James Crocker

I was born and raised on the edge of Dartmoor in the county of Devon in England. The beautiful, rolling landscape is home to many neolithic and bronze age remains; to pixies, ghosts and the 'hounds of hell'; to the battlefield sites of mighty clashes between Celts, Saxons, Romans and Normans; and to low-lying hideouts for highwaymen, smugglers and pirates. It is also quite cold and wet so I moved to California.

However, before my battle with US immigration paperwork began, I spent 30 years in England. From the earliest age I was exposed to music -- my dad played guitar and mandolin (the old-fashioned, single-necked type) while his dad played piano, organ and accordion. It was the guitar sound I loved most, but my childish hands were too small for the broad necks of my dad's instruments so I started by picking out tunes on his mandolin. I still knew I really wanted to play the

guitar, so, when I was eight, my parents bought me a ¾ size, nylon string acoustic at a flea market and, at even greater expense, a new set of strings. I practised and practised, playing along to my parents' music collection: Ry Cooder, Bob Dylan, Dire Straits, Eric Clapton, Fairport Convention, King Crimson, Little Feat, Yes, Rev Gary Davis, Steeleye Span, Led Zeppelin, etc. In retrospect, I'm very glad I was too young to have formed my own taste or I would have been playing to the prevailing fad of Wham and Human League.

After a while it became evident that my £3 guitar wasn't quite cutting it while jamming with Jimmy Page or Mark Knopfler and, besides, I had my heart set on an electric guitar. By the age of eleven I'd managed to wear my parents down to the tipping point where my complaining was more annoying than their having to buy me a new guitar and the resultant noise. Actually, they were extremely supportive of me locking myself in my room and playing with my instrument for hours (how many teenage boys can say that?) and when I was fourteen my dad invited me to join a band he was involved in. Willy and the Poorboys (the name was not my fault) played a wonderfully weird set, ranging from Irish fiddle tunes to Top 40 Pop songs via Jimi Hendrix, Bob Marley and 4-part a capella singing. By the time I finished high school I had played hundreds of gigs, recorded two studio albums and decided a career in music was for me.

I took a degree in Popular Music and Recording Techniques (seriously) in Salford, Manchester, immortalized by Ewen McCall as a Dirty Old Town. It was quite a change from rural Dartmoor but I enjoyed my time there immensely; learning about Madonna videos, African Polyrhythms and how to apply compression to a snare drum by day and playing with my new band by night. I had formed an energetic folk rock band, The Mighty Handful (this one was my fault), and we were able to tap into the burgeoning Irish scene at that time (thank you Michael Flatley). For a while every town in England had to have an Irish theme pub -- usually consisting of overpriced Guinness, the Pogues on the stereo and, inexplicably, giant versions of Connect 4 and Jenga -- and we were kept very busy. The fake craic became too much to bear after a while and we called it a day once we'd all completed our degrees.

Fate smiled my way soon after, when I received a call from a folk-rock band in need of a guitarist and based just a few villages away from my family home in Devon. I joined Equation in 1998 and my first gig with them was opening for Richard Thompson in the city of my birth; a truly memorable gig. From there we went on to tour UK, Europe and across the US and to record two albums and an EP. We played many of the same venues and festivals as Tempest: I briefly saw the band perform at Musikfest in Bethlehem, PA and, on another occasion, was even introduced to Lief by a mutual friend! I have too many great memories to bore you with here, but some highlights for me were playing at Cropredy, opening for Fairport Convention on a US tour (particularly a gig in Santa Barbara when Jerry Donahue joined them on stage), Newport Folk festival, the Fleadh festival in London and Dranouter in Belgium.

The biggest highlight was at the Strawberry Music Festival in California where I fell in love with my future wife, Kelly. She took a bit of persuading of the fact that we were meant to be together, but, with me on the road, we were communicating by email so it was much easier for me to exaggerate about myself. She finally succumbed and moved across the world to Devon.

After a couple of years immersed in British culture (or lack of it) we decided to try our luck in the US and moved to her hometown of Oakland, California. Fate's smile turned into a big, toothy grin when not only did the guitarless, Celtic-rock band I heard about turn out to be Tempest, but also Lief turned out to live literally three blocks from me! On a still night I can hear the strumming of his mandoguitar drifting above the thunderous hip-hop bass that emanates from passing cars and the occasional pursuing sirens.

Aside from music I enjoy cricket, comedy, drinking tea and upholding English stereotypes.

Since my time at university I have taught guitar between performing and playing. Anyone interested (and living in the Bay area) should contact me at jamesroycrocker@gmail.com