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PRODUCTION CREDIT:
This LandscapeHD production was made by LandscapeHD featuring film material from
HDenvironments.com
based in California, synchronised by LandscapeHD to music from the
artist Eddie Hardin.
ARTIST BIOGRAPHY
(extract):
Our next port of call was New York, for years a favourite stamping ground of the
Spencer Davis Group. Charlie was straight off to the Irish sector for darts and
Guinness and the rest of us to all the clubs we could remember. Smithers had
other ideas. Within hours of our arrival he had located the biggest and best
parties in town, so our first week was pretty full. The first event he had
arranged was the Decadence Ball at The Waldorf Astoria, the biggest and maybe
best hotel in New York. The Waldorf party was, without doubt, a serious
highlight. The music was courtesy of The New York Dolls, a band that defies
description other than to say they were drastically awful but, mercifully,
practically un-noticed, certainly by us.
Getting into the party was difficult as it was a very trendy New York event.
Spencer, the 'name' amongst us, was rejected from every possible entrance and
exit to and from the Waldorf though Charlie, by this time remarkably merry,
seemed to breeze in and out of everywhere unchallenged. I was to accompany
Charlie on this evening!!
The entire ballroom area of the hotel, and indeed most of the ground floor, was
littered with the most outrageous selection of people I had ever seen. There
were naked men, naked women and people in fancy dress to the most incredible
extremes. Smithers, always one to milk any situation, had gone to every effort
to become an extrovert New York partygoer. He had rented a Mad Hatter outfit for
the evening. The rest of us didn't bother, other than Charlie, who always wore a
Tam O'Shanter for his more liquid excursions. Not quite aware of where the hub
of the party was, Charlie and myself went into the lift. I'm still not quite
sure why, however, we arrived at floor whatever, to be greeted by the bride and
groom at some massive wedding reception in a palatial suite.
By this time, Charlie was having the greatest of difficulty in walking, yet
alone communicating with the happy couple's family, who seemed totally baffled
as to who or what we were though felt obliged to offer us every hospitality and
ushered us to the buffet... and the bar. Charlie downed several impressive
measures of Jack Daniels, toasting everyone at the same time in a confusing
mixture of Irish and gibberish. Not to appear outwardly greedy, he pocketed what
remained in the bottle and, leaving the wedding party totally confused, we set
off towards the lift again, not, however, before Charlie had offered the bride
what he considered some sympathetic advice on how she should handle her
'nuptials'. This proved to be even more embarrassing. Charlie was by now legless
and with me acting as his sole support, we entered the lift only to be
confronted by a group of elderly women with blue hair and varying couloured
poodles. Upon seeing us, they scattered to the extremeties of the lift leaving
myself and Charlie centre stage. Charlie's legs were 'rubberlike' ( this was a
kind of 'trait' he had, he literally used to become rubberised) as he blew
amazing rasberries in a circular motion whilst the women shielded their
multi-coloured animals from the alcoholic spray. We arrived at a lower level
where the party seemed to be in full swing.
Charlie burst from the lift to be confronted by a gay Julius Caesar accompanied
by some gayer looking centurions. The main centurion, clearly sensing trouble,
drew his rubber sword and dangled it threateningly at Charlie and myself. He was
also wearing an impressive false nose which Charlie made an immediate grab for -
unfortunately he made contact. Charlie drew back the nose some two to three
feet, the poor centurion feared the worst. Pete York appeared on the scene and
he and I clung to the vain hope that what promised to happen wouldn't. It did!
The huge rubber nose smacked the centurion squarely between the eyes which then
began to water profusely. Charlie was quite beside himself with joy, unaware of
other centurions clutching their rubber swords, ready to spring to their
friend's defence. Suddenly, burly men from all quarters of the lobby sprang into
action to defer the affray and we were off yet again down the corridors.
Manoeuvring through the corridors of the Waldorf, we came upon Smithers, already
with half his rented 'Mad Hatter' outfit missing and complaining bitterly about
the distinct possibility of losing his deposit in the morning. More rasberries
were blown and off we went in search of the next encounter. Pete York approached
from another direction, he had it seemed, struck up a serious relationship with
a girl he introduced as Victoria Viper who lit up from head to toe in those
christmas tree lights, while dry ice billowed from the heels of her shoes. This
was no normal party!!!
