Most of my readers will not know anything about Colin Woolway, but I felt moved to write a eulogy on his recent passing from this world. Such an extraordinary character should not go quietly.
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I haven’t associated with Colin for a few decades, and therefore many people who did know him would think me unqualified to comment on his life. However, in the ten years he and I were closely acquainted I got to know him very well, to the point that I can picture many of his mannerisms, and I can hear his voice clearly in my mind.
I also remember Colin’s drumming intimately. I’ve played with him in several musical positions, most memorably in a band called “Inversion” which included his brother Ian on guitar, and in touring musicals, “Godspell” and “The Rocky Horror Show”. He and I made a great rhythm section together, driven by his incredible passion for music and for playing like the very best professionals you could name. His earliest great influences were Billy Cobham, Lenny White, John Bonham and Buddy Rich. Anyone who knows these names knows what powerhouses they were. He aspired to them all and as far as I’m concerned succeeded in reaching their level of talent, but without the necessary breaks and connections. His drum lesson business over many years was a success, and he played with several big-name bands such as Suzie Quatro.
I must push this point because what impressed me most about Colin’s drumming was his ability to control a band and to take it to great heights. He knew how to change the mood, he knew how to hold it all together, he knew how to save the day, he knew how to wow, and he knew how to push the music to a great climax. In many senses he was music.
Colin was not the most impressive looking man in the world. He was quite short, so that he wore high-heel boots to attempt to compensate. His fair hair (when he had it) was thin and his complexion, at an early age anyway, was pink and blemished. However, Colin’s character and drumming powers more than made up for his physical shortcomings (excuse the pun) and anyone judging him by his appearance was quickly dropping his jaw in amazement once Colin got behind those drums.
Colin’s personality, at least in the years I was around him, was magnetic. Never letting his homely appearance hold him back, he had great confidence and was normally the centre of attention in most settings he found himself in. Of the few people who could make me laugh continuously, Colin was only second best to my old mate Terry Ruffle. He loved to laugh and he loved to make people laugh. He had a reservoir of jokes and humorous anecdotes which were never stale or predictable. His inspiration largely came (as it did for many of us at that time) from Monty Python, and particularly the Holy Grail movie. We would regularly quote long stretches of the dialogue.
Colin was a fun-lover, and his obsession was infectious. He was one of those people with an endless supply of friends, partly because of his good humour and partly because he took an interest in people, talking directly to them and engaging in their lives. He and I had many great times together. What I liked most about him besides his drumming was his ability and freedom to be silly; to be boyish and childish; to let go, and to take those around him who were willing with him. I was able to be myself with Colin: a very rare pleasure indeed.
Of all the anecdotes I could share the one which sticks most in my memory is the day he and I went into one of those little photo booths where you would get four instant pictures. We pulled faces and laughed-we’d probably been drinking. At that time he and I got drunk together often, and I’ve seen him inebriated to the point of immobility on several occasions. Anyway when we got the four prints he grabbed them from me and was going to throw them away. I managed to get them back from him (I was bigger) and was determined to keep them. Being ashamed of his appearance (which really was not that bad, and no worse than my own) he made me swear that I would never show anyone the photos, and to this day, I have not. But I do still have them, decades later.
Colin and I drifted apart and went very separate ways, physically and spiritually. When we did finally get back into contact via Facebook, separated by the Atlantic Ocean, he was disgusted with my support for Donald Trump, and had fallen into a state of sharp mockery. He probably also held me at arms-length because of my overt profession of Christian faith. Having not spoken for the past two or three years, my good friend Jeremy Saltmarsh informed me of his passing.
Colin was one of the two very best friends I’ve ever had. He was a terrific person to know and a terrific musician. Bye, Colin. I will not forget you.
