IT IS QUITE difficult to find out where to start this write-up from, may be I should begin with the show that we organised in 2005:

 

If you remember we had a top show last year, big bands, big venue, big bills, big promises. We were assured that the upcoming shows would be completely packed with sponsors and I need not worry about finances again. Jain TV even promised Rs 10 lakh to put their logo on the microphone of Prestorika band. At that point I would have even tattooed my arse with logos to get me out of debt. But, I did not.

 

This year, I started with a bank credit of roughly four and a half lakh rupees. My main business, being the restaurant, gives me an average income of 800 rupees a month and pays for my food and lodging too. So let us get it straight, I have no money. Neither does Ajay Ramola, my event coordinator. It is difficult to hide names, I don’t want to fall out with anyone, and I need all the friends I can get. I am in this business only because of my love for music. Seriously, if I wanted to make a fortune I would have been in England driving taxis or playing in a shit cover band. I believe in Dhanaulti Rocks.

 

I went back to Europe (Berlin, Manchester, Birmingham) in the depths of winter to spend a bit of time with my family. There, I saw a few concerts and spoke to people about the show. It was amazing to find out the amount of foreign bands who would love to come to India and play, but none can afford the flights.

 

The idea of the festival permeates every minute of my thought, keeps me awake at night and bores everyone I know. I came back to India in March. Tidying the restaurant and rebuilding my living area took a few days. The phone line took a few weeks to get turned back on, and another two months to activate STD calls, meaning all business calls had to be made sitting in public telephone booths.

 

Music bands had started contacting, pictures of the last year’s ‘big show’ having already made rounds on the Internet. In fact, the ‘big show’ idea was not called off until the beginning of May, when I realised all the sponsorship calls and hundreds of proposals sent out were to no avail. Parikrama band’s efforts failed, as did the various other people who were working on our behalf to get some support.

 

Last years show was held on a piece of government land, lovely venue. In the meanwhile, it was impossible to keep an eye on the restaurant. We have no crew a repeat of last years security goof ups would be unavoidable without a proper manned boundary. It was a public land and we could not stop the public coming in without the full cooperation of the local powers. And, once you play politics, the politicians come and demand their praise.

 

So, it was decided after much discussion between the three of us that it would be downsized even if we managed to pull some sponsors. I started building the stage in the garden, must weigh about four tonnes, very sturdy, weird shape because of the constraints of the garden but trendy indeed.

 

A good line-up started to take shape, the Rock Street Journal (RSJ) gave us a full colour, full-page advert, if we could just get the pa, everything would be sweet. A system the size of last year comes with a massive bill, not to mention the cost of the diesel in the gargantuan generators it requires and the 18 members staff it takes to set up.

 

So, I sent a mass email asking for people to donate whatever they could to the cause. Cheeky I know, but the show must go on, after all the publicity and congratulatory emails I got everyday I could not see it die a death like most events in India do, a footnote to the history of Indian rock. I wanted to go against the mainstream rock show idea, especially after the disgusting behaviour of some of the audience at this year’s the Great Indian Rock (GIR), booing Orange Street when they brought out the dhol.

 

Music is music, good or bad. Every genre has its greats, the cream raises to the top but so does the scum. The suffix rock was added to our name on a whim sort of as a joke, but its tosses like that that give it a bad name. I love all types of music and I am not the only person in the world who can appreciate the beauty of more than one style.

 

Therefore, we booked Bobby Cash, Sanjeeb Sircar, Cassini’s Division, Menwhopause, and Advaita. And, we responded to everyone who sounded cool and seemed to understand the problems we were facing. This genre defying mix of everything seemed to us to be the best show we could think of, taking people to a three-day journey and comparing the Indian scene with the British. If the GIR is the Donnington of India, I see us as the Big Green Gathering festival, or Small World, a crew I had a lot of fun with in my last few years over there.

 

I had been in long discussions with the World Space radio, it looked like they would supply us with a bit of budget and a nice big mixing desk and microphones. My contacts there were so enthusiastic about the idea of covering the event I thought it could not fail at all. I had to wait for the word and it was three weeks to go. The financer said no, too small, too far may be next time. Nice guys though, I hope they will reconsider us for the future, I personally would love them as media partners as I think they have a real and true love of music, unlike some of the more mainstream channels.

 

I could not cancel the show now, I phoned my mother and after completely breaking down, the stress had just pushed me over the line, she offered to lend me the price of a pa. With Rs 80,000 in my pocket I did what I could with local equipment, a compromise granted, but really not that bad at all, and a hell of a lot better than many venues I have played at and seen some amazing bands perform in.

 

I had a few decent microphones that I had brought over from Blighty for home recording purposes which I added into the pot, and a little reverb unit, some of my personal studio equipment had however been destroyed in a big fire caused by an electrical fault in May. Naveen John (thank you mate, seriously, for everything) promised his amplifiers and microphones for the show. We had a system. I put out another call for a drum kit and some more amplifiers.

