HAT FITZ WERE A WONDERFUL SPECTACLE BACK IN THE DAY . . . . THE MANIC, BAREFOOT FITZY ON GUITAR AND VOCALS AND HIS TWO EQUALLY LUNATIC HENCHMAN PROVIDING A BACKLINE THAT GAVE THESE GUYS THEIR TOTAL INDIVIDUALITY . . . . GUARANTEED TO ROCK THE HOUSE !!!!
That's not really the point here, it's maudlin, morose introspection time once again . . . . prompted by a blogversation I had with Bastard Pat yesterday . . . . I have no desire to stroke myself in public or blow copious amounts of smoke up my own arse but these are simply the facts . . . . . I've been blessed by the universe to have associated with some truly great folk in all walks of life and if nothing else it has been one helluva trip, there's just one thing missing . . . .
In my over quarter century in the music industry and having met and played with so many legends, both Aussie and international, an equal time surrounded by bikes and actually owning a "classic bike" workshop in cahoots with two other freaks, meeting, riding with and playing live for crew like some of the greatest GP riders of the day, meeting their mates in racing, appearing in commercials, telly series, hosting music festivals, interviews, photos and articles in papers, creating and building from scratch a live music venue that to this day both bands and punters remember it vividly, blah, blah, blah . . . .
I really have virtually no photographic reminders, no video evidence to share with my daughter, friends, mum or you guys and gals . . . . I never kept press clippings, I never asked for autographs or souvineers, so caught up in the moment, didn't even secret away copies of my two original bands vinyl offerings, no desk tapes, no footage from all the stuff that was shot over the years, agency shots, nothing . . . not even anything more than five shots of my Triumphs, my cars, my F truck . . . . nada. I mean, why would I want to do that for . . . . ???? What a fucking tool !!!!
Sure, it's all in my heart and my mind, heaps of crew have all kinds of documentary evidence of what I've been part of, but looking at all the fantastic shots and assorted historical paraphenalia put up daily by so many of you out there, now only fills me with regret for simply not taking the time, at the time, to secure my piece of the action for posterity . . . . and the even sadder and more stark self realisation from that is it's singularly my fault . . . . I've always been a lazy bastard, always, with deliberate and premeditated efficiency, if it took too much time and precluded or interrupted my fun then, fuck it, I ain't going to worry about that shit . . . .
All I can think now is, I wish I'd taken the time, made the effort and manned up . . . . such is life for some of us . . . . hang onto those photos, treasure that old video footage, put the newspaper clippings in a nice, dry box, do whatever you have to do to cherish and guard that stuff . . . . only wish I could do the same.
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