Steve Eggs Band Goes Wild In Yverdon

An avalanche of cheers greeted visitors from London when the Steve Eggs Band ascended the stage at a top rock club in Switzerland during their recent European tour. In response the band of Brits draped the stage with the Swiss flag next to a Union Jack that sealed a treaty of friendship twixt our two great nations.

Well, let’s not get too carried away. The ‘tour’ was only one gig and that was arranged by the drummer’s enthusiastic and loving wife Freddie who just happens to have been born in Switzerland, near the beautiful town of Yverdon Les Bains set beside Lake Neuchâtel.

It was Freddie who secured not only the band’s guest star appearance at the popular Citrone Masqúes venue, but booked all the flights, train trips and hotel reservations for what became a welcome holiday break for musicians, family and friends. Peter Grant may have organised Led Zeppelin on the road, with strenuous energy, but even he could not have done such deeds with the charm and efficiency of our Freddie Taylor.

And so the group comprising Steve Eggs (lead singer, guitarist and composer), Jon Kershaw (lead guitar and vocals), Peter Wass (bass guitar and vocals) and Mark Taylor (drums and vocals) set off from Gatwick on March 14 heading for Geneva. A first class train took them and the band’s personal soothsayer and astrologer the mystical Dooge together with girl fans Clare and Marilyne to Yverdon where they were delighted to see historic buildings and distant snow capped mountains.

They were also pleased to be in a country where everything works, with welcoming staff in shops, bars and cafés and motorists who actually stop at street crossings to wave you across.

On Day Two the party explored the historic town centre and after lunch, Steve and Dooge took time out to visit a remarkable Science Fiction museum with a special event celebrating the prophetic writing of Jules Verne. It was fun to try out Virtual Reality headsets, something that even Jules couldn’t predict.

It would have been nice to embark on a Disney style journey 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea or to the Centre of the Earth, but only his rare first edition books were actually on display.

A family and friends dinner in the Cercle Espagnol restaurant followed an afternoon swim at the Grand Hotel thermal spa pool. It was during the evening meal with its rich Spanish food and copious toasts to all and sundry that Dooge began to study the horoscopes of his closest table partners.


Checking my birth date he pronounced that my star sign suggested I was a Scorpio, a group of people ‘Who never forgive or forget’ which was rather alarming. But I was also a Metal Snake according to the Chinese Zodiac. Having checked the characteristics of such a beast, it’s not as bad as it sounds. ‘Wise, elegant and adept at socialising and winning people over’. So, not just any old ectothermic amniote.

Leaving the restaurant in pouring rain (and not the blizzard predicted by some Yverdon townsfolk), we headed back to the hotel, losing our mystical fortune teller on the way. Perhaps Dooge is a Snake too as apparently they have an ‘Air of mystery’ and can ‘re-invent themselves.’

Mercifully Dooge re-appeared the next day in time for the band’s visit to a music production studio sited in a vast building by the railway tracks, formerly an electric battery factory. Here we were treated to Raclette. A traditional Swiss dish of toasted cheese scraped off the grill of a portable heater,  it was served with boiled potatoes and smoked ham and lager. After this tasty snack we headed off for the gig at the Citrons Masqués packed with thousands of cheering teenagers.

Well, there were a few enthusiastic supporters impressed by the Swiss Flag thoughtfully erected by Mark Taylor behind his drums. After a sound check that eventually sorted out the balance we discovered there was another gig in town that night featuring Krokus, the Rolling Stones and Lady Ga Ga that had drawn quite a large crowd.

Or so we were advised by several Snakes at the bar where a mere 12 Swiss Francs could secure you a pint of lager. (I thought it was six francs, thus risking an international incident with the bar man.)

The band now returned to the stage and confidently roared into action fortified by cheese while keeping their true thoughts hidden (another Snake- like characteristic). It was the power of Steve Eggs original compositions ‘Road To California,’ ‘Good Intentions’ and ‘One Horse Town’ that kept up their spirits and won cheers from all those fans in the audience who have long supported the British band.


“They sound so GOOD!” were the verdicts of the club promoter and the youth of Yverdon who also loyally lent their support. Among my favourite numbers of the night were ‘Sugar & Blood’ and ‘Flying Without Wings’ while old favourites ‘Slipstream’ and a rousing ‘American Girl’ the Tom Petty song driven by Jon Kershaw’s vibrant guitar and Mark’s ever more exuberant drumming created a rock festival vibe.

The band became decidedly funky on the hypnotic ‘Turn It Up’ and ‘Cure For The Blues’ a new number that re- energised a non-stop set. Blues grass rhythms and a Status Quo boogie brought the show to a climax, fuelled by Jon’s vigorous vocal and vibrant guitar rendition of David Bowie’s 1972 hit ‘Suffragette City’ a tune, that amazingly celebrates its 52nd anniversary in April 2024.

Next day the band and its entourage flew back home via Geneva and Gatwick having completed Stage One of their tour. Where next? How about the Grenchen Festival in Switzerland next June when Krokus, Deep Purple and Megadeth are on the bill? The SEBS could fly the flag again.

                                                                                                                                 EXTRA EXTRA – READ ALL ABOUT IT

On their return from Switzerland the SEB made a flying visit to the Sound Lounge in Sutton, one of the finest venues for live rock music in all England. The gig was held on a Saturday night (April 6th) and by all accounts it was a great success. Alas I was suffering from a bout of Blenkinsop’s Pestilence (similar to ague or dropsy) and was unable to attend. But I sent apprentice rock reporter Herbert E. Clutterbuck (16) in my stead, hoping he might be able to string a few words together to ‘cover’ the event. So over to you Herbert and watch your language, none of that teenage jive talk.

                                                                                                                                  SEB’s SOUND LOUNGE TRIUMPH

‘You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things that failed to attend one of the finest performances I have yet to witness in all my few short days perched upon the throne of rock journalism.

‘Some people consider rock music shows immoral altogether and eschew such, with their servants and families. Very likely they are right. But those who think otherwise may perhaps like to step in for half an hour and look at the performances. There are grand and lofty scenes and some light comic business, the whole accompanied by appropriate gestures and brilliantly illuminated.

‘These my friends, Romans and countrymen were the experiences enjoyed during a show at the Sound Lounge given by those brave heroes of rhythm, the Steve Eggs Band. Let the trumpets sound to salute their endeavours! It is a truth universally acknowledged that when a band rocks out with such power the populace will be transfixed and their lives enhanced.

‘What passion cannot music raise and quell? There lies the rub. But remember Men are but children of a larger growth, our appetites as apt to change as theirs, and as full as craving too.

‘Oh for a horse with wings that I might ride to hear them play again such tunes ‘We’re Almost Talking,’ and ‘Wrap My Arms Around You’ sung with heart wrenching emotion by Master Eggs. And when his loyal bass playing servant Peter Wass rocked out on ‘Highway 61’ with mad guitar breaks from Jonathan Kershaw powered up by thunderous drumming courtesy of Citizen Mark Taylor, then all I could say was – pleasures newly found are sweet when they lie about our feet.’ Herbert E. Clutterbuck.

Well, not a bad review Herbert, but for God’s sake try to be a tad more literate.