Life on Tour with Bowie. Sean Mayes
I said delightedly, “it makes a change from the hotel!”
I was amused to see David slumming it, though later I heard that this was like many of the dressing rooms on the Iggy Pop tour when David played piano for him. The drinks kept coming and later we drifted downstairs again. Fortunately I made it back to the hotel before being very sick indeed - I took Saturday’s rehearsal carefully, much to David’s amusement.
Tony Mascia and his limousine will be familiar to anyone who has seen The Man Who Fell To Earth (or The Cat Who Fell Down, as Dennis calls it). Tony is a true Italian from the Bronx and used to be Rocky Marciano’s sparring partner. He is large and solid and I can’t imagine anything getting him too excited - the ideal guy to look after our hero. He never looks truly comfortable away from his car.
Apart from my birthday, we hardly left the hotel, which stood in splendid isolation between an industrial estate and a muddy wasteland. It was a deluxe cell-block with a disco on the nth floor full of swinging middle-aged polyester businessmen in tired suits, served by bunny-style waitresses with fixed smiles. Breakfast apart - I love American breakfasts - the hotel food was dull and not cheap. The hotel motto was ‘We know what you want’ and I imagined this chanted by a seedy garden gnome with plastic wings. You were encouraged to feel about as individual as an inflight meal.
My room was large and comfortable though and I tried to make it feel like home. This meant papers everywhere and the typewriter in the middle of it all. I put my ‘Good Luck’ cards from home on the TV, covered the ghastly wall picture with an Elvis poster and played classical cassettes late at night. On my sixth floor balcony I put a plastic trash can full of ice and imported beers. I did miss my cat.
Dallas itself is a typical southern city, a background of bleached desert tones scrawled over with neon. Mostly long, low buildings on wide dusty roads where every customised fast food establishment glows like a giant’s toy in the splendour of its own parking lot. At the centre of this sprawling grid the downtown pile of sharp office blocks juts like a designer mountain of glass and concrete. In 1978, I somehow couldn’t see the glamour of Dallas!
I did love the cars, though. During the rehearsal period we were ferried between hotel and studio in beat-up old hire cars, but they were still large and American with spongy suspensions, the metal hot and burnished under the Texas sun.
One day, early on, David said, “Let’s do the whole of the Ziggy Stardust album - that’ll surprise them!”
We finally settled on six numbers but only after learning the whole lot. It was a strange experience for me - like a time warp back to 1973. Once when he sang I’m a space invader! he turned towards us with his fingers circling his eyes - the Martian goggles. “Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah… Do you remember that?” he called as the number finished.
I remembered only too well the monster who once mesmerised us all and held me very much in awe when Fumble were touring with him. His appearance then was bizarre even off-stage. His white skin had a waxy translucence and his eyebrows were plucked right off. He looked as if the blood had fled his face into that alien hair. His clothes were that pre-punk style he created with a sidelong glance at the ‘50s - tight fitting, black and savage colours, more plastic than glitter - the glitter was in his eyes, unnaturally bright.
“I never thought I’d be singing Hey man! along with you on-stage one day,” I said.
“I never thought I’d be doing Ziggy in 78!” said David with a grin.
When Adrian was working on the solo to ‘Hang on’ Simon remarked that it reminded him of the trombone theme to the old radio series Hancock’s Half Hour. David laughed and said that tune had in fact inspired him!
We had one break from the heavy schedule on the evening when they first screened The Rutles (the Beatles spoof). We were all keen to see it as almost every one of us owed his original impulse to pick up a guitar to the Fab Four. We finished early that night and rushed back to the hotel. Then David phoned me.
“Do you want to come up to my suite and watch the programme with me and Coco?”
At times like this you forget you’ve been working all day with the guy and I felt thrilled at the honour! But, of course, he was ringing round inviting everyone and his room was soon full of the group plus one or two wives, girlfriends and even a baby.
We all fell about over the programme and David had fun imagining how John (Lennon) would react.
“I’m sure he’s watching it but he’ll probably pretend he didn’t bother!” David’s loud laugh still echoes his Cockney youth. “Let’s get the LP and use it as the intro music for the show.”
So we were soon to be jumping around back-stage singing Hold my hand, yeah yeah! getting in the mood to go on-stage.
Towards the end of rehearsals, David’s voice gave out and we spent the last few days running through the complete set while the lighting crew got the hang of the show. Everyone was getting nervous and we were far from note-perfect, but finally the time ran out. On Saturday, 25th March, two weeks after I’d arrived in Dallas, three huge trucks of gear were driving west across the desert headed for San Diego, our first gig.
That night we all went out to a bowling alley, a huge place with twenty lanes, plus bars, pool tables, etc. We were in a lively mood and kept shouting to each other to watch the TV where they were showing old Ed Sullivan Show specials including classic snatches of Presley and the Beatles.
Later some of us moved to the pool tables. I went to the bar to order some beers and the barman wondered if I was from England.
“What are you doing over here?” he asked, just to be friendly.
I hesitated a moment then muttered something about holidays and travelling. I suddenly realised that if I told him what I was really doing I’d break the spell of that free evening. There was David chalking a cue and asking the young guy at the next table something about the rules, and no one dreamed who he was. Then it was brought home to me just how precious moments like this must be to someone of his status and how much I should hate to give up such simple pleasures myself. Fame!
When David sat down later, he tucked one leg up under him and I noticed that the sole of his shoe was as clean as the day he’d bought it. OK, maybe the shoes were new, but it struck me that he hardly ever sets foot in the street. It’s all hotels, limousines, sterilised airports - the life I was about to lead. I shivered, feeling poised at the top of a rollercoaster about to sweep across the world.
CHAPTER 2
FIRST NIGHT
Monday, 27th March
The Monday after rehearsals we flew out of Dallas. The rough old hire-cars took us to the airport, we had a few drinks then took off across the desert for San Diego on the west coast. Our descent was spectacular. We plunged into a lake of white cloud from which tree-covered mountain tops rose like mysterious islands and outside the portholes everything went white. Suddenly we emerged through the ceiling of cloud, flying very low over the sparkling city - coastal resort and naval base. The airport lights marked out its perimeter in the waters of the Pacific Ocean.
I was still in a daze as we were led through the busy airport terminal full of flustered Mexicans and fresh young servicemen in white caps, belts and gaiters. Outside lining the sidewalk were three long black Cadillac limousines and David’s dark blue Lincoln. We cruised between palm trees on to Harbor Island and stepped out on the crescent drive in front of our glorious hotel.
I had a beautiful, large yellow room. I put my bag down and slid aside the full length window to step onto the balcony overlooking the glittering yacht marina. On one or two of the deluxe floating apartments I could see the dull red glow of a barbecue. I made a trip to the ice machine down the corridor then stood sipping a Jack Daniels bourbon and breathing the warm ocean air. This was rock ‘n’ roll!
We all met up in