Here I Go Again On The Road Again (And Again)

Whitesnake hero Bernie reflects on the trial-and-error lessons of his early years of gigging

- Bernie Marsden

When I was in my teens and spent my days dreaming of playing the guitar for a living and being a pro musician, the thought of being out on the road was one of the most exciting prospects.

As an amateur player, and a little bit later as a semi-pro, I was doing gigs that were around 20 miles away from the house where I grew up in the rural town of Buckingham. Being 15 and getting picked up from my secondary school gate by the local beat group for a Friday night show in Oxford or Leighton Buzzard seemed to be the ultimate high. I enjoyed the fuss, being in a band was a big deal to me, but travelling to other towns (towns, not cities I stress) at that stage was exciting enough. As the youngest, I was pretty much given the ‘centre’ seat in a Ford Thames or Commer van. This seat was the engine cover, and a small cushion would be placed on it for me to sit on. I didn’t mind it so much in the winter time. If the ‘ageing’ band (whose members were all about 20-25 years old) became a little more successful, the Commer van might be upgraded to a Commer Minibus with windows. This was sometimes frowned upon as the windows necessitated taking the gear out of the bus after each gig, in case some fiendish thief took everything.