Worthing Assembly Hall Saturday April 28th

I’ve always found that once I’m awake, I’m awake, and so it is this morning, despite having had virtually no sleep. My mind’s full of heavy-duty things like the logistics of getting all the vans packed properly tonight, the overall financial position of the tour and, of course, whether or not Newcastle can maintain their winning streak against Wigan today. By the time I haul myself out of my bunk, John’s moved the bus and got the powerline in before crashing back out. I also have to move the van, and the moment I step out of the lee of the Assembly Hall and the rain-sodden, icy wind knifes straight up the legs of my shorts and into every orifice, I know I’ll not be going back to bed. The galvanising effect of this wind / rain / ice combo literally brings tears to my eyes. Somewhere down south below the borderline two frozen little testiclettes cry “ Bloody hell, not AGAIN ? What is it with this bloke, shorts and cold weather ? We’ve only just recovered from Buxton…!” I’m not listening to them, though, largely because when you think you can hear your testicles talking to you, you’ve REALLY been on the road too long. I’ve also caught something on the wind, and like a hunter bent to the trail of his prey I flare my nostrils and sniff the chill air. A melange of aromas whirls and dips, teasing and testing my senses, but finally I have it, and lock unerringly onto the scent, drinking in the heady perfume. There’s no mistake. It’s Sausage and Egg McMuffin, possibly with a hash brown, and unless my capacious bugle has failed me, a big-ass cup of tea as well. It’s coming from…that-a-way, so stealthily, silently, like a cat ( albeit a big fat bald one ) I follow the trail. Today, McMuffin, you are MINE…....Some time later, replete, emboldened by my success, and with the paper and cardboard carcass of my hapless victim screwed up on the table in front of me, I decide it’s time to brave the elements and head back to the bus. Pausing only to have my intelligence insulted by the rude, moronic staff at the local branch of our bank, I reach the Bogey, just in time to see Ray from the Assembly Hall open the side gate through which we will load the gear in and out. Let me tell you about Ray for a moment, if I may. He’s been here every time we’ve played the Hall, and he’s something of a National Treasure. Helpful, courteous, funny, sensible and daft by equal measure, it’s almost worth coming down here to play just to have him work on the show. He’s easily one of the best house tech guys on the entire circuit, and just seeing his smiling face as he comes over to shake hands helps brighten up the day….and that’s just as well, because the day NEEDS brightening. The weather’s doing it’s damndest to make sure we don’t have an easy ride of it. It’s teeming down, freezing cold and there’s an icy blast which, we hear, may develop into gales as the day progresses. That’ll be just in time for load-out, then…..The Assembly Hall has a long access alley down the stage right side of the building, smack in the middle of which is a little hump then a dip. We’ve done MUCH worse, but it still slows you down a bit when you’re in a hurry to get the gear in and get yourself out of the rain. It’s absolutely lashing down, and the wind is invading every nook and cranny. Nick pulls up in his van just as we start unloading ours, and we manage to empty them both with some alacrity if not, it must be admitted, a great deal of decorum. Luckily with the help of Ray and Roy the build is fast as well, as we’re all trying to warm up from being hosed by the freezing downpour.This is another big stage, but the Assembly Hall layout is a bit odd. Built to accommodate things like tea dances and Ray McVey and His Band Of The Day, its’ main concession to modern rock’n’roll shows is the presence of two big flown lighting trusses. These are very well equipped and work brilliantly but they’re in fixed positions, and the front one is actually above the audience, meaning that the projectors have to throw the images 18m instead of their normal 6m…and this is through a blaze of concert par can lights. To be honest it’s amazing we can see anything at all, but all three projectors now have new lamps in them, and they cut through just fine. The hall has also got a split-level stage, no wing space at all, and the upper tier of the hall is painted in a very light colour so even when there’s a blackout you can still see quite clearly. It shouldn’t work…but it does. We’ve always had a great night here. Tickets sales are “Steady” as opposed to “Hurrah !” but they’re also not “ Shoot me now, my life is worthless and I want to die” so we think we’re in for a good night. WE’RE certainly going to enjoy ourselves anyway, and in true end-of-tour-japes fashion, Nick hands each of the crew members a mental wig / hairpiece kind of sketch that makes you look like a cross between Predator and Bob Marley on a REALLY bad hair day. It’s got long dreadlock-style tresses, but the clincher is that each of those tresses contains a series of green or red flashing lights. To be honest they look slightly disturbing, especially when teamed with the glo-stick glasses Nick’s also sporting, so we’re fairly sure of impressing the band when we finally decide to reveal them. There’s a bit of an odd atmosphere around today…normally on the last day of a tour everyone’s a bit demob-happy, but here everyone’s pretty focused still. Not only are the band themselves going out to Holland tomorrow to play a couple of shows, we’ve also got to drop all the PA off into another storage facility after the show tonight then drive to various parts of the UK, so although this is finishing, other things will continue after tonight, and this all conspires to dissipate that “ last show” feeling, which is actually a good thing as the end of any tour is generally quite a sombre thing. You’ve lived cheek by jowl with the same small group of people for a period of time and there’s a real co-dependency, an espirit de corps, that grows up around the group. You spend more time with these people in any given twenty-four hour period than you do with your own partner and family, and when the tour ends and that support network is snatched away, the adjustment