Sara Harding says she has so many Metal memories of Steve Göldby that it is actually hard to cherry-pick a few.
Loads of us were at Legends Of Rock festival a few years back, and we were all enjoying some lady petrols in a lodge with Steve’s beloved sister Liz Medhurst. For some reason, we got onto the topic of Steve Göldby, and every single one of us had a total rock ‘n’ roll story about him. We literally spent the night crying with laughter as one tale after another unfolded. When we got back, I told Steve, and he was made up that even though he was away in L.A., he was still the star of the show.
So, with tears in my eyes, here are a few of mine.
As you all know, Steve Göldby was a great friend of mine, even living in my flat for a few years (more about that later!)
Although a Metal warrior, Steve was a very kind friend to me. A few years back, when I was single, I was invited to a showbiz wedding and was told I had to have a plus one. I immediately thought of Steve. I asked him to dress up a bit as normally he was in his Maiden T-shirt and ripped jeans.
Well, jaws dropped as Steve turned up to this posh venue in a stunning white suit, black open shirt and dripping in silver jewellery. The snobby maître d took one look at him and said, “Are you the magician we hired?”
To which, without even the blink of an eye, he replied, “I’m not a magician, but I tell you what – I can make the whole of that top shelf of the bar disappear.” Everyone cried with laughter.
Another classic is a Ramblin’ Man festival in Maidstone. Steve was having a fantastic time in the VIP bar, lording it up with all of us. As the last band played, Steve discovered the bar was left unattended at night, so he broke in and organised his own backstage party.
With drinks unlimited, obviously, Göldby got hammered. The next thing he remembers is being woken up by sunshine and a very dry mouth. He comes to and realises he is fast asleep on the main stage by the vocalist’s mic much to some very bemused roadies chagrin.
Feeling like shit, he staggers into the nearest bathroom. “I was washing his plums in the sink,” he said. He then realised he was in the ladies’ room, and the head honcho of the festival was watching on in sheer disbelief.
But my favourite has to be when Steve rented my flat in South Ealing. I was living just down the road in Brentford, so when Steve asked if he could move in, it was a no-brainer. But little did I know the carnage he was causing.
There is still no sambuca left in his favourite local pub, Roddy’s Bar, and he even added our beloved landlords Sandra and Mark to the Metaltalk family as he was there so much it became Metaltalk HQ for years.
Everyone in my council estate got to know Steve. He charmed the local chavs, kids, criminals and with Dutch often staying with his huge Harley Davidson, they were the talk of the town. I had heard of big parties, rock ‘n’ roll nights, and bands staying over, but I just thought that was typical Göldby.
Eventually, he moved out, and when I moved back in, it took me ages to repair the rock ‘n’ roll damage.
One day, at six in the morning, there was a huge banging on my door and men shouting, “Open up, it’s the police.” I opened my front door with my short black negligee and my huge bed hair, and I stared, stunned, as nine armed police stormed their way into my flat with a search warrant.
I asked them what was going on. “Does Steve Göldby live here?” They asked, to which I replied, “No, he moved out a couple of weeks ago.” They didn’t seem to believe me.
I was in total shock. They said they had flown down from Scotland to arrest him. They looked up and said, “Is that a loft? Is he hiding up there?”
By now, I was shitting myself. All I could think of asking was, “Is he a serial killer?” I then noticed a copper smirking at my question, but all I could think of were dead goth girls lying buried in my attic. Anyhow, the police do a full search up there and come down and finally leave, disappointed they hadn’t got their man.
I was left thinking, WTF has he done? It turns out he had called the Pope a C-bomb, and it has got into the Scottish press, and that’s why they were hunting him down. But I genuinely thought he was the next John Wayne Gacy for a bit!
We had the exact same sense of humour and could set each other off by just saying, “Oh, Hi there, Steve. It’s Jeff here. I’m still getting the death threats.” This was often a message on Steve’s voicemails from his football journalist mate, who was always getting grief from fans. But he would say it like he was talking about the weather. Oh, you know, just the usual death threats.
There are so many other stories, from Steve being arrested at the Europe gig in Shepherd’s Bush Empire to being matched for a date with his own sister Liz to his epic speeches about his visions for the future of Heavy Metal.
I never use the word legend lightly. But to me, Steve Göldby is a total bloody legend and I will miss his Metal mayhem forever. He was a cancer warrior like me, and I know how hard it was for him. But he bloody rocked his battle.
Huge love to Hayley, Liz and Steve’s family, who I had the honour of meeting.
If you wish to share a tribute or memory of Steve Göldby, then please email Editor@MetalTalk.net.
You can read more memories of Steve Göldby here.
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Steve Göldby Remembered / Sara Harding first appeared on
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