Chris Cockram was in the right place at the right time. Chris had the good fortune to be on the Pink Floyd road crew on the highly acclaimed Animals “In The Flesh” Tour in 1977. In this EXCLUSIVE story for A Fleeting Glimpse, Chris gives an enthralling account of his life on the road with Pink Floyd and takes us on the tour & beyond to tell what life was like in those times. Be prepared to spend some time because this is a facinating read.
The treasures are in the memory….. I can close my eyes and be there, on stage, live in Montréal Stadium 1977 Animals Tour.
It was all hands on in the workshop, all the gear for the tour was being tested and flight cased. We were going in to Olympia for full Rehearsals and to try out the Hydraulics for the new Cherry Pickers, with their pilot cage, laser guided Follow Spot, Par -Cans slung from the cage, with Piro’s and flares. It was all very high-tech stuff, for those days, now I guess they’d be considered a little agricultural. They were mounted on a 10 metre tractor unit that was driven in to position each side of stage. Each cherry picker traveled in its own 45ft truck. In the air they could be extended out over the entire stage, and the hydraulics, supporting the arm and cage were, smooth and responsive, they literally flew.
The pilot sat in a racing car seat, and operated a single joy stick at his right hand, on the left all the switches for lights and flares, the Follow Spot was mounted to a swivel plate and sat just above his right shoulder, like some bloody great rocket launcher, theses things would glide in to position in silence, completely blacked out, the guy’s wore all black, with balaclavas and gloves and then they would burst into view in a blaze of light and fly across the stage, I thought they were brilliant.
There was a point in the show, with David Gilmour starting off on Steel slide guitar, the Cherry Pickers were positioned high over head, one over the Keyboard’s, one over David, this thing would drop in to position to about 3 meters above his head, completely blacked out. The pilot was flying blind in a straight drop, I would count him down on the headset, that was fun, it became a competition to see how close we could get, and how quickly he could drop, but it had to be a smooth stop, and underneath was possibly one of the worlds leading musicians! Today you wouldn’t get away with it.
There were nights when as the Cherry Picker lifted off in a blaze of white light, David would appear from with-in it, the heat from the lights turning his sweat to steam, it looked great. But believe me it was dangerous, my count down had to be right, but it was all up to the guy in the driver’s seat. David handled it all really well, but there were nights when his look would say it all, too close boys.
The Pig, rescued after his escape from Battersea Power Station, looking more menacing by the day and Air Traffic Control had a story to tell their grandkids, the day pigs did fly over London.
The rest of the cast of blow-up characters were ready, the Blonde in the Cadillac, the family on the couch, the fridge full of sausages, the huge circular screen, with front and back projection, and with new tilt motors, was there, and several truck loads of PA, in surround sound stereo.
We rehearsed assembling the bottom wings on to the massive mirror ball, as it appeared from under the stage, it was too big to fit under in one piece, so we assembled it as it rose. One night one of the wings wouldn’t go on, (it had been bent during the last pack-down), there followed a frantic scramble for cable ties and Gaffa tape, It was a race against time as we fumbled our way through trying to get it on, these things weighed a lot, steel frame, 2mtrs long, and thick board with a thousand or so mirrors, just holding it up was hard, as it started to rise, we stuck 3 or 4 cable ties in each bolt hole, and slapped Gaff’ across the frame, we kept at it until it was out of reach, When it started to spin, we all said a silent pray, and just hoped it would hold, underneath that was Nick Mason, thankfully it did, Forget putting tiles on the space shuttle, they should’ve used Gaff’!
The graphics were done, and the shots that are now so well known, had their viewing upstairs in the Studio. Nick Mason came in late,( well, he is a drummer) he threw me his car keys, “Chris, will you park the car for me please”. The “car” was his latest toy, he was a car nut, and loved his little sporty numbers. I climbed in, put the foot down, and the bloody thing took off down the alley like a bullet, scared the shit out of me, so, a very quick spin round the block, seemed the only thing to do, loved it, cheers Nick.
Those of you who saw the tour will know a shit load of hard work went in to all that. We were in Olympia for weeks and every day something new was added. The constant testing of the Pig and his run out over the audience was amazing, All running on an electric motor winch system, like a mountain ski- lift, bloody great steal cables slung from one end of the arena to the other, the pig was inflated back stage (Stage Right). We ran him out to stretch and retention the cables, he had to clear the PA stack on the night, so, on set up day, he was flown back and forth to allow for stretching, and heat and all those variable things.
