Unsung Heroes Part 2

I met the man just the once.

It was at his house perhaps now 10 years or more ago.

The name on the list of my appointments for the day had not really jumped out at me. As far as I knew the Mr T J Bolder that I was scheduled to see could as easily have been a salesman or an office worker or in fact in any form of gainful employment.

I parked up, half on the pavement on the steep slope of the village main street as close as I could safely manage to the modest 1960's built chalet style house without blocking the road, upsetting the pedestrians or encroaching on the bus stop.

The door was opened by a short, pale skinned man in his mid to late 50's. Untypical for my perception of what a man of this age should look like he had long ,greying hair, a bit unkempt and well down and over the collar of his faded sweat shirt. If I had come across him in the street I may have made a crass stock judgement on his appearance and crossed to the other side.

He was formal but with a mischievous glint in his eyes as though he were just performing an expected role and could as easily just be himself.

The interior of the house was functional but stylish and with a myriad of framed photographs on the walls of family, friends and, what I initially thought as strange, of a few recognisable famous personalities.

They were not obviously cut-outs from celebrity magazines or a purchase from a fan club or internet collector but appeared candid and authentic. In the background of the mostly black and white photo's I could clearly see the diminutive and rather shy figure of Mr Bolder looking embarrassed to be in such illustrious company.

A cluster of bright colour prints showed a character clutching a guitar and dressed in outrageously flamboyant lycra and leather. The face, heavily made up in foundation, blusher and mascara was a little bit familiar but I dismissed any link between the caricature and my host on the grounds of being far fetched and, in a village in East Yorkshire, frankly unheard of, albeit a bit weird and disturbing.

After a tour of the rooms I was escorted to the bottom of the garden. The same steep slope of the main street fell away sharply at the back of the house and after descending a series of concrete steps I came to a small brick built shed.

It was so much more than just a storage building.

The interior was fully fitted out and equipped as a music room and recording studio. Guitars, some of which I recognised as top marques were mounted on stands or just lay around as though discarded but a few moments prior to my arrival.

The control panel of a mixing desk was the same as I had seen on an Old Grey Whistle Test Special of some artist or other laying down the tracks of their latest album. Recording equipment filled one of the sides of the room giving the distinct impression of Dr Who's Tardis.

A few framed and what I thought were just spray painted twelve inch 33 rpm discs were proudly displayed on one of the walls but I was too polite and not a little bit short sighted to make an attempt to read what was meticulously etched beneath each. The contrast of silver, gold and platinum discs made an attractive decorative impression.

Mr Bolder was firmly back in his natural environment, I could tell, and I was disappointed that my next and distant appointment was looming and I was not able to stay and just find out more about the man.

As a follow up, when I got home later in the day, I did a rather opportunistic search on the internet.

Mr Bolder was evidently a bit of a musician and from the pedigree of his acquaintances in the photo gallery I thought that he may have been involved in some capacity in the production or creative aspects of other performers and artistes in his younger days. His demeanour was certainly rock and roll. He had been pretty laid back and with a self confidence born out of a natural talent and skill that only a few ,amongst many with aspirations only really attain.

A grainy black and white photograph thrown up by the search showed David Bowie with three others in performance on some smoke wafted live stage. The caption referred to the lead singer and his band. "The Spiders from Mars" and with the names of Ronson, Woodmansey and Bolder.

The same photograph of the very heavily made up glam style rocker that I had seen in a prominent position in the house was duplicated as being of Trevor Bolder, bass guitarist and producer of Uriah Heap from 1977 to 2011. There was a further reference to the participation of T. Bolder in the line up of Wishbone Ash for a short period in the early 1980's.

The discography was even more impressive. Amongst his studio credits were bass and also trumpet playing on Bowie's classic albums of Hunky Dory, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders from Mars, Aladdin Sane and Pin-Ups.

Add to his musicianship the talents of song writing and production and you have the all rounded persona that is Trevor Bolder. I heard only today of his death just yesterday at the age of just 62 after a long battle with cancer.

The tributes for his contribution to rock have come from an A to Z of the great and the good. He was a local lad, born and bred in Hull but he like many others from the city went out and conquered the world but always returned home and was more than happy to do so.