period can be very difficult. I know I’ve already made the analogy between this and being in a military unit, and that really is the closest parallel I can think of, the only difference being that we’re not in harm’s way and no-one’s trying to kill us….though I must say Nick’s farts have had a damn good go, being pitched somewhere between mustard gas and pure sulphur. He REALLY needs to see a doctor…..Soundcheck is dispensed with in fairly short order, as we have another pressing engagement straight afterwards. Some promoters from Holland are coming to meet with us to talk about the possibility of taking the show there for a lengthy tour, and so after soundcheck we repair to the bar with these good people and set about the next step of achieving world domination for this show. For some reason no-one seems to like my idea of annexing the Sudetenland and then invading Poland…….It’s finally time for the doors to open and as I’m out front talking to the box office staff I see our friends and fans start to come in. I’d like to take this opportunity to apologise most profusely to one of them, the lovely Irene. For some reason our intelligence had informed us that this good lady was actually called Linda, and she was far too sweet to correct us. Irene, you now take your true place in our pantheon of Superfans ! Jim is here too, of course, as are Marilyn and Debbie and our mates Martyn and Simon. Although they’re both “ in the biz” and therefore well able to wangle their way onto guest lists, every time we come down here these lads buy their tickets for our shows as they know our earnings are based on a percentage of door takings, and that every little helps. Respect, guys…..Dawn can’t be here tonight but we know she’s with us in spirit, and whilst I’ve already thanked these good people in previous pages, let me once more send our love to them all, and to everyone who drives all over the country to support us and this show. You truly make the whole thing worthwhile, and we want you to know how much your dedication and enthusiasm means to us. We don’t want to let these folks down tonight, and there IS sometimes a danger that a last show can be anticlimactic, but this is us and The Overtures I’m talking about here….that’s never going to happen, is it ?! Everyone in the audience knows this is the last night and they’re set on making it as good for us as we are for them. They’re loud and totally up for it. When we first came to Worthing we were a bit worried it was all going to be a bit genteel and polite and blue rinse-y, but we’ve ALWAYS had a great crowd here, and tonight’s no exception. Because of the tightness of space on our side of the stage, Tomps and I are rather oddly sitting with our backs to the audience, but they’re just on the other side of the speaker stacks, and every time we glance round we can see clapping hands and smiling faces. It’s just a joy tonight….no technical issues, the band are playing brilliantly, the big stage with it’s concert lighting rig looks fantastic, and the crowd are totally engaged. If the Dutch folks don’t buy in on the strength of THIS performance, I’m going to go and piddle in their clogs….The feedback drone from the guitars finally heralds the intro to the last number of the last show on the last day of the tour, and the lads set off on the final rampage through “ Spirit “. The lights are flashing, the sound’s kicking, the band are tearing it up through the smoke and haze onstage, and every person in the hall is up and rocking ( including all of the crew, Predator / Marley wigs a-flashing ). This is it, the very essence, the distillation, of why we do this and what we want to achieve with it. We KNOW this is the best show of it’s kind in the UK today….and we’re going to make sure everyone else knows it ! Finally, sadly, the last crashing chords bring down the curtain on the tour. Den kindly invites the crew onstage with the band to join them in the final bow, and I have to say I’ve never felt more part of a team, of a musical family. I’m half hoping Rodders will leave his lighting desk and peg it the length of the hall to join us up here, as he’s been one of the pillars of that family, but he’s far too pro for that !! It’s over…but it isn’t over, as we’ve now got even more work to do. Apart from loading the two normal vans, we’ve also got to pick out the gear and stage clothes the band need for Holland, and load them into a THIRD vehicle, a cool “splitter” bus from our mates at Tiger Tours in Wembley. To complicate matters, because we’re still running the hire van we picked up in Eastleigh, all of the gear aboard THAT has to be offloaded tonight before the van ends up in High Wycombe ( don’t ask…I was there and even I don’t really understand what happened ). As such we’re going with the two main vans in convoy to Nick’s storage place in Essex before finally going our separate ways. Rodders is then driving to Wycombe before leaving the van and jumping a cab to Reading station, where he’ll board a train for St Ives in Cornwall. Pug, Tomps and I have the much shorter trip back to Northamptonshire whilst everyone else, bolstered by the presence of Den’s lad George, will stay aboard the Bogey tonight before leaving John and heading off to Holland in the morning. It’s a bit of a sad and dislocated way to end things…I don’t even SEE Steve after the gig, and have just the briefest of words with Big John before he dons his Beerhunter hat and heads off in search of the Lost Pub. A quick handshake with Den, Chris and Phil and a hug with Jamie ( well, he IS the hottie, after all…) and they’re gone. It’s still bucketing down and the wind is apparently reaching gusts of Gale Force Six, so we know we need to get a wiggle on here. Nick and George, knowing how far we have to go and how much we have to do, bravely give us their best “ You go on ! Leave us here …we’ll only slow you down !! “ film cliché, and start to load the splitter themselves. Pausing only to say goodbye and our heartfelt thanks to Roy, the lovely Ray and the even lovelier Carol, we head off into the maelstrom of this stormy Sussex night. We’re done. But to paraphrase an old theatrical saying, “ It isn’t over until the fat bloke has written another blog entry “. Keep it here, kids……