Becoming Rainbow Chasers
How chance can place you on the path to your greatest musical discoveries.
In a time when so much of the music we listen to is suggested to us by an algorithm, I love to hear the real tales of discovery. The ones where people find new musical revelations in the unlikeliest places or the serendipitous stories of stumbling upon a band and how they go on to become a favourite.
The story of how my favourite band became my favourite starts with a bag stuffed full of jumpers, shirts, a pair of trainers, and a bed sheet. All bought for $4 at an op shop (charity shop/thrift store) in Twizel in New Zealand’s South Island, days before going into a pandemic lockdown.
Living in a van with my girlfriend Laura and travelling around New Zealand in 2020, we developed a keen eye for an op shop bargain. So, the sight of a sign in a shop that read, Fill a bag for $4, made our eyes widen and our pulse race. The shop was only small, but its rails were laden with interesting-looking items. We had an immediate sense that we would make some good finds here.
My priority was to replace my footwear, which, at this point, were barely worthy of the name. Worn to within an inch of their life, you could see my feet through them in more places than I care to mention.
Buying secondhand shoes can be a bit of a lottery. A pair may last a few months or may go on to be the best shoes that you ever owned. The only pair in the shop that fitted seemed likely to be the former. But they were at a price I could not turn down, so I bought my ticket and took my chances.
Along with my trainers, our $4 bag was stuffed with two jumpers, three shirts, and a bedsheet we bought as a groundcover for an upcoming project of decorating Tiger-Lily, our van. It was, far and away, our greatest-ever charity shop haul. I still wear one of those shirts and a jumper to this day.
A few days later, we learned New Zealand was going into a countrywide lockdown because of the COVID-19 pandemic. We couldn’t keep living in Tiger-Lily, so we moved into a small log cabin we rented from a lovely lady called Sue. The cabin was near the top of a hill, next to a deer paddock on her sprawling property not far from Queenstown.
During this time, there were a huge number of restrictions on what we were allowed to do. Thankfully, one activity permitted was walking within a few-mile radius of where you were living. Thank Whoever we ended up at Sue’s place, as it was gorgeous around there. An almost endless amount of space to walk along the shores of the enormous Lake Wakatipu and hike trails through forests or up mountains. This was when I found out what the shoes I bought were really like.
Had I won the secondhand shoe lottery?
No, no, I had not.
While not the worst shoes I had ever owned, they were far from the most comfortable. The insole was thin, and the texture of cardboard. Underneath that, the shoe had started to disintegrate, and the laces repeatedly snapped, leaving me with an increasingly fiddly task when tying them.
Unable to replace them during lockdown, I persevered wearing them. Through this, I grew fond of them and became unwilling to give up on my bargain buys. I wore those shoes daily, for countless miles across several months, long after our lockdown lifted, and I was free to buy a new pair.
It was a sad, rain-soaked day when I realized they had become unwearable. A hole had developed in the heel of the right shoe, and with every step on a wet surface, more and more water soaked up, drenching my foot. With a heavy heart and a sodden foot, I finally accepted that I needed a new pair.
By this time, we had made our way to the North Island and the fantastic city of Wellington. Being in a big city gives you lots of choices. A little confession: I am indecisive to an extraordinary degree. So, having choices is not great for me. Or, as it turns out, for those unfortunate enough to go shopping with me. On this occasion, Laura was the poor soul subjected to witnessing my crippling indecision.
We trawled through all of what the city’s charity shops had to offer, but alas, our efforts were in vain. I remained shoeless. Our attention turned to sports shops, shoe shops, and department stores in the hunt for my new trainers. This also proved unsuccessful. But I had identified a few possible candidates, so we circled back to take another look. Still, I remained unconvinced that any pair was right for me. This process went on for more hours than is socially acceptable, and understandably, frustrations grew.
