Once, We Were Unstoppable

I never expected a heavy metal band to change the course of my life. But the first night I watched Tony play, everything shifted.

His band Sparta had formed back in 1979, long before I ever met him. By the time I came along, their music had already carved out a place in the hearts of so many. But that night, in a dim venue alive with anticipation, it felt like they were playing just for me.

We’d got together at a party, just a casual evening that turned into something I couldn’t forget. He was easy to talk to, warm in a way that felt rare. When he told me he played lead guitar in a band that had been around for years, I was curious but didn’t think much of it. Before I left, he handed me a small flyer and said, almost shyly, you should come hear us sometime.

I remember the lights sweeping across the stage, the pulsing heat of the crowd pressing around me. And then he started the first riff of Fast Lane, which has become my favourite song. It was raw and relentless, like something alive, and I stood there thinking, who is this man who can make a guitar sound like that?

Later, I learned he hadn’t just played the lead, he’d written every musical note and every lyric. He was the mind behind the melody, the poet inside the noise. That was when something in me clicked. I’d always loved words, but he showed me they could be paired with music to say everything you couldn’t quite explain.

(Tony is the guy in the top hat, and if you don't want to watch the entire video, head to about 3:20 minutes, to see his extraordinary music! The guitar is a 1972 Gibson SG.)

It wasn’t just talent; it was the way he gave himself completely to the music. The way he looked when he played, lost in something only he could hear. The way Fast Lane seemed to belong to every person in the room but still felt like it was only for me.

Over time, my role grew from supporter to partner in every sense. I became Sparta’s manager, booking gigs, handling the merchandise, and running the fan pages. I spent late nights organising tour schedules and early mornings packing up boxes of CDs and T-shirts, ready to sell at the gigs. I loved the energy, the shared purpose, the feeling that I was helping carry his vision into the world.

That first night, I realised I was seeing a part of him no one else could quite touch. And that was the moment I started to fall in love: standing in a crowded venue, watching the man who would become my husband pour his heart into a song that still makes my heart race.

Now, he no longer plays. Cancer has stolen pieces of the life we built. But when we dig out one of his CDs and Fast Lane comes on, it’s like the years fall away. For a few minutes, we’re back in the thick of it, standing side by side in the music and the lights, younger and fearless.

And even now, that song reminds us: once, we shared something extraordinary. Once, we lived the rock and roll dream together, we were truly unstoppable.