Harlow Playhouse Thurs Feb 25th

After the nerve - mangling fartitudiness of yesterday, a bit of calm and normality is definitely called for today, and thanks be to Sooty, tonight's show is in Harlow, so we will be back in business. You only have to walk in and have a quick look around to know that this is a Real Theatre. There are no excuses today....we've got everything we need and we know we've almost sold out, so if we can't deliver a top - notch show tonight then the Scales of Justice will weigh against us and we really SHOULD be taken out and beaten over the head with a wet mackerel ( see what we did there ? Scales ? Mackerel ? Y'know, fish and all that......never mind).This is one of those shows that just goes together like a dream and we even have time to experiment a bit with some lighting and audio-visual ideas. This is doubly useful because we've got another person on board today, lighting dude Damian, who will be taking over for a while while Rodders scoots off to Germany to hook up with Runrig on a short tour of Europe. In the bad old days, when we had to use the theatre's lighting folks as we couldn't afford to have our own lighting person and lighting " specials ", this wouldn't have been an issue, but the difference having a dedicated lighting engineer makes is immense. We've always put on a good show, but now we're putting on a good SHOW, and the impact it's having on our audiences can't be underestimated, especially on those seing us for the first time. The core production values are as good as anything you'll see on tour right now and even the effects with a whiff of gorgonzola about them, such as the Golden Box of Wonderment, are winning people over largely because of that very " cheese " factor and also because of the comedy element the band have brought to things. There's only one bit that we're not totally convinced about, and that's the " flowers gag " at the end of Jamie's solo stint on Handbags & Gladrags. It's a good idea in principle but the props themselves aren't great and for me it devalues Jamie's performance somehow. We need to have a bit of a chat about this one, I think. Another thing we need to have a look at is Steve's onstage sound monitoring. Without wandering TOO far off the beaten track of Plain English and into the Forest of Technical Gobbledegook, each band member has a monitor speaker, or " wedge ", through which they get their own mix of sound in order to be able to hear what they and everyone else is playing onstage. Pug is the person in charge of sorting this out, a kind of Monitors Monitor, if you will, and he sits behind his mixer in the shadows of stage left, watching over his charges like....well, like a monitor engineer. The monitor engineer on any tour has a bit of a thankless task, to be honest; if he does his job perfectly and everyone can hear themselves just fine, no-one mentions it, but if he gets it arse - upwards for any reason, or if a band has a bad night because they're hung over, tired, or just plumb talentless, it's always the monitor guy's fault. Fortunately Pug has the demeanour of Magic Roundabout's Dylan, and almost defines the phrase " chilled out ", but even he's getting a tad tense about things at the minute. One of the problems with sorting monitors for Steve is that he's a LOUD player, so to get the sound levels he needs we've been using bigger monitor speakers than the other guys have. The one he's currently got is the Canary Wharf of monitors, a skyscraper of sound that looms up on his left like some great monolith. It's big and it's powerful but it's not ideal; it may deliver several hundred decibels of sound right into his lughole but it's also pointing past him and across the stage, so it throws a great swathe of noise to stage right like some sonic death ray, stunning all in it's path. I'd always thought Phil took the circuitous route to his microphone that he does to avoid treading on cables or something; turns out he's dancing around using Den as some kind of human shield against the aural assault ! Anyhoo...on the big, open stage at Harlow the sound swirls around a bit and tends to go upwards as well as outwards, so within a couple of numbers it's clear Steve's struggling to hear what he needs, and Pug's manfully twiddling knobs and pushing faders to try and put things right. They're not happy. From a gig point of view, though, tonight's going great, juat as we'd hoped it would....this is very much a partisan crowd and we see a lot of faces that have been at gigs earlier in the tour, so unless the band suddenly take leave of their senses and opt to perform their long - lost freeform jazz opus " My Teacup's Got Bits In It Where The Varnish Fell Off ", then tonight is done and dusted. They stick to the normal set, of course, and as the cliche goes, duly rock the house. Den's got his family with him tonight and as I look at them I wonder what it must be like to see your Dad, husband, brother or boyfriend up there onstage at the centre of all this adulation. Of course, they've seen him play many times before, but there's definitely a sense of this tour being different, of being a turning point, and I wonder again if in years to come his kids will say they were there on the tour when it all really took off for Dad. In fact I'd love it if ALL our children could say that, to be honest...we've been in this business a long time and given it everything we've got, so it would be fantastic for it to finally give us something back. Backstage afterwards all is happy happy joy joy, but as we break down the gear we can see Pug's not feeling the same vibe. He just wants to do the best job and is frustrated that he's still having problems with Steve's situation. These are the kind of issues that can grow into major problems on a tour, so Arthur and I make a mental note to talk to the guys and see what can be done. Arthur has also come up with a potential Plan B which we can try at the next show, so we hope we can head this issue off at the pass. Tonight, though, Harlow belongs to us. OK, so it might not have the same ring to it as " Hollywood " but you've got to start SOMEWHERE.......

Harpenden Public Halls Wed Feb 24th

So Jim Morrison turns to Buddy Holly and says " This Bootleg Sixties lot....their tour seems to be going pretty well, doesn't it ? " Sure does " agrees Buddy. John Lennon looks up from the book he's reading and says " Yeah, I heard that too. What do you reckon, Jimi ? " Hendrix puts down his heavenly guitar and scratches his afro. " Well, they seem like good guys.... maybe we should just leave 'em be ". Karen Carpenter shakes her head and twirls her drumsticks. " No way, guys...you know The Rules. " With a sweet smile she plays a drum roll on her floor tom tom and looks down.......
" Sounds like thunder " says Rodders as the car pulls up to Harpenden Public Halls. Arthur, Nick and Steve are standing outside. They don't look happy. In fact they are the living embodiment of not looking happy-ness. As we climb out the car Arthur's almost vibrating with anger. " No point unloading the truck " he says, " Looks like we might not have a gig ". Behind him the two house techs and the hall manager shift nervously from foot to foot. They've got the look of of ferrets in the presence of a particularly miffed Jack Russell, and, being the perceptive sort of chap that I am, I get the vague impression that something's not quite right here. In fact things are about as not quite right as it's possible to be. We are in the very capital city of Not Quite Rightness. Things are SO not quite right that this entire blog could be devoted to a litany of the disasters, cock - ups, technical failings and general crapness we find. I'll spare you the full horror, but you really do need to know what faced us today. In short......Firstly, the venue has no online box office, so it uses the Alban Arena's site in St Albans. The Arena had an initial allocation of forty tickets, which, when they were sold, were not replenished for some reason , so anyone trying to buy tickets was finding they couldn't. Thinking the show was possibly sold out, they just left it. The reality is, of course, that we've sold those forty tickets....and that's it. We know there'll be some people coming tonight to pay on the door, but this is nothing short of disaster. Secondly, no-one has read our technical rider, so we find that the hall doesn't have any of the lights we need. Instead it's got a roof full of huge, dust - covered theatrical floods that wouldn't have looked out of place in Charlie Chaplin's Hollywood. There are a few spotlights on a bar at the front of the stage, but to add insult to injury we are told that these belong to a separate company and can only be touched by their staff.....who aren't here, of course, and can't be reached. The electrical power supply onstage is extremely iffy, they don't have a drum riser, the stage is about ten feet high, the lighting bars are winched up and down by a hand - crank that requires the forearm muscles of Popeye to move them even a fraction of an inch, and basically it's just not happening, in quite a major way. The power's the main thing; we consider trying to make it safe by wiring Pug into the mains somehow and using him as an earth. For some reason the little spoilsport won't go for it, so we just take a leap of faith, plug in and hope for the best. The first good news of the day...this doesn't blow the place up or raze it to the ground, so we move into wheel re-invention mode just as we did at Market Drayton. At times like this you really learn how good your team is, and once again everyone delivers.....it's just like Dunkirk. Except without the screaming German Stuka dive bombers. And the cold waters of the Channel. And the abject terror of getting your cobblers blown to Kingdon Come. You get the idea, though. We get the band to come in later than usual, and by the time they arrive, almost unbelievably, we've got a show and we're all set. It's very much a case of lights on or lights off, but Rodders has managed to get most of the MAC moving heads in, so at least we'll have SOME sort of production. The band's attitude is great, though....they know what a shitfight today has been for us and genuinely seem to to appreciate what we've all gone through to make the show happen, so they do a very brief soundcheck and let us have a much - needed twenty - minute break. The audience starts to come in and thankfully it's less sparse than we'd feared, but it's still woefully short of what we'd need, like and even deserve....the venue really haven't heard the last of this. The Rock Gods have obviously had their fun for the day, though, and opt to leave us alone now, because when the band kick off this small band of people make enough noise for an audience twice the size. They're LOVING it,and it becomes another one of those smashing little intimate shows like Market Drayton and Tamworth where the band and audience really connect. They're up and bopping way before the normal tipping point, and the calls for an encore are long and genuine. Ironically it's been one of the the better shows, and proves that you don't need a huge stage and massive crowd to have a great night. It's SUCH a shame that the venue made a pig's ear of the ticket thing, as this could have been an absolute stonker of a gig, but that's the way the pisspot cracks, as my old Gran used to say. We load out into the pouring rain knowing that we've all done a great job here, and the stress of the day is further eased by the fact that we know we're playing a virtually sold - out show tomorrow night. On the way back home afterwards as we sit in the car and munch on slices of " Tank " ( more of which another time ) we reflect on the day's events. Everyone's totally knackered, physically but also mentally, because of the stress we've had to deal with. It seems like every day we play a nice theatre and we're getting into the groove, we then follow it up with something like this. It'd made a great work study....The Adaptability of The Average British Road Crew....and we always manage to rise to the challenge, but the fact of the matter is that we could do without this kind of thing. It's just caused by lazy buggers at venues not reading their contracts and riders properly, or not passing them on to the relevant technical staff, and then not returning calls or being available to talk to us. Three of us are in our fifties, two of us are carrying injuries already, and this kind of poo-fest simply isn't what we signed up for. Once again I'm swelling with pride in all the lads, though, band and crew alike. We started out almost pulling the show when we got here and yet ended up with a corking night. As Jimmy Greaves used to say, it's a funny old game.....

