My last gig as the lead guitarist of Jimmy Willing and the Real Gone Hickups was at the legendary Golan Hotel in Lismore N.S.W. The famous hard rockin', hard drinkin' Golan Hotel (the queen of England stayed there in the fifties not by choice but when her flight was delayed due to bad weather).The Golan was right in the middle of town and played host to many of the local bands at the time. The Golan was a regular gig, we played there around once every two weeks. It was a great opportunity for all the local excentrics to crawl out of the cracks and enjoy some crazy country punk cowboy music. Most of our gigs there saw the place packed with people, smoke and sweat. I also took part in Jimmy's big special cabaret show which involved story telling, puppetry as well as a performance by The Real Gone Hickups. Now puppetry and storytelling are normally associated with younger audiences but Jimmy's puppets were far from normal, his puppet shows usually included either satanic or rude, lewd and raunchy themes, but they were always very humorous and entertaining. Jimmy would put on these gala events about four times a year and I was lucky enough to be part of one that would include Christa Hughes(most would know her from her work with Machine Gun Felatio). That night the Golan would have another queen stay the night, this time it was the queen of cabaret, Christa Hughes. Incidently she brought the house down as she cat walked along the bar drinking whiskey straight from the bottle. To my young eyes, I was 17 at the time, I was truely transported to a hillbilly heaven. Christa's performance was wonderful, and it was great to meet and perform with her. We also recorded a song for ABC radio with Christa Hughes, it was called 'Cat Fish Fishing' and was a kind of hillbilly duet full of sexual inuendo. Another memorable night was when Mark Laitham, who at that time was the Australian leader of the opposition, popped in for a beer and to watch the band as part of his election campaign trail. Jimmy had just written a song protesting the current leader John Howard, it was a twist on an old blues song with the line "old howard, dead and gone" so he adapted it to the current political situation and we did a lively rendition just for the Labour Leader.

Anyway there were some legendary times at the Golan but the gig that happened to be my last as lead guitarist in Jimmy Willing and the Real Gone Hickups, was also one of the most memorable but not for the most obvious reasons.

The night was indeed barmy as were most nights during the summer on the north coast of New South Wales. I was sweating profusely of course but not as a result of lugging my big Marshal amp, no in this kind of climate you just sweat, you sweat from eating, from standing, from sitting, from sleeping. It was also a full moon that night, I remember because on the way to the Golan I saw a field full of dogs howling and yelping like crazy up at the moon. So at this stage most of the band had arrived. I was there, Jimmy was too, dashing around with an air of panic about him, this was not unusual as he always looked about a hundred times busier than he really was. My father, David Virgin, who played acoustic guitar and sang backup was there. He helped out with arrangements and things, and we also played some of his songs like 'White Man Sings the Blues' and 'Get Me Home Baby'. Another sight that was not unusual was to see the double bass player, Tom Jones, with his hand wrapped around a beer. To this day I still wonder how he could put away that much and still land on the one beat, surely a special talent. The drummer, Clancy Robinson, though had yet to turn up. But there was no real hurry at this stage, there was time enough for a couple of fags and a couple of beers. We had heard that Clancy had the flu and was on some kind of medication for it. Everything was set up but the drums, and we were just waiting on him. Clancy appeared about ten minutes later lugging his gear through the stage door which opened up straight onto the street. This large stage door was glass and proved perfect for those banned from the pub to enjoy the show from outside. One such person who was banned not only from the Golan but from every pub in Lismore and the surrounding area, was known only as Mr. Amour as in Mister Love. He would wear only a long sari and seemed to carry an air of authority, though I never saw any proof of any actual authority, he was very tall and had long unkempt hair. I'm not quite sure but I think he was banned for harassing women in the pubs, and another story tells how he would frequent the local second hand stores sniffing and rubbing his greasy face in all the second hand panties. I never heard him talk, he was a bit like the Chief from One Flew Over the Cukoos Nest. While playing at the Golan I would often turn to my left to see Mr. Amour's imposing figure staring in at me from the street, I'm infinitely indebted to that large piece of glass that stood between myself and the kinds of people you thought only existed in nightmares. But anyway Clancy had arrived and he was sniffling and coughing and was looking a little crazy with that medication I mentioned earlier, he didn't look well. There was no support act tonight, it was all us, three sets over four hours. We always had a good rider at the Golan, full of cheese, cold meats, olives and various other rich foods. Clancy hadn't had dinner and began shoving these rich foods carelessly into his mouth, stopping only for mouthfulls of beer, we were on in minutes and he didn't like to play on an empty stomach. Now the cold medication, the beer and the various meats and cheeses are what I know he consumed that night but one can only speculate as to what else he may or may not have been on at the time. The pub at this stage was full, and a peek out from backstage revealed that eager mass of sweaty flesh known as the audience. We'd had our fill of snacks and beverages, the moon was high in the sky and that's how we knew it was time to play.