To take a break, we stopped at a pub to see if a pint would provide some liquid inspiration (and perhaps calm a few frayed nerves). I was delighted to find the pub we chose had a wide selection of beers. Knowing that the inevitable was about to happen, Laura was less enthused. Cue more indecisiveness from me. After what must have seemed like an eternity to Laura, the barman, and those behind me waiting to be served, I finally settled on a beer (most likely the one that was my first instinct). I ordered mine and got Laura her more straightforward choice of the one cider that was on tap.
With our first few sips being drunk in an ‘I just need a minute’ silence, I allowed my attention to float free of our table. It was mid-afternoon, and the pub was humming with conversation. A mix of those lucky enough to have an early finish on a Friday and the even luckier ones who had not been at work all that day energized the pub.
As I sat listening to the room, I noticed a melody playing in the background, soundtracking the chatter. Liking what I heard, I focused on the music. Acoustic guitar overlayed with handclaps and a chorus with harmonized vocals, all with a large dollop of sixties feel. It was as if they had taken inspiration from flipping through my music collection before making it.
Long-haired, bearded, and moustachioed men playing frisbee on the televisions in the pub caught my attention. Surfing. Families with babies laughing. People singing, and a man in a red berry playing the guitar on a beach, all interspersed with footage from a gig. It was the music video for the song I could hear. I listened, enjoyed, and watched, hoping the screen would tell me who and what I was hearing.
Many Moons of Love by The Babe Rainbow.
My memory is a very porous thing. So I made sure to enter the name of the band into my phone so I couldn’t forget it.
The air defrosted between us as our glasses emptied. Non-footwear-related conversations started to flow, and one drink became two. We stopped there, though, and ended up going back out shopping. But no trainers were purchased that day.
The following year, I turned forty. By now, we were back in England and back in lockdown. As a present Laura wanted to buy me a vinyl record that I would love. We share a Spotify account, so she delved into what I had been listening to most often over the last year, soon finding that I listened to The Babe Rainbow a lot. Curious, she began listening to them too and quickly became a fan. Her favourite track, without question, was Eureka.
As it turns out, it is not easy to buy The Babe Rainbow records in England, at least not without expensive shipping fees (they are an Australian band with very little presence in the UK). As a result, I gratefully received a copy of Easter Everywhere by The 13th Floor Elevators.
Thank you again, I did love that present.
Laura explained to me why she had bought that particular record and others that had been under consideration. From then on, we listened to more bands together. But it was The Babe Rainbow who became our go-to band. The psychedelic soundtrack to our every day. Whether tending to the garden, cooking in the kitchen, or soaking in the hot tub (yep, we were ‘one of those people’ who bought that during lockdown), The Babe Rainbow became our constant companion.
Nobody we knew had ever heard of them, and when we talked about them, no one seemed to care. But that did not matter. If anything, that heightened the appeal. They were our band. Our secret. Our slice of musical bliss.
My sister lives in Australia, and we had planned to visit her after spending time in New Zealand with our parents set to meet us there, but COVID-19 put paid to that. When Australian borders finally reopened in 2022, my mum and dad rushed to get out there. Much to our disappointment, we were not able to join them.
We did, however, order ourselves a present. Delivered to my sister’s house and to be brought back with my parents. A limited edition Sunset Orange vinyl copy of The Babe Rainbow’s Changing Colours album. This was their latest album, and we knew it well. The first track, Zeitgeist, had become a bit of a classic anthem in our kitchen. It felt apt that the vinyl was orange, too, the colour of a peeled mandarin. (Maybe give that song a listen to best appreciate that reference.).
Now that borders were open again and international travel was firmly back on the table, we hoped that the band would come to the UK and we would get to see them live. But to our dismay, no dates were planned. We did discover, however, that they were going to stream a live performance via Levitation Sessions.
The gig was scheduled for during the day (their time). Meaning that it was on at night for us. Perfect. So, we treated it like any other gig. Headed out for a light bite to eat and enjoyed a few pre-gig drinks before going to the venue. Only this time, the venue was our home. All dressed up, we sang along and danced around our living room to our favourite tracks.
