The Band Biographies
The synopses of the
disparate bunch that makes up OTR. Wave your mouse over the picture
below and put the names to the faces. Figure out which are the ones
that owe you money, never stand their round or are surreptitious nose
pickers. Click on the perp and be whisked to their respective
biography. Ain't technology a hoot?
Until we get a good sized image of the band together, you'll have to pretend Martin is Gareth...
Colin Greenaway - Bass, Backing Vocals
Derided by musicians and punters alike, the bass player with his four strings is often viewed as having two-thirds the talent of the guitarist with six strings. With this ratio in mind, people often marvel to see any strings on Colin's bass. His pedigree is enough to silence those critics who say he's only in the band because he has the photographic negatives of a misunderstanding between the guitarist, a troop of boy scouts and some livestock. Colin started playing bass in the late nineteen-sixties, so he must be nearly finished by now. The lot of the bass player is often that of the unsung hero; nobody notices you if you're doing a good job. Suffice it to say, everybody notices Colin. He's living proof that Sanatogen is not addictive. He should know, he's been taking it for 40 years. He's also proof that it doesn't bloody work.
Cloth Cut: On the bias
Heroes: Dr Evil, Uncle Fester, Oddjob
Dave Nicholson - Vocals, Percussion
Dave Nicholson - Vocals and Percussion
Dave is the archetypal all-rounder, which refers more to his physique than to his musical achievements, which are best described as unencumbered by talent. Picture a cuddly, four-eyed, balding wombat and you're three-quarters of the way to envisioning the great man. As a front man, Dave ranges from charismatic and shaman-like to downright bloody rude. He can offend and charm in the space of a two word sentence; the second word invariably being. "off". His skills also stray into the intellectually murky world of the drummer. Dave is a supremely accomplished drummer, but it's worth remembering that if musical skills were likened to world currencies, drumming would be the Turkish Lire. That said, he also likes to do a bit of percussion (on a par with the Albanian Lek) at the front during the interminable guitar solos. Those who have witnessed the spectacle have likened it to a miffed Ewok trying to kill a Corby trouser press with a soup tureen.
Heroes: Anyone who feigns interest in him for more than three seconds
Mark - Guitar, Backing Vocals
Astonishing Lead Guitar or, possibly, Breathtaking Lead Guitar would, strictly speaking, be more accurate, but an overwhelming sense of misplaced modesty prevents the author of this piece from employing that titular exactitude, however richly deserved. His Highness, for to use his name would be presuming too much, brings a cohesion, elegance and restraint to what would be, let's face it, a racket. A ship, however well designed and skillfully constructed, would be nought but so much driftwood without a captain to lead her through the torturous narrows and shifting sand bars during the perilous navigation of the musical Main. Sir is that man. And what must we say about his colossal instrument? His guitar, its fretboard, the great tiller that steers the mighty vessel; its body, the mighty hull scything through wave upon wave of churning rhythm section; the strings, the humming hawsers straining against the vocal squall. The ideal Lead Guitarist must have the genius of Mozart, the courage of a lion, the speed of a cheetah, the grace of a ballerina and the humility of St Francis of Assisi. By this very definition, His Holiness was fated from birth to fill this role. It is a vocation. Many are called...few are chosen. The Celestial One often has difficulty buying hats or boots.
Mr 's Favourite:-
Aspect: East South East
Valve Gear: Walschaerts
Heroes: Alexander the Great, Napoleon, Sybil Fawlty
Colin "Wal" Trimmer - Roadie, Groupie, Gopher, General Factotum
Wal is indispensable. No really. Try as we might, we can't get rid of him. We never tell him where or when the gigs are, but his unerring homing instinct and highly developed sense of smell mean that he's always able to track us down. (No great feat as you'll appreciate if you've ever stood downwind from the band). By day, Wal is the engaged in downsizing the Hampshire rodent population, but come the night and he transmogrifies into the super roadie, lifting that amp, toting that tom-tom. Wal is also the beer roadie (or lager top, for the more effete band members). Like a diminutive two-legged St. Bernard, he struggles through the drifts of drunken punters, bringing the life-giving elixir. As you know, most bands like to think they can walk on water, but everyone knows they run on beer.
Radio Serial: Waggoner's Walk
Control Surface: Aileron