Dave Dover of the Daves

Dave Dover of the Daves has been a roadie for so long that most of his childhood memories involve loading vans. Nobody's quite sure which band he’s actually a roadie for. He seems to just turn up. One minute you’re in a venue in Manchester, the next Dave’s appeared from behind a speaker stack carrying a flight case and asking where the kettle is. He’s been to Berlin, Bologna, Bolton and a particularly grim Travelodge outside Crewe, although he insists they’re all basically the same place if you’re working. Dave’s got a van, a roll of gaffer tape and a pair of trainers that have been through more European countries than most passports. He once drove to Amsterdam for a gig and came back with a fog machine, two traffic cones and someone called Mick. Nobody remembers inviting Mick.

The thing about Dave is that he’s always prepared. Rain? Coat. Broken cable? Sorted. Singer’s lost their passport? Dave knows a bloke. Bass player’s locked themselves in the toilet at 3am in Lyon? Dave’s already got the screwdriver. He carries so much stuff around with him that people have started to suspect he’s actually a travelling hardware store. Ask him what’s in his pockets and he’ll just say “bits”. There are batteries, cable ties, a pen that doesn’t work, three foreign coins, a tiny torch, a packet of Polo mints from 2004 and, for some reason, a laminated photograph of the old Maine Road scoreboard. He says it’s useful. We’re not sure how. Dave also refuses to use sat-nav because “the roads have changed, not me”, which is probably why he once ended up driving a van full of amplifiers into a garden centre in Warrington.

These days Dave can usually be found somewhere behind a stage, wearing something sensible and looking mildly annoyed at whoever has just asked him if the band can have “a bit more atmosphere”. He’s seen bands split up, reform, split up again and then reform for a one-off gig at a leisure centre in Sheffield. He’s slept in service stations, eaten thousands of meal-deal sandwiches and knows exactly which venues have the good toilets. He reckons the best job he ever did was a festival in Belgium where it rained for four days and he had to move 400 chairs by himself. “Was alright,” he says. “Had a roof.” That’s Dave Dover of the Daves. He doesn’t ask for much. Just a dry place to stand, a cup of tea and for nobody to touch his gaffer tape.

p.s. Dave’s favourite band? Doves. Strange answer for a guy called Dover.