Stevenage Gordon Craig Theatre Tues Feb 23rd

When you look at a tour itinerary and see those blessed words " Day off " your mind starts to flip through the multifarious possibilities this leisure time will offer you. You could start that correspondence course in Modern Sanskrit you've been meaning to do, or finally pick up War & Peace and read it cover to cover. You could go horseriding, windsurfing, sailing, or mountaineering, or even ( my personal favourite ) spend the day lying down with your face in a bowl of Lindor chocolate. Sadly the reality is much more mundane, and chances are you'll either try and deposit a few more hours in the Sleep Bank, or empty your tour bag and wash those dirty hoggers before they climb out and get in the machine by themselves. You might just mong out in front of the tube with your wife / girlfriend / boyfriend / stoat and have a Chinese takeaway. All of these things involve a degree of much - needed relaxation, and so days off are to be treasured. Where the wheel comes off, however, is when you a) don't get home until 5.00 that morning b) have to advance the next few shows c) and have all the tour paperwork to catch up on. Having spent the " day off " doing all of the above, Arthur and I are actually looking forward to the relaxation of another show and it's accompanying fifteen - hour day. After the relative downer of Weymouth, we're very happy that today's gig is just a kick up the arse away from home base, and is also in the very well-equipped Gordon Craig. It's got a nice flat load - in onto a BIIIIIIGGGG stage, loads of power, scads of lighting bars, an extremely helpful and efficient crew and we know it's sold well.....wiz zeez theatres you are spoiling us, Mr Ambassador ! Despite the fact that it's well below freezing outside and snowing constantly, we're a happy bunch today, bolstered by a couple of warm bags of Tesco's finest jam and custard doughnuts, and we've even finally christened the Kitchen Flightcase, which we've hauled unopened from venue to venue so far. It's full of tea, coffee and other delights, but we've not been able to use it as we haven't got around to buying any disposable cups. Nick manages to track some down, though, and soon we've got a proper little catering area on the go. With shows like this where there's an easy access and lots of room, everything gets put up quickly as you don't have to be going " After you, Claude" " NO, I insist, Ernest, after YOU " every time you walk across the stage. All your empty cases can be stored in the wings, and the spaghettifest of cables that make everything work is neatly run and out of the walkways. This speedy build means we sometimes get that rare beast after soundcheck, the Hour's Break, during which time we do those little chores like eating or maybe even trying to grab a nap, and so it proves today, so I get my toolkit and head to the theatre workshop to do a bit of maintenance work. Part of this involves putting new wheels on Phil's amp flightcase, and this little bit of carpentry neatly avoided the necessity to take a large axe to the bugger the next time we tried to roll it in or out of anywhere. For reasons known only to itself, the castors on this bloody thing will only roll in one direction, so Nick, being a resourceful sort of chap, had put a white gaffa tape arrow on top of the case, with the legend " Push This Way Only " on it. Clever stuff, you might think, and you'd be right, until the first time someone puts the lid on the wrong way round and you give the thing a big, manly shove towards the loading bay, only to come to a juddering halt after about six inches and being catapulted over the top of the case, barking your shins on the edge in the process. No, new wheels it is, or the thing's going to be taken out and shot at dawn. I'm also making an improvement to the Golden Box of Wonderment. Rather than just have it sit there in a cloud of haze, someone's come up with the wizard wheeze of actually piping the smoke directly into the box, so that it comes out of the box's holes when the internal light switches on. Eager to push the boundaries of hi - tech stage prop development, we grab a discarded vacuum cleaner hose and a few lengths of offcut aluminium tubing from a rubbish bin and set to with all the fervour of a Blue Peter presenter on crack. Amazingly, this scrapyard set - up works, and even Phil's impressed, though when he realises he has to dip his hand " blind " into a cauldron of smoke to retrieve the "Hank " glasses his enthusiasm wanes a little; perhaps he knows us too well and is already anticipating what kind of substitute articles we can put in there for his groping fingers to latch onto. As if we would.......Showtime rolls around, and we start our build - up ( stretching exercises, deep breathing, checking set lists, making sure the chocolate is within reach ). The house is looking good and they're also quite noisy, especially the three pissed women necking wine and beer straight from the bottle right in front of the PA on my side of the stage. These shy, retiring maidens are wearing t-shirts which proclaim them to be the " bitches " of an absent crew member, so we make a mental note to give him the Spanish Inquisition when we next see him. When the band come on the noise ratchets up even further, and we know we're in for a good 'un. We've still got the odd technical issue here and there but by and large we're on cruise control now. Right at the start of these blogs I made the point that the one thing we weren't worried about was the band themselves and their ability to deliver ( this was right before Den lost his voice and we had to cancel shows !!!! ) but I have to say that playing night after night has turned them into an even more fearsome proposition. They just seem to get better, and far from being jaded by continous playing, they're getting even stronger and more confident if such a thing's possible. Don't forget, constant touring's a very new thing for this band, which is used to working constantly but in short bursts. The links between the songs are slicker, and tonight they even throw in sharp, funny ad libs in response to banter from the crowd. They're totally nailing it night after night ( sorry.....that was pure " X Factor ", wasn't it ? Consider me suitably chastised ). We're only doing one encore as part of this tour but tonight, as with pretty much every night so far, the audience would have let the band play on and on. Always leave them wanting more, though, as the old theatrical saying goes, so it's " Thankyou and goodnight ! " then out to the foyer to sign autographs and meet the fans, friends and family. It's been a really good night, one of the best, and we even get three very pretty ( and fortunately clean ) lacy thongs thrown onto the stage, which is some kind of milestone " first " for the band, causing the lads to argue among themselves about who was the intended recipient of this shower of undergarments. Sadly these miniscule scanties didn't look QUITE so alluring stretched over Nick's ample posterior when he decided to wear them atop his jeans for the get - out. Not TOTALLY sure why he did this, but we'll be having a quiet word in the morning......We're playing another relatively local show tomorrow, so this takes the edge off the usual grind of the load - out. We've never done a show at tomorrow's venue, Harpenden Public Halls, and we've also had no technical comeback from them despite many, many calls and e-mails, but it's a regular, decent sized gig. What could POSSIBLY go wrong....?

