The Secret Discography : what’s in a name, jy weet?

One of a series which examines Trevor’s musical career in South Africa.

It’s been known for over a decade now that Trevor’s “secret discography” (as I refer to it) contains a series of primarily instrumental Easy Listening records which were released under the name Trevor Terblanche. The first to officially cite one of the albums in a discography was T.H. Cutler on her Rabbitt fansite, which contains a wealth of information and research regarding the band and its’ members. I highly recommend it to all Rabinites (and have provided a link on the blog); but also as a reminder that research into Trevor’s career has been ongoing for a very long time and yet there’s always more to learn.  But the information regarding the type and style of material recorded in this instance has been long-existant already and therefore is no big mystery.

To finally place this in its proper historical context (beyond the mention I give on the biography page); in regards to the (not so) burning question of the name utilized (actually an entire studio ensemble of which Trevor was only the guitar player): the series is called Lekker Kitaar and that - along with the use of the name Terblanche - identifies it as aimed at the Afrikaans market (beyond the detail of the album covers displaying English text on one side and Afrikaans on the other). Terblanche is a very prevalent surname among those South Africans who are considered a part of that demographic (and there are more than a few Terblanches of renown, such as Pierre Terblanche, designer of the Ducati Multistrada and other superbikes). As Trevor recently related when asked, the series was created to be sold in supermarkets. The DJ Records label appears to have been the South African equivalent of K-Tel (for those of you who remember the vinyl era).

Trevor worked hundreds of sessions between 1971-1977, his primary vocation was as a session musician/arranger, even as Rabbitt became a (hormonally-charged) household name in the country. He played probably every genre of music which was being created and covered in South Africa (historically, songs and albums often had to be recreated by local musicians because the censures did not allow for importation into the country or the SA government might have banned the original recording). There are at least three Lekker Kitaar albums (I state this based on my personal collection: I own numbers one through three), perhaps more than that. On them Trevor covered the popular songs of the day as well as local favorites, translated to a thoroughly populist palatable pop style. But it was never meant to be any kind of actual musical identifier for him, merely a marketing tool, and even before his statement this fact was wholly obvious based on the packaging and content of the albums.

This is NOT Trevor on the cover:

So this particular conceit – when examined against the whole of Trevor’s SA career – is just not that special. Interesting to rabid Rabinites, but not important; especially when one considers he went on to come up with other studio projects with similar aims. For example, The Tee Cee’s was a studio project created to cash in on the demand for disco records, and more than any other recording he appeared on in that vein, the album Disco Love Bite is wholly his: full of his particular methodology and style in every aspect. And it was cunningly named after him (T.C. being his initials) which likely made it that much more attractive to fans without having to actually fully claim it as his own (though his name is all over the credits). As with a lot of things the status of Trevor Terblanche is just a potential trivia question, one of the dozens of permutations of the Maestro’s burgeoning true identity both as a professional and a master of his chosen instrument.

The Man of a Thousand Credits: Trev & Zimmy

One of a continuing series in regards to the myriad variety of Trevor’s discography.


Driven by a need to know things…I can understand the impetus of this obsession all too well. And one would assume the simplest avenue to actual answers is to seek the source, right? The answer is: not always; which is why attention to detail and the examination of various accounts and sources is just as – if not more – valuable every time in the pursuit of research.

Back in 2008, Trevor’s official bio was updated and made mention of him as a sideman/collaborator with Bob Dylan, and such a legendary namecheck is a notable inclusion for certain. My reaction was thus: “Dylan, huh? Wow, really?!” Because having been a Rabinite for nearly three decades now means I’ve uncovered all sorts of surprising credits and you’d think such a one would have been in the forefront of fandom knowledge. As it did not appear to be cited elsewhere I began a search years ago, but the actual evidence eluded the net of my research and thus I turned to other tangents.

And then a direct attempt to elicit further information proved to be rather anticlimactic…recently Trevor stated when questioned in an interview that he couldn’t recall the actual project or the circumstances which led to him being asked to participate. As there appears to be no actual credit in the whole of Dylan’s discography it is now a matter of conjecture beyond the confines of Trevor’s (extremely limited) memory of events.

However, in regards to the timeframe stated by Trevor in his response, the answer is likely the following based on the research I’ve conducted thus far:

In the first half of 1987 Dylan was in Los Angeles working – among other things - on the album Down In The Groove. As with its predecessor, Dylan collaborated with producer Beau Hill (whom at the time was working with bands like Ratt, Winger and Warrant) on this effort, and thanks to the exhaustive efforts of various Dylanologists, the studios involved are documented and one of them was Sunset Sound, where the members of Yes were also working on Big Generator.

Down In the Groove features a veritable laundry list of collaborators – and so it’s not a stretch to imagine a summons based on the aims of the recording, which seemed to employ a modus operandi of employing various and sundry for a day or two. A scenario involving Beau Hill suggesting bringing Trevor in for a session upon learning he was in the building is not out of the realm of possibility. But again, this is only speculation (albeit of the informed kind). It does make for an interesting consideration, to realize that Trevor was apt to be called upon by anyone, and often was; hence my ongoing series regarding an examination of his recording credits. Over a decade of session work by that point made Trevor the facile choice to step into any situation and perform to expectation.

However this release was nearly universally panned by critics upon release and this methodology of Too Many Cooks might have very well contributed to the consensus. The release of the album was delayed and at least three different running orders considered, with about thirty songs recorded, only ten of which made the final cut.

But this is where detail and recollection part ways, in that Trevor claims the two tracks he played on actually made the running order of an album (if not Down In The Groove then some other, one presumes). This is not the first time such a statement has been made (in future I’ll discuss his contribution to the Best Classical Guitar Album Which Never Happened, which Trevor seems to think was actually released). It is possible that his performance is uncredited on the aforementioned and thus we may never know. It seems more likely that he played on two of the songs which were not actually used. At this time, there’s no direct substantiation of his contributions. So anyone who thinks they’re going to conclusively find those tracks, well…good luck with that. No, seriously…because I’d certainly like to know what they are, I have a collection to maintain!

On the other hand, such a quest is the kind of thing which fans live for: the constant search for new (to them) and interesting information to learn about the admired personage…in Trevor’s case there is always something new to learn, some aural discovery to happen upon, and that – yet again – is why I’m a fan.