitz' and Punk were born and prog rock went into the museum.

Don