Weymouth Pavilion Sun Feb 21st

And so to Weymouth. When we leave the hotel in Shrewsbury we're greeted with a winter wonderland of snow, which fortunately starts to melt within a couple of miles. It's a four - hour drive at least to tonight's show, and the last thing we need is to be racing Amundsen to the South Pole as well....things are bad enough already. At this point I'd like to recommend a fantastic cure for insomnia....sit in a 7.5 ton truck which is governed at 58mph and do a 200 mile drive. It plumbs new depths of boredom hitherto unknown to man, and should only be attempted by the very foolhardy or the Bootleg Sixties' crew. And I'd like to do a little rant against our wonderful governing bodies here, too....why is it that the " easy targets " of UK- based trucks and drivers are subjected to draconian safety checks, crippling driver's hours restrictions and this bloody ridiculous 58mph limit, while clapped out Turkish artics held together by dirt, chicken shit and gaffa tape hurtle past at 70mph with Mustafa at the wheel having driven nonstop from Istanbul, mobile in one hand, kebab in the other and lines of amphetamine sulphate racked out on the dashboard ? Fortunately I'm not angry or bitter about it, as you can tell.....We finally arrive at the show, and memories of the " Heartbeat " tour come flooding back. This was the venue where that ill-fated project finally ground to a halt some years ago, and there's the loading dock where Arthur's hand and the obnoxious Aussie lighting guy's throat had an unfortunate interface. This is most definitely a happier tour than the aformentioned fiasco, but we're all a bit travel- weary today and the enthusiasm levels are low. It's nice to be back in a " proper " theatre, though, with plenty of room for everything and all the facilities we're used to, but as with Hunstanton there's something about a seaside town out of season that's innately depressing, and the theatre seems suddenly bigger and barer than it was when we arrived. We're also driving home straight after tonight's show, so the prospect of another four - hour slog isn't exactly helping the overall mood, but we send out for some very fine fish and chips and for a short while all is right with the world. The band themselves seem strangely subdued today, and at the start of the set it's almost like they're conserving energy. The audience numnbers are decent but in this big old gaff they seem lost and they're very, VERY quiet. This is new ground for us on this tour, and the band are initially a bit thrown by the lack of response. The jokes that had the audience laughing away last night are greeted by virtual silience tonight, and you can almost see the tumbleweed rolling across the stage. We're getting applause but just the odd cheer, and the weirdest thing is that we just don't know why....the band might not be operating flat out but even at three-quarter throttle they still kick the arses of anyone else out there. There's only one thing to do, and that's just carry on. From my little hidey-hole at the side of the stage I can see the odd person clapping their hands or nodding along, but this is as far removed from last night's audience love-in as a politician's words are from the truth. We're almost relieved when the interval comes, and Manchester United fan Den does a Fergie and gives the others a bit of the old hairdryer treatment in the dressing room. It's not popular but it seems to work, though, as the second half is much more positive, and you can actually see the lads raising their game. ( That's the end of the football analogies, by the way ). Technically we're having a bit of a 'mare....there seems to be an issue with the speakers at stage left but we can't find out what the problem is, and everyone's so tired that even the little problems seem more serious. It's all I can do to keep awake even though the band are belting though You Really Got Me just yards away, but soon the finishing line's in sight, and the band have somehow just about warmed the audience up...and then two songs from the end Steve's bass drum pedal falls over just as the band drop into the accapella section of Daydream Believer. He can't fix it and can't catch Nick's eye, so he has to run offstage to get Nick, and suddenly tempers flare. The problem's quickly fixed and Steve finishes the set, but it's a sour note to end on and it's all very uncomfortable for a while. Now here's the mental bit....as the audience leave we hear lots of them talking about it being the best show they've seen for a while, wasn't it great and so on....We decide that we'd really rather not be here with a band they DON'T like, and load out the gear in record time before heading for home. Now, not all that long ago I'd have happily jumped behind the wheel and done this in one hit stopping only for fuel and a bag of finest Quavers, but I'm older, wearier, and generally more crap these days, so I gratefully hand the keys to the Pugster, climb in the back of the car and am snoring and dribbling within minutes of setting off. We've arranged to rendezvous with Arthur and Rodders in the truck at the M3 services near Southampton, so I manage to drag myself into consciousness when we arrive and go to fuel up with some chocolate and tea. There now follows something of a blank, Faithful Blogreader. I apparently drove back to Bedford from there, but have no recollection of this whatsoever...though if my fellow travellers are reading this, I was razor - sharp and wide awake the whole time... We finally get home just before 5.00am, and not for the first time I reflect on the unremitting glamour and glitz of life in the music business. I sit down to do the blog but it's not reallyzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Market Drayton Festival Centre Sat Feb 20th

Despite the problems with the sleeping arrangements last night, most of us get a decent kip, and, bolstered by sausages and bacon from the Frankie & Benny's next door to the hotel we head north- west. It's a beautiful, crisp morning, with a clear, blue cloudless sky. There's a heavy frost and a smattering of snow on the ground still, and as the sun warms our faces this melts and glistens, so everything shines as if the whole world has been polished. The traffic's light, the truck cab's warm, and we're on the road. The sleepy little town of Market Drayton awaits us, nestling in between the rolling Shropshire hills. It's not famous for all that much other than just being quiet and pretty, though if ever you change your name by deed poll, this is where all the paperwork will be processed, trivia fans ! Despite Doris the sat nav's best attempts to send us via Norwich, we pull up outside the Festival Centre ten minutes ahead of schedule, and get out to stretch our legs. The building is actually an old Methodist chapel, and it's small. As in shoebox-sized small. As in " Bugger...how's THIS going to work ? " small. Rodders and I go in, hoping against hope to find a stadium - sized venue somehow hiding behind this tiny exterior, but no, this is it. The fact that it seems to be crammed with ridiculously attractive young women in skimpy leisure gear immediately jumps the place up the league into a Champions League qualifying spot, but then we see the theatre itself and suddenly relegation beckons. The stage itself isn't that bad; only a tiny bit smaller than Tamworth, and we managed fine there, but the lighting bars can't be dropped down, the only access to these bars is via what appears to the world's largest step ladder ( it's not my real ladder, it's my step - ladder....) the load - in is up a flight of wooden stairs, there are no dressing rooms backstage and no stage crew to help us. However, Geoff and Glyn, the two main men in the organisation here, pitch in, and we get the truck unloaded in good time. I must confess I was feeling a bit negative about the whole thing at this point....I couldn't really see how we were going to get the visuals working, for a start, and when the rest of the crew arrive I let my feelings be known, so there's a bit of a bad vibe floating around for a bit. However, we've done this kind of thing so many times before that we quickly decide on a game plan and get stuck in. That's the way it has to be in this game....if you're going to do the show, do the show. Don't bitch, don't bleat, just make a plan and get on with it. It's cosy onstage but totally workable, and all we'll have to drop out of the show will be the pyrotechnics, unless I want to risk a November 5th - stylee conflagraton. The staff here are all volunteers, and what they may lack in technical expertise they more than make up for in enthusiasm and general
niceness. When the band arrive I'm half - expecting the " what are we doing playing here ? " complaints, but after the wide open spaces of Worthing they're obviously happy to be playing somewhere more intimate, and this is as intimate as an airport customs body - search. Soundcheck goes without a hitch and the lovely people of the Festival Centre then cook us a meal and even take our drinks order for the interval...now how civilized is THAT ?! I'd just like to say that I only tried all three types of their delicious home-made cake for purely scientific purposes, and not, as was scurrilously claimed by other members of the touring party, because I'm a greedy fat bastard. And so to showtime. The venue sold out some time ago, and you can almost feel the expectation. There hasn't been so much excitement since Sally Morgan the famous medium was due to appear here ( sadly her show was cancelled due to unforseen circumstances ) and the show's in the bag right from the off...the audience are even laughing and cheering the intro video footage! Despite almost not beng able to move, the lads are clearly loving it tonight, and sitting as I am about three feet away from Phil's guitar amp, I'm finding out again just how powerful a beast they can be up close. Clive's not on this run of shows so we've got the lovely "Tomps" Tompkins running AV, and as I look over at him on my left he's singing away into his headset as he fires in the moving images onto the back screens. I can see the lads sweating, a good sign that they're getting into it, and they're smiling and making loads of eye contact with each other, because they know what they're capable of and what's happening here. This is turning into a great gig. All the jokes are laughed at, all the songs cheered to the rafters, and the band are giving it some serious wellie. Despite the venue having accidentaly sold the seats at the back where he normally mixes the sound from, Arthur gets it bang on from his new location about two rows from the front, and although we couldn't get Rodder's MAC moving lights up in the air here, he's managed to get a fair few in dotted around the stage, and they look like mental, coloured searchlights in this tiny room. The positioning of two of them on the front of Steve's drum riser was a BIT of a problem; during his solo on Pretty Woman, as the beams raked across his flailing hands I noticed he'd taken on a certain " rabbit frozen in the headlights " facial expression, and so I picked up a handy fire extinguisher in case I needed to revive him. Normal service was resumed as soon as the MACs went off, though, so despite being baked AND blinded, he soldiered on until the interval, at which point he was spotted backstage blundering into walls and trying to sign an autograph for a vending machine. At the end of the show it was genuine standing ovation time, and the audience would have let us play all night if we could. A brilliant gig, one of the best on the tour without a doubt, and we decide we definitely want to come back and play for these lovely people again. Even Doris's attempts to get her own back by sending Rodders and I to a cosy ditch deep in the countryside near Shrewsbury instead of to the hotel can't take the edge off tonight. It's a long old poke down to Weymouth tomorrow, but that's another day. Another tiny part of the western world has fallen beneath the wheels of our mighty campaign, and tonight we are the KINGS OF ROCK, I TELL YOU, THE KINGS !!!!! NOTHING CAN STOP US NOW !!!........erm, might be time for bed now.....

