September 14, 2015. A Tinker's Cuss – Graham Brazier

I think a true thing about life is to find something you love and then to stick to it like glue. Love, after all, is more like oxygen than oxygen itself.

It has been a week since Graham Brazier left us and I have been thinking about what to write since then. The day after he died my back gave out. Then I felt the huge black scraping arm of death above me as well and got just a little bit morbid.

Graham meant a lot to many of us here in the Shaky Isles. The very idea of Graham was huge in local music.

Many years ago, being a New Zealand rock and roll promoter and needing a break from the sadness of it all, I would travel to Penang for Heroin Holidays. I would stay at the glorious old decadent New China Hotel. My mates and I would go there and read Jack Kerouac and William S. Burroughs. We'd recite poetry and sing songs to each other. Then, spent, we'd fall asleep in each other's arms like men can do if they try. Sometimes we'd play cricket out the front of the hotel and laugh a lot.

In the foyer there were ten heavy-duty Chinese guys with sunglasses playing poker and grimacing at each other. In the rooms there were no carpets or blankets, but there was a giant old ceiling fan you could study for hours. We didn't watch television or read newspapers. The internet wasn't around and life was more peaceful on that account.

At that stage Pink Rock Heroin was keeping the economy of Penang afloat. Now it's shoes all around the world. We are all trading shoes with each other, man.

If a dealer really wanted your attention he'd say: I know the Chinaman. My man was called Alphonse and he really did know the Chinaman.

The first time Hello Sailor came to my attention was when they played the Gladstone Hotel in Christchurch around 1976 or 1977. The pub was owned by John McCarthy and the gig room was booked by Robin 'Oz' Armstrong. Two unsung heroes of New Zealand music. Oz told me later he'd be racing around town on Sunday morning trying to sell a thousand Buddha Sticks to pay the band. That makes it a genuine gig. That's what music used to be like.

Graham and Dave always seemed to have a smile for everyone. The band came back from Los Angeles after exhausting themselves trying to go to another level. They didn't crack America and yet they were truly top shelf quality. Someone got a bad hand. This was one of the very best bands I have ever seen.

Graham was a good bloke and that is the highest realm in New Zealand. He felt for the music he played. He felt for the man or woman on the street just trying to cobble together a living. He was in the very same position. He never put himself above anyone.

He said to a mate of mine one day that there were now more musicians than plumbers. He meant it in the way you might think he did. He stayed true until the day he died.

Keep the Faith,
Jim Wilson