If you ever get the chance to go to a gig in your own home, take it. No difficulty getting home afterwards, no queueing at the bar, and the cleanest toilets at a gig you will ever experience. It is a middle-aged dream.
We enjoyed the whole thing so much that we jumped straight onto the website and ordered a vinyl pressing of the gig. It arrived six months later, resplendent in Mellow Yellow with a Blue Galaxy Swirl.
Having so much fun attending the remote gig renewed my enthusiasm for experiencing a live and in-person performance. I remained on the lookout in case the band announced any new dates for gigs that we could conceivably attend. But to no avail. Despite new music being released, no UK dates became available. Australia, yes. New Zealand, yes. United States, yes. Europe, no.
One fanciful late-night conversation did have us considering buying tickets to the Desert Daze festival in the United States. The Babe Rainbow, King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, Tame Impala, Kikagaku Moyo, and Psychedelic Porn Crumpets are all on the same lineup.
How much are flights to California?
A fever of impulsiveness started to take hold. But, for once, my indecisiveness worked in our favour, and we didn’t buy any tickets that night. The following morning, we decided it was best to leave that idea as a late-night flight of fancy.
During the summer of 2023, the idea of taking a family trip to Australia began to get floated. These ideas quickly turned into plans, which were soon tied down and fixed in place. We would spend six weeks with my parents, staying with my sister and brother-in-law in Queensland. After which, myself and Laura would head to Perth to visit her brother and his girlfriend.
Missing life out in the world, Laura and I decided this would be a jumping-off point for more travel. Take the chance to visit some places we missed during our last adventure.
Naturally, my first action was to find The Babe Rainbow tour schedule. Nothing in Queensland for the entire six weeks we were there. In Perth, however, we struck gold. During our week-long stay, they were due to play at the Rosemount Hotel. Two tickets snapped up in an instant. I can be decisive when it matters. (We did offer to get tickets for Laura’s brother and his girlfriend, but they politely declined as their musical taste is somewhat different from ours.).
On the day of the gig, Perth was bathed in glorious sunshine. Nothing unusual for that city in my experience. Taking advantage of this, we took some time to explore the city centre before stopping to refuel and relax at a riverside bar near Elizabeth Quay. Despite being a Thursday afternoon, happy hour offers ensured the pub was packed, and we were lucky to find seats.
A couple of drinks in, our attention started to turn towards the gig, and anticipation began to build. A quick Google of the venue made us realize it was further away than we thought, about an hour on foot. We plotted a course that enabled us to have a couple of pub pitstops along the way. It was a hot day, and we needed to keep our fluids up.
We stopped at two pubs. The first was set over at least three floors, one with a wrap-around balcony from which we basked in the late afternoon sun. The next was the kind of place that, when you first walk in, you regret doing so. A vortex where time does not exist. You could enter at any point, on any day, and the same five people would be sat in the same five chairs, drinking the same five drinks. All in silence. Outsiders rarely ventured in. But you are forced to stay because you need to use the bathroom and have already ordered a drink.
As it turned out, it wasn’t that bad. We spotted a door that led down a corridor to another area of the pub. Bustling with people, music playing, and what turned out to be delicious food was being served. It was a whole other world.
After eating, we made the short journey to our final destination. We ended up in the large, open-air courtyard at the back of the Rosemount Hotel. Our tickets stated that the doors opened at 8pm, so we had some time to settle and take in the pre-gig atmosphere. There wasn’t a seat to be had, so we stood at the bar, discussed what we thought the set would be, and sipped on JD and Coke.
It wasn’t long before I noticed a familiar face. At the other end of the bar, through a crowd of people, I spotted the drummer from The Babe Rainbow getting some drinks. After pointing him out to Laura, we realized the bass player was there too. Fizzing with excitement, we turned fully fanboy/girl. We flip-flopped on whether we should go over and try to talk with them, even get a picture. But decided it was best we left them alone and not make too big a fool of ourselves.
Over the next hour, all band members passed through the bar, got drinks, and chatted with friends. The guitarist even stood near us while we listened to the first support act. I don’t know if this is a reflection of them as people or that because they aren’t a huge band, they can do this, but either way, it made me like them even more.