Worthing Assembly Hall Fri Feb 19th

PAH ! Call that winter ?? I SPIT on your winter !!!! In that uniquely British way most of the snow which made last night's journey home such a nailbiter has totally gone, and though it's cold there's nothing that's going to stop us getting to Worthing now. Or so we thought. We'd reckoned without NCP's largest car park, the Stationary Ring Of Steel, or as it's known to the Highways Agency, the M25. We even tried to pull a clever flanker on it, with Rodders going around in a widdershins direction in the truck and Arthur trying to distract it on the clockwise side. This is no ordinary motorway, though. It saw through our cunning plan in an instant, and threw miles of roadworks in front of one vehicle while stacking up pre- weekend traffic in front of the other. DENIED !! We just have to go with the flow ( or lack ot it, to be more precise ) and we thus get to Worthing an hour late. We're up against it from the word go here. Unlike theatres with their fly roof structures, giving you loads of bars to drop in and hang bits off, or even Bedford with it's it's Incredible Descending Lighting Rig, there are only two lighting trusses here, one at the back and one at the front. The fact that we can get our projectors and moving lights up at all is amazing in itself, but the projectors are so far from the screens that the image is shagged out by the time it gets there and so it's bleached out by the stage lighting. It's a big, cold, austere hall, and not one we have especially fond memories of from our last visit, but the local crew are friendly and welcoming. THey need to be, too, because we're all stressy, snappy tosspots. Building a show like this is pretty sequential work, so if your schedule gets knocked off course things start going all Spanish very quickly. Everyone's trying to get things done at the same time, so Arthur's shouting to Pug about PA things while Rodders is shouting to the house lads about lights, and it's bit like a market with rival stallholders trying to out - yell each other. Nothing can be done onstage until the projectors are set and lined up but we can't afford to hang about and wait for this, so Steve and I start to assemble the instruments and things on the floor. This then causes friction as it's in the way, so you can't win. To relieve the tension and frustration I go outside and murder a passing pedestrian before whaling the tar out of some old rubbish bags with a big piece of wood I found by the stage door. I'm nothing if not totally mature, me.....Back inside the projectors are finally in the air and things can crack on. The band are due for soundcheck at any minute and we haven't even set up the drumkit yet, but we must have just been at that crucial tipping point with the whole thing because twenty minutes later we're plugging in the last cables, setting out the last guitars, toting the last barge and lifting the last bale. Something's missing , though....ah yes...the band. Having opted for the clockwise option round Satan's By-Pass they'd been snarled up for ages, plus Nick's sat-nav seems to have an innate " take them the pretty way " function, so it's about five when they finally tip up. Chris and his wife Sherry had made their own way here much earlier, and so while they were out sampling the delights of Worhing's attractions we'd been wondering how we were going to tell him that tonight there was a good chance that he'd be playing the entire show by himself. When the others finally get there they're straight into it and we're seeing another of the benefits of touring...the band know what they need to do and hear and Arthur and Pug know what THEY need, so soundchecks are getting shorter and more efficient. A more in-depth description of the vile process known as The Soundcheeck will follow in a later post ( bet you can't wait....! ). There are quite a lot of friends and guests here tonight, which is always nice, but the other big news is that we've literally doubled the attendance figure we achieved here last time, and let me tell you, all four audience members really enjoyed the show.....When the band kick off the first set the size and decor of the place really does seem to create an atmosphere vacuum, and the crowd are very much in keeping with Worthing itsef...genteel and polite. We can't get any haze to stay onstage, so the lights look cold and flat, and when we fire in the smoke machine for the Golden Box of Wonderment skit it belches out of the machine before instantly doing a sharp left offstage and suffocating the front three rows. People in the rest of the theatre are going " what's the guitarist doing with that weird box ? "while the people in the fron three rows are going " Where's the stage ?" " Who put the lights out ? " and " OhgodohgodIcan'tbreatheI'mgoingtosueyoubastards". The second half is much more the ticket, however. The "psychedelic " section seems to be the catalyst, and as the band shift up into top gear for the run-in it's a done deal. There's a momentary wobble when it looks like no-one's going to respond to Den's exhortatios to get up and dance for Mony Mony but then the first brave soul stands and everyone else follows. You'll Never Walk Alone is proper terrace anthem time...arms aloft and bricklayer's choruses...and once again the management ask us when they can book us again. This is getting to be a habit, and we're really starting to accept that we've got something special happening here. We head off into the Sussex night bound for our hotel in Dorking ( Do you like Dorking ? I don't know...I've never Dorked....) with spirits high, and even the obligatory daily sting in the tail doesn't faze us. When we reach the hotel we're told that apparently we are meant to request bedding for the second person in each room ahead of our stay, and that they haven't got any left. My suggestion that they put some frssh straw in the stable for us doesn't go down too well with the hotel staff, but the boys are made of stern stuff these days and avert this potential disaster with a bit of good old - fashioned bed-sharing a la Morecambe and Wise. Remember...the band that sleeps together, keeps together.....

Bedford Corn Exchange Thurs Feb 18th

Before we get into today's missive, I must say a brief and humble word of thanks to you, Faithful Blogreader, for the kind words and encouragement that have been filtering back to Camp Bootlegs since we started this whole shebang. Whem it's 3.00am, you're completely shagged out and faced with the prospect of being back up at 7.30 to drive for three hours to the next show, I'd be a lying little minx if I didn't tell you that the very last thing I want to do is write about the day's fun and games. Tedious alternative pastimes like sleep tend to get in the way of the crative flow, hence the somewhat erratic nature of the postings. The fact that people are reading ( and, even more amazingly, apparently enjoying ) these literary dribblings does make the whole thing worthwhile, and I thank you very sincerely. It may not be to everyone's tastes, but I'm hoping what it DOES do is give you a snapshot of the malarkey that goes on behind the scenes out on the road so you can get an idea of what it takes to put the band onstage for that two hours every night. It's not going to be just a series of gig reviews, and it will by definition be a bit "crew-centric" because....well, because I'm on the crew. Hopefully there'll still be something to entertain you, Faithful Reader, so bear with me. So anyway....Bedford Corn Exchange. The first thing to say about the show yesterday is that as our production company Transmedia742.Net is based in Bedford, this is a very familiar venue for us. It's also a bit of a bugger, to be honest....insufficient parking, the gear gets ramped off the truck onto a loading dock but then has to be hoicked up through a hole into the wall onto the stage, so it's a sloooooooooowwww process, and rather than dropping in the lighting and projector bars one by one as we do in most theatres, the entire lighting rig has to be lowered here, so everyone has to run around in cute yellow hard-hats looking like rejects from the Village People. The staff here are great, though, especially Marcello, the mad Italian tech manager, who has been in England for about a grillion years and yet still sounds like he's trying to flog you some ice cream or a gondola ride. We're like a well-oiled machine now, though ( well, one that's had a light coating of WD40 at any rate ) and we're ready to go by 4.30pm. The band are not so lucky, however....between the unadulterated joy of negotiating the town centre's one way system and playing vehiclular Tetris in the microscopic car park, they arrive late and a tad grumpy. They're made of stern stuff these days, though, and the moment they get onstage and start the soundcheck it's professionalism all the way. Everything goes well and the guys go downstairs to the dressing room to scarf up the snacks provided by the venue. As seems to happen on tours, small things can make a big difference, and the soundcheck has totally changed the atmosphere again, so everyone's now relaxed and looking forward to the show....and what a corker it turns out to be. Arthur and I know that audiences here can be a bit non-committal, but these folks are with us from the end of the opening number. The room may not be the best for acoustics but it's got a great vibe to it, and everything LOOKS great too; this is one of those perfect stages where for some indefinable reason the band, sound and lights really come together to make A Show.You really can't out your finger on why this is....it could be just a song that he band play particularly well, or that the audience really go for. It could be that they're enjoying themselves onstage and give off some kind of irresistible pheromone - like scent. It could be that the audience are all shitfaced drunk. Or it could just be the Rcck Gods again playing fast and loose with their humble subjects. Whatever the reason, tonight has it in spades, and there are people dancing way before the usual bopfest from Mony Mony onwards. Pinball Wizard with it's sturm und drang gets a huge cheer, but so does Den's Blowing In The Wind and Jamie's solo turn on Handbags and Gladrags....as the common phrase goes ( and how we SO abhor anything common, my dears...), they're lapping it up, guv. By the time the lads take their final bow they've torn the place up. The venue staff are asking how they can re-book the show and within half an hour of the set ending we're getting rave e-mails via the website from people who were at the show. It's been one of the top two or three gigs on the tour so far, and what it's done is fuelled the band's confidence in themselves and the whole tour..they KNOW they can do this every night, and seeing the normal audience response kicked up a few notches like it was tonight makes everyone realise just what we can achieve with this thing. Despite the prospect of a schlep down to Worthing tomorrow, and the fact that it's wazzing down with cold, cold rain on the get - out, there's Big Love around...which lasts as long as it takes for those of us who live north of Bedford to realise that at some point in the night someone had towed Siberia over the North Sea and dropped it, complete with accompanying blizzards, snowdrifts and gonad -shrivellingly cold temperatures right on top of Northamptonshire. The forty - five minute drive home stretches to nearly two nerve - jangling hours, and suddenly the trip to Worthing takes on a whole new dimension. What if it's like this in the morning ? We wonder if we should sit down and try and work out some clever contingency plan involving the armed forces, International Rescue or possibly a superhero or two, but in the end we just say " Bugger it " and go to bed. Let's hope the weather's as changeable and organic as our tour....

