|
PAGES: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 PAGE 11. Reykjavik: Day 2.
No packing and no travelling. Luxury! Another beautiful day with a bright blue sky. I took my camera and explored the old part of town with its colourful wooden houses, then found my way to a sea of crystal clear water with the ice-capped mountains in the distance. Breathtaking. Met some fans that had come as far as Japan and slowly made my way to sound check, rested, relaxed and ready to play. We had seven shows to go and I was feeling good.
During the show a splinter from one of my drum sticks embedded itself deep into a finger nail on my right hand. In the interval I pulled it out with a pair of old stage pliers. Wrong! I put some plaster on it and carried on for the next few days thinking it would soon clear up. It got worse and by the time we got to Paris it was really bad so I called for a doctor who I thought would give me some antibiotics. He said it was very serious and I must go to a hospital immediately to have an operation to get the poison out. So lunch in Monmartre was out. The cab smelt of sweat and Gauloises and the driver (who drove like a madman) got lost. We eventually arrived at the Victor Hugo Clinic which specialised in all hand injuries. After filling out endless forms a young anaesthetist came to the operating theatre where by this time I was dressed in plastic hat, shoes and underwear and laying flat on my back! "Zees will 'urt" she said and it did! I suddenly thought I had made a huge error. Never get ill in a foreign language. It was four in the afternoon and - having to switch the mobile off - nobody knew where the drummer was. It was late and I had already missed the sound check. After what seemed like an eternity I was back in a cab on my way to the theatre with half an hour to show time. My hand was numb and I was not in a great mood! Back stage was full of friends and I had a choice of going on or cancelling. Cancelling was not an option to me. How far can I go with the right hand without making it worse? The last thing the doctor said was to rest and keep it in a sling. Fat chance, this was Paris and my hand was still numb from the anaesthetic. Minutes before the Paris concert, I practiced the set, my solo parts and all the fills with my left hand. My thumb and forefinger tried to grip the stick for the ride cymbal at 45 degrees!
Apart from being very disappointed at the situation I found myself in and knowing the place was full of friends, the only thing to do was take it on the chin, smile, make playing left-handed a challenge ... and get on with it. One of our back stage guests was Suzy Quatro. We knew each other through our association with the late great Mickey Most. She knew how I felt as she had once gone on stage with a broken arm. So, with cries of "go for it", I walked on stage and played the show leading from the left!
The Paris audience were great. But I was done! The anaesthetic started to wear off after I did some upward strokes on one of the crash cymbals. Warren looked at me and shook his head as if to say "Are you nuts?" He was right. A few friends came back to the hotel and said what a great show it was. Phil Jarvis and a few drummers would have been disappointed (as I was) with my performance, so a few glasses of champagne and an early flight the next morning. |
|||||||
PAGES: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17