Kees' photos

Death is as absurd as life. We all know (though we may not like to be reminded of it): we’re born inter faeces et urinam.... –but have we really struggled all of our lives to improve upon that condition only to return to it when we lie dead and buried? In a restaurant you would ask for a better table.

Uncouth had the opportunity to talk with the last remaining member of The Rockodiles, Roddy “the Swamp” Bigalow who is about to start (once again) a Farewell Tour. Uncouth: How does it feel to be the front man of what has become a one person band? RB: Yeah, true, we were very upset when Jack, our drummer, died back in ’72. But then we found out we could also tap the rhythm with our feet, so we went on without a drummer. We could never have replaced him: his beat was great, but his back-beat was simply inimitable. In ’77 our bass player went berserk. As long as I knew him he had always been high on acid, but then he went on a bad trip from which he never came back... He’s still in an institution, I believe, haven’t seen him in years. Luckily both our lead-singer, Keith, and I had pretty deep voices, and we alternately took over humming the bass lines. It’s not the same, but it could be worse. Four years ago, Keith fell off a tree and broke his neck. “That’s the end”, I thought at the time. Well, as it turned out, it wasn’t: our fans kept asking for me to return. We’ve always had great fans, God bless ’em. I then did a gig or two. What happened? The audience knew all our texts by heart, and sang them for me. All I had to do was play my guitar (and hum and tap a little), the fans did the rest. Unbelievable. Uncouth: And now you’re embarking on your fourth They Never Come Back Tour... RB: Yeah, great, isn’t it? I’m really excited about it! Uncouth: Some people may wonder if you’re in it for the money... RB: Bullshit! I have three ex-wives, and seven legitimate children (God bless ’em) –let’s forget about the illegitimate, hehe!–, and I’ve always been able to feed them. No, this is just a “Thank you” to the fans who have always supported us. Uncouth: Have you ever thought about renaming the group, the group not being a group anymore? RB: I’m too old now for starting a solo career. What should I have done? Call myself “The Rockodile”? Nope, I’m Roddy Bigalow, give or take “the Swamp”. “The Rockodiles” is our trade mark, people have known it for ages, they want The Rockodiles, and The Rockodiles is what they’ll get! Uncouth: You still seem to be in great shape, for a 67 years old! RB (with slight irritation): Thank you for mentioning my age, had almost forgotten it. You may as well know everything: I wear a wig. Never heard of a wig, uh? That’s for old suckers like me, ye know? I’ve always thought that bald elderly rock stars are pathetic. Not with me! My head-bangin’ is as good as it was in 1968 –as a matter of fact, I invented it! Other people my age use a wheel chair, I wear a wig: so what? Uncouth: We noticed you weren’t plugged-in when we took your picture during the last rehearsal... RB: Why should I? See, I have played guitar all my life, I know how to do it, I know how I sound... What is important is the looks of it; I always say: “It needn’t sound like music, it must look like music!” Rock music is all about attitude, the rest is projection: the audience hears what it sees, and what it wants to hear. Take The Beatles: They weren’t half as popular as we were in our best times, but the girls used to scream so loud that all what happened was a group on the podium, far away, appearing to have a good time. If they had a good time, the audience had it too, even though they couldn’t hear a shit of what was being played! That worked for them, and it still works for us ... me. Uncouth: We also saw you weren’t wearing one of the usual Rockodiles T-shirts. How come? RB: Ha, I hoped I’d get away with that! The truth is: they’re all in the yearly wash, all ten of them. So I thought I’d wear a T-shirt of a group which I think has the potential of becoming as big as we were, and still are. They’re called “As Forever Fakes”, and... Uncouth: Sorry for interrupting, but the T-shirt seems to read “Fades”... RB: Does it? Hey, you’re right! Well, what’s in a name? Great band, from the US, lots of potential, though they’d better call themselves, perhaps, “The Asforeverfades” –and their new bass player definitely needs a wig. Uncouth: Thank you, Roddy, for this interview! RB: You’re welcome! And remember: Rock wouldn’t be the same without The Rockodiles! Tickets from £78 onwards.

Wouldn’t this KillerBee scooter, photographed in my hometown Baarn, be the right thing for QueenBees? It looks sharp enough...

The Dutch people have spent an estimated €60,000,000 ($100,000,000) on fire-crackers and other pyrotechnics this year. Also there are left-overs from the previous year. Too much to burn on New Year’s Eve, so they have to start early... It is hard to find tranquility between Christmas and the New Year. The cemetery of my home town is not exactly a fun place to be, but far better than the rest, if you ask me.

... after a day of hard work. You don’t really believe someone’s waiting for me with a camera, do you? Or that I’d ride an hour in Winter without gloves? No, it is a self-portrait, taken this Sunday in the late afternoon. From a tripod. To show that it’s really me, I even used a fill-in flash! :-) Acute observers will notice that the wind screen has arrived; it really helps.

The views from our balcony often are quite nice, but you can do much better than that if you’re willing to move your scooter a few miles...

This Sunday exhibited the same glorious mountain view as the day before. Reason enough to choose a better viewpoint: Walchstadt.

It’s not the first time I photographed the scene, but yesterday it was particularly attractive...

It was drizzling and the valley a bit foggy, but the mountains stood out splendidly yesterday.

I took this picture from Cora’s room. One of the mountains visible at the horizon must be the Zugspitze, the highest mountain Germany can boast of. But don’t ask me which one...

They say oistriches hide their heads in the sand in case of imminent danger... That may be something for oistriches, not for a fearless dachshund. However, during many a winter, experience has taught Robbie that the most interesting things can be found under the snow. It’s about 4-6 inches thick, and still comfortable for him. With more snow, he has to move by jumping, which he can’t keep up for long.

Can it be that I’m a non-food person? Well, I’m certainly no food person, and probably that’s why I felt the urge to add special effects to this picture and thus increase its “interestingness”. Yet I have to pay my respect to the breakfast which has served me well for over fifty years: Brinta wheat cereals. Eaten with some sugar and milk –preferably cold milk, because warm milk will soon turn the substance into some kind of paste without structure. Everyone in Holland knows it, many eat it when they are young, few abide by it when they get older. I do. That means we have to import it. For years, it was the entrance fee our more mobile guests would have to pay, but fortunately, we now own a car ourselves. The storage cans date from the fifties. I fairly recently got the one in front from my brother; it’s in much better shape than the other one which has been in continuous use for decades (and actually still is). It shows a happy family (a pipe-smoking father, a New Look mother, a son, a daughter, a dog) having a picnic in the dunes. I’m not sure what else they’ve brought, but they did bring two boxes of Brinta. You can turn the can around endlessly, and the scene will never stop. To bring that effect about, the section shown on the right is crucial: you can’t say if the woman will go left or right –she’ll get to the Brinta either way. Very cleverly done.

(A Zeiss lens with flare ... can you believe it?)

Isartal im Nebel und Voralpen, von unserem Balkon aus.

View from our hotel room.