One of the lighter moments I can remember was when, in the Summer holidays of 1964, a friend, Kevin Gerrard (who would later go on to play bass in many of Liverpool's beat groups) and myself decided to go for a holiday to La Panne, which is a little seaside town on the Belgium/France border. There we found a nightclub called, of all things, Le Caveau!

On our second night of going to the club an excited manager came rushing up to us and asked if one of us could play the bass. It turned out that the bass player of the resident group the Ghosts had been drafted into the army that day. Realizing from the first night that we were from Liverpool, the manager obviously assumed that we were musicians, and had been waiting for us to come in so that one of us could help out the unfortunate group with their bottom end. It was decided that I would be the one to help out the band so I tentatively grabbed the Fender Precision provided by the guys and proceeded to muddle my way through their tunes.

It was to my amazement then when all of a sudden drinks started to appear at my feet and all the girls started to crowd around my side of the stage. It turned out that while I was playing, Kevin had gone around the entire club fibbing to everyone that I was John Lennon's cousin! Needless to say a great night was had in ways that I couldn't describe here. I went on to play for a while longer with the Ghosts, and even recorded my first single with them, before returning to Liverpool.

By now, at age sixteen, I'd gotten quite a bit of experience and a record under my belt. Joe Ray Me had once again morphed into a new group, the Modern Blues Quartet, and we were booked by Ted Lambe. Ted was manager of the Halers, with whom I also did some gigs, and he got us quite a bit of work. On one particular occasion I remember he booked us into Rainford Workers Club under the name of the Modern Jazz Quartet. We had a lot of very disappointed Rainford jazz fans there I can tell you!

I now started to get to know many of the other groups still active on the scene, especially after I had started working at Frank Hessy's music shop as a demonstrator/salesman. One of these was the Dee Jays, who I got to know through their lead guitarist David James. I remember one night with the Dee Jays at the Peppermint Lounge when we were due to back a touring Chuck Berry. There was some awful kerfuffle about payment before the gig, but apparently that wasn't something out of the ordinary with Mr. Berry. 

Others I came into contact with were Amos Bonny, and Mike Hart (from the Roadrunners), who I eventually played with. After spending a few years playing in various groups such as the Dee Jays, the Dials, the Raytones (at the Grafton Ballroom) and being resident at the Merseyside Artists Association in Sheil Road, I felt that I was close to graduating from my 'Music school.'

It was at this point that I co-formed with Mike Evans (ex-Clayton Squares) and Percy Jones (then ex-Liverpool Scene and now a world-renowned bass player) called Highly Inflammable. At that point in time it was customary for new groups to hide away somewhere while they got their new act together but, as Melody Maker managed to point out, we rehearsed in a bar next to the Liverpool Institute. John Gee, from the Marquee Club in London, signed this band to management so at last I found myself traveling to the Capital to do gigs.

My remaining training in Liverpool occurred with the likes of bands led by Alby Donnelly and Mike Byrne. With the latter, I recorded a series of BBC radio spots for the Johnny Walker Show. The band also featured Liverpool guitarist Paul Pilnick (who had played the slide guitar on the Steeler's Wheel hit record 'Stuck In The Middle With You'). I was now ready to graduate.

Peter Clarke, who had played in many famous Mersey groups such as the Escorts, recommended me to Gerry Marsden, who was looking to get back into touring. Our first trip was to Australia, and not long after our return both Peter and Billy Kinsley from the Merseybeats joined up to form the new Pacemakers. This was it, after my thirteen-year-old longings standing outside the OPB, I'd got my degree.

By 1974 I'd decided it was time to move on. Touring in Australia had whetted my appetite for the country, so I decided to give it a go. I'm still here, and now have a son, Jamie, who is an excellent musician. I have an Aussie wife, Lisa, who is considered one of the best jazz vocalists in Australia. The music scene here has been very good to me, and I have made the most of it. I am still having some success with my country-rock group the Horse That You Rode On and performances at various jazz festivals, and at my job at the Conservatorium I am able to pass on many of the learning experiences that I myself experienced while playing in Liverpool's thriving scene of the 60s.

Editor's Note: It is gratifying to receive the stories of the Liverpool musicians who have gone out into the world and established careers for themselves in other country's. Australia, in particular, is a country where several Scouse musicians decided to settle - and a number of their stories will appear on the site. Other musicians have now settled in Germany, Portugal, Hawaii - in Los Angeles, Nashville and other American cities. Allan Williams once called people who left Liverpool 'plastic Scousers', but I am proud of what they have achieved and how they have forged such interesting lives and careers, while still maintaining a love of the city of their birth.

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