The Chequers at about the time of the recording
let to right: Mac, Hodge, Jack, Lea and Johnny
For a recording studio, even by African standards in the early sixties, it was pretty basic. It had a
two-track tape recorder and half dozen microphones and was run by an enthusiastic white-coated
technician – for some reason studio technicians always wore white coats in
those days.
The difficulty our particular white coated studio technician had was to separate the sound
produced by the instruments from each other, especially the drums. Whichever way he set up the microphones for
the guitars and bass, the drums would be picked up on them...I think
the term he used was ‘bleed’. Anyway after a number of failed attempts to stop
the ‘bleeding drums’ our white coated teckie came up with a novel solution. He
separated the studio in half with a thick curtain. Lea, together with his drum
kit, was positioned one side of the curtain and the rest of us, bass, rhythm and lead, on the other.
The problem this
‘solution’ posed was both immediate and obvious. Lea, on his side of the thick
sound absorbing curtain hadn’t got a clue what we were playing and we, on our
side couldn't hear him. Again the white coated teckie came up trumps. He hit
the record button then raced out the control room and stood with his back
against the wall, dissected by the sound absorbing curtain; half on Lea’s side
and his other half on our side. He then used both left and right hands
simultaneously, in unison so to speak, to count us in and then to conduct the number, mouthing the lyrics as he
did so.
Remarkably we managed
to start and finish together. He then raced back and hit the stop button. When the track was played back the technician's footsteps could be heard running in and out of
the control room – like
something out of the ‘Goon Show’.
I digress. The bass, rhythm, lead
guitar and drums had been recorded onto one of the two tracks which left one
track for vocals... the next stage of the recording process.
We all bunched
around a single microphone straining to hear the backing track piped very softly to us via a very small speaker...the low volume of the backing track was to avoid it being
picked up or ‘bleeding’ onto the vocal track. Singing along or more accurately 'singing in tune' to a barely audible backing track especially when other band members are “AAAAH-ing”, “OOOOO-ing”
and “SHA-WADDY-ing” in your ear wasn't easy...well that's my excuse anyway.
What we really needed were headphones. The studio did possess a set but only the white coated teckie was allowed to use them. He guarded them with his life. They never left his person. When he was not using them to listen to what was being recorded they dangled round his neck like a chain of office.
What we really needed were headphones. The studio did possess a set but only the white coated teckie was allowed to use them. He guarded them with his life. They never left his person. When he was not using them to listen to what was being recorded they dangled round his neck like a chain of office.
After a number of
‘takes’ the white coated teckie announced he was satisfied with what he had on
tape, a sentiment I hasten to point out which was not shared by the band.
The phrase ‘absence
makes the heart grow fonder’ certainly applied to us and "Give me Chance". During the intervening months between the recording and the record being be pressed in Jo’burg
any misgivings we had about the odd bum guitar note and vocals being out of
tune had not only been forgotten, but had been replaced by an irrational conviction that we, ‘The Chequers’, had a stonking great hit on our hands. "Give me a Chance" would launch us into stardom's stratosphere. Maybe it wasn't so much a case of ‘absences making the heart grow fonder’ as 'making the head grow stupid’.
Word came that our record had arrived from South Africa. We assembled
at Radios and were each presented with our very own a copy. I can see
it clearly in my mind’s eye. A 45 single of “Give Me A Chance” in its own blue paper
sleeve with ‘The Chequers’ on the paper circle in the middle, just like a pukka
record...which of course it was.
The record was taken from its sleeve and placed reverently on the turn
table... the needle crackled as it found the groove in the acetate and then...
‘OUCH!’ With sinking hearts we heard the out of tune vocals and
guitar glitches air brushed from our memories and knew “Give Me A
Chance” was never going to be an hit...not in a million years.
We’d be lucky if the record stores in Salisbury sold a single single.
However, to our great surprised, it reached number 5 in the Lion’s Maid Top Ten. Friends and family must’ve taken pity on us and bought up the entire stock. Which means somewhere there is a box full of The Chequers “Give Me A Chance” 45’s gathering dust...if by some miracle someone has a copy floating around, please let me know so I can destroy it!
However, to our great surprised, it reached number 5 in the Lion’s Maid Top Ten. Friends and family must’ve taken pity on us and bought up the entire stock. Which means somewhere there is a box full of The Chequers “Give Me A Chance” 45’s gathering dust...if by some miracle someone has a copy floating around, please let me know so I can destroy it!
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