Charming behaviour from the artist onstage – slight return.

Following @Fatima-Xberg’s terrific thread I wanted to add my own experience before the post disappeared into the ether:

16th June 1974, Guildford Civic Hall.

I wish I could find who the support act was as I assume it was them I went to see.

This was Silverhead’s first, (and last,) headline tour and their record company, Purple Records, had splashed a few quid on posters and interviews in the music-press. Lead singer, (and legend in his own lunchbox,) Michael Des Barres had given an interview to the NME where he had bad-mouthed anyone and everyone, taking pot-shots at many of my favourite bands. I took agin him, big time.

Let’s just say, the hype was on.

I remember going back into the hall from the bar, post support act, and wondering where everyone was. I swear there were less people in their seats than had been earlier.

We’d been called back in from the bar by the ten-minute and then the five-minute bells. Yet, fifteen minutes later, the lights were still up. There was no music playing over the p.a so we sat there in a mumbled silence. After twenty minutes, someone started a slow handclap. It picked up volume and a few voices sang, “Why are we waiting.” A few people went back to the bar, (or left.) A further five minutes passed and there were a few angry voices from the dwindling audience. By the time the lights went down I reckon the hall was less than half full.

A guy came onstage and grabbed the central mic-stand. He yelled some nonsense about ‘finally’, (yes, mate, finally,) ‘Guildford is ready,’ (what? It’s Guildford, mate,) ‘the greatest rock band in the world,) (oh, do fuck off,) ‘SILVERHEAD!!!’

Four shapes shuffled onto the darkened stage, (one of who I now know was Robbie Blunt, ex Bronco and later in Planty’s 80’s band,) and launched into a riffy rock number, (I believe it was Ace Supreme.)

After the bass and drums came in and they had gone round twice more, there were nervous glances to the wings. The musicians ‘went around’ again, and then again. Perhaps this was an instrumental? Finally a fifth shape appeared and a spotlight operator struggled to keep up with it as it rushed across the stage, then rushed back again.

Michael Des Barres had graced us with his presence.

He began to sing but his voice was so loud in the mix that he drowned out the band. Several people in the row in front of me put their hands over their ears, several others left.

The first song ended to muted applause as the guitars began the second number. MDB screamed into the mic again and I saw a couple of people waved away from the mixing desk as they protested about the volume. More people left.

MDB was now bare chested, eye-liner beginning to run as he tore around the stage. The second song finished to a few unenthusiastic claps.

The singer demanded that the house lights go up and the sudden illumination froze the scene in my brain.

Several people were heading for the exits. Several more were getting out of their seats. The place was a sea of empty seats, including the whole of the front row. The band started the third song and, with the lights still up, the singer jumped off the front of the stage. He climbed onto the arms of two of the front row flip-seats and began to berate the ‘crowd.’

“Where you going, fuckers?” “C’mon, fuckers, get on your feet and boogie!”

Several more people around me got up and left, their seats banging angrily as they got up. One guy stood in front of MDB, flicking the V’s at him before heading for the exit.

In time with the beat, Des Barres yelled “C***s”, “C***s”, “C***s”.

I left.

I discovered next day that the band had completed a 45-minute set to around 20 people. The gig made the Surrey Advertiser with the manager of the Civic Hall stating that the band would not be invited back.

He needn’t have worried. Silverhead split up three weeks later.

(My favourite rock film is not Spinal Tap but Still Crazy. I swear that there’s a bit of Des Barres in Bill Nighy’s brilliant portrayal of the singer, Ray Simms.)

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