Where’s My Guitar?: An Inside Story of British Rock and Roll. Bernie Marsden

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Where’s My Guitar?: An Inside Story of British Rock and Roll - Bernie Marsden

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the mic stand swinging in my direction. I parried with the guitar, Pete Way soon joined in, and Chelsea came on stage, trying to break it all up. Drummer Andy Parker just kept playing, blissfully unaware that anything unusual was happening. The crowd thought it was part of the show.

      Roger Hodgson was still in the wings, open-mouthed. He later asked if that was a regular occurrence. I said it wasn’t usually so violent.

      I saw Supertramp a lot in those early days. They were a very good live band and all really nice people – unlike UFO. I began to get familiar with some of the new songs Supertramp were playing, most of them not yet recorded. I liked them a lot. I heard ‘Dreamer’ and ‘Bloody Well Right’ in very early versions. The entire world now knows those songs and I feel lucky to have heard them in development. They released Crime of the Century in 1974 and became a worldwide success, selling millions. I smile every time I hear the harmonica intro of ‘Crime’ on the radio or ‘Dreamer’. I always feel a connection with Supertramp. Good days.

      As for UFO, Wilf Wright had practically vanished and this was a major factor in what was a looming break-up. It was a shame: I had enjoyed recording demos at Rockfield Studios in Monmouth with Dave Edmunds. He was a kindred spirit, a fellow blues-orientated guitarist. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, the others instantly hated him because he was a), Welsh and b) very famous. Some of the basic tracks later appeared on Phenomenon: ‘Rock and Roll Car’, ‘16’, ‘Oh My’ (songs that I had written with Skinny Cat) and an early working of ‘Doctor Doctor’.

      I called Wilf and told him I couldn’t face another tour in Europe. I don’t think he knew how serious I was. The guys left the UK and I didn’t follow. For years the official story was that I missed the ferry because I lost my passport, which was utter rubbish. I didn’t want to go and it was the only time in my entire career that I have missed gigs. Michael Schenker took over on guitar while Wilf and Chelsea persuaded me, rightly, to finish off the tour. I eventually arrived to find I was not the most popular person in the dressing room. I was petulant, unprofessional and ego-ridden, but I had been the odd one out for too long.

      Those final gigs were filled with tension, which only eased towards the very end. We made a deal – an extremely strange deal. We just didn’t like each other and so I denied ever having been in UFO and they denied that I had been in UFO with them, despite the fact thousands of fans had seen me playing with them on stage between November 1972 and July the following year. This crazy ‘secret’ lasted until the Whitesnake days.

      I knew that Michael would be approached to have the gig on a permanent basis, which was exactly what I had suggested without any response a few weeks before. In no time Michael became a bona-fide guitar hero, and that still makes me proud. The moment I saw him, I knew he was bloody good and he only got better and better over time.

       Dance on the Water

      I met Gary Pickford-Hopkins, the excellent lead singer with Wild Turkey, in Berlin, when I was still with UFO. Doug D’Arcy of Chrysalis managed the band which had been formed by bassist Glenn Cornick after he left Jethro Tull.

      Gary told me that their guitarist, Tweke Lewis, was leaving to join Man and to speak to Glenn. Where could I find him? Gary pointed up to the sky. Glenn was in a lighting tower 40 ft above us. I climbed up to make a pitch for the job.

      ‘Yes, that all seems fine. I’ll see you next week, old chap, rehearsals in Richmond, ask Gazzy for details.’ And that was it. I was the new guitarist in Wild Turkey.

      The band played bluesy, hard, melodic rock, and their songs had clever chord progressions. They had a strong UK and European following and were growing in the USA, mainly because of Jethro Tull. It’s hard to put it into words but I felt that I belonged in Wild Turkey, a feeling I never had with UFO. The music was so much more to my own taste, and working with Mick Dyche on guitar was a joy. It was the first time I’d worked professionally with another guitarist which, on reflection, totally prepared me for Whitesnake.

      We went off with two roadies, a three-ton truck, and six musicians on the payroll. We covered some ground, that’s for sure. At the 76 Club in Burton Upon Trent, the dressing room was in the next-door chip shop and we had to get changed for the gig in the window that looked out onto the high street. Nobody cared, it was part of it all and the gigs were always a joy to play. Chrysalis had us out almost seven nights a week. The gigs were endless, usually followed by a curry or fish and chips in the car on the way back to London. We saved money by staying out of hotels when possible.

      This was the turbulent time of the three-day week: power cuts, strikes and heavy petrol restrictions had been imposed on British industry to conserve power supplies due to the miners’ strike. Oil had quadrupled in price, there were new speed limits to curb fuel use, and petrol was rationed to £5 per person. This was awful for everyone, but it was hopeless for bands. We had a very thirsty Chevy and would plead with the petrol station owners in hope they’d let each of the six of us have a fiver’s worth. Thirty pounds of gas was a lot in 1974. The queues were huge, but we never missed a gig.

      When we did stay overnight it was usually in some of the worst places you can imagine. There were damp beds and walls and landladies literally pulled us out of bed at 7.30 a.m. in the morning for some breakfast (a dirty mug with a hint of tea). But staying in anything better, such as a proper hotel, was still a bit of a thrill for me – waking up in a strange room as a pro guitarist was a good feeling. We encountered some magnificently busted ladies in their forties and fifties who’d create the biggest breakfast on Earth as they told us how Arthur Askey, Norman Wisdom or the Troggs had stayed with them. They were rough and ready, but they were very motherly towards us wretched-looking lads.

      The rest of the band were talented guys – apart from Mick Dyche there was Steve Gurl on piano, Gary Pickford with vocals, and Jeff Jones on drums, who lived for his brilliant solos. I felt encouraged to write. All this was new territory, and I loved it.

      Chrysalis booked a double headline gig in Germany with UFO, which I knew was bound to be interesting. Chelsea told me that Phil Mogg was determined that UFO

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