We got it right most of the time, sometimes he came too close. Only once did it really come unstuck, The Evil Mr Pig….
We were at an indoor Arena in the States, don’t know where, maybe one of you could tell me, on cue Mr Pig slowly inflated and began to appear above the PA, the roar went up from the audience, the band, lost in their music, and doing their thing, oblivious to it all, We all realised at the same time, like collective telepathy, this bloody Zeppelin, 40 odd foot and several tons of grunt, was heading strait for the stack, about a metre too low!
The PA stood a good 15 odd metres off the ground, the gap between stage and audience was less than 3metres, that’s a lot of very injured people, there was a frantic scramble up the stacks, myself and three others, as we reached the top we turned and there was the Pig, just coming straight at us, staring us right in the eye and screaming…..No time to think…
The whole show ran to a click track, all keyed to the band, they couldn’t slow him down, he had to do his thing and get back in his box on cue, show biz right.
As his great rubbery frame crashed in to us, we just hung on, and with one arm each started shoveling the chin and neck, then the shoulders over the top, it was working, but wait, his nose which had lights in it, was stuck on the top row of Horns, the PA stack had slots, male and female, to hold it up in stable fashion, which was good, but now the whole stack was literally being pulled over by the winches, the lean was getting really close to the point of no return, and from the ground I’m sure it looked scary, but we were on the bloody top, being smothered by this Pig, no time to think, in fact just numb, if truth be told, we just kept pushing at this blubber that was all over us, then like some sort of magic trick, the nose burst free, the two front legs dragged themselves over the top, the whole thing reared up and threw it self forward , the back legs came at us and just brushed over us, we watched as his fat bum mooned us in contempt, like some mad, hit-run driver, He was out, out to get ya!
The PA rocked like a house of cards, but stayed together, the crowd went nuts, the colour drained back in to the faces of the band, and my fellow twats and I, got the big ovation from the crowd as we climbed down, shaken and very stirred. We headed straight for the stash and chopped out a big one and washed it down with a scotch. Looking out from the scrim that stretched over a steel frame, and hid the back line, from the audience’s view, we watched as the Pig was slowly turned round, that was the chance for the winch crew to run the motors on the cables and tighten them, Mr Pig was back on his lead.
A thumbs up from Mr Gilmour, and the grin on Nick Masons face went from ear to ear, it remained a talking point for weeks, Roger Waters suggested we do it every night, but then, at times he could be more evil and menacing than the pig! It was never allowed to happen again, all good fun, but too close, The Pig was developing a Personality, he was evil. As the tour went on, through Europe, and then to the States, He grew more evil, and unpredictable.
They were, great times, and I’m thinking maybe, just maybe, you might like to hear a story or two, from some one who was there, all those years ago.
Coffee table stories, late night reminiscing, So many shows, so many crews, hotel rooms and dressing rooms, nights on the crew bus, and fights back stage, women and wives, and wanting both. Stories I have many… if you have the time and the interest. But firstly, let me take just a moment or two, to set the scene, and to tell you a little about myself. We all have a story to tell, It’s the difference between what we are, and who we are..
I lived and worked in USA & the UK for nearly 15 yrs. During that time I lived in London, but spent so much time in America it started to feel like home. I lived in New Orleans for over a year, just outside the French Quarter, there’s a story waiting to be told. I lived in Denver for a summer, then moved high up into the mountains outside Buffalo to a Recording studio set in a massive ranch house. I was based in LA, or New York, for months at a time between tours. I was lucky enough to have been able to tour all over America, through Japan, Mexico, Canada, Australia, NZ & all of Europe, through the wall to East Berlin, to Paris in Spring, To Budapest in Winter, To Helsinki, through the Baltic pack ice, & to Morocco in the heat of summer.
Over the years I’ve worked with a list of Artists that includes U2, The Stones, Elton John, Queen, Cat Stevens, Manfred Mann, Steve Harley, Elvis Costello, Grace Jones, UFO, Uriah Heep, Ken Hensley, and AC/DC, and the Floyd. In 1981, I was asked to stage Manage, The Year of the Child Concerts in London, with John Miles, and the wonderful Dusty Springfield, at the Royal Albert Hall, in the presence of Royalty, and then with Cat Stevens, David Essex and Wishbone Ash at Wembley.