Tamworth Asembly Rooms Wed Feb 17th

It has to be said, the omens for today are not good. Despite the fact that I had no alcohol whatsoever last night, the vagaries of the hotel heating system mean that I wake at 7.00am with a mouth like one of Gandhi's flip-flops and what I'm sure is a pneumatic drill trying to get out of my skull via my eye sockets. I have all the pain of a full - on, gnarly hangover, but without the pleasure of at least having earned it by getting shitfaced at some point in the previous evening. I'm twinning up with Arthur, and he's not only full of cold but has also aggravated his rib injury, so we are the very essence of decrepitude as we stagger from the lifts to rendezvous with the rest of the crew, some of whom HAD been drinking, but nonetheless look annoyingly bright - eyed and bushy - tailed. It's also teeming down with relentless, freezing rain, which helpfully turns to snow as we negotiate the M42bound for Tamworth. The situation isn't helped by one of my daughters ringing from a school trip to Edinburgh telling me that she's sitting atop of Calton Hill basking in warm sunshine and azure skies, and our joy is fully complete when we arrive at the venue to find it locked and silent. There's also nowhere to park as a scooter is helpfully sitting right in the way. Fortunately scooters are quite light, Pug and I are quite determined, and said vehicle was thus bodily picked up and removed to a less intrusive space, allowing the truck to get in. The weather's not relenting, though...it's cold and it's wet and we're pissed off. Someone finally arrives and the doors are opened. There's only one person to help us with the load-in rather than the two stipulated on the contract, and inside, the venue, whilst undeniably beautiful and full of character, has a tiny stage and virtually no wing space. It's like Barbie's Concert Hall, and the contrast with the wide - open spaces of last night's stage at Swindon couldn't be greater. There's no room for spare cases and everything has to be lifted up onto the stage, so within minutes we're all tripping over each other. It's very much square peg in round hole time, and it's slow,frustrating work, so by the time the band arrive everyone's tired and narky. Even the setting and removal of the stools for the acoustic section takes on the properties of some bizarre dance routine; young Steve Liddard looks especially graceful as he reverses offstage through the narrow gangway,one chair held in front of him and one behind. There's nowhere to set Jamie's keyboard so it has to be pushed to the side of the stage, and Nick has ten whole seconds to position it during a video insert. Clive and I are wedged tight behind Missile Command and on the other side of the stage poor old Pug is virtually sitting on Phil's lap, he's that close to the band. We also know the sales haven't been that good for tonight, so all in all today's shaping up to be one of those days best consigned to the rubbish bin of history. As I said at the start, the omens aren't good. But I've forgotten the Rules again, haven't I ? The shift is almost imperceptible at first. The band love the building and actually seem to enjoy the small, tight stage, so they get through their soundcheck in record time, giving us an hour break. We find a Domino's pizza just a kick up the arse away from the theatre, and we're soon hoovering our way through some very welcome hot grub. We're all in a cosy little backstage room and as we munch on our Hot 'n' Spicys and Vegetarian Supremes the banter starts to fly and the tension ebbs away, so by showtime we're pretty much raring to go. It IS a small crowd, but from the end of the first number they make it obvious that they've not come here just to sit and watch politely. Three numbers in and the band are smiling and enjoying themselves, and by the newly - installed " I'm A Believer " at the end of the first set, it's Game Over....another town victoriously conquered as part of our Masterplan for World Domination !!!!!! NO-ONE CAN STOP US NOW!!! MWAH HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAA !!!!( err..sorry about that....). The fact is, the show is literally too big for this theatre...the band, the lights, the images, the whole thing, are almost creating sensory overload in this compact and bijou little corner of Warwickshire...you just can't help but be blown away by it. Even though Den's still having some problems with his voice here and there it's an almost flawless show, and the things we talked about at last night's production meeting have largely been successfully put into practise. It's still not TOTALLY right but we're much less of a " work in progress " than we were even a week ago. The atmosphere on the load - out is light years away from the grumpy taciturnity of this morning, and we've also got the prospect of a ( virtually ) local gig to look forward to tomorrow. We finally shut the truck doors at an impressively early 11.45pm and head off into the Tamworth night. Behind us in the car park a lone rider scratches his head and looks again at the empty space where he's SURE he parked his scooter......

Swindon Wyvern Theatre Tues Feb 16th

We head down to Swindon with the definite sense that the tour gears are slowly cranking us back up to speed. It's always hard to get back in the groove when you've had a break, enforced or otherwise, and we almost stopped before we got going at the start of the tour, so there's still a bit of ring-rust to be got rid of. It's also nice to be finally playing here.....we were all set to come down this time last year, but unfortunately Swindon was at the epicentre of what appeared to be the dawn of a new Ice Age, and the show had to be cancelled. Today is also Clive's birthday, and no-one's really quite sure exactly HOW old he is. He's been around so long we decide that like Bilbo Baggins, it's probably his eleventyth, though fortunately, unlike Bilbo, he doesn't slip on the gold ring and disappear. Instead he celebrates this auspicious occasion like the rest of us, lugging kit out the truck in the rain and generally moaning about what a pile of poo life can be at times, to heartfelt murmurs of agreement. The show gets built really quickly today, another good indication that we're getting back into the groove, and this gives us the time to catch up on the bits and pieces of running maintenance that we've been wanting to do. Most spectacular of these is undoubtedly the inauguration of Rodder's Magic Golden Box of Wonderment, one of our many stunning hi - tech stage effects. Don't be fooled by the plywood and spray - on paint....this is a masterwork of theatrical set construction, built with loving care ( on his day off, no less ! ) by a man at the very top of his game. We use this piece of splendid engineering in the build - up to " Wonderful Land " where Phil miraculously becomes Hank Marvin, and the Golden Box of Wonderment has finally replaced the Cardboard Box of Derision which Nick made yonks ago and which has been reduced to a piece of tattered detritus through repeated humping in and out of trucks and venues. We decided that as we were trying to increase the production values of the show we should finally retire The Box, and so it is ceremonially trampled a bit then hurled into the wings of the theatre, never to be seen again. The Golden Box has arrived, and you can tell immediately on seeing it that, in keeping with the rest of the tour, no expense has been spent. The show itself is a bit of an odd one...the band are starting to click again but there are a couple of glitches here and there and once again we're doing a different set, though this time it's only slightly different from last night and we all absorb the changes with no worries. The crowd's not the biggest we've had on the tour but they really enjoy it, and the band are visibly relaxing back into the tour routine. Arthur has made some notes on tonight's show so we head back to the hotel for a brief production meeting to talk things over and change some stuff around, but the general atmosphere is positive and some good developments come out of it ( it IS The Organic Tour, remember.... ). Truth is, we should have been in this position last week but the enforced hiatus has meant that we've just been firefighting lately. We've now got the basic show established and we're tweaking it rather than starting from scratch as we had to do in Hunstanton and Tunbridge Wells. We've also got a decent batch of shows coming up now, so ( whisper it quietly ) we could finally be up and running properly.....

Hayes The Beck Theatre Sun Feb 14th

Here we are, then, creaking back into action after the enforced break and cruising down the A40. Doesn't sound QUITE as impressive as " cruising down Santa Monica Boulevard " but to be honest no-one really cares....we're just glad to be back on the road. This is a nice one to get back in the saddle with as well....good facilities, close to home, and it's been selling healthily too. This being a Booties show, however, it just wouldn't be right if there wasn't some kind of cowpat laid by the devil's own satanic herd just awaiting the tread of our unsuspecting feet. The arsepain du jour is a loading ramp so steep it wouldn't have looked out of place with Eddie The Eagle gurning his way down it en route to another crash landing. It's like the north face of the bloody Eiger, and suddenly everyone remembers something REALLY important that they have to go inside the theatre and check on. Out comes the electric cattle prod, though, and the crew are herded back onto the loading dock where Clive has just arrived in the truck and is attempting to inch his way up to the top of this vertiginous nightmare. Finally, in a cloud of grey smoke heady with the scent of diesel fumes and burning clutch he makes it, and the load-in begins. The inside of the truck soon becomes a swearfest of Olympian proportions as flight cases which could hitherto be wheeled gaily out with but a flourish of the wrist suddenly take on the characteristics of freshly-set concrete as they are pushed, pulled and heaved up what seems like a 1 in 4 slope and into the theatre. Finally, weary of muscle and strained of groin, we get the last cases in, and everything quickly starts getting better. There's loads of room, the three risers we need are already in place and the house PA is excellent, so Arthur decides to use this rather than our touring system. This saves us a big chunk of time, and it's with a bit of a shock that we realise at 3.00pm we're pretty much set up and ready to go. For some reason my suggestion that we take it all down again and see if we can set it up even faster falls on deaf ears. No spirit of adventure, these youngsters....The band duly arrive and the question on everyone's lips is, of course, " How's Den's voice ? " The answer is a slighly cagey " better but still a bit fragile ", so the Anxiety Status moves to DefCon 3. As a result of this, he's re-jigged the set ( now THERE'S something we haven't seen before !! ) to try and protect himself a bit. The hope was that we could go straight back to the " real " set, but Den's not ready yet, so this will do for now. At least he's done a whole new slide show for the new set which he's brought with him, so there's not going to be any last - minute fannying around with the visuals like on some of the last shows. Soundcheck slides past and the crew even have time for an hour's break, which they fill by walking to the main road and sampling the delights of the local fleshpots. This actually entails visiting a Londis cornershop and loading up on pasties, pies, sarnies and samosas, but it amounts to the same thing.( Author's note : Does anyone actually know what a
" fleshpot" is ? Have you seen one / been in one ? If so please contact me through the comments box on this blog. And if you've got pictures of one, that's even better !) Only one thing remains when we get back to the theatre, and that's for the house crew to run out our comms system. For those of you who aren't familiar with the term ( that'll be about 99.9% of you, then ), a comms system is an internal communications network which links all the key positions like front of house sound, lighting desk and monitor desk. Basically it's a bunch of little headsets with microphones that connect together and let everyone on the crew talk to each other. ...but in a good way. With this show they're crucial, as I have to talk to AV, lights, front of house sound and monitor desk in order to pass on various cues and instructions. All theatres provide these, but as showtime approaches it becomes apparent that there's a problem with the house system. What initially seems like a little hiccup soon turns into a huge belch as we're told there are some major issues with the comms, and the house guys can't get them to work. Go to DefCon 2 !!!! Our appointed start time comes and goes, and still the house guys scurry around in the dark like demented moles. Sadly they're just about as effective, and fifteen minutes after we're meant to start they're no further forward, so a bowel-bothering decision has to be taken. We have two walkie - talkies, so I take one and Rodders the other. At least the lights will come on and off at the right times, and as Clive's just a poke in the eye away from me, I can cue his video inserts with a well-aimed forefinger. It means I've got no communication with Arthur at front of house or Pug on monitors, but at least we've got a fighting chance of making SOMETHING work. The fact is, false modesty aside, that we're all actually pretty good at what we do, and we've already learned a lot of the cues by heart, so to our surprise and pleasure we sail through the first half without a hitch. The band look like they're enjoying themselves, too, and Den's voice sounds fine. The audience are lapping it up, and by the time the final two singalong numbers are played they're totally behind us, just as they have been on every date of the tour so far. There's a bit of disgruntlement in the camp that we didn't do " Jumpin' Jack Flash " tonight, but by the end of the show I'm not feeling that at all....in fact I'm positively gruntled. In spite of all the danger, tonight's show was slick, professional and pretty much bang - on. Those bloody Rules of Rock again....! All that remains is to load everything back out, and this time we're treated to the sight of crew shrieking in terror as the flight case they're hanging onto for dear life hurtles like an express train into the Stygian depths of the truck. Loud crashes ensue. The forces of gravity act like an extra stagehand on the gear, and in no time at all the truck is packed ( if a little front - heavily ! ). One more comedy moment remains, though....as Clive jumps up into the truck with his bag, the bag somehow disengages the air handbrake, and suddenly the truck's bombing down the ramp, seemingly intent on achieving escape velocity. Clive's made of stern stuff, however, and doesn't panic...he just stomps on the footbrake, which in turn sends him sprawling against the windscreen like an insect. Only much, much bigger. And with only two legs. And long hair. And no wings. In fact, not very much like an insect at all, come to think of it. Another great show, then, but once again we have the frustration of having ANOTHER break tomorrow, as this was the originally - planned day off. As I drive home I find myself musing about this, and it's with shocking clarity that I suddenly realise I'm looking forward to Swindon !!! ( now THERE'S an expression you don't hear every day......).Clive manages to bring everyhting into focus with one of his texted jokes ..." Hi ! I've just bought a new car. It's a Toyota Prius !!!Got to go now - can't stop ! " Boom, and furthermore, boom....

