Consett Empire Thurs March 10th

We’re still in the North East today but moving south west, to Consett. I had some great times around this area back in my college days ( yes, I CAN remember that far back, thankyou ) with a fantastic bunch of lads from the little towns and villages like Rowlands Gill, Whickham and Burnopfield. I’m still in touch with a couple of them ( Hi Chalkie and Simmy ) but as so often happens I haven’t seen the others in absolutely years. I’ve got family living not too far away as well, but it always feels odd coming back here now….so much has happened since those days and I can’t really recognise the young man I was back then. Returning now gives me mixed feelings; this area is where I’m from and it’s in my blood but everything reminds me of an unrecoverable past. It’s also sad to see how the place has changed; I remember when the steelworks here finally closed down and the town virtually died. A lot of new business eventually came in and a kind of recovery took place but the streets are still full of places like Aldi, Lidl, and Booze Buster. It’s got the drab, somehow hopeless air of a lot of towns and cities that have lost their industrial heart. Corby, close to where I live, is exactly the same, another community decimated by steelworks closures and massive job losses. In the full, unforgiving light of adulthood I can see the dirt and desperation that youth once hid from me, and it’s profoundly depressing, like seeing a favourite relative becoming alcoholic or drug – dependent. To my surprise ( and sadness ) I find that I can’t wait to get out of here. There is, however, the small matter of a show to do first, so let’s kick the maudlin reflections and social commentary into touch. We’re playing the Empire today, a quaint little theatre on the main drag, and it’s sold reasonably well. The band were really taken with the South Shields crowd last night and they’re hoping for more of the same….after all, we’re only twenty miles or so south west, but Consett’s a very different place and I’m not so sure. At least there’s a good atmosphere about the theatre and the two local crew, Ash and Dean, are funny, helpful blokes, but it seems like it’s not just me struggling today. Lids is feeling out of sorts and can’t really put his finger on why, and the rest of us are tired and sluggish, so everything happens sloooooooooowly. What we need is an infusion of lard, so off goes Nick to the local chippie and he brings back enough cholesterol to kill an elephant. It’s absolutely gorgeous. However, trouble looms. Clive has munched his way through the largest kebab this side of Istanbul, and is starting to do “ that
walk “ which presages all things intestinal. I suddenly remember his Incredible Exploding Arse, and realise I have to sit next to this bubbling cauldron of noxious gasses for the next two hours. For those of you with more tender sensibilities I shall draw something of a veil over what happened next; suffice to say it started with a toilet cubicle right next to our side of the stage and ended with a resuscitation team being called out and large fans being needed to dispel a cloud of poisonous fumes. It’s the first time I’ve ever had to do a show with an oxygen mask on, but it’s all part of life’s rich pageant, I suppose. The boy DOES need medical assistance, and soon…. As I mentioned earlier I was a bit unsure about tonight, and it turns out to be one of the oddest shows on the tour. It’s a decent – sized crowd but the raucous abandon of the South Shields mob is conspicuous by it’s absence here. Everything is applauded but in a polite, almost reserved way. The jokes get chuckles but not belly – laughs and the best – received numbers are the ballads and acoustic tunes. It’s hard work, to be honest, but the band learned their lesson on the South Coast and there’s no chance of their “ doing a Weymouth “ again. Every show they play is full tilt now, and they don’t let a subdued reaction get to them. The singalong to I’m A Believer is a bit half - hearted, truth be told, and it’s just quiet enough to let us hear one lone voice somewhere near the back, bellowing atonally at the absolute top of his lungs to a melody that only he hears in his head. Priceless. The second half seems to liven the audience up a bit, though, and while we don’t get the whole house standing for Mony Mony there’s till a good number of folks bopping away. However, when the band take their bow at the end of the set you’d have though The Beatles had just played, so sustained was the cheering, and when we run our end of set audio insert you can actually hear the audience groaning in disappointment ! It’s funny old game sometimes, this…..Back at the hotel we discover that due to two of the rooms being flooded the crew have to actually triple up. Fortunately we’ve seen each other hungover, tired, pissed, throwing up and throwing strops too many times to be fazed by the sight of one of us lurching out of the shower with undercarriage lowered, so no-one minds too much. It’s all a bit uncivilized but that’s the nature of the beast sometimes. As Rodders says, and as has become the tour motto, “ It is what it is “. Deep, huh ? Oh yes, it’s all here in the tour blog…comedy, pathos and philosophy, all in bite – sized chunks !