In 1977 I was in London, living in Ealing, and working with Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel. We’d not been home long from a European Tour, through Germany and across the Baltic to Finland, up and around through Norway, Denmark, Holland, France then home to UK. Steve and the band were in Abbey Road Studio, and the crew were on call, but more on break than doing much, the Pub, the Marquee Club, Shows at the Hammersmith Odeon.
We saw Bob Marley there, with every Jamaican in London, the year or so before he died, The Odeon was thick with the sweet smell of Ganga…. It drifted in clouds from the stage and audience, and back stage, in the bar, and dressing rooms, it was everywhere, all the brothers were into it, and all us whitey’s were chopping out lines and smoking black hash, The crowd sang every word, and the nights recording became Bob Marley Live at Hammersmith, A brilliant night… hanging out with friends, Sunday Roast after a Guinness or two the next day, at the Rose and Crown, and watch the soccer, magic.
I was 26 then, and had moved to London from Adelaide, Australia the early 70’s.
The Vietnam War bought Military Conscription in to the lives of all 19 year olds here in Oz, and like so many of my mates, I did the right thing and registered the day I turned 19. But the Army and the war and all that shit was not on my list of things to do, Scared, shit yes, dying in some rice paddy for good old uncle Sam, no thanks, but nothing you could do about it, you just waited for the Draft results to be published in the Advertiser Newspaper on a Saturday morning, and said stupid things to those you loved, in case your number came up, and you didn’t come home.
Friends a few years ahead of me were coming back, We heard the horror stories and the hero stories , I came to understand that you didn’t need to be shot, to be a casualty, some never did come home, each one, leaving someone to grieve, and a Nation to remember. We all lived through it, and couldn’t help being affected by it.
I was working on the oil rigs and the exploration teams, up in the Simpson Desert, chasing the dollars and chasing my dreams. I left home at 17. I was doing it the hard way, out to find my place in this bad old world. We worked hard long hours, in hot and horrible conditions, but we were paid really well. I did six week hitches up there, and I went home ready to get in to some serious mischief.
45 men, six weeks, nothing but hard and hot work all day, up at 5am and out there till the sun went down, Drunk at night, and too much time to think… The Southern Cross lighting the way back down south, They say that the only people who worked up there, were those with something to hide, or something to forget, well, I fitted that bill alright, I guess that’s why I fitted in. There lies another story.
But I loved it up there, there was peace and purpose, in my life, the guys I worked with took me in, I was the youngest on the crew, It took a slap or two, and a few months of having to prove myself, but I earned their respect, and I put behind me, the angry young man, They taught me the value of friendship and showed me the pride in hard work and achievement. I in turn, introduced them to good weed and fine Rock n Roll. It was the least I could do.
We lived in 8 bed caravans, mine was the one with the party going on, we played cards, drank beers, got stoned and told bullshit stories, at 5am the cook would start banging on the empty gas cylinder outside the mess tent, Breakfast, Steak and eggs on toast, coffee, and a bacon sandwich to go and it was back into it, 45degrees in the shade by 10am.
I worked with them, all across the Simpson, from Fink and Oodnadatta, up to Moomba, Our team made the first gas strike, in what is now the Moomba Gas Fields We moved through NSW and into Queensland, to Winton, then across to the Northern Territory, and down to Alice Springs, nearly 21/2 years, with the odd month off now and then.
I started a Rock Promotions company, with a partner, in my weeks between hitches, we put on shows at the bigger Rock Pubs around town.
The shows got bigger, as we got better at it, we got ourselves an office and a part time Assistant. We worked on the Meadows Music Festival, with a lot of help from many friends, most of whom were tripping, we did a huge show at the Adelaide Town Hall, with Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs, and Max Merit and the Meteors. We had Daddy Cool over for Meadows and did some country shows with them.
We had Bands on regularly at the Octagon Elizabeth, The Bridgeway, and the Larges Pier, the Lord Melbourne was always good, great nights, Early days, but we didn’t know that then, we were just having a ball, it was the late sixties and the world was just discovering Rock n Roll, and Rock Stars, and all that came with it.
The UK bands that came through in the wake of the Beatles and the Stones changed Australia forever, and were like a beacon to me, lighting my way.