Edmonton Millfield Theatre Tuesday Feb 9th

There's a very, very weird vibe about today. Den saw the throat specialist this morning and the verdict is that although there's no permanent damage or serious underlying problem, the only way he's going to be able to continue with the tour is by resting his voice, and that means cancelling some shows. St Helens, Morecambe, Middlesbrough and a TV appearance in Manchester are thus reluctantly taken out of the schedule. Cancelling shows is always the very last resort, and you never know which ripples of effect are going to wash up on which distant shore. Sometimes you can escape with very little negative impact, but sometimes you can completely blow a laboriously - constructed beachhead to pieces. Getting a new band or show established is a costly and difficult process, built on an arcane and invisible framework of goodwill, trust, and the grapevine of public opinion. If you consistently present a reliable, high - quality product which people like, then your stock will grow as theatres, the audience and the media spread the word. This can either remain at underground or cult level, or it can move into the mainstream and become such a fixture on the theatrical scene that it virtually takes on a life of it's own. The Rocky Horror Show, for example, has grown into a touring phenomenon. Even inferior versions of the production now pack houses around the country with diehard audiences sporting basques, stockings, suspenders and garish make-up.....and that's just the men. The crowd know all the dialogue and song lyrics word for word, have their own litany of response phrases and gestures and have, in a way, almost BECOME the show. It's bulletproof, one of those " no-brainer " bookings that are manna to theatre programmers. And then right at the other end of the scale you have us. Although we've been putting on isolated shows for three years or so now, they'e all been part of a honing process rather than a concerted assault on the public consciousness. We've come out of the nursery and are finally going to Big School, where we are very much the new kid in the playground. If the other kids like us, they'll tell their friends, who in turn will tell THEIR friends, and gradually we'll become accepted. If they don't, though, or even worse, are apathetic towards us, then we'll end up in a corner of the playground with just the other kids that don't really fit in for company. My ( laboriously made ) point is that at this embryonic stage of our development, we are in a very vulnerable position, and cancelling shows can turn both theatre bookers and our prospective audience against us. We know the theatres all talk to each other, and we don't want to get a reputation for unreliability. We also know there's a hell of a lot of competition out there, and when people have paid good money to see us and made social arrangements to fit around our shows, we don't want to piss them off to the point that they'll just go and see something else instead. In short, cancelling shows is not a decision you EVER take lightly, but especially not at the stage we're currently at. We turn up at Edmonton's Millfield Theatre, then, knowing that we've virtually sold out in advance but also that this is going to be the last show for a while, as Steve Gray's work commitments mean he can't cover for Den after tonight. As I said at the start, there's a weird vibe. Everyone is going to be glad of a rest, not least Jamie, whose own voice is feeling the strain, and Phil, who will use the enforced break as a chance to fly back to Gothenburg and see his family. There's a real sense of frustration as well, though, as we were building up a head of steam. With any tour it takes a week or so to really bed everything in, and by now we should be at the point where we're locked in to the groove. We should be looking at tweaking and adding little things to make it perfect, or as Arthur calls it " sprinkling some fairy dust " but instead we're about to do our third totally different show in three days, and it's taking it's toll on the crew as well as the band. There's one big plus about tonight, though, and that is that Den has somehow found the time to compile all the show slides into the right order for the revised set, and even to add some new ones. This means that, visually at least, we'll be starting to look more like the real show again, and there won't be any panic at " Missile Command ", as the AV control position is known, when the band launch into a number that doesn't appear on our hastily scribbled set-lists. There's a bit more time to run things through with Steve Gray, too, which means Phil has been reprieved from having to play " Classical Gas " again, and you his stress palpably drains away. When you see him in his Union Jack coat, arm windmilling through the smoke and bombast of
" Pinball Wizard " he looks like a regular guitar hero, but he's actually a very shy bloke, and being ( literally ) in the spotlight like that and out of the comfort zone of playing with the band has been excruciating for him. Sevn - thirty rolls around, the doors eventually open and the theatre fills up. We're almost on home territory here, so there are some familiar faces in the audience. They know what's happened and are willing us on. It could still go either way, though...despite the great audience reaction we know that last night was, frankly, ropey, and no-one wants to go through that again. In the end, tonight we needn't have worried. In an intimate setting like the Millfield the band are a force of nature, and they completely blow the audience away. Steve Gray's Buddy section is even better than last night, and his presence onstage in the rest of the set looks much more natural and a lot less like we've just shoe-horned him in. The visuals work perfectly and, in keeping with the Rules of Rock, this hastily assembled collation is one of the best and slickest shows we've done so far. More to the point, it's much closer to the show that we're MEANT to be doing, so the disappointment of our enforced hiatus is slightly tempered by the fact that we can actually see ourselves getting back on track and away from the chaos of the past week. It'll be a huge relief to play the same show each night again...the crew were joking tonight about keeping their set lists from the last three gigs as each one is a unique collector's item.... Den and Jamie are packed off home with bags of lozenges, sprays, creams and unguents, so all we can do now is cross our fingers and hope the eye-wateringly expensive advice Den got from the specialist does the trick. One good omen on the way back is that the road was actually open; Rodders and I have been travelling together and have encountered no less than four road closures in five of the last trips home, which must be some kind of record. Tonight we get home after three o'clock and after a quick wash and brush-up, he heads to bed. Despite being exhausted, my head's full of stuff to do, check, book or cancel as usual, so it's about thirty minutes later that I make my own trip to the bathroom, where the karmic balance of the universe is restored as the door - lock breaks and I'm stuck in there for nearly an hour...... Joyous.

