In some kind of weird latter-day Jimmie Nicol deal, I got co-opted into the Beatles. McCartney was absent for some reason, so I was to play bass at the evening’s gig. Lennon was the only HJH around, no sign of the other two. The set list seemed to include a lot of latter-day Lennon – I said I didn’t know that stuff too well, plus playing bass would be a problem since I wasn’t left-handed and didn’t seem to have a bass of my own. Lennon just brushed this aside – it’ll be fine, he said.
It wasn’t going to be a huge gig – just a couple of amps and a drum kit set up on what looked like a bomb site. I didn’t seem to have an amp either, but Lennon said I could share his (possibly a reference to my time in unpopular beat combo Paul and the Dynamics, when I and the rhythm guitarist shared a Vox AC30).
Next problem: the Beatle Bass didn’t have a strap. Cue a dream subplot, where I eventually got one from Ali, the brother of my stepson’s partner. He’s an actual pro musician. The strap was made entirely of brass, » Continue Reading.