When R.J. Hawke did Woodstock
By Dave Riley
There he was on stage, gigging away after Jimmy Hendrix. What a festival! Three days, man. When Bobby Hawke fronts the band I tell you, you are in for some classic riffs. Mister Seventy-Four Per Cent had them eating out of his hand. Rip it out Bobby! That was one cool dude. I tell you: them were the days. R.J. could really work a crowd. Take the national budget strike of '69 or the gig on the Parliament House steps six years later. He had it. Even when he was standing in the wings, you knew he'd be on next. The rest were really just support acts. It was him we all came to see. And when he walked out, you should have heard the roar. I remember it clearly. March 1983 was like the old days all over again. Bobby led the band back to the top of the charts. We knew we'd be in for a good time. You could feel it. The line-up was tight even with the last minute changes. So what went wrong? I don't think they played the way we expected. After they settled into their middle of the road hit, "Consensus", some of us were saying that they stank. But others told us to hang on and hear them out. But the tunes got worse even through a series of encores. They kept up a good rhythm but when it came to dishing out the blues — man, it was a bummer. When R.J. started to play with himself — even the band got shirty. Before the roadies could lock the doors, thousands were saying: I'm out of here! Still, their promotion stood by them and the band played on ... and on, and on. It's got so that they've forgotten their roots. They can't even do a cover version any more without twisting it to suit. All their shake, rattle and roll has gone country. I tell you, the music has died for me. I'll be a groupie no longer. Of course, you search around for something else — that special sound that grabs you — but I can't help feeling bitter. Bobby strutted his stuff but it was all a lie. Hell — he didn't mean it. It was all show. They were all feeding us a line by pumping up the volume. When the riffs were laid down, we thought he was building to something. Sure, he was building — he was turning himself into a star. And the glory boy wanted it all. What you don't realise, though, is that he was the band. It's no good regretting it now. They all did the numbers. No matter what may have happened during rehearsals, when it came to the performance they let Bobby front for the rest of them. And if R.J. was on the nose, who ignored the smell? The band was always behind him, coming in on cue every time. Sure, some may not have liked the way it was played, but who's to know that? What you hear is what you get. That's the way it always is in the music business. But what I want to know — now that the official story has been published — is how does it end? Aside from R.J's role as a shooting star, now that he's left, the band is still together and doing gigs. Maybe they aren't as popular as they once were, but they still get plenty of airplay. If you read the charts, they are still the top band in the country ...
But what I want to know is whether the Australian Labor Party goes out the same way as Jimmy Hendrix did and drowns in its own vomit.
Keep me informed on that, won't you?