Croydon Ashcroft Theatre Sun March 28th

Here we are, then. Two months, forty shows and about six thousand miles after we set off all bright – eyed and bushy – tailed for Dartford Orchard, we pull up at Croydon Ashcroft Theatre for the very last night of The Organic “ It Is What It Is “ Tour. I’ve got very, very mixed feelings about today. The great audience responses we’ve been getting are pretty addictive, and I’d like a bit more of that, please, but, as with everyone else on the tour, I’m knackered and need to rest. The knee I damaged early in the tour has become really painful and needs a serious looking at, and, of course, there are all the accounts to do, including a VAT quarterly return which is due in two days, but despite that joyous prospect awaiting me, I’m actually ready to go home now. It’s unlikely we’ll ever do a tour of this size again, although you can never say never in this lark. It’s been a real baptism of fire for the band and some of the crew, and they’ve come through it with flying colours, though there have been some pretty hairy moments and some bloody hard graft along the way. Everyone’s done brilliantly; Pug’s been ever-present throughout and apart from a brief wobble near the end when he had some unhappy personal business to contend with, he’s come on in leaps and bounds. Tomps and Clive have alternated really well on AV, and Tomps has also come up with some great new ideas for the visuals which we’ve been using for the past few shows. Rodders has done his usual great job with the minimum of fuss, and there’s no doubt at all that it’s the lights which have taken this production to a new level. The real surprise package, though, has been Lids, who hasn’t got any touring experience as such but who has worked his nuts off to become a valuable member of our team. It helps that he’s a funny bugger as well, because laughter is a very useful commodity on the road. He and Pug have really hit it off, and I’m awaiting the announcement of their impending engagement with bated breath…..The Unsung Hero Award, however, just has to go to Liddard Senior, our very own Nick. Despite being even older than me he’s displayed the energy of a man half his age
( that’ll be a 39 year – old man, then ) and just hasn’t stopped. He drives the band to and from shows, helps us set up if we need it, keeps a proprietorial eye on drummer Steve throughout the set, does the food run most nights and also does the merchandise before Arthur arrives, all for a measly five bushels of wheat a week ! What a diamond ! The only problem with our hero is that he has no inner monologue, and thus treats everyone around him to his every thought as it passes through his brain. Of course, if you challenge him about this habit of talking to himself he’ll contend that it’s the only way he gets any sensible conversation ! Nicholas Jeremiah Lemuel Liddard, we salute you, O Brother In Rock ! Back to the Ashcroft Theatre ( named after Dame Peggy, and not Richard, I gather ) and it’s a jaded bunch of Booties who set about building this last show. All of the banter of last night about wizard japes to catch the band out during the show has dissipated in a blur of sleep deprivation, and as we sloooooowly put things together it’s all we can do just to focus on getting the stage set up. When the band arrive we realise we aren’t the only ones; Steve looks totally cream crackered and everyone’s pretty subdued. This is partly to do with it being the end of the tour, and partly because the finishing line’s in sight and our bodies have all just gone “ OK…that’s enough now “. There’s a funny thing about “ last nights “…there’s this big expectation of them being some sort of amazing occasion, and you talk for weeks beforehand about what you’ll get up to and how such and such is going to be, but quite often the reality is that they’re anticlimactic. Tonight’s definitely showing signs of going down that route; not only is everyone tired, but we also learn that due to a local council ruling the audience aren’t allowed to stand up or dance, so we’re not even going to get one last look at a crowd going mental to Mony Mony. It’s a late –starting show as well, and I have to say that it’s all I can do keep my eyes open during the first half, though the band seem to liven up as soon as they get onstage. As we move into the second half there’s no real sense of things coming to an end, though Den very kindly brings the crew onstage to take a bow, which is much appreciated, and at THAT point you realise that it nearly IS all over. As they go into You’ll Never Walk Alone I can feel myself choking up a bit; Den, Steve, Arthur and myself have been working towards doing a full tour with this project for nearly three years, and we’ve finally done it. We’ve had some clunkers during the past two months ( Hello Boston !!! ) but the overall tour has been a great success, and we can safely say that we’re firmly on the map now. In a