Jim Salisbury legendary manager of Life Support was 60 last week

Deadbeat were trying to catch up with him but he was 'aff tae his mammees' in Blackpool. She has a 90th after all and that takes precedence. Jim's association with the band started early on when he offered Si the dining room to sleep in. Si had always been a big old unit so the lack of a bed posed no comfort issues and the floor became his. Most students rarely had use for a dining room, or at least most of the ones we knew. Latterly I would realise there had been plenty who considered a flat without a dining room a squat. Well what did we know. Jim was a very good driver, in all conditions. Rain, wind, snow even sunshine, he always hit the ball from left to right and pretty much mastered crossing the traffic too. I remember him driving a van down the Perth to Dundee dual carraigeway. The bonnet flipped up and he perfomed a majestic slider from left to right. Blinded as he was by the metal curtain in front of his windscreen he was armed only by his memory of the road ahead, the side windows and the youthful yelps of passengers. "You're approaching the hard shoulder, you're on it, you're going over the kerb, you're on it again, you're sliding across the outside lane, that's the crash barrier!" Jim was blessed with one of the greatest drivers tips. If you want to slow a car down, you take your foot off the accelerator. Most people think its the brake but if you stop accelerating a bit earlier, it leads to better braking. Ask Si the next time he's accelerating towards the stop sign! Jim's slider took on a will of its own. Jim had a car. That's why he became our manager. A lovely wee Hibs-mobile. Well, it was green. One day on the Dairsie bypass a wheel passed him. He glanced over and said that nearly hit us as it overtook the green VW beetle. Next thing, Jim slides over to the other side of the road. Yes, a wee left to right slider, on three wheels. Oh the fun we had in the days when MOTs could be bought for pennies! Jim drove us to gigs but he wasn't a roadie. He'd reverse the van to the nearest point, then he'd admire our strength. With one arm against the van and another on a wee cigarellio, he'd smile at our endeavours. That's it Simon, loosen off those fingers. Grip it and rip it. Well done Mark, good that you're carry a micophone and an extra packet of strings. What that? oh its rizla. Yes good, I'll be through soon once I've locked the van! One day that we all remember like it was yesterday. It was probably 1984. It was Galashiels and the famous club known as JJJ's. We were booked to do an afternoon slot and an evening one. We did the afternoon slot. It took us over 2 hours. The Saturday racing was on and the locals kept asking us to "shut the fuck up". We were happy to let Mark re-tune his guitar every song and Jim always enjoyed the chance to give us some feedback. He did. It was candid. He said we weren't playing any worse than normal but turning it down was probably wise. He also reminded us that we only had a 40 minute set and were booked for 2 lots of 90 minutes. The gaps for the racing should therefore grow. Good advice from the teacher. Gratefully received. The JJJ's manager saw us start on schedule at 2pm. When he came back at 4pm he said to Jim are you guys still playing. Jim said it was the third encore. It was going down well so he hoped these old guys would come back in the evening. Mr JJJ said "Doubt it. Young team came in the evening." Jim nodded sagely. "That's good, another audience to buy the single. We've sold a couple already." The evening came and went. A tough crowd. The manager saw the whole set. He was now out of his head. Jim and him argued over the money. We filled up the van. The manager said we were shit. Jim argued we'd been brilliant in the afternoon and that perhaps energy levels had dropped and the band had tired a bit. Money wrangles grew worse. Jim asked is that all the gear in the van. We said yes. He went back to haggling. We went back to the van, shattered. Jim appeared clutching notes. "DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE" and off we drove as Mr JJJ came running out of the club after us. Jim lent a hand to the songwriting penning many a good tune, not least, "I've been walking in rain". A colourful song that discusses the merits of rainwear and on a spiritual level how "seems like things will never be the same". The metaphor of the rain being one of life's hardships that we tumble through or trudge lonely along in. As if we're walking in the cloud line. The darkness that envelopes us as we walk in that cloud. How there seems no end, but worse still, when you turn aound you cant even see when it began. During the early parts of the lockdown, I was reminded of this 80's classic. Back then it seemed the fog in our time was the political situation. There were parts that were personal but what made the tune so good was it was happy. Like one of the dark altered images stalking songs, this was a jolly wee tune about darkness. The darkness doesn't go away but sometimes we learn how to embrace it, accept it and then sing about it. As years went by we would meet up to get slaughtered regularly and sing songs that only we knew as classics. We bought a card. It did the birthdays. It stayed in its wrapping paper. It never got posted. It had a small note. We drunk some beer, we've smoked some gear, we've scored spectacular goals We've played our gowf, drunk in our howff, even played from rabbit holes Dominoes we've played, caravans we've stayed, we've watched some superbowls But Brexit came and to our shame, stole our butchers and Bacon Rolls So raise a glass to Jimbo, happy 60th!