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My encounter with Captain Beefheart at Bickershaw: |
| In 1972
I lived in Manchester. Not that far from Bickershaw,
so when the Festival arrived a group of us decided we would be fools not
to go. We arrived on Friday evening and put our tent up outside the concert
perimeter and went in. My recollections of the groups who were on Friday night is not vivid. I remember being impressed by Doctor John, as he threw his sparkly dust into the evening sky, but that's about it. Saturday was much more memorable. |
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As
has been well documented it was a little on the damp side and by the time Saturday
evening came along I was rather soggy. My best friend bought two tabs of black
microdot and asked me if I wanted one. At the time I was going through one of
my 'I'm not taking acid again. It makes my head go too
funny' periods. In retrospect I can see it was my Catholic upbringing,
with all the 'weeping and gnashing of teeth' that was to blame. From being fun,
visions of heaven and hell had started to sneak in, but one of my friends had
bought a couple of tabs, so after a little persuasion I thought 'What
the hell'. After I had taken my tab my 'friend' said 'I've
got a terrible headache. I think I'd best not take my tab.'
'THANKS A LOT'
He then gave me his tab because he wouldn't be needing it, and I like a fool, I accepted it. Needless to say about five minutes later I lost my friend in the crowd. So there I was having taken some acid with a tab , in amongst thousands of strangers. I began to get paranoid about the tab in my pocket, and instead of throwing it away, (that would be wasteful), I swallowed it. Up to that moment the first tab hadn't kicked in yet, but as soon as I had taken the second things began to happen. The sun was going down and people started to light fires to keep warm. The smoke began to get in my eyes, and get down my throat, making me choke. The contours of the land changed completely .The muddy field began to resemble the Somme. Everybody started to look like demons. I remember vividly someone buying hot-dog and wolfing it down like Wimpey in a Popeye cartoon. It became clear to me that this concert had been going on since the beginning of time. The acid I had taken was the Apple. I had tasted the Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, and here I was in Hell. |
The Cap'n and Rockette Morton at Bickershaw |
There was an air of resignation about me as I wandered the muddy fields populated by countless other lost souls. There was a stall selling records by artists who were appearing at the festival. The Grateful Dead were performing and the stall was regaled with their record covers. Everybody must be aware of what Grateful Dead covers look like and the skeletons that were dancing about were reminiscent of Jason and the Argonauts. All this just seemed to confirm my sense of foreboding. When the announcer said over the tannoy ' And now for the first time in Britain, we have 'The Flaming Groovies'. and they started up with 'Jumpin' Jack Flash', my heart sank.
I
stumbled round with an ever increasing sense of resignation. I came across a
black London taxi, with a bullet hole sticker on the back window. I entered
and sat down. I absent-mindedly searched through my pockets and found a little
leaflet which I'd been given earlier in the day. It was from 'the Children of
God' a bunch of pseudo psychedelic christian who frequented rock festivals
around that time, picking up casualties. Everything was conspiring to make me
believe that I was in Hell or at least at gates. I was sure that the Devil
in the best Hammer Horror tradition was going to get into the drivers seat and
say. 'We've been expecting you'. Instead somebody opened the door and said
'What are you doing. This my brothers taxi.''
I said "all I want to do is get out of here"
He pointed to the Entrance/Exit which was situated on land which was on higher
ground than where we were situated. I started to walk with a purpose towards
the gate, saying to my as I went "Got to get out. Got to get out. Got
to get out ' afraid that I would forget what I was trying to do, if didn't.
As I approached the gate a man with one tooth in his head asked 'Do
you want a pass out' I told him, "I'm
not coming back." and plunged through the
gate.
| On the
other side things were worse. There was a car stuck in the mud and in an
effort to get moving the driver was giving it plenty of revs, filling the
air with petrol fumes. There were lots of policemen and what appeared to
be more unsavoury characters than inside the concert. It was then
I realized that I had to get back in. Then I realized that I hadn't got
a pass out and hadn't enough money to get back in. There were
six entrances in a line I walked up to each in turn and said, "You've
got to let me in". At each entrance I was told if you haven't got
a pass out, you can't come in. Eventually I reached the last gate and said with a look of desperation, 'YOU'VE JUST GOT TO LET ME IN.' And the guy said 'You'd best come in then'. |
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Eventually I got to the front, but how would I get to the back the stage ?. The stage itself was a massive wooden structure and on either side of it stretched a fence, preventing people from getting backstage. I followed the fence along and spotted a small hole just big enough for me to squeeze through.
On the other side the fence things were a lot calmer, more peaceful. There were only a few people walking round. Ahead of me, I spotted a bus. I had been walking around for what seemed like eternity and was totally exhausted. I thought to myself, 'It seems pretty peaceful in there' so on I popped. The bus wasn't like I expected it to be when I got on board. The seats were set out like somebody's living room and my acid mind made it seem bigger than it should be, almost Tardislike. I sat down on the seat closest to the door, hoping that if I kept quiet whoever owned the bus would allow me to stay.
When I had been sitting there a
short time I became aware of American voices floating around the bus. I noticed
a group of people were talking at the far end. One of them noticed me and walked
over. ' Who is
this cat ?' he said cheerily.
