Before finding superstardom with progressive rock giants Yes, Rick Wakeman joined the folk-prog band Strawbs in 1970. It was an interesting time for Wakeman, who was about to get married at around the same time.
Strawbs main man Dave Cousins was pleased to have Wakeman in the line-up. He told him that he wanted his first gigs with the band to be something memorable. They already had some shows lined up in Paris and they were going to be Wakeman’s debut with the band.
As the Paris dates clashed with Wakeman’s marriage on 28 March 1970, the timing wasn’t ideal. Cousins asked where they were going on honeymoon, and when Wakeman’s answer was that they could not afford to go anywhere, Cousins offered him to bring his newly wed wife to Paris and see it as a working honeymoon. The Wakemans discussed this proposition, and after agreeing to it as a nice compromise, that is what ended up happening.
When they arrived at the end of March 1970, they found that they had not been booked for a conventional rock show. It was billed as Open Circus and was held in a bit top on the Champ du Mars by the Eiffel Tower. The basic idea was to have all the usual circus acts, but instead of having the normal run-of-the-mill circus music with a circus band, the artistes and animals would perform to the sound of live rock bands!
“The venue was outrageous,” said Rick Wakeman in his autobiography Say Yes! “It was a circus tent! Some mad Frenchman had decided to put on a rock and roll circus. The promoter had chosen various groups whose music he felt suited particular acts. For example, we were to play for the child jugglers, the tightrope walker and the man who fell off tables. The Crazy World of Arthur Brown were to perform whilst the lion tamer did his bit, and Heavy Jelly were to accompany the acrobats and horse-riders.”
In reality, the matching of music to acts kept changing as some pairings did not work. “Heavy Jelly went home after the first day as they frightened the horses,” says Wakeman. “Arthur Brown split his trousers during his opening number and was taken away by the French authorities. Two bands of a much gentler nature appeared in their place.”
In addition, Dave Cousins remembers bands like East of Eden, and Pete Brown’s Piblokto, and have distinct memories of Strawbs performing alongside the child jugglers, the lion wrestler, and the high-wire act.
The show wasn’t a big hit with the audience, drawing low numbers from the get-go. The promoter tried to get some publicity by bringing in the famous surrealistic artist Salvador Dali to make an appearance. This, it was hoped, would also give some level of artistic credibility to the overall concept.
However, nobody expected Salvador Dali to stroll onto the stage in the middle of the Strawbs performance. It also did not help that Rick Wakeman had no clue whatsoever who he was.
“Rick had to time his solo,” said Dave Cousins in his autobiography Exorcising Ghosts. “Where Is This Dream of Your Youth had to reach a crescendo when the main firewalker did a forward roll. On the second day, as Rick reached the climax of his solo, the audience started to cheer as someone came up on stage behind us. I turned round to see Salvador Dali waving his cane at the audience.”
“I had one solo to play,” said Wakeman, “and I looked forward to it every night. The fact that nobody was there to hear it was irrelevant, it was my solo and my adrenalin level rose accordingly. I was halfway through it when suddenly from nowhere this tall, elderly man, with the most ludicrous moustache I had ever seen, appeared standing next to the electric piano that I was playing, banging the top of it with his walking stick.”
Cousins remembers well the exchange that followed: “Mid-solo, Rick turned to me and hissed, ‘Who’s that old c*nt?’ ‘Salvador Dali’ I mouthed back. ‘I don’t give a toss who he is, get him off!’ Rick hissed back, and carried on playing with wild-eyed, animal ferocity.”
“I stopped playing,” recalled Wakeman in his book Grumpy Old Rock Star. “I walked over and poked this old man on the shoulder. He turned around to face me, complete with curly moustache. ‘Get off,’ I said. He looked at the crowd and waved his stick again. They roared their approval. I poked him again. ‘I said, get off!’ He looked at the crowd again and waved his stick once more. They roared again. So I pushed him off the stage. Organisers rushed to pick him up and he was dragged away, ranting and raving, whilst making threatening gestures with his stick.”
Dave Cousins, however, remembers the circumstances around Dali’s exit differently, recalling that he wasn’t pushed, but escorted off the stage. “Dali, who was escorted gently down the stairs, was lucky to get off the stage alive” he wrote in Exercising Ghosts.
No matter what actually happened, there is no doubt that Salvador Dali left the stage in a manner well below his dignity, courtesy of Rick Wakeman.
“We finished our mini-set,” recalls Wakeman in Grumpy Old Rock Star. “Dave came up to me looking rather shell-shocked.
– ‘Do you know who that was, Rick?’
– ‘I don’t give a toss – he ruined my solo.’
– ‘It was Salvador Dali.’
– ‘Was it? Really?’
– ‘Really.’
– ‘Oh, well, that’ll teach him to bugger up my solo in the future.’
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