AC/DC were about to bust out, Jimmy Barnes, Bon Scott and John Swan could be seen most weekends at the Larges, and in town was Big Daddy’s night club, Headquarters and Sergeant Peppers, the Scene in Pirie Street, the place was alive, and we made the most of opportunities as they came along, we did well, I drove a fully restored 1946 Oldsmobile, then a 1959 Mk7 Jag.
Wheeling and dealing was working out for us, But we stuck out like dogs balls, and attracted too much attention. It stopped being about trying to get rich quick., I wanted to see this world of ours, I knew where I was going, all those nights in the desert, gazing up at the stars, I had my plan. Working in the Bush was wearing real thin, so I packed it in, and, after I cleared the Army Draft, they said I was free to go, so I did, all the way to London.
I stopped in Bali and Bangkok and traveled north to the borders of Cambodia and Laos, I wanted to see this War, from the ground, for myself, I wanted to see why we were fighting in the streets at home, There followed 3 months of stuff that will live with me forever, the tide of war was about to turn, where I had traveled, the people I had met, in the towns and villages, not two years later, were overrun, the great American War machine was driven southward, behind lay the killing fields.
My dear friend Poe, who rescued me one night, in a street fight, on the streets of Bangkok, then joined me on my journey North. He was just 17, sent south to avoid the bloodshed, and already he’d seen too much.
I wanted to see what we were dying for, Poe wanted to find his sisters. Young girls who had also seen too much, it showed in their eyes, in the photos he carried., The younger was 15 and her big sister was only 16, His Mother from Cambodia and Father from Thailand, The sisters were North of us in Udon, with a Grandmother, Their village by the Venetian River at the northern border of Thailand, was on the edge of the Laos and Cambodian war zones, no place for anyone, let alone young girls. They’d been sent south to the relative safety of the Air Force Base.
A few weeks later, we found his sisters, working at night as prostitutes and drug sellers to the GI’s at the Air Force Base, I wont say more than that on this, It was not what Poe expected to find, things got heavy real quick, the MP’s rolled up and we bolted, not a good night. Grandmother ran a little Rice and Chicken stall, sold black market cigarettes, and chain smoked them, her husband had died only a few months earlier when the GI’s opened fire on a crowd after one of their trucks had been hit by a bomb in a bag, hung on to the side, by a passing bike rider, it happened all the time.
His Mother and Father, we found some weeks later, when our over crowded bus dropped us in the middle of what seemed like total chaos and upheaval in their Village, it was the start of what was to be the massive move south, as the Armies of the North drove all before them. But what a reunion that was, Tears of joy, then tears of sorrow, his Father was about to leave, he was going to cross the border to try to get his wife’s parents out, Poe decided to go with him.
At dawn we waded across the Vientiane River, heart pounding, waiting for the gun boat to come round the bend, I stayed with them that day and by night fall, we reached the first stop, a small village of about a hundred or so people, Poe’s Dad seemed to know them and they made us welcome, they couldn’t work me out at all at first, friend or foe, it didn’t matter in the end, we laughed and got stoned and drunk on rice wine.
Next morning I said goodbye, it was too dangerous for me to go further, They headed north, to uncertainty and to danger, Poe and I cried. I headed back South, with a couple of young bodyguards Poe and his Dad appointed, to get me back to the border and across the River.
I also carried a bale of Buddha-Sticks, and an ounce of wet, black Opium, “Money for my sisters “, said Poe as he handed me the package. Another good reason not to get stopped, I sold it a few weeks later back in Udon. I had gifts and letters for the sisters, from their Mum and Dad, I gave them the cash I had just scored from the two GI’s who made the sale, “ From Poe“, I said, as tears ran down my face.
Grandma gave me two packs of B&H, as she put the cash into her little tin box, then, I walked away, What words could possibly describe my feelings at that point.
From there the long trip back to Bangkok, crowded rickety old busses, no room to move, the stench of food and sweat, the back of a truck with 20 others, endless muddy tracks, check points and the constant sound of helicopters overhead.
Who of them, would survive in that arena of tears, with no where to run, nowhere to hide, and no one to hear them cry.
More stories for another day perhaps.
I stayed in Athens for a couple of weeks, so hard to readjust after all that, I lay on beaches, swam, drank beer, ate real food, and wondered what the fuck life was all about, as you do. Trying to come to terms with what I’d just experienced, and what might have been. Trying to come back to earth after 3 months of smoking a cocktail of Opium, Heroin and Tai Buddha Sticks, (The GI’s loved it, and couldn’t get enough of it,) In the bars and clubs in the towns around the Army bases, drugs were everywhere. Only in the villages, along the rivers edge, was life clean and peaceful, and all that was swept away by a wave of hatred and cruelty.