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"Oh
you don't know me" I replied in a broad
Lancashire accent. 'Didn't we pick you up when you were hitch-hiking in Germany, last year' 'No' said I, honestly. Then I remembered my assumed predicament. How I was lost in Hell and all that sort of thing. So I hit him with, 'Who's side are you on'. He batted back with, "Why does there have to be any sides. Why cant it be like a circle ? "'. |
While
I was trying to get my head round that one. He said 'Do
you know who I am.' Not in a big-headed
way. He was genuinely enquiring if I was aware of his identity. I peered at
him through hallucinating eyes and said, 'You are Captain
Beefheart aren't you'
'That's right '.
Then he looked at me and said, 'Its pretty wet out there'.
It was then that I looked at myself for the first time. I was caked with mud
and soaked to the skin. Then smiling kindly he said, ''We have to go on stage
soon. You don't want to be down here crawling around in the mud. Would you like
to come up with us.' I didn't need asking twice. I wasn't about
to loose contact with the only friendly face in Hell.
It was a long way up to the stage and through my accedes all the wooden planks seemed warped, and the lights made a spiders web effect on everything as if to confirm my feeling that the concert had been happening forever and this was Hell. When we got to the top of the stairs a huge guy , obviously security, stopped me from going any further. Beefheart shouted across. 'He's with me.' and I was let through. When we got to the stage itself there was a large space behind the playing area where people were chatting and dancing. Beefheart went chatting and I went dancing, always making sure that I kept an eye on the Captain. He came across once and gave a bottle of something which I drank down in one swig, thinking it was some miraculous potion that would transport me somewhere else, ( I found out later that it was a bottle of spa water that he had given me to try to dilute whatever substances I had taken). Another time he offered me a cigarette. When I told I didn't smoke he said 'Good for you. I'm trying to give them up myself.
Then
it was time for him to go on stage. I don't think I have witnessed a performance
so breathtaking. The movement of Rockette Morton and Zoot Horn Rollo was astounding
as they careered around the stage like whirling dervishes, with Beefheart conducting
the whole thing. The band would disappear up different alleys then Beefheart
would bring them back with the subtlest of gestures. Then something happened
of which I don't understand. The only thing I can think of was that Beefheart
was introducing the band to the crowd. 'Zoot
Horn Rollo on guitar.'
That sort of thing .When whoever it was, was supposed to play, nothing happened
and in my intoxicated state it came to me in a flash of insanity. They are waiting
for me. I have to be seen on the stage as a member of the band. Captain Beefheart
roams the Galaxies doing gigs. He arrives with his Magic Band at Festivals and
picks up lost souls and whisks them away to La-La Land. A sort of Cosmic Scarlet
Pimpernel.
When I realized I had to be seen on stage,
I started to make my way there. At Bickershaw when a band had finished their
spot instead of packing up their instruments they just moved them back which
meant that by Saturday evening the stage was cluttered up with drum kits, microphones
and the like. I thought I had to be seen on stage, so like a bull in a china
shop I went clattering through. Any instruments that got in my way were scattered.
In the end I finished up standing at the left hand of Roy Estrada. He looked
at me as if to say 'What the hell are you doing here''. I realized then that
I had made a booboo, and started to sidle off. Everybody was very nice. One
guy ushered me off, in the nicest possible way. I was then left in the wings
for the rest of the concert. When the Magic Band had finished playing, Beefheart
came across to me and said 'We are going now. Do you want
to stay here or come with us'. I said 'I
want to go with you'. There was no way I wanted to be left in Hell. We
came down the stairs and walked towards the bus. When we were about fifty
yards from the bus, he was engulfed by what I assumed were reporters, so I thought
to myself I'll go to the bus, but when I tried to get on the bus this bouncer
type barred my way. I stepped back about five yards from the bus door.
Somebody came along and said a few words to the guy guarding the door. I couldn't quite catch what he said. I just got 'Blah, Blah, Blah, hotel.' I thought I understand staying at the same hotel as Captain Beefheart. I marched up to the bus and said 'Blah,blah,blah, hotel' and tried to get on again. The bouncer said 'I'm sorry you cant come on.' By this time I noticed that Beefheart had finished talking to the reporters and was walking towards me. We met just in front of the bus. 'He said, Its all right. Don't worry, you'll hear my music. I promise that you'll hear my music.' It was such an enigmatic thing to say. So optimistic. Something that could be heard on so many different levels. The sun had started to come up. The long night was over. I slipped back through the loophole and almost immediately banged into some people that I knew. Santa Claus was definitely on the Evening Stage that night.
What do I think now? I think that Don Van Vliet is a very special person. Not because he is probably the most original musician of the last century, or because he is a great painter, but because he was aware enough to spot a fellow human in distress, and not feel so high and mighty and above helping. At any time during that evening he could have got rid of this 'muddy individual' who was messing up the bus, and making a fool of himself, but he didn't leave me until my crisis was over. When somebody is one of the biggest stars in the world and still able to behave with such compassion, that is what I call GREATNESS. As far as I am concerned he is one of the brightest stars in the Universe, and I am so grateful that our paths crossed that night.
As
for the other performers, I thought Country Joe
was good, but I found myself wanting 'The Fish' to come bounding onto the stage
and crank up a magical electric set. He had been playing for over an hour before
I resigned myself to the fact that this wasn't going to happen. The
Grateful Dead. I was so damp and dishevelled that I set off for home
before they came on. Such is life.'
Charles Gee
Visit Charles' website and read more of his excellent stories
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Updated May 2023
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