Wild Boy by Andy Taylor Read Free Book Online

House
. They were like fraternity brothers who lived in these big barracks, which were just bedrooms linked by corridors. They would all put their speakers out in the hall and link them up, and it was just like you see in movies such as
Hamburger Hill.
They used to have these talent shows, for which we provided the backing music, and it was a great bit of relief for them to do a little show. They’d shout, “Come and party with us, dude,” and then someone would belt out “Gimme Some Loving” before the black GIs would get up and sing “Papa Was a Rolling Stone.” It was great fun but I used to think,
Shit! If the Russians attack now we’ll all be partying!
Aside from the talent shows, we used to play six hours a night as part of our contract, which was exhausting, but it strengthened my voice when I was young.
    The pilots were the most impressive people on the base. I remember standing in a queue in the officer’s mess and some pilots came in wearing their flight uniforms with their names on them, like in
Top Gun
. They exuded aggression; it was as if they were saying they were ready at any moment to go up in the sky and shoot Commies. The European front line was obviously prepared to go to war at any time. You didn’t really get a sense of it off the GIs, but you knew the pilots were ready for it. They all had to be under twenty-four and ready to kill the moment the order was given, and they were a bit of an exclusive club. Some of the officers also had a certain air about them, too, that seemed to say,
I can kill anyone if I am ordered to. I have the authority to kill.
    The colonels were much more approachable. There was one colonel and his wife who befriended me, and I used to regularly go and eat with them. They had a video player, which was something almost unheard of in the North East, and I remember I was blown away when we sat down to watch the latest
Star Wars
movie on it.
    It was easy to forget that the whole place was one big war machine. However, there was no animosity between the Germans and the Americans. We used to stay in the local gasthaus, and it was okay to walk down the road doing Adolf impressions, à la John Cleese in
Fawlty Towers.
In those days the locals thought it was quite funny, and we weren’t so fearful about political correctness as we are now. The Germans were just like us and liked to get drunk on their beer. All the towns around the bases would have loads of great bars filled with German girls, American GIs, and the British bands that came to entertain them. It was a lot of fun, but all good things come to an end, and eventually so did our contract. I had to return home, but it had opened up my eyes to the world.
    THEY say traveling is the only way you ever learn anything, apart from what’s handed down to you, and it was true for me. By the time I got back to England, I knew it was time to move on and join a bigger band. I started checking
Melody Maker
every week, because it used to carry adverts seeking musicians for bands. It wasn’t long before I spotted one seeking a “Live Wire Guitarist.” It cited Mick Ronson of the Spiders From Mars and Steve Jones of the Sex Pistols as musical influences, so I thought it looked worth a call, but what I didn’t know as I went down to the call box was that it would change my life once again.
    Looking back, I suppose you could say that all the great things that lay ahead in my life began with that phone call (even though I am now notoriously difficult to get on the phone). All the money and the record sales, all the fast cars, the drugs, the champagne and five-star hotels, all the meetings with royalty and the visit to the White House; all the exotic video shoots in Sri Lanka and all the wild parties with the likes of the Rolling Stones and rock’s royalty, all started from a call box outside a sleepy newsagent in Cullercoats.
    I dialed the number and explained that I was replying to the advert for a guitarist.
    “What’s the name of