I Arrived into Heathrow at last, a cab to Ealing to meet a friend I’m sharing a room with, and two weeks later I was on tour, doing back line, with Dave Cousins and The Strawbs in Germany, Loving life again, £50 a week, and you got to see the band each night for free, Things soon changed…Rock hit pay-dirt, and the money rolled in.
London became home, the music business grew and I found a place for myself. Starting off on Back line and driving countless trucks around the world and back again, to Guitar Tech, to Keyboard Tech, to Crew Chief, Stage manager, to Production Manager, then Tour Manager, great years, Years when I prayed to my higher self, to keep my feet on the ground.
Along the way we all lost good friends, to accidents and mishaps, we had no risk evaluation, no occupational health and safety, we just got it done. And some good people were left behind, in the echo of the encore, Or to drugs, good friends who pushed too far out there, out beyond the second breakers, lost in deep waters, but never forgotten.
1977, I was Crew Chief for Steve Harley, The Tour through Europe had been great, and the shows back in the UK had been brilliant, Steve always put on a good show, Jim Creegan on Guitar, with Joe Partridge, Glasgow Apollo was packed and 3000 Glaswegians sang every song and set the balcony jumping up and down so bad the follow spots came close to falling off, scary shit for the boy’s up there, Who’s going to stop them…you??? After the show, the streets out side echoed with the singing of hundreds of fans waiting to see the boys on their way out, ”Come up and see me, make me smile.” No one sings like a Glasgow crowd.
A couple of nights later, we’re playing down in Wales, On the way down we’d managed to get a 4hr break in London, a chance to dash home, I had the Crew Bus, 12 of us in a Transit Mini Bus, finally we’re all back on board, battling our way through London traffic to the Motorway, no sleep since lasts nights show. Someone fired up a couple of joints, Steely Dan were playing on the cassette player, “ Ricky don’t loose that number”, caught in traffic grid-lock, Next thing I heard was this knocking on my window, I tried to ignore it, wrapped in a cloak of sleep, then reality crashed in, When I opened my eyes, there was a couple of people in stitches, standing at the window, and this bloke telling me to wake up in a hurry…, but he was laughing so hard he could hardly talk, I realised why when I looked around, We’d all just crashed, asleep and stopped in the road, the smoke from the joints had filled the Van, and was just billowing out of slightly open windows in a trail behind us, Outside, people luckily, saw the funny side of it, and the guy who woke me up and stuck his head in the window, is probably still talking about it.
Back in London on a serious high, Steve and the band checked in to Abbey Road Studios to do the Album, Later, we all flew to Ireland to shoot the video for “Here comes the sun.”. We shot it in a Castle in County Cork, not far from where my grandmother came from. We drank many a good Guinness that weekend.
The phone call from the Floyd’s office was a message on the answer machine, waiting for me when I got back, to call Brit Row. I had no idea what it was about, but I made the call, “Come and see us, we’re looking for crew for the tour.”, To cut a long story short, I went to see them and a few weeks later, I was parking Nick Masons Bullet, (or was it a Morgan?) in the alley alongside the Studio, funny old world.
I was responsible for the back line stage gear, doing all the guitars and drums, with the bands main back line guy doing keyboards and bass. For the US tour, we got a guy in to do drums and general third man. Working with David Gilmour, was a privilege, and with Nick Mason, he was great, he was easy to be with, always had time for the crew, appreciated the effort, and with Snowy White, playing all the acoustic stuff, a bit of bass, and Rhythm Guitar. Rick Wright was a quietly spoken gent’, I always felt there was someone in him, trying to get out, and Roger Waters was… whatever he wanted to be at the time. I found them all to be pleasant enough, a little aloof perhaps, but really, we were just another part of that massive entourage of hired help, that surrounded them.
I’d been working in London since 1970 and had carved a niche for myself , I’d toured the UK and Europe, countless times, the US and Japan, I ‘d worked with Rod Argent, and his Keyboard show, and toured it across Europe and the States, I’d toured the States with Steppenwolf, Blue Oyster Cult, with Alabama, Rush, Bob Seager, Fleetwood Mac, I’d worked with Steve Harley, and Manfred Mann, with Argent, Mott the Hoople, Queen, and Procol Harem, and others, I guess that’s how I got the job,
David Gilmour had a set up to die for, all ready to go, they all did, except for Rick’s Hammond which was old and fragile, and it was the cause of constant argument over how it was handled, In fact, thinking about it, some of you could probably tell me what they used, and what the controls were set on.
