Playing bass in a band was easier than I’d expected. You just put your fingers in the right place at the right time and twang the string. Agreeing which songs to play was harder. And the really difficult bit was naming the band.
We spent many hours in living rooms and pubs trying to come up with names. Every time one of us suggested something someone else wouldn’t like it. The thing is it had to be right. It had to be original, memorable and capture the spirit of the band. What do you call a group that wants to be Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd and Cream all rolled into one?
In the end we had several names. At the tropical fish club bash we had no name at all. I’m fairly sure we were called Galadriel for a while – until we discovered there was already a band with that name. At Chislehurst Caves we were known as Hogg. And, finally, we settled on Ramesses II. There may have been other names I’ve forgotten.
For much of the band’s life I was away at university and whenever I came back for a gig our name seemed to have changed. “What in heaven are we called this time?”, I’d ask. Except that I wouldn’t have said “in heaven”.