Steve Harris was the lead guitarist, songwriter, driving force and one constant presence behind English melodic rockers SHY, from their inception in 1983, until his devastating and untimely death in 2011 at the age of just 46. Steve was a unique person; he was an ego-free dominant introvert who just happened to be a genius as well. And that's before you get to his unbelievable talent as a musician, songwriter, band leader and all-round good person.
I had met Steve a couple of times in 1989 and 1990, as I had all of the band members. Most of the others could be found in the venue bar within minutes of the show finishing, but a rendezvous with Steve always required blagging my way backstage or hanging around in the parking lot until all the other punters had left.
One such meeting took place in the dressing room at London's Astoria after Shy had played what turned out to be their last UK show with Tony at the mic for a very long time. But that was all in the future as I talked to Steve about the band's imminent US tour and gave him my views on "Broken Heart" which had just been released as the third single from the "Misspent Youth" album. Steve and the other guys were good enough to sign my seven-inch copy of "Money" and one or two other things, and someone in the band even gave me a can of Kaltenberg Pills!
In the years before the interwebs, there were only two ways to keep up with news on your favorite bands: there was Kerrang! magazine and there was word of mouth. And news of Shy was thin on the ground in both of these arenas throughout the next two years. I did learn that Tony had departed and the band had tried out a lot of different singers, but it was not until the Autumn of 1992 that I heard on the grapevine that the band was alive and well with a new singer intact, albeit operating under the name "Crazy-Crazy." My response to this information was to wave my magic wand and get myself an audition to be Steve's new guitar tech. I've always believed in my power to will certain things to happen if I wanted them badly enough; it hasn't always worked, but this was one of the times when it did.
So, at least two years after my last meeting with anyone in the band, I found myself at Digbeth coach station on a very dull and cold October afternoon where Roy had said he would pick me up. I couldn't see him anywhere in the main part of the bus station when I arrived, or outside on the street, so I found a seat in the waiting room. I sat and wondered if I would recognize one of the country's least famous but most entertaining and quick-witted bass players without his Jack Daniels t-shirt? For the first few minutes I was on high alert, scanning the waiting room door, the window on the opposite side and the rest of the room on rotation, for any sign of Roy. Eventually I relaxed and my mind drifted off to who knows where.
My daydreaming was curtailed by a gentle enquiry: "Are you Papa Sheep?" I glanced upwards, and there was not Roy, but Steve, half leaning/half bending down towards me, smiling and with his hand outstretched. I jumped to attention, uttered brief confirmation of my identity, shook his hand and started trying to pick up my bags all at the same time. I had a large duffle bag, a small rucksack with my sleeping bag hanging out of it and the ubiquitous silver-colored camera suitcase that loads of "music people" carried at the time, and, for all I know, still do. Steve picked up my duffle bag and the suitcase and led the way outside. It felt weird watching him carry my stuff, since I was essentially there to do that for him.
Outside Roy was waiting in his black Ford Escort that I'm pretty sure was parked illegally. Steve put my duffle bag onto the back seat and pushed it over to the other side, then he climbed in and put my case on his lap. That just left the front seat, so I got in next to Roy and we drove off towards the band's rehearsal space. This was a journey of about 3/4 of a mile, that I would make many times over the next couple of years, mostly on foot. In the car it could typically be accomplished in less than five minutes, but on this occasion, it took closer to half an hour - Roy said that Princess Anne was visiting Birmingham that day and traffic was screwed up everywhere. He also made the memorable comment that "This place gets more like America every day" which was not intended as a positive. Roy was wearing what looked like jogging bottoms over the top of another pair of trousers, and a thick sweater. He looked at my T-shirt and thin jacket and warned me it was going to be cold at the rehearsal space.
Eventually Roy pulled into the carpark in front of a decades old industrial building that was probably marked for demolition at the time - it's a multistory carpark now in fact. The rehearsal room was on the ground floor, and it was there that we found Paddy tinkling on the keyboards and Alan sitting on the floor trying to solder something inside a tom-tom shell. There was no sign of new singer Wardi. After a brief introduction I asked Alan if he needed any help. He didn't. I decided not to mention that his work looked like a dry joint and turned my attention to the band's equipment. The room was rectangular, and all the gear was setup along one of the long walls, facing outwards, just like it would be on stage: drums were in the middle, Steve at stage left and Roy and Paddy sharing stage right. Steve's guitar rig had a very impressive array of components:
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| The guitar case at the left was used for the white sharks fin |
Roy gave me a tour of the rest of the building, which could be a blog post in its own right, and then showed me his bass setup. It was pretty simple. I talked "guitar stuff" with Steve for a few minutes. He seemed very laid back and not at all possessive of his equipment, which was not what I was used to. Later we took a short walk outside and Steve showed me the nearest newsagents and the place where the band went to get takeaway bacon sandwiches, cups of tea and so on.
When we got back it became apparent that there would be a few hours to kill before Wardi's arrival. This was the signal for the other three guys to adjourn to the pub (what was then The Australian Bar on Hurst Street at Bromsgrove if you're interested). Steve didn't want to go to the pub which I thought was odd, but then I didn't know him at all at that point. I can't remember if I was invited to the pub or not, but it didn't matter because I had no intention of going. Not when I had the opportunity to hangout one-on-one with Steve Harris.
I started off professionally enough, and we talked technical stuff for a bit. I don't think I'm giving anything significant away when I say that Steve played very light strings, 0.08 to 0.38, known as "eights." Steve and Roy down tuned a full step in the live arena which made for a very "slack" feel to the strings on both instruments. Steve chose all of his Fernandes guitars from pictures in various catalogues; they actually had quite wide necks which, he claimed, were difficult to play with his "small fingers."
That was about all I could manage before I lurched into full-on fanboy mode and started peppering him with questions about the band and their history. If I had known Steve better, I probably would not have asked most of the questions I put to him, but I was pretty young, and he was good mannered enough to respond to everything. What was a private conversation will remain so, but what I will say is that Steve was amazingly forthcoming and nothing Shy-related was off limits.
The thing I noticed right away was that whatever Steve had to say about other people was always positive. He liked everybody! After I got to know him better, I figured he would have probably been happier practicing his guitar rather than being grilled by the hired help, but of course he was too polite to say so. Steve was the member of the band, I would learn, that always had time to answer fans questions and never used it as an opportunity to show off. If anything, he was embarrassed by attention from fans. As I would also learn, when there was some waiting around to be done - and there was plenty - Steve would rather hang with the road crew than go to the pub or go wherever the rest of the band was going. That was one of the reasons I got to know him so much better that the other guys in the band. The other reason was because of who he was which was funny, entertaining company, the type of person you would always choose to spend time with if you could.
It was pretty late when the other guys returned, and this was when I was introduced to Wardi for the first time. It was also the moment everyone else had been waiting for all day: rehearsal time. What followed, from the band's point of view, was a professional run through of their set the day/night before the gig. From where I was sitting, which was facing the band, it was a concert for one. I knew to expect some new songs, but I was also thrilled by the inclusion of several Shy classics despite this being the brief "Crazy-Crazy" era. I have to say, it sounded great, and it was great. Nothing in music compares to watching the guitar solo in "Reflections" being played a couple of feet away just for you.
It was very late when the rehearsal finished. Not long after that I was fast asleep next to the PA stack. The next day's show went ok I think; maybe I'll write about that one day. When I called Steve a few days later to ask him if I got the gig he replied with a question: "What did Roy say?"
