Noting the sudden absence of a lead instrument, the bass player took a look around, noted the departing guitarist’s back and followed suit.
Once he’d locked into a groove the drummer, who didn’t exactly rejoice in the name Rockhead but deigned to answer to it, tended to keep his head down, possibly a wise move under the circumstances but didn’t exactly provide optimal awareness of what was going on around him.
The drums continued for around five seconds after the bassist’s departure, then fell silent.
Being in the middle of a vocal line I completed it, like the true non-professional I was, shrugged to indicate that it wasn’t my fault and made my exit.
Given that ignominious departure the reader might assume that was that as far as Heavy Chunder was concerned, but we managed to locate a replacement guitarist and managed a number of other performances around Townsville to almost universal indifference, though it seemed that musicians tended to like us.
Presumably there’s comfort in the knowledge that however minimal your own musical accomplishments may be there is someone out there who is even more musically challenged.
Heavy Chunder, in fact, lasted until the bass player departed towards the National Institute of Dramatic Art along with a certain John Jarratt. As a result, Heavy Chunder morphed into the equally undistinguished Snafu.
Given the fact that the set list remained much the way it was, the reader may question the need to change the name, but a departing bass player provided an excuse for Rockhead to decamp from the drum kit, leaving an Original Chunderer quota of one.
So, by the latter stages of Hughesy’s less than illustrious music career, what was included in that set list?