Hey Day

Updated: Aug 11

9 June 1997

If I think back, to my glory days, the first dance with fame, not the second time Sambuka Fedora rose to success. I have fond memories of those days when everyone wanted a piece of me. I could do no wrong. It didn’t matter to the fans if the show sucked because the girls who filled the auditorium would out scream most of our songs anyway.

The feeling of all those voices joining in to chant your name over and over, Mmmm, it has to be more intoxicating than any drug around. “Nigel, Nigel.” “Fuck me, Nigel!” “I Love you Nigel” That mixed with the rhythmic applause and the pounding of drums; it’s as if a mistress is inviting you into an ill-fated love affair. You try to focus on what your fingers are doing and not the busty blonde in the front row. Sometimes it’s a nearly impossible task as she is almost falling out of her top. She licks her lips and leans a little forward letting you see her ample cleavage. She dances seductively to your throbbing bass. The girl next to her is jumping up and down, screaming at you, but the blonde has your attention. I imagine as my hand slides up the neck of my bass that I’m having a little foreplay with the blonde. After all, isn’t that what this all is?

All I have to do is send her a pass and invite her back. She will be more than ready after watching me. Her panties would come up on stage after the third song. I’d graciously catch them and smell them, so delightful and moist. She will want me to use these fingers that I manipulated my instrument with to manipulate her; turning her moans of pleasure into music to my ears. She thinks she is going to get me alone and suck on my bottom lip as she rides my cock. She will want my cock so bad that she will let me stick it anywhere and I will. That is if we are staying in town for the night.

I loved the weeks when we set up a base camp. Then I could have one girl to service me for at least a week. Sometimes I would mix it up and have two or three. Most of the time it’s better just to have one, though. If we aren’t staying in town, then the name of the game is a quickie. Get a bird on the tour bus or in the dressing room and shag her good. Sometimes they are willing before the show, and other times it is a quickie right after we get off the stage before heading to the airport.

There was one bird that was so hot for Tristan and I that she wanted to ride in the limo with us. She was near perfection, and she didn’t care how she got back to her car. She just wanted to be fucked by both of us. She went to work on me as soon as the door closed. Tristan went to work on her. Before I knew it, she was sticking her wet pussy on my cock as she sucked Tristan. I fucked her hard and heard him moan every time I drove my cock deep into her. I gave her my load, and then Tristan filled her mouth. She cleaned both of us off and offered us some blow. Sure, why not, what was another bump after the one I had before we started this sexcapade.

Sex always distracts me. I was sharing with you how powerful the chanting of your name can be when as always, a blonde comes to mind. They’re my bird of choice. I don’t know why I just have a thing for them. I’m doing it again.

When the chanting stops and you’re sober and alone in a hotel room, reality has a harsh way of coming at you. What’s worse is when you’re in your bed alone at home. There is no one calling your name: no chanting, no adoration, just solitude. You’re left to wonder if they will ever cheer for you again or will you be relegated to being the spouse of someone or a has been. It can be disconcerting. It creates fear and anxiety. You wonder if your life will ever be what it once was. Will you have accolades showered upon you again, or will there be the whispers, “Didn’t he used to be.” When that happens, I just want to scream that I’m still me. I haven’t changed. I did all those things. I’m still cool. I’m still relevant. I’m still me. – N.



Moment of Coronation

9 September 1997

Do you know what it feels like to be the underdog, the freak, or the outcast? Most would believe that I wouldn’t either, but that isn’t true. Before I met Julian, I didn’t have any friends. I didn’t want to play with the toy cars with the other kids in the mud. I was more content drawing and beating on my mum’s pots. Even if my mother said, I was too old. I didn’t want to go out and play with the other kids. However, my mum never knew because I kept it to myself. I didn’t want her to know that the other kids picked on me. They laughed at me for my glasses for the noises I would make with my trucks. When I got older, the other kids laughed at my clothes and pimples. I wasn’t perfect. I was called Pansy, among other things.

When Julian moved to the neighborhood, he was the only one who understood. He understood my creative side and my flair for fashion. When it came to music, Bowie was tops for him as well. As we talked more, I learned he had a keyboard at home and was working on writing music. It wouldn’t be long before he inspired me to beg my parents for enough cash to buy a cheap electric guitar and amp. I think after I explained that I had a friend and we were going to start a band, it made their choice easier. Their son had a friend for the first time, and they were overjoyed.

You may think after that everything was easy. You may think because we were going to start a band, things just fell in our lap, but anyone who has ever been in a group starting out knows it isn’t easy. They know the struggles of finding other likeminded people, people that share your vision and your dream. Some people are in it for the music, and the other ones are in it to get laid. Honestly, I’ve had my share of moments when the music has come second.

I digress. My point is when you have retreated from the world, coming out again and claiming yourself is a strange experience. It isn’t something easy to embrace. When you create something, you’re terrified that everyone will think it’s rubbish. What if, becomes the scariest thoughts you can ever have. Beliefs that can grow and hold you back from anything you might want to attempt if you let them.

Imagine you as the underdog who has created something and then all of a sudden you hear a few people talking about it. They are saying how great it is and they tell a friend, and it grows. They come up to you and are applauding something that you still have a feeling that you could’ve made better or tweaked here for a better sound. To them, they see the genius, and all you see is the imperfection. Why? Why not just accept what they like and move on? So, while they are applauding you, part of you is in deep denial.

The first time we played, Madison Square Garden was in the summer of 1983. We sold it out, not just one day, but three days in a row. Three fucking days and sometimes I think back and still can’t believe it. When we got to this point, was I still insecure, still wondering ‘What if?’ Yes, I was, and unfortunately, it’s heightened. For as you stand on the stage at sound check and see the sea of seats that will be filled, you take a step back and wonder. What if something goes wrong tonight, I hit a bum note or fall on my ass? What if? What if? What if? I think that might be one of the reasons I embraced the escape. With a little liquid libation or a visit from the Goddess, everything is so much better. Courage has been found to quash what if and now you are ready to rock the fucking world.

That first night at MSG, I had a little liquid courage, but I wanted to feel the experience. Midway through our set, I realized how silly it was for me to worry. They may have loved our music, but you would never know as the screams drowned out almost every note we played. They weren’t here for the songs. They were here to see their heartthrob live and in person. That’s when I realized just how high you could get from them. We had played many dates, but this was the biggest at the time. To hear the chants and screams, girls clutching their signs and some flashing their tits; all I could think was they like me. They really want me. Some were very willing to prove this by jumping on stage.

That was the exact moment of our coronation; we had a sold-out tour and two songs in the top ten in the US and Britain. They loved me, and I loved them. Magazine covers, Interviews, and TV appearances all part of this frenzied world that had embraced the outcast. I remember thinking there was no way this would ever end. They’ll always love us, hmm, if only. No, like with everything else in life, it doesn’t last forever.

For some, the ups and downs are easy to deal, but when it is all thrust upon you so quickly, it is a lot to handle. If things hadn’t taken off so fast, I might have been able to pace myself; instead, I was like a shooting star. I burned quickly and bright and left to find my way back to reality. Don’t get me wrong; almost every time I step on stage, I feel that rush. That welcoming of an old friend, but now she is not so embracing, and even though I’ve moved past being an outcast, I still have to learn to embrace who I truly am. –N.

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© 2019 D.M. Needom