The basement room, where the bands were playing, began to fill as the second support act was on stage. I had never heard of Seventies Tuberide before that night, but they made a big impression. A band fronted by charismatic American surfer Alex Knost, who injected a barrel of adrenaline into proceedings, lifting the crowd. The singer of The Babe Rainbow joined the band on stage for a rousing end to their set.
By now, it was close to 11pm. A long day, but that was it, no more waiting. We were finally going to see The Babe Rainbow live. We used the short delay between bands to manoeuver ourselves into a prime position from which to enjoy the gig. A decent line of sight, a bit of room to dance, and a stool close by for Laura to kneel/stand on if the crowd became too tall in front of her.
Our discussions earlier about the set list had revolved around whether the band would mostly play their latest music or a mix from across all albums. We hoped it would be the latter, and we got our wish. It turned out that most of our favourite tracks were plenty of other people’s as well, and the band knew it.
From the first song, they had us. I have to confess, it had been a long day, with a lot of drinks being drunk, so which song got played and when is now somewhat hazy. What I do remember is the joyous atmosphere in the room, the sense of everyone having fun. The band fully engaged with the crowd, each enjoying it as much as the other. As the night progressed, it felt like the setlist had been tailored specifically for us, though I suspect many others felt the same.
Many Moons of Love provided a mellow moment during the gig. A second for me to think back to the pub in Wellington where my love affair with the band began.
Zeitgeist gave everyone a chance to belt out the best lyric containing a mandarin ever conceived.
Monky Disco allowed us to cut loose and dance as freely as we did during the gig streamed in our living room.
Peace Blossom Boogy was a highlight for me as it is a personal favourite.
Johny Says Stay Cool. Supermoon. Planet Junior. Secret Enchanted Broccoli Forest (I think).
And many more, but of course, Eureka, during which we strained our vocal cords while hunting for Greggo. Where did he go?
Everything culminated in a beautiful rendition of what the band described as their anthem, their motto, Love Forever.
All our favourite tracks, every kitchen classic, were sprinkled throughout the performance. We had the best time and loved every second of it.
After the band had finished playing, we made our obligatory stop at the merch stand, buying a brilliant tie-dye T-shirt, before finding our way back upstairs. Printed on the T-shirt was a drawing of the globe, some dolphins, a sort of cloud containing the band’s name, and a sun.
Back up in the open-air courtyard again, we had one last drink and, with the unbridled excitement of small children, raved about what we had just witnessed before booking our taxi home. As we waited at the side of the road for our taxi, I glanced back towards the venue. To my surprise and delight, I saw the band’s singer in the car park behind us. He appeared to be putting equipment into a car. After quickly nudging Laura to let her know what was happening, I shouted over, telling him how much I had enjoyed the gig.
At this point, I should let you know that I am from the northwest of England and, consequently, have a distinct accent. One that people can sometimes find difficult to understand. I had also been out since three in the afternoon, and, by this time, it was after one in the morning, meaning the difficulty in my being understood was greater than usual.
The singer appeared to be at a complete loss to what I was saying. I tried to rephrase, and Laura also chimed in, but we were met with a look of utter befuddlement. Whether this was entirely down to us or because he had also been enjoying himself a lot that evening, we will never know. Hopefully, whilst he didn’t fully comprehend what we were saying, he understood the feeling behind it.
Our brief and unproductive conversation was cut short as our taxi arrived. We bid the singer goodbye, got in, and drove away, laughing to ourselves about the awkward encounter.
I enjoyed that gig more than any other in my life. Maybe it was the long build-up in getting to see them, all the little things along the way leading to that moment. Or, maybe it is that they are my favourite band and were incredible that night.
I’ve heard of the stories about Deadheads, the people who followed The Grateful Dead all over the country, attending gig after gig. Never missing a show. I wonder if that would be possible with The Babe Rainbow. What it would be like to become a Rainbow Chaser…
Thank you for taking the time to read this story.