 

It is the music that matters and not the size of the system, flashiness of the lights, loudness of the fireworks, I thought. So, I confirmed the bands, painted the flames for the poster, added the letters in Adobe, then took it down to the printer on my way to Delhi, it took him three days to convert my original graphics file to a usable state, I had to leave for Delhi to meet my friend Will from the plane before it was finished. Ajay brought them down later.

 

The first meeting in Delhi was with Nitin, the sound guy for Prestorika and Menwhopause, who has interesting views, bit of a snob if you ask me. Anything Indian is shit by definition, according to him, anyways he managed to persuade us that a 32 band graphic equalizer was absolutely necessary, something I had already thought about but discounted because of our budget constraints.

 

I collected Will from the airport at eight in the morning, introducing him to the joys of coffee day and showing him the advert they kindly gave us in their magazine. The next day we went to the RSJ’s office, I had been trying to educate Will about Indian rock and he had a basic idea before we got there. I have been reading RSJ religiously since arriving here five years ago, and I am still excited about going in their offices even after all this time.

 

Amit invited us round his apartment that night for a jam. Menwhopause also joined us there but they had bad news. It seemed Nitin had spoken to them first telling them that they could not perform through my system, as he is an expert and they think they are not, they believed him, very sad I think, as they are a brilliant band. They would sound good through anything. I left the decision up to them, knowing it was not really in the hands of the band themselves though.

 

Amit put us in touch with a bloke called Rajesh or Rakesh or something who was selling some old pa equipment, and we went round the next day to buy a few microphones, Behringer, good name, imported, must be good. While there he also said he had an Alesis 32 band E.Q unit we could buy, asking for a price of Rs 15,000. I said I did not have it, he said we cannot do a show without it. Will said he could pay for it, but it emptied his account. We got Ra down to Rs 12,500, checked the lights, presumed it to be ok and left thinking we had done a great deal, lovely bit of kit. Nothing can stop us now.

 

Next day, Menwhopause called to say they couldn’t play. Oh well, shit happens, everyone else is still up for it. We put some posters up in the right places and drove back that night, after five days in the scorching heat the road just got better as we went. We reached Roorkee just past dawn and it was all beautiful from there. We picked up the equipment, less than two weeks to go with no money in our pockets. When we came back it seemed that India is going crazy after Dhanaulti rocks. The web site got over 3000 hits per day.

 

Later, Prayag cancelled the show citing that they cannot afford the train fare. And, a few days later Galeej Gurus also pulled out, as did many members of Orange Street and Advaita. Is it just paranoia or is someone trying to sabotage us? I thought I should forget all these and build the stage and do the best I could. I phoned the bands in a last minute attempt to get amplifiers and a drum kit. The only one we were offered belonged to Varun.

 

In the meanwhile, a few more volunteers turned up the weekend before, including Sanjeeb, the sitarist, who helped out with some of the stage preparations. We managed to build the system up bit by it, it sounded good, everything was earthed, good quality cables were made up, there was a slight buzz, never mind that is what the 32 band E.Q unit is for. Naveen offered to help with amplifiers and came back a few days later with the power supply socket properly soldered but that was the least of our worries, it still did nothing it was supposed to do, we had a Rs 12,500 paperweight in our hands with three days to go, and a bit of a buzz. Hopefully, we can get the money back as I know where he lives.

 

Bands started to turn up on the Thursday night, Nomads Frequency were the first on site. Will took the Ambassador to Mussoorie to pick up some equipments from Naveen, he was working extremely hard all week and when I heard the news that day of an accident my heart jumped, it was his first time out alone in the car on Indian roads, but thankfully it was someone else whose truck came off the road and not my mate in my car, and thankfully no one was seriously hurt. We had had a bit of rain that week and realised the lights were in danger so Will came up with a brilliant contraption that kept the worst of it off.

 

Friday morning, the bands arrived and we discovered that some of the hotels that had promised us rooms had sold them to other people. So, we did whatever we could, we booked the remaining rooms and put the musicians to bed. Rijul, the nice drum man from the dairy family, had arranged us some supplies from his company in Jaipur, but the retard rickshaw driver in Delhi had managed to drop the whole lot somewhere on the Panchkuian road. What stuff had survived to the bus was now dripping all over the floor of the bus. Whoops!

 

All set to go I took up my position behind the mixing desk, which was to become my home for the next three days. I do not remember who I sound checked first but the system was sounding pretty good, apart from one thing – that buzz.

 

My job was made very hard by the fact that absolutely no band had brought their amplifiers. May be they were embarrassed by their desi gear and thought the big boys would laugh at their Strangers and Miditones, I had to D.I everyone straight into the desk, only one amplifier on stage being the bass amplifier Naveen had lent us.