The band took the stage, we opened with 'Preachin' The Blues', a real fast paced number to set the tone, let the new faces know what they're in for, and reiterate to the regulars what they already knew and loved. This is the part of the night when hopes are up in both the band and the adoring crowd, things feel good, the music is tight, spirits are high and there is hope that maybe this will be one of those shows that people will always remember, of course it's not always for the right reasons. The set wound down well, and had left everyone on a high, it was time for refreshments and to see if there was anything left of that rider.

Ok, second set, this is the set that seperates the men from the boys, the set that will make or break the entire gig. Things start out well, still tight, still pumping. Things were great for the first few songs, great, that is, untill about halfway through the set. Clancy our drummer wasn't looking too good, it seemed liked his cold medication was disagreeing with the cheese and cold meat platter, the beer may have been having an affect as well. Things got worse, mistakes were being made and Clancy was going under fast. About three quarters through this set Clancy rushed off stage presumably to relieve himself in some way or another. In an attempt to retain some kind of control over the situation David Virgin instigated an "on the spot" personel change, a kind of instrumental musical chairs. He would play drums, I would play acoustic guitar and David Ramsey, who was in the audience, was asked on stage to perform some impovised lead guitar. David Ramsey was not yet a regular in the Real Gone Hickups but we all knew that if anyone could jump on stage and bluff his way through a folk/hillbilly/punk gig it was him. Although on this particular occasion David, assuming he would remain a member of the audience for the entire gig, had had quite a bit to drink and as such was struggling with his guitar strap. Meanwhile in centre stage Jimmy was attemting to stay calm as the gig fell apart around him, it was his name headlining the bill, it was his arse on the line. So we flew into the last couple of songs of the second set, with myself having to face David Ramsey so he could see the chord progressions. If ever the term "from bad to worse" was appropriate it was now. The songs were stopping and starting, everyone seemed to lose focus and I know that everyone on stage would rather have been anywhere else. So we struggled through a song or two and got off that stage as quickly as possible.

It was time for one of those American Football type huddles, strategies were being discussed in an attempt to limit any further embarassments. Clancy was still nowhere to be seen, so it was decided that we would wind down with a set of slow waltzes and folk ballads and forget entirely about any form of percussion. The crowd though was now agitated and full of beer, not knowing what to expect when the band would return. Our fans had come to expect an energetic, high tempo last set to dance away the night, but they'd get nothing of the sort, images of us fighting our way out of the pub, using our instruments to beat away a sweaty crowd of irate music fans filled each band member's head. But we wouldn't be paid untill three sets were played.

So there we were, General Custer and the 7th Cavalry, outnumbered 20 to 1, ready to be slaughtered by the natives. We began with Jimmy Willing's legendary ballad 'Kate Kelly'. No drums just a bunch of brave, hard working soldiers. An audience of puzzled faces stared back at us but we stood firm and held our ground. The set progressed and the audience began to change, puzzlement changed to acceptance and acceptance unbelieveably changed to enjoyment. The crowd became one as they put each others arms around each others shoulders and began swaying in time with Jimmy's seductive 3/4 waltzes. There was hope for us yet. We decided to finish the night with the timeless classic, the traditional Irish lament 'St. James' Infirmary'. The sublime meloncholia spread through the crowd, all was forgiven, in a moment I'll never forget, a crowd who moments earlier were ready to kill us were silenced by an ancient war ballad played so slow and soft, on another night it would have been excrutiating. But not tonight, we had been to musical Hades and arrived at musical Nirvana.

This was the last time I played as lead guitarist in Jimmy Willing And The Real Gone Hickups. Jimmy is a great guy and my time playing with him will always be with me.

Rohan.

To learn more about Jimmy Willing's music and art click here.

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