I don’t recall much from the sessions in the basement room but the acoustics were truly awful. A lot of hash was smoked courtesy of Gyrth, a lot of wine was drunk courtesy of Kai, and we received a lot of complaints from our landlord, who was rapidly reaching the conclusion that he had found the wrong tenants for the house. Kai seemed to drift like a maverick through Lund life and no one quite knew what he was doing there. He was a big man in his mid-twenties, with a blond mane touching the collar of a dark-tan leather jacket which had tassels down the arms. A very authentic Midwest accent went perfectly with the jeans and cowboy boots. He was an accomplished guitarist and seemed to love the jamming sessions. He bonded well with Gyrth and they would frequently either turn up or leave together. Kai disappeared that winter to turn up later in a rather surprising fashion.
One afternoon the following early summer, I was in the café enjoying the awakening of the countryside from its long hibernation. The latitude of Lund meant that during winter there was actually only four hours of real daytime, so the summer was always more than welcome when it arrived. Johnny Sox’s jams had been replaced by more serious rehearsing; Hans and Gyrth were getting on much better now; and fully formed songs were finally emerging. I was also writing the odd song which I sang lead vocals on, Jan’s bass playing was progressing well, and we were all looking forward to perhaps playing our first gig that summer.
I saw Gyrth in the café and offered him a lift out to the house in Södra Sandby. By now, he and his family had also rented a house in the country and our place was in the same direction. Gyrth readily accepted the ride and we were exchanging gossip and enjoying the early evening sunshine whilst we drove. Once past the city limits, he said he had a surprise for me. He had a mischievous smile playing on his face that I couldn’t fathom at all. Recently he had been quite depressed and had been complaining a lot about his situation in Lund. No amount of questioning would make him explain his change of mood. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise, he said. We were just approaching the driveway to the house when he suddenly said:
‘You remember Kai?’
‘Of course,’ I replied.
‘Well, you know that post office that got robbed today?’
Some awful connection was dawning upon me.
‘It was Kai!’ he gleefully divulged,’… and he’s at your house now. He needs somewhere to stay tonight.’
I didn’t know what to say or think. Nothing Kai had done before had prepared me for this. I arrived at the house and Gyrth let me go in first ahead of him. I climbed the stairs and entered the first-floor kitchen to find Kai with a can of cat food in his hand and the two small kittens we had adopted rubbing their fur on his legs.
‘Hey, Hugh, where’s your can opener? These cats are starving,’ he reproached me.
I found him the opener and watched him carefully feed the two cats. Their purring filled the silence as they ate.
‘Hey, I’m sorry to bust in on you like this, but I had nowhere else to go.’
There had, indeed, been a robbery from a small sub-post office on the outskirts of Lund that morning. A lone, masked armed robber had held up the elderly couple and escaped with seven grand in cash. There were no witnesses and no one had been hurt. The couple had a vague description of the gunman but nothing the police could act upon. On weighing up the facts, it seemed reasonable to think that Kai’s whereabouts would not be known or found out, as only the three of us knew. Gyrth placated me expertly and I agreed to let Kai stay the night. He planned to leave at first light the next morning and head for mainland Europe with a girlfriend. Kai pleaded with me to let him have a small party to thank me for letting him stay, to which I reluctantly agreed. Not that I could take much part, as I was due in at the laboratory early the next day. My research had stumbled on to the stage where I was setting up experiments and had to be spending long shifts in the haematology laboratories. Sometimes I’d have to go in and check on the experiments in the middle of the night, not something you wanted to do when you were half-cut, and it played havoc with your social life.
Kai and Gyrth got on the phone and carefully invited some close friends over. By nightfall, takeaway food had arrived along with plenty to drink. Gyrth supplied the obligatory smoke and the atmosphere became very festive – even Christmas-like. Reluctantly, my thoughts turned to the next day and after saying goodnight to everyone, I tried unsuccessfully to sleep through the noise of the party, then relocated with my sleeping bag to the garden, as it was dry and the nights were now much warmer. I vaguely remember Kai saying goodbye to me while I was half asleep in the early morning light and people leaving, before I finally drifted off to sleep for a couple of hours prior to going in to work.
Johnny Sox stumbled along, securing the odd gig in and around Lund. Chicago Mike carried on dropping the occasional beat that would make the whole band jump, and it probably looked quite comical to an observer. Gyrth’s singing wasn’t really improving but his singing style was, and the songs we were writing were increasingly gelling into a distinctive style. I had started writing songs with Gyrth as well to complement those he was already co-writing with Hans. They were mostly very short, very melodic, up-tempo classics, so as not to put too fine a point on it. And it was very different from anything else that we had access to at the time. Sweden was not exactly at the cutting edge of contemporary music, but all the new releases did arrive and we got a lot of tours coming either to Lund, Malmö or Copenhagen. I once came back from a trip to the UK enthusing about Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust album, which seemed to me the nearest thing to what we were doing in terms of songwriting and energy levels.
CUE KAI HANSSON. SUMMER, 1973
Jan rushes up to me in the café clutching the daily paper.
‘Look who’s on the front cover!’ he exclaims.
Half of the front page is a CCTV picture of an armed gunman in a bank in downtown Lund. He has shoulder-length blond curls and looks suspiciously like our elusive friend Kai. The lone stranger has heisted the bank earlier that day and shot a guard while making his escape. The guard is in hospital fighting for his life. Take? About twenty-five grand.
‘Do you think it could be Kai?’ I ask.
‘It certainly looks like him, and his hair would be that long by now,’ says Jan.
We immediately wonder where he could be. PLEASE NOT IN OUR HOUSE!
We can’t find Gyrth or Mike. Hans has seen the picture too and agrees that it could be Kai. Jan and I head out to the house at Södra Sandby, wondering if the police will catch up with the gunman and confirm our suspicions. Still no word from Gyrth, and Mike hasn’t seen him either.
That evening I get a phone call from Gyrth.
‘Hey, Hugh! I’ve got an old friend staying with me, and he’d really like to see you.’
‘Is it who I think it is?’ I ask.
‘Yes. He’d like to play some music. Can you and Jan bring over some guitars and amplifiers and we can have a jam. Bring some wine too.’
Jan and I arrive at Gyrth’s house and there is Kai, looking tanned from his jaunt around Europe and pleased to see us. After the greetings I want to clear something up with him.
‘Look, Kai, it’s great to see you, but there’s something I’m not happy about, and I want to be honest with you.’
‘Sure, Hugh,’ he says. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Well,