Tony Ashton - the laughter and smiles live on

I first heard the Paice Ashton Lord album when I was a young boy. It grabbed me. Its unique style of bluesy soulful twin-keyboard fuelled rock and the very special atmosphere on the album became very dear to me. "Silas & Jerome" was always my favourite song.

I first met Tony Ashton many years later in 1990. He was playing twice a day for nine days in a huge beer tent at a local culture festival in my hometown of Aarhus, Denmark. The organizers hadn't done their homework and the Farfisa "grandmother's livingroom organ" they'd supplied got sent back and Tony did all the gigs on an electric piano instead. Tony hated the gig.

I turned up early for the first of the 18 or so gigs, not knowing what to expect at all. A drum kit, a double bass and piano were set up onstage. It was daytime, just past noon. Didn't seem right for a Tony Ashton gig. I'd not seen Tony before, or even photos of him any newer than the PAL days, so I asked this little older guy next to me if Tony was around. I was so geared up for the 'show'. "Yes," he said, "Tony is over there on the bass warming up!"

That clearly wasn't Tony Ashton, and definitely not on double bass anyway! I explained to the little guy that I meant Tony Ashton. "Oh, you mean me?"

I was very embarrassed!

Over the next nine days I came down to see every single one of Tony Ashton's appearances at the back of that beer tent. He was on twice a day with drummer Rupert Brown and double bass player Tony Archer (the other Tony). The afternoon gigs, just after 1pm, were ridiculous. No one was interested in him or the music. The late night appearances were better. By then the tent was usually stuffed with people and while Tony's gig obviously was intended to be background music to beer drinkers, it still gave him an opportunity to stretch out and have some fun.

He'd stand up, still playing the piano, have a drink, put his hat on back to front, generally muck around and try to raise a cheer and a smile, which he often did. Not in the least from my little group of three or four dedicated PAL/Deep Purple fanatics, a couple of whom had travelled to see these gigs and meet Tony Ashton.

Over those nine days we got very friendly with Tony. I'd skip work at noon and go down to catch the early gig. We spent time with him in the afternoons after the early gig. He talked about old times, cracked amazing jokes, signed stuff, stared in amazement at some of the old records we laid before him for signature, cracked himself up over Nina & Frederik (remember them?) and generally had a good time.

The music he played was a mix of old rhythm & blues standards, the setlist was often put together on the spot as they went along. As the audience often didn't care one way or another what he played we pleaded with him to do a few special requests. He did "Patti O'Harasmith" a few times and even an impromptu version of "I'm Gonna Stop Drinking" off the PAL album, which was a joy even if he couldn't remember much of it. I typed out the lyrics to "Together Again", Tony's excellent spot on the "Butterfly Ball" album, and asked if he could play it, but he couldn't remember it at all. Of course he included "Resurrection Shuffle" in most of the gigs.

This was way before the internet, but when I finally did get online six years later and had to pick a username for my account what was better than to use the nickname Tony had given me? Thus my first email address became razzo@etc...

This was the name he had used for me when he signed my albums, many of which he also graced with little drawings. He'd piss himself over the "First Of The Big Bands" sleeve and made a small drawing of a Wilhelm Tell-like guy, a hunter, sitting on Jon Lord's arm. On my "Butterfly Ball"/"Wizards Convention" double LP he drew a small Hitler moustache on Glenn Hughes' photo and promptly said sorry. I didn't care.

On the German reissue of "Gemini Suite" he drew an arrow from his signature down to the silliest looking character in the painting. When it came to my "Malice In Wonderland" sleeve I commented to him what my favourite track was and he wrote "Silence + Gethome Rules OK?"

Despite the poor conditions of the Aarhus gigs Tony managed to keep a smile on his face. I could tell he missed his wife badly and he said he had Aarhusitis from playing here, a little disease he invented himself. I guess it was another word for homesickness.

I didn't hear much about Tony till many years later in 1997 when he was touring Germany with Long John Baldry. I managed to catch two of the shows and what a thrill! Finally I got to see him in his true surroundings where he really belonged, with a full band and a Hammond organ (yes!). The first gig was a small smoky club in Kiel, not far from the Danish border and although Tony really was just playing keyboards for Baldry's tour, he still got a two-song guest spot where he managed to absolutely floor the place.

The first song was the old standard "Parchman's Farm" on which Tony absolutely excelled with his peculiar and imaginative blues playing. The dynamics and intensity was breathtaking. The whole club was watching in awe.

For the next song, "It's Weird", a song about smoking dope which he'd demo'd in 1990 shortly before coming to Aarhus, he put on this funny woolly hat and got out a huge cigar. As the band laid a simple backing to open the song Tony lit the cigar and started to puff richly on it while making funny moves and pretending to be stoned - the crowd loved him. The cigar got too much for him and he had to ask for an ashtray (in German, mind you). The rest of the song - all 10 minutes of it - was just as excellent, with more powerful playing from Tony and the band. At one point he stopped everything and proceeded to do the full intro to "A Whiter Shade Of Pale" on the Hammond before counting the band back in again!

After the gig I met Tony and congratulated him on an excellent performance. He squinted quizzically at me, saying he'd spotted me in the crowd, "Don't I know you?"

It was so good to see him again and experience him in a full band situation and to see that he was doing well. We talked a bit about his gigs in Aarhus seven years previously, which he obviously didn't remember with as much fondness as I did.

The second gig I caught on the Baldry tour was a much smaller town at a social club. Another superb performance. Tony seemed pleased that he was getting some attention too and not just John Baldry who frankly was a bit weird.

Now Tony is gone, but his heartfelt laughter, excellent playing and crazy stage presence will always stay with me. I missed out on the Abbey Road testimonial and got worried when I heard he was ill. With the amount of pleasure and joy he has given to so many people it is just not fair for him to go out like this and so early.

My condolences to his wife and family that he loved so much.

Rasmus Heide

Photos from Aarhus, Denmark, September 1990 - by Rasmus Heide.