INTRO SESSION SHENANIGANS
The studio guitarist’s guide to happiness and personal fulfilment, as related by our resident session ace. This month: It’s A Cheque, Mate.
One grey late 20th century day found me passing through the stately portals of Nomis Rehearsal Studio Complex And Tearooms, along the road from Olympia, in London. With apologies to Nigel Tufnell, don’t go looking for it -it’s not there any more. Simon (Nomis spelled backwards) Napier-Bell’s former dairy ceased operations years ago, leaving behind a piece of prime Hammersmith real estate.
But I digress. I set up in one of the larger rooms with my rhythm section colleagues and was introduced to a gentleman by the name of Benny. So far, so unremarkable. It was not until his chum arrived that matters began in earnest. “This is Björn -shall we begin?” I’d been sent two pieces of music. Fortunately I’d found time to take a sneak peek prior to what was clearly an audition. One was a ditty of considerable complexity-One Night In Bangkok -the other a workout entitled Nobody’s Side. This featured an eight-bar semiquaver solo-ette and was my first encounter with today’s now ubiquitous technique of tapping. After initial apprehension mixed with dismay, I managed to figure out that all the notes of the required B Minor triad and its F# pal were playable by employing the third string only. Sheer terror may not be a pleasant emotion but it seems to get the job done. We blundered our way through the toons three or four times before our new Scandinavian buddies called a halt to proceedings and thanked us politely. The phrase, “We’ll let you know” or its Swedish equivalent was assuredly employed. Next morning, the contractor was in touch. The Abba Boys wished to hire my services for their first musical-Chess. It was to be performed at The Prince Edward Theatre and might run for anything between 20 years and page nine. I found myself in the remarkable position for a West End musician of being asked to state my fee for said engagement. To infer from the silence that followed by what appeared to be the sound of a camel expiring from emphysema, my envisaged salary package and his seemed to be at variance. ‘Twas of no avail. On this unique occasion, I was the plectrist driving both humbuckers. The chaps who were about to pay the bills wanted me. Matters were thus swiftly concluded in my favour before you could say Abbacadabra.
And so to The Production Village Willesden, a few weeks later, there to meet arranger and orchestrator Anders and the rest of the 20-plus orchestra to commence lengthy rehearsals. I was handed pencil and notepad and asked to provide details of the gear that the company intended to acquire on my behalf. For rea
