Mick Danby. The Life and Times

Mick is one of those people who just loves stuff. Whether it be a beer with his mates, catching up with his family, a night out, and most of all surfing and music.

Friday February 29^th , Quiksilver Pro 2008, another lay day was called. While most of the surfers hit the snooze button and competition organizers took a well earned break, a small posse of Surfing QLD work crew loaded the cars, rounded up a ski and split north to Straddie. Now, the surf wasn’t great, but it wasn’t too bad either, which is why I was a little surprised when Mick Danby was pacing up and down the beach only after a short stint in the ocean.

In late 2005 life become just a little too tedious for Mick, the evil routine that most of us have to contend with began to squeeze far too tight. He left. Just like that.

A couple of long haul flights later he found himself in a campervan rolling through Western Europe with some mates he had rallied. In the back were his boards and guitars. Three months of Portugal, Spain and France certainly quenched his thirst for waves, but his strings sat untouched and to be honest a little dusty. Mick’s been making music since he was basically just an itch in his daddy’s strides, and in his 24 years on earth has pumped out some pretty solid sounds, recording a host of tracks independently which have raised the eyebrows of numerous record label bigwigs. But sitting there in that campervan, surrounded by beer bottles and dirty undies, although tanned and fit from weeks in the surf, his musical DNA was getting restless. So again, he left. London was next.

He got set up and quickly secured numerous gigs around the city. Venues such as Belushis, Biddy’s and The Good Ship in Kilburn, The Neighborhood in Ladbroke Grove, Viva Viva in Hornsey, Bar Rumba in Shaftesbury Ave and Inn on the Green in The Isle of Man were being frequented weekly by Mick’s musical weaponry. He half-heartedly entered a battle of the bands competition at The Swan in Stockwell where he was the only solo artist in the lineup, rightfully pissing off a heap of English rock Wannabees while he trampled most of them on his way to a podium finish. He was also in talks with Virgin/EMI scouts about a possible deal, with both parties eventually agreeing that with time still on his side, his best is still to come. While living in gritty ol’ London, he managed brief escapes by playing the TNT Eternal Summer Festival in Newquay, now making it two years running. These escapes to England’s summer playground put some salt in his hair, rinsed the grime from his board, recharged the energizers and kept him sane. He kept at it in London gaining notable exposure, contacts and best of all, experience. Although it was inevitable, routine had again set in. Time was beginning to drag, Fosters had begun to taste alright, it was time to leave. The next mission was to blow some steam,

lower the bank account and do new things.

The next three months took him to Santorini in the Greek Islands, Portugal, and then Tenerife in the Canary Islands where he surfed amazing empty lefts of a day, and played at a poolside bar at sundown for two months straight. He also managed accommodation with a fine young Spanish lass (lets call her Splass) who insisted on charging him zero rent, who cooked and cleaned for him after every meal and only spoke Spanish.

After two days of this incredible dream life, one evening Splass turned to Mick who was drinking a beer on the couch and uttered in terribly sloppy, but awfully cute English, “Me no clothes like in building”, to which she geared off and was never to be seen dressed again under that roof. With luck seemingly spewing from him, he considered investing heavily in high-risk stock, but Splass refused to let him out of the house. Naturally she found no argument from Mick who was happy to remain inside the house, forever. Then in what some people consider the most horrid, unforgivable mistake of his life, he packed his bags, hugged Splass goodbye, inside the house of course, and took off.

He flew into New York for New Years and saw the sights before ditching the big apple for Canada where he bunked with Xavier Rudd’s sis-in-law and squeezed in a few sessions on the snowboard. Back down into California where he surfed Huntington Pier, Trestles and El Porto just to name a few.

By now his bank account had reached a new all time low, and with that he headed for home. Back just in time for work at the Oakley Pro Junior and then Quiksilver Pro with Surfing QLD earlier this year. What’s happening musically? Right now he’s currently walking the tightrope between relative obscurity and big news. He will head to Sydney in the following months to meet with producing dynamo ‘Audius’, who has had success with the likes of Delta Goodrem and a host of other successful Aussie acts, to negotiate a recording package. And now with the arrival of major surf labels on the music scene, opportunities are beginning to appear.

So anyway, back to Straddie. After the rest of us made our way in he was whinging about his knee after coming unstuck on a bowling right. The ski ride back managed to elicit an array of embarrassingly high-pitched shrieks and whimpers. Although time would tell he was well within his rights. The next day he was diagnosed with a torn medial crucial ligament. Which brings us up to now. I called him the other day for an update.

“How’s the knee mate?”.

“Better, but still another 6 weeks out of the water.”

“What you been doing?”

“Got a whole heap of new music, new sounds, here I’ll send you some, have a listen…”

mick_danby@hotmail.com

www.myspace.com/mickacoustic