Tunbridge Wells Assembly Rooms Mon Feb 8th

After yesterday's stressfest we could all have done with a "normal" day to collect our thoughts and regroup, but instead we're heading down to the Georgian splendour of Royal Tunbridge Wells for another day in the Land Of Wibble. We knew that we could only pull off something like last night's show once, so to get us through tonight we took the decision to ask former band member Steve Gray to step in and take over some of the numbers Den normally sings, thus reducing the pressure on Jamie and HIS voice. The upside of this arrangement is that, apart from being an absolutely top bloke, Steve has been in the band before, knows all of the guys except Phil ( or " Jim " as Steve keeps calling him ! ), and can slot in with the minimum of fuss. He was also the first person to play Buddy Holly when " Buddy " the musical opened in London, and did a five - year stint in the role, so we play fast and loose with chronology and ask him to don the specs and Stratocaster one more time for a special first-half slot. The downside of the latest change in what's now known as the " F*****g Organic Tour " is that we have to completely re-jig all the visuals AGAIN in the hour or so before the show goes up, but Arthur comes up with a cunning plan to allow us to use a lot more of the material in the places where they're actually meant to go, and as young Steve Liddard is on hand backstage he's quickly recruited as Slide Finder Bloke. It's all a bit Heath Robinson at the AV control position, but to our delight it actually works well, and visually at least things look a bit more like they're supposed to again. But as we've already seen, the Rock Gods giveth and the Rock Gods taketh away, and no sooner has the re - re - revamped show kicked off than the key spotlight on Jamie blows, so he spends much of the first half in darkness. There's a moment of musical oddness at the start of " Time Is Tight " where it sounds like the guys are playing in two different keys, prompting lots of bemused glances between the band, and Stevie P's having some trouble with his drum monitor. There's the odd mini - stumble on the starts and finishes of a couple of the songs with Steve Gray because they simply haven't had time to rehearse them more, but generally it's going well, and having Steve up there gives the band a bit of extra visual presence, too....then Jamie's guitar amp packs up, and despite the application of new fuses, new cables and even some vigorously applied impact therapy, it steadfastly refuses to co-operate. There IS a spare amp but it can't just be dropped in, so Jamie picks up his acoustic guitar and manfully decides to hold out until the interval. Unfortunately this means that he can't play one of the numbers in the re - re - revamped set, which swiftly gains another prefix as we have to re-do the visuals to compensate for the change. The spectre of last night is looming over us, it seems.....Steve Gray's three- song Buddy Holly tribute pulls things back, though, and we go into the break on a high. The spotlight gets replaced, the guitar amp decides it WILL play after all, and off we go....for three numbers, at which point Jamie's amp finally turns up it's toes and dies for good, leaving him stuck on acoustic and....yes, you guessed it... ANOTHER revamp of the visuals as the set is moved around again. The rest of the second half is, to be honest, a bit of a slog....Jamie stumbles over the lyrics to Strawberry Fields ( hardly surprising, given the night he's having ) and Phil loses his way a bit in Classical Gas. The shifting around of the set has also shunted the slide numbers into different places and we start to struggle to find what we need, but then we're on Final Approach into the last six - song section of the set, the audience ( clearly oblivious to most of the above ! ) are dancing and yelling for an encore, and somehow we've done it AGAIN. There's a more subdued atmosphere backstage than last night, though; apart from the technical gremlins that ALWAYS piss us off, everyone knows that Steve Gray has helped us pull this out of the fire, but he's got his own commitments and this isn't really a long - term solution to the problem we've got. Instead of being totally in the touring groove by now we've already done two shows on the fly and the continuity we were building up has gone. We need to get back to where we were in Derby, and that means having Den back ( literally ) on song. He's booked in to see one of the leading throat specialists in Harley Street tomorrow morning, and we all know that we could potentially be looking at cancelled gigs here. It's with mixed feelings that we all head off into the freezing, snowy Kent night. Looks like tomorrow's going to be D - Day.....

Hunstanton Princess Theatre Sun Feb 7th

As mentioned in a previous blog, we've half - jokingly been referring to these dates as " The Organic Tour " because of the way the show changes and develops slightly as we work our way around the country. Well, today was SO organic that rather than being, say, a nicely rounded, shiny, crisp, green apple, it mutated into something that would have been more at home in The Little Shop Of Horrors. Picture this, if you will. After last night's shenanigans with Den's voice, we were approaching today's gig with a fair amount of trepidation anyway. The portents weren't good; Hunstanton is one of those quintessential little British seaside resort towns that revel in their candy-flossed, slot - machined, Kiss Me Quick - hatted traditional tackiness. In summer they teem and buzz as the flower of the country's youth from Dagenham to Doncaster flit from bar to bar, bringing light and life to this quiet stretch of Norfolk coast. In winter, though, it's a whole different world; the ( neon ) lights are on but there is, almost literally, no-one home. Isolated knots of people trudge disconsolately up and down the seafront, peering into closed shop windows and huddling against the icy rain blasting in from The Wash. A minibus full of senior citizens crawls by, their faces staring blankly out at the grey February afternoon. Like everyone else, including us, to be totally honest, they look like they'd rather be anywhere than here. We get to the gig and find that because of a long-running right of way dispute, we can't actually park the truck outside the loading bay, but have to unload in the car park and push everything in, then run it the whole length of the theatre before lifting it onto the stage. There's no wing space so the whole thing quickly becomes a clusterf**k of flight cases with everyone wanting to get at their gear and no-one being able to reach it. It's wet, cold, slow backbreaking work. Finally we get the logjam cleared and things start to come together, but when Den arrives it quickly becomes clear that an even bigger world of pain awaits. His singing voice has completely gone; he's even struggling to talk. We've really only got two options. We can cancel the show ( though as we'd had such a slog to set it up, this option would have seen someone, anyone, being hung from the lighting rig by the testicles ) or we can go ahead and try and put a show together. It's sold reasonably well and we absolutely hate cancelling shows and letting pople down, so we go for the second option. Despite all the jokes about playing " Jazz Odyssey " as the whole second half, it soon becomes clear that by relying totally on Jamie's lead vocal we're not only going to be short of songs, we're also putting an unwanted strain on HIS voice. The other problem is that the whole visual side of the show has been put together so that all the slides and the video inserts relate to specific songs and cues; if we radically change the running order of the show this goes out the window, and in many ways presents us with our biggest headache. It's now six thirty, though, and the doors open at seven. Things are getting sphincter-looseningly tight. However, cometh the hour, cometh the man, so they say, and all the years of experience that the band and crew have are drawn upon. There's only one way to do this....we have to start from scratch. Arthur and Clive hunker down over the computer to completely re-do the visuals while the band hash out a new set list and Rodders re-programmes some of the lighting to accomodate the changes. Remember, this is just half an hour before the doors open..... In the dressing room, guitarist Phil Evans realises that tonight's the night for him to step up to the plate and do the solo acoustic " Classical Gas " that he's been unhappy about performing, and so, with the audience starting to come in, the new set lists are hurriedly put out onstage and the crew get on our intercom system to quickly talk through the new show. There's no time to check all the revamped visuals....this is flying by the seat of your pants writ large. Only five minutes after the appointed time, we're ready to go, and Clive hits the first video cue. The band had been quiet and clearly nervous before they went on, but as soon as the lights go up and the first number kicks in, you can visibly see them relax; this is what they DO, and they do it better than anyone else. The big thing, in fact the only thing, really, is that everyone in the tour party is totally aware that the people sitting in front of us have paid good money to see a show, and we're going to make bloody sure that's what they're going to get. It might not be the show they were GOING to get, but they're not going to be disappointed. Jamie leads the line like the trouper he is, and Steve is even more animated than usual. Chris is playing a cracking gig and Phil ( visibly shaking ! ) reels off " Classical gas " to a great reception. Centre stage, Den's holding it all together as usual, and looking for all the world like this was a set planned months ago rather scribbled on the back of the proverbial fag packet ten minutes before the show. He even has a shot at " Blowing In The Wind " at the start of the second half, and the audience, aware of his throat problem, respond with real appreciation. When he steps up to the mic we're all on edge; will he get through it ? Then some wag's voice comes over the intercom " Don't worry lads....Dylan couldn't sing either " and we're all laughing and the fear's gone and Den's doing the business. The final number, " You'll Never Walk Alone " was always going to be too much for him to get through, but by now the crowd's on our side and up on their feet and they pretty much sing it for him before calling the band back onstage for an encore. Afterwards there's euphoria....we did it!! We put a completely new show together in thirty minutes and sent an audience home happy and shouting for more. I'm ridiculously proud of the band and the crew and go around hugging people and shaking hands. These are the times when you find out who you can rely on, and although we wouldn't want TOO many more like this, these are also the times that make you realise why you do this job in the first place, where you have to use all your skill and experience to make something work. And it DID work....friends in the audience tell me afterwards that it was even better than the last time we played up this way in Kings Lynn, and you realise that they have no idea what they MIGHT have seen; they can only go by what was presented to them tonight, and they loved what they saw and heard. From our point of view we know that tonight was a true one-off, an adrenaline - fuelled leap of faith, and that we have to come up with a serious rethink for the next few shows at least, so a game plan is hatched and will be put into place in Tunbridge Wells. But that's tomorrow, and tonight belongs to us. Even the laborious business of the load - out can't take the gloss off what we achieved here. We could have panicked and lost the show, but we hung on, thought it through and delivered as a real team, and I'm reminded of something an old tour manager
friend of mine used to say...." If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs, you've SERIOUSLY misinterpreted the situation ....."!

