41. high five
Without that song contest, there might not be this website.
All these years later, Bernie talks about 'the wonder of the experience. It was phenomenal'.
For Patrick, it was 'A brilliant night, a lifetime memory, and a privilege to have shared it with each other.'
Even if we hadn't won, to play in front of all those people and get that applause -
Yeh yeh and true enough. It would have been something. Great, even. And I would still have put this site together But winnng gave me something to hang my hat on. Not just a joy, a vindication.
I don't need to be reminded it was just a student bash. I do understand some of the acts were cobbled together. We didn't win outright, and our entry was about a donkey.
But fuck all that. It doesn't dilute a thing. Because remember where we'd come from.
When I say 'we', I mean our vocalist most. Look at him now.
I keep stressing my voice didn't improve with time. And trust me: I'm not suggesting I was a star on that stage. To this day, I'm not sure what I did to 'work it'.
It's true I'd come a long way from being told I needed backing vocals on the morning of our first gig. But we all had.
This was never about me. They weren't my backing band. I wasn't good enough for that.
*
Evidence kept rearing its head. One day we're all round at Bernie's house in Howard Street. And someone pulls out a hand-held machine that you sing into and it tells you what key you're in. Sounded unlikely to me, but I watched them fiddle about with it.
Patrick: Harry, you've got perfect pitch. Give us a C.
Harry goes 'laaa' and sure enough the machine shows a C. Then Pat has a try, though Bernie didn't (he really never sang a note while he was with us).
This goes on for a couple of minutes, then I put my oar in.
Uh, hello? Who's the singer round here...?
Ah well, yes...
People avert their gaze and start talking about the weather.
Oh, very funny. Hand me that thing.
Alright, sighs Pat. Try a B.
No idea how you do that, but I have a go. Aaah.
That's a J, he says. Or a Q or a Z. We still laugh about it now.
*
It's further proof that this website exists not because I had any vocal talent at all but because I put us together - and kept us going when Bill wasn't sure where we were heading and Patrick was about to leave it stillborn.
I mean - christ - I had no right to set up a rock band, let alone appear in it - and yet we finished ahead of Sarah Nagourney and Howard Goodall CBE. A vocalist who doesn't know what notes he's hitting: jumping back on stage to receive a prize.
*
I asked Bernie once. How you make different sounds on a guitar. I had only a vague idea.
His reply was a full one.
'You can shorten the length of the string and thus change the note in two ways. Either stick your finger on a fret, which shortens the length from your finger to the tail piece - or increase the tension of the string by sliding your finger to the left or right along the fret, pulling the string with it. This increase in tension also causes the note to rise. You can reasonably easily raise the note by a couple of semitones - so three different notes? You can also use a tremelo arm to increase or reduce the tension in all the strings at once.'
Christ, I didn't expect the spanish inquisition manual. My reply? If you want to shorten a guitar string, use a stanley knife.
Now, this makes it sound like I wear my musical ignorance as a badge. But it was just a joke. And I'm not proud that I can't sing in tune. I wish I could hit the right note occasionally. But, for the purposes of this narrative, it's OK to flaunt my lack of credentials.
Because here's the bottom line. Someone who's been told all his life he can't sing, he won a song contest.
At the risk of sounding like patronising amateur self-help guru of the week, if I can manage that, anyone can do anything. If you haven't got the talent, use something else. Backing vocals if it helps.
Grow an extra layer of skin, don't give up, and enjoy the fuck out of it. We were about to.