By Sebastian Langdon
The smell of sweat, cigarettes, and anticipation hung thick in the Clovelly night as Joseph Westfield tightened his grip around his drumsticks, waiting for the chaos to begin.
Floods of people poured into the compact backyard as if a Woodstock bus took the wrong turn and decided to park up at a suburban house for the night. Vibrant colours and psychedelic patterns draped wide-eyed strangers and friends, Joseph and the boys were looking less like musicians and more like time-travellers from 1969.
Tomas de Leon, towering in his colourful poncho and flared corduroy trousers, sat on a nearby haybale tuning his bass with a monk-like focus. The band didn’t speak much as there was not much left to say.
Chase the Foes were up next. Joseph exhaled through his nose and locked eyes with Tomas, who gave the faintest nod.
Then came the question that cracked the band’s confidence like a whip.
“Where the hell is the sound guy?”
One week earlier
Tomas swung open the door and greeted Joseph with a handshake and barely said a word; but soon enough Joseph would know that his basslines do the talking.
The room smelt like an old pub floor but looked professional with red soundproof walls, clean amps, and two microphones. Harvey, a slim-looking guy, was next to greet him with a positive tone.
The vocalist, Ziggy, was writing the setlist on the whiteboard, standing tall in cuffed jeans and an old mechanic shirt that had looked like it had been run over quite a few times.
“Lovely to meet ya mate, your throne is in the corner.”
Joseph gazed upon a pearly white Gretsch drum kit, it was in pristine condition.
“Let’s get a move on boys,” Tomas directed.
The Way You Move is the first song the band wrote. It has the skeleton of reggae and the flesh and skin of indie rock.
Playing reggae can be a difficult task for drummers that haven’t played the genre and especially hard if they don’t even listen to it.
It was far from gig-ready, but it wasn’t terrible, the fills and transitions from verse to chorus was almost perfect.
But as the night wore on the band’s confidence rapidly wore thin. The pressure of the practice was sucking the life out of the sound’s soul like a needle draining a vinyl’s last groove.
Although the engine was still ticking, playing without energy can even make a song like Bohemian Rhapsody sound black and grey. Discouraged, the boys decided to call it quits and start again the next day.
Tomas, being the lead songwriter, sparked up the idea of introducing a backing track to play with live, creating a fuller and professional experience.
“How do you feel about playing with backing tracks Joey?” Tomas said. “The only problem is that you will be the one controlling it.”
Playing with backing tracks is like tuning a high-performance engine to perfection, every spark plug (or band member) must fire at precisely the right moment.
If one part is even slightly out of sync the whole system misfires. If you stall once, the whole set can feel like a breakdown on a freeway.
Remaining composed, Joseph shrugged.
“May as well give it a go.”
The first song on the setlist is Blue Ray and relies heavily on a backing track as it uses the most synths out of all the tracks. It’s inspired by 80s New Wave with a dash of funk, reminiscent of bands like Duran Duran and A Flock of Seagulls. Joseph hit play on the computer, synchronizing with the metronome that played in his ears.
It was sloppy, Tomas raised his hand before they even got to the first chorus. Silence was the only chord that struck.
“We need to focus guys; we have three more days until this gig, and we are far from ready,” Ziggy said.
Turning frustration into determination, Joseph immediately clicked off the track. It seemed like the band played over 50 run-throughs of Blue Ray, each one as bad as the other.
“Wrap it up boys, don’t forget the photo shoot tomorrow,” Tomas said. “It’s important we take some good shots to look professional and promote the show.”
Joseph and the others met Tomas at the photo studio at JMC Academy, it was a very professional set-up with lights, a plain white backdrop and expensive cameras.
It was awkwardly hilarious and forced vulnerability. They began to laugh and jell not only as members of a band but friends boosting chemistry. The kind of rhythm not even a backing track could replicate.
It took a load off the stress of the up-and-coming show, but it was time to lock back in and start up that engine one last time.
You could feel the wave of apprehension seep through each member’s pores on that last practice day. The feeling was so overwhelming that it nearly drowned them, but beneath the nerves was a silent, burning determination keeping them buoyant, one beat at a time.
It was finally working.
Joseph and Tomas clicked into sync like pistons firing in perfect sequence, each thump and groove fuelling the band’s engine, turning raw sound into a smooth road trip.
Showtime begins
“Where the hell is the sound guy?”
The band’s necks snapped to the stage as they saw the MC of the night walking up to the microphone.
“Hello, hello ladies and gentlemen. I am pleased to present to you our next act of the night. Bringing a unique sound to your ears, led by Ziggy Maurice, we have the band Chase the Foes. So please refresh your drinks and return in 15 minutes.”
Not a single word was said.
Heads were low, and they started to accept the fact that they may have to play this show without the safety net of their backing track. The MC walked back to the stage.
“Are you guys ready yet? We need to get a move on we are running out of time. The noise curfew will start at 10pm and it’s already 9:30.”
Then they see him, pushing and shoving his way through the mosh pit was a short, white-bearded man. The boy’s eyes lit up watching their saviour part the crowd like a musical Moses.
Plugged in and ready to go, the backing track commenced, and the race was on.
All nerves dissolved. Joseph’s focus narrowed to the rhythm, each beat crisp, every kick intentional. Tomas’s bassline locked in beside him, tight and thick, like they’d fused into one machine.
Heads bobbed. Shoulders rolled. People swayed.
Mid-set, during The Way You Move, Joseph caught Harvey mid-jump, guitar neck swinging, and Ziggy revved the mic like a V8 engine. But it was the rhythm section, him and Tomas, that moved the room.
As the final note of the last song rang out, the crowd erupted. Joseph dropped his head back, drenched in sweat, heart pounding like a war drum.
After the set, soaked in exhaustion and riding a high that only comes from surviving the impossible. Ziggy cracked open a beer, grinning from ear to ear.
“We f***ing did it.”
Tomas exhaled deeply.
“From the first session, I knew we’d work. You all instantly felt like brothers.”
The tracks had worked. Joseph’s sync was flawless. All his stress about timing, transitions, and crashes dissolved the moment the backing track burst from the speakers.
“Soon as I heard them kick in,” he said, “all my worry disappeared.”
The adrenaline still hummed in his veins. That one gig had validated days of work, doubt, and drive.
A band is a machine. The frontman might be the headlights, the guitar the gears, but it’s the drummer and bassist, the engine and the drivetrain, who make the thing move.
Joseph realized that night that he wasn’t just “keeping time”. He was the time. The tracks helped, sure, but it was the human precision behind them that powered the sound.
No one ever sees the engine running, but they always feel it.
Featured Image: The show begins for Chase the Foes at The Rock n Roll Circus in Clovelly. Photo: Supplied