Redditch Palace Theatre Sat Feb 6th

If you saw yesterday's blog you'll have read about those capricious couriers of karma, the Rules of Rock, and how they have the habit of kicking you right in the biffins just when you thought everything was clicking into place. Well, today we ALL got a good shoeing, and no mistake. It had started so well, too....a lovely little theatre, good ticket sales, a cosy stage, nice house crew, and a relatively short drive home after the show. The mighty Newcastle had larruped Cardiff City 5 - 1 last night, and there was a fish and chip shop just around the corner. God was in His heaven and all was well with the world. Except He must have been in His shed mending His holy lawnmower or something for most of the day, because one thing's for certain....He wasn't watching over US ! Everything was fine right up until soundcheck, and even then I didn't notice anything amiss until Den said he was feeling a little hoarse. Now, I was totally unaware of these equine proclivities, but what he gets up to in the privacy of his own home is, of course, his business.... He did, however, sound like someone whose voice was breaking for the first time, and the alarm bells started ringing. Den revealed he'd been aware of a bit of a problem with his throat for a few days, but had hoped it would settle down. Instead, it got worse. And worse. By the time the doors opened we'd had to take two numbers out of the set completely, change another for a less punishing song by the same artist, and put Jamie on standby to jump in at any point with the lead vocal if it looked like Den wasn't going to get through it. This was a Very Big Problem Indeed; four days in to a forty-four date tour and finding your main singer can't sing is NOT the ideal start, really. In a situation like that you've only got two options...you either cancel the show or you just grit your teeth and go for it. We opted for Plan B, and it was as if we were being punished for our temerity. A perfectly good microphone suddenly failed. When Clive went to run the first video insert, nothing happened. One of the projectors suddenly started glitching. The pyrotechnic firing unit, which had been fine at the interval, fell over, and the first pyro cue was missed. The laptop got stuck on a slide and I couldn't shift it for what seemed like an hour. And on top of all this, Den was getting worse and worse. Jamie and Steve in particular manfully filled the gaps, and Den tried as hard as he could, but he was fighting a losing battle with his throat. The audience, fortunately, were fantastic and extremely understanding throughout, and to our huge relief we went down a storm. After the show the War Cabinet met to decide on a course of action, and at the time of writing the plan is to go ahead with tomorrow's show in Hunstanton if possible, but to have Den examined by a Harley Street ENT specialist on Tuesday. After that it's in the lap of the ( Rock ) gods.....and we all know what a bunch of bastards THEY can be.....don't think there'll be many pleasant or untroubled dreams in the camp tonight, though...

Derby Assembly Rooms Thurs Feb 4th

There's a weird set of cosmic Rules that seem to apply to the business of touring, and no matter how many times you trot around the globe they remain immutable and unfathomable.It's as if the Gods Of Rock sit astride their celestial Harleys in their flowing studded leather robes, look down and nudge each other and say " Hey, Jimi,Janis....that tour's been going far too smoothly. Shall we have some fun.....?"
and down here on this mortal coil your tour bus breaks down or the promoter advertises the gig on the wrong day or the guitarist explodes. It's always the same; home town gigs are never as good as you build them up to be. The place where the crowd went mad for you last time has had an inexplicable shift of loyalties and this time around one man and a dog turn up. On the wrong day. The theatre with the best technical facilities on the tour has an attack of the gremlins and you end up trying to run the show through two grotboxes and a handful of flashlights. That fantastic curry house around the corner from the City Hall that's had you salivating for weeks at the prospect of getting your road-weary gnashers round it's chicken jalfrezi has been turned into an organic juice bar populated by swivel-eyed Gay Whales Against Climate Change loonies. Sometimes, though, the Rules work in your favour, and today, thankfully, was one of those days. Though this show has never been to Derby before, the crew have extensive experience of today's venue, having done several
" Bloodstock " metal festivals there. The load-in's no fun as everything has to go up in a lift, and whereas we normally have hordes of hairy arsed " humpers " to cart the kit in, today there are just the two house crew. It's pissing with very, very cold rain and I've run out of Cadbury's Whole Nut. Things really couldn't get much worse. But then those Rules bend and flex and invisibly wash through the place, and suddenly the gear's all in. Everything goes up with just one tripping fuse to contend with. Our favourite house crew are on duty, and it's brilliant to see and work with them again. One of our old muckers, the very lovely Ben Dorrington, just happens to be in town and pops in to see us, not only brightening up our day even further but also giving us the solution to a problem on another project we've been asked to do
( he WAS a bit disparaging about our shiny glitter backdrop, but you can't have everything...) Best of all, we get the biggest crowd of the tour so far, and they're bang up for having a good time. The show almost runs itself, the band have a blast and they even serve big cones of popcorn in the foyer, which, when empty, make excellent comedy beaks with which to distract monitor man Pug on the other side of the stage. In short, it's a belter, totally unexpected, totally inexplicable and totally welcome. Dude.
( sorry....linguistic law....if you say
" Totally " more than three times you must then use either the suffix " Awesome " or " Dude ". It's an American thing, apparently ). The only frog in the chutney is that the band are doing a gig of their own in Bath tomorrow, booked looooong before this tour was put together, so the lads have to bundle into the minibus with Arthur and Nick and drive down there straight after the show, but at least they're buoyed by the knowledge that they've done a great job and we've now got a good following here. Until the next time, of course, when the Rules will kick in again and that bloke and his dog will be handing their tickets to the doorman.....

High Wycombe Swan Theatre Wednesday Feb 3rd

Now THAT'S a bit more like it ! Whereas yesterday was a stressfest of blown fuses, recalcitrant computers, misplaced stage clothes, duff cables and first-night nerves, today was a veritable oasis of calm. You could almost smell the incense and hear the low, soothing " Ommmmmmmmmmm" of a totally chilled - out road crew. They CAN speak in words of more than one syllable too, of course, but generally we try not to encourage it. The gear all went in really quickly, everything worked exactly as it was meant to, Rodders had time to plot some lovely lighting effects and Arthur had the band sounding fantastic. The guys breezed through soundcheck and we even had the chance to revamp a couple of the links between songs ( one of these now unfortunately involves the sight of my fat arse waddling across stage...THAT should startle the horses...) The band just looked very relaxed and comfortable, and that really came across in the performance. The new songs are already bedding into the set nicely, and a few more shows will polish off any remaining little rough edges. It looked and sounded great, and in fact a couple of the guys remarked that the show ran so well it felt like we were two weeks into the tour rather than two days. Now, that ranks right up there with " I don't like it Sarge, it's too quiet ....." in the pantheon of things not to say unless you want the wrath of the gods to be unleashed upon you, but ( whisper it softly ) we're actually feeling pretty confident about the way this is shaping up. I mean, come on, the band ARE the best Sixties act in the world, for Sooty's sake ! It even says so on the posters, endorsed by no less a personage than Sir Elton John, esteemed knight of the realm and saviour of the floral industry ! The biggest yardstick is always, of course, the audience reaction, and it's safe to say that last night's crowd were, if anything, even more enthusiastic than the Dartford fans....there's nothing better than looking out from the stage and seeing everyone standing up and dancing, singing, and waving their arms....and when the band finally came on the crowd went even wilder.....
( sorry....it's " Help An Old Joke" Week.. ) So it's been a bit of a beezer day all round, really....Derby Assembly Hall and a reunion with some old friends awaits tomorrow. Bring it on !

Dartford Orchard Theatre Tuesday Feb 2nd

Well, we're off and running, though not without incident, as is pretty much to be expected with the first show of any tour. You sort of expect teething problems; what we actually GOT was major maxillo-facial surgery without anaesthetic, but as our lighting guru Rodders so accurately pointed out " no-one died, though ", and that's always a bonus, I find. Thinking about it now with the benefit of hindsight and several cans of Red Bull, things could have actually gone quite spectacularly wrong; it was a new show which the crew hadn't seen or heard, we hadn't be able to do production rehearsals, the gear hadn't been on the road in a while, and most seriously, the Moon was in the Seventh House, and Jupiter aligned with Mars ( a free Bootlegs' t-shirt to the first person to successfully spot the lyric there, as long as their claim is accompanied by a letter from both great - grandparents confrming that the claimant is over 21 ). In a nutshell, a snagged cable in the house lighting rig earlier in the day had caused a short circuit of trouser-dampening proportions, resulting in the loss of all twelve of our moving lights, all three projectors, the PA system and, crucially, the kettle. With the moving lights, the short had caused some kind of digital hissy fit and they promptly fell over and stayed fallen for much of the day despite Rodders' closest attentions ( he even tried percussive maintenance on them at one point ). I believe it was the promise of a box of Thornton's chocolates that finally got them working in the end....well, that always works for ME, so that figures.....There were also some issues with the stage monitoring system and the usual " Did you bring the box of knurled grunion rods ?" " No, I thought YOU did "...kind of stuff. We had a big problem with the Powerpoint laptop right at the end of the show so we didn't get to do the old " follow the bouncing ball " thing for the last number. I have to admit to a brief attack of hand-flapping and squealing like a girl at that point, but fortunately Clive was on hand to tell me not to be such an arse and get on with it.
The show itself could also have gone tits up as it involves a lot more dialogue and quite a few new cues, but I have to say a very, very big " well done " to everyone for getting through it with literally no worries at all. Having our own lighting engineer on the tour is going to make a LOAD of difference; even if Rodders was a total klutz ( he's not, of course )the simple continuity factor alone is going to improve the show as the tour progresses. The new songs were all great, the medley sections worked really well, and the onstage banter was a hit with a very " up for it " and appreciative audience, who were on their feet and dancing well before the end. Yes, there WERE problems and mistakes, but to be honest we're really the only people who know that; everyone else seemed to go home happy, and that's what it's all about, of course ( actually it's about making a shedload of money and being surrounded by sexually uninhibited young women, but who's arguing ? ) We keep talking about this being an " organic " tour, and to illustrate the point we even had to make several changes today on Day One, so this first week will really just be letting us get the measure of the whole caboodle. I'll add more detail and possibly even some pictures from the shows over the next couple of days, but for now it's crash - out time.....tomorrow we ride to High Wycombe on wings of steel to do battle with the False Ones ! They are many but they are WEAK ! We are few but we are STRONG ! Are you with us, brothers and sisters.....?!