Two 45ft Trucks of stage gear and spares alone, set it all up, and then, tear it all down and load it again. We had more spares than most bands have gear to use, and the US tour had 14 trucks on the road, and at times more, depending on the show and a Tech crew of about 30 of us. It was early days in the evolution of the Business, but the Floyd toured at a level, even then, that other bands could only dream of, and they mesmerized audiences across the world with incredible productions, we even had Gourmet Crew Catering.
Chicago, and they cleared the Air space over the Arena, so we could start the show with the Bands DC10 flying low, I mean very low, then accelerate in rapid lift off over our heads. With the pink pigs on either wing, the heat from the engines, and the noise was just incredible, amazing way to start a Rock show, so few people with that sort of appeal and power. In Montréal Stadium, after the stand- out and controversial show of the tour, the Stadium head rigger took a few of us up to the roof, to this narrow little walkway at the very edge of the rim, looking down into this giant bowl, something like a hundred feet up, we strapped on Abseil harnesses and launched out into it, stopping a couple of times just to take it all in, breathtaking, below, the crew staring up at us, looking like ants, then a silent drop to the stage, amazing, a perfect night.
We had access to equipment that was big money, and the investment in putting the tours together was huge, but so too was the return. We traveled by plane, hire cars at shows, 5 star hotels, we were fed well, alcohol supplied. We were paid really well, and it was a great time from start to finish.
We had access to every thing we wanted, if truth be told, But, maybe some things are best left unsaid. I don’t know, do I tell it warts and all, or do I give you the sanitised version, I mean, some of you were there, some of you came along later, but as the father of three teenage offspring and knowing what goes on today, is there really any secret left as to what went on then behind the scenes, I doubt it. But never mind all that, perhaps some of those tales could be for another day.
I stayed in America at the end of the Animals Tour, had a break in New Orleans, then, I picked up with UFO back in London, as Production manager around UK and Europe, then 9 months in US, Mexico, Canada and a re-visit to Japan.
By far the greatest high of all for me was the atmosphere in that 20min period just before show time. To be there on stage, looking out over the sea of people, the Stadiums sold out, the crowd, starting to feel the energy, The hardest of hearts pumps a little faster.
Behind the black Scrim curtain, we’re all busy with final checks, a line to kick it off, a cold beer or two, The flurry to get the guitars on stage, a hasty re-tune, House lights down, intro tape, The Band , drift up, ever so casual, Trays of scotch and glasses of wine, we share another line or two from the stash , On the Head sets, “all stand by…, Black out, go click-track”, Like a roller coaster, no stopping it, There my friends, was the best rush I ever had
While The Floyd were special, That excitement was there for me, with all the bands I ever worked with, right from the start, it was always there, it’s a large part of why we do this thing, that excitement is still there, and it remains a potent influence in my life, If you can’t feel the butterflies, do something else.
The whole experience, over some 30 years, has shaped me into who I am and is reflected in my 3 kids, now young adults.
Finally, let me just say, I am now, and have been for many years, totally opposed to the use of alcohol, or any other drug, including many prescription drugs, in the work place. What happened then is history, kids used to pull coal trolleys up from the mines, we don’t do that shit any more either, We all have our private life but, we also have a responsibility to those we work with, and for, and to those who depend on us.
So there you go, that’s me, or at least, a small part of me. Older now, maybe wiser, But still running against the wind.
I’m a lucky man and I’m grateful for the chances I’ve been given, But at the end of the day, it’s the chances that you take, that define you as a person… Run away and join the circus, you just might find yourself.
To those of you who have read this, thank you for your time. I hope you found something in it. I often wonder if anyone gives a shit any more, Has it all been done to death, and all become a bit clichéd , like granddads war stories, I guess that’s for you to decide, as for me, they remain moments I enjoy being able to revisit, Maybe, we’ll talk again.
All the best.
Check out these historic documents, including the itinerary for the Europe leg of the tour, band & crew instructions (Hotels etc) and a whole lot more. Whole Lot More
Also, don’t forget to have a look at the ANIMALS TOUR BOOK