By now it must have been 3 am and as we re-assembled in the main ballroom; Todd
Rundgren was about to perform. He was introduced by a New York know-nothing DJ
as Mr. Ted Rutkin. Todd played solo piano and looked like he wished he wasn't
there and by now I kind of wished I wasn't. Smithers burst into the ballroom
wearing all that remained of his Mad Hatters outfit - a cane and underpants. He
was still unattached but like all of us, totally confused as to the likely
gender of anyone at the 'do' so he began detailed anatomical research into the
likelihood of the various sexes.
He asked what he thought was a woman to dance with him and they joined the
heaving dance floor. At the end of the 'dance' the floor cleared to reveal a
solitary Smithers, cane in hand and underpants almost intact, lying on the
floor. Even the hardened New York set were beginning to wilt by now, but not our
Charlie!!
Waiters were still ferrying drinks by the trayful, mostly to Charlie, when he
playfully tripped one of them up. The guy balanced and twirled around with the
stacked tray for a bloody long while before he gave up the ghost and threw the
lot to the floor. Things, I'm afraid , were all going this fast...
At this point, I saw a stunning looking woman wearing a sprayed-on leopard skin
outfit, chained to yet another girl. Her attire was so mind-boggling that she
deserved another look and I was amazed to recognise her as the daughter of a
Sotheby's representative whom I had previously met through my brother on our
last visit to New York. She looked so frighteningly good that at first I daren't
speak to her though eventually I did and our 'friendship' was re-started.
Time wise, I don't know where we were at this point, only that Charlie was
intent on carrying on. He suggested we go on to a club - 'Your Grandfather's
Moustache' - in Greenwich village. We got out of the Waldorf and while hailing a
cab, saw Spencer who was STILL trying to get in!!!
Charlie thought he knew the best route to the club and decided to sit up front
with the cab driver. Now NY taxis have very small partitions and Charlie was
very large so, needless to say, he got stuck halfway, with myself and the driver
undecided whether to pull him backward or forward. Eventually we got him through
one way or the other and the guy dropped us off, me standing and Charlie lying
on the pavement. Actually getting into the club was a tricky business, I was the
only sober one and as the metal grill of the club door slid open, the guy behind
the door was faced with me looking in and Charlie on the pavement looking up.
Anyway, we got in.
Charlie insisted on a front row seat which he eventually staggered to, where we
were confronted by a Dixieland jazz band. There were massive bowls of peanuts on
every table which Charlie proceeded to throw down the bowl of the trombone.
After a few choruses of god knows what, the poor guy's trombone had pretty well
seized up. This caused great hilarity for Charlie though considerable
embarassment for me, aside from which no one ever seems to hit a drunk!!
A few peanuts later we were thrown out. Still Charlie was not done, he then
suggested going back to the Waldorf... which of course we did. By now it was
pretty well daylight and the foyer was littered with bodies in all kinds of
states. But The New York Dolls played on. We met up with Spencer who by this
time had JUST got in. He'd missed all the ensuing chaos and was eating
breakfast. Charlie was also in breakfast mood so ordered a large Tequila which
eventually saw him temporarily off. Pete York had slid off to our hotel with
Victoria Viper and the smoking shoes and Ray and myself were left with the job
of manoeuvring Charlie through the early morning NY traffic.
What a bloody night it had been, and to make matters worse, we were playing that
night at Madison Square with Genesis - this was not ideal!! We ordered another
taxi from the Waldorf only for the cab driver to point to our hotel which was
directly opposite. So we carried Charlie through the rush hour into the relative
safety of our own hotel. We were all on the 25th floor and carrying a dead
weight across a lobby past reception and into a lift is no mean feat. We got him
in, after a fashion, but couldn't get him out. At the summit - the 25th floor,
the doors opened, his upper body fell out though his legs remained in. Bells and
lights started ringing and flashing and of course the next thing was hotel
se-bloody-curity. They were pretty decent about the whole thing and helped me
AND Ray carry Charlie to his room where after one final rasberry he collapsed.
The tour continued for weeks, with Charlie continuing his liquid trail across
America and Smithers becoming engaged to a total stranger…
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