way it’s like watching one of your kids grow up and leave home….we’ve been so close to this project for so long, and now it’s over. And yes, I know it’s going back out in the Autumn but nothing is ever the same as your first tour ( unless it’s your first sell-out tour !! ) and we’re all going to be a bit bereft for a couple of weeks. Being on tour is a bit like being in the army; you’ve got a small group of people travelling and living together to do this quite tough job, and you all have to look out for and support each other. You develop a kind of “ us against the world “ siege mentality, and when the circle is broken and the tour’s over it can leave you with a very odd emptiness. A real “ road pig “ friend of mine who has toured since God was a lad described it as being almost like a kind of grieving, in that something’s gone that you can’t get back. On the other hand, you can have a situation like I did back in 1991 when I was touring for nine weeks with an American band and I couldn’t WAIT for the last day. I would cheerfully have murdered them in their beds, and the only grief I felt at the end of THAT tour was that I hadn’t cut off their testicles with a rusty knife and fed them to my dog, but perhaps that’s just me being uncharitable; I’m sure they were kind to their Mums and small animals. At the end of the show there’s a quick “ well done “ among the crew, but we’ve still got to get this gear out and the set knocked down; Pug, Tomps and I are taking the truck back to Bedford tonight and have to unload everything when we get there, then I have to drive the lights over to Ipswich tomorrow. Kevin “ The Silver Fox “ Lee has come down from Hoddesdon in the band’s van to pick up THEIR gear, so there’s no time for sentimentality OR hanging about. I manage a quick chat with Jamie to check he enjoyed the tour ( he loved it ) got a brief hug from Den ( loved the tour , hated me ) and one from Phil ( hated the tour, loved me ) and then suddenly they were gone; I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye to Steve, Jill, Chris and Michelle, and it’s just because there’s so much to do and pack and remember to sort out; the band are off to Germany in two days and so we also have to make sure that all the gear that’s going out there is kept in yet another separate pile. The source of much attention is the flightcase that rejoices in the self – explanatory moniker “ The Jizz Case “. This wheeled box has become like Mary Poppins’s carpet bag….everything that doesn’t have a home anywhere else goes in it, and you never know WHAT you’re going to pull out when you put your hand in. There are three people bent over it and all you can hear is “Yours….yours….mine…ours…his….ours….yours…”as the contents are divvied up. Finally we’re ready, and we take a sad leave of Nick and Lids. Rodders is also leaving tonight and I find this particularly hard as he’s been lodging with me for the whole tour, and going home without him is going to be very odd ( OK so that sounds a bit gay, but you know what I mean…). Pausing only to get hopelessly lost in Croydon we head north, and I’m here to tell you that the cab of that truck is suddenly a very lonely place. We get back to Bedford at about 3.00am and the whole “ loading the kit back in to the unit “ thing seems totally alien and wrong….it should be in the truck and going to the next show !!! It’s going to take a while to decompress from all this. I get home at about 5.00am and tumble into bed, but I’m suddenly wide awake again, replaying days from the tour in my mind. I’ve done so many tours over the years you’d have thought that this would have been just one more, but it wasn’t….it was different….it was OURS. I’m going to miss the band, the crew, the familiar faces like Marilyn and Debbie in the front row, the band’s wives, the tiredness, the banter, the smell of napalm in the morning (?!) the voice of Doris the satnav, the standing ovations, the soles of my shoes being covered in “ rock & roll dogshit “( discarded gaffa and electrical tape strips ) the feeling when you first walk onstage at a new theatre, look around and go “ Oh f**k…..”, the sense of achievement when you’ve pulled a rescue mission out of the bag, the taste of Ginsters pies, even the smell of Clive’s gaseous emissions ( actually, scrub that one out….). I’m also going to miss writing THIS, Faithful Blogreader, and thus, mindful of the fact that I never DID tell you about the joy of soundchecks, I’m going to carry on posting up odd musings and thoughts about all things Bootleggy and tour – related. Thanks to all of you for your comments and kind words, and I hope you’ll keep an eye on this for future missives. For now, though, it’s time to sleep, so I’d just like to leave you with something that been said to me many, many times throughout my career in the music business, which is
“ What are you doing in my shed, and where are your trousers ? “

Thankyou and goodnight….