Wavendon Stables Saturday Nov 24th

Normally these blogtastic musings follow some sort of chronological path, meandering through the day from sparrow’s fart to the early hours of the next morning. Today, however, I’m going at this arse about face, for the simple reason that tonight we did possibly the best Bootleg Sixties show we’ve ever done, and my little synapses are still firing with joy at the very recollection of it. We’ve done sold out shows before, of course, but there was something about this one that set it apart. Partly it’s the venue, where the stage thrusts out into the auditorium and the audience are almost in the round, so they’re right on top of the band. Partly it’s the audience themselves, who were so up for tonight it isn’t true, partly it was because we made the place look and sound brilliant with all the screens and lights and that kind of malarkey, partly it was because the band were bang on top of their game, but MAINLY it was a combination of all of those factors, coming together to create something truly special, and if that sounds clichéd it’s simply because I can’t explain it any other way. It’s also not the longest blog I’ve ever done, because I’ve simply run out of superlatives for tonight. We’ve played at The Stables before and pretty much sold out last time too, but this one went “ clean “ incredibly quickly, and they even ended up selling standing room. It’s the first time we’ve had an oversold show, and what became really clear was that these people were here tonight because they wanted to be, not out of idle curiosity. The Belgrade Theatre may have had a bigger audience, but this is quite an intimate venue, and the noise the crowd make is astonishing. The other thing that I felt tonight, and please don’t think I’ve turned into some fey, poetic, hello clouds, hello sky kind of numpty, is that there was a real feeling of love coming back off the crowd. Yes, yes, I know, it sounds all pink and fluffy and Feng Shui, but there really WAS…..love for the band, the music, the pictures, the memories, the whole experience. Tonight was the vindication of everything that we’re aiming for with this show, the reason we put all the work and the money in. We all delivered a fantastic show, and I say that with total pride and honesty. We even had some technical gremlins, literally right at the start before the band had even started playing, and STILL it didn’t make a difference. There was extra pressure on tonight too….we had some guests in from Holland who are looking to take the show out there, and thus we needed everything to be just so. Sometimes that kind of pressure can really hobble you, but tonight we took everything in our stride, so if there’s no big fat tour forthcoming from these folks I’m going to go over there and set fire to their clogs. So many other great things happened tonight…..our very good friends Mike and Jean Ketley finally got to see the show ( and loved it !), I met long-time fan Rosemary for the first time, we had Junior on the team for the day, the lads got me some McDonalds Chicken Selects for tea ( truly splendid they are too ) and the lovely Carol, of whom more later, came back after a few days away, so all the portents were excellent. It’s not as though it’s an easy place to work, either…..the deep but very narrow stage meant that we couldn’t project all the images onto our normal backdrop, so we had to hire in and hang a couple of screens on the sides, Tomps and I couldn’t sit side by side and hold hands throughout the show as he had to operate from right up in the nosebleed-inducing lighting gantry, we couldn’t run the full pyro show for fear of immolating the front row, and there’s so little space at the side of the stage that Pug and I were literally behind the band. Add to this the fact that biblical amounts of rain were trying to turn Wavendon into an island state, and you had the potential for it all to be a total ‘mare. Not this time, though. Tonight was an absolute triumph…I’d even go so far as to say a landmark. THIS is where we want to be, and once you’ve had this kind of a night it’s hard to settle for anything less. I keep having to remind myself that we're only three years old as a touring project, and that it may take another two or even three to get us to the point where we can command audiences like this regularly. It WILL happen, though....THE WORLD MUST BE MADE TO LOVE US AND WORSHIP AT THE ALTAR OF OUR MAGNIFICENT FABULOUSNESS !!!!! Or something.

Bishops Stortford Rhodes Centre Thursday Nov 22nd

It’s a peculiar national trait of the British that we talk about the weather all the time. Johnny Foreigner claims that this is because our lives are so dull we have nothing better to discuss, or because we are so repressed in social situations that we resort to meteorological mundanity in order to avoid doing anything like talking about our feelings. To these unfortunates who didn’t win God’s Lottery and therefore weren’t born British, I say “ Pish and tosh, sir, and furthermore, up your nose with a rubber hose “. The reason we talk about the weather is because we’ve got so bloody MUCH of it. As I write there are major floods in many parts of the country, hurricane – force gales lashing the south and midlands, snow in Scotland, clear blue skies in East Anglia and for all I know, a tropical heatwave in Liverpool. We’ve got it ALL, but mostly we’ve got water, water everywhere. We’ve had tour plans scuppered by the weather before, so I’m keeping a wary and worried eye on the Met Office forecasts. Everyone’s driving from their respective homes today, and a couple of the lads have fair distances to traverse, so I’m hoping no aquatic mishaps occur to derail today’s proceedings. For Tomps, Pug and I the run down to Bishops Stortford is relatively uneventful, apart from spotting an old bearded bloke on the hard shoulder of the M11 loading what appeared to be a pair of giraffes into some kind of wooden boat thing. Noah idea who he was…….Today’s venue is the Rhodes Centre in Bishops Stortford, a town famous largely for being near to Stansted airport. I’d never heard of the venue before, but Den reliably informs me that it has a rich musical history, and that pretty much everyone except The Beatles has played there since the 60s. Even Stevie Wonder has been, and apparently there are some great photos of his concert there. I haven’t actually seen them, but then again, neither has he…Inside it looks less like a venerable concert hall and for all the world like a slightly smaller version of the Theatre On The Hill in Marlborough where we played on the last two tours. To be honest, the modernisation that's been done has left it feeling a wee bit soulless, but Geraldine and Kevin, the house crew make us welcome AND supply us with tea and coffee….. ARE YOU LISTENING, OTHER VENUES ? IT COSTS BUGGER ALL TO LAY ON YET IT MAKES A BIG, BIG DIFFERENCE TO US !!!! Only slightly weird element about today is that there’s a great big wake going on in the adjoining bar, so there are hundreds of black-clad people milling about. I’m not sure who the deceased was, but judging by the amount of bulging muscle, cauliflower ears and broken noses on show, there’s a fair chance he / she was involved with something of a pugilistic nature. It’s a BIT of a bugger of a get –in, but we’re up and running in reasonable time. As we need to have a production meeting about Saturday’s show at Wavendon, which presents us with a few technical problems, we’re keen to get soundcheck over with sharpish, and the band are all on parade in good time. They launch into the first couple of numbers, and just as things are gathering momentum, the fire alarm shrieks into life. It’s no drill, folks….we have to evacuate the building, and suddenly we’re milling about cheek by jowl with the mourners outside. Where it’s freezing. And starting to rain. Minutes tick by. The fire brigade arrives in a blaze of blues and twos, and in they rush. More minutes pass. Then another minute. Then another. Then another minute, which was actually longer than the last minute, but shorter than the minute before that. Then another minute, longer than both the previous minutes, but not as wide. We’re running out of soundcheck and production meeting time, not to mention the fact that I now can’t feel my extremities, but just as I think I’m going to have to ask the bar staff to put me in the microwave to thaw me out, the doors re-open and we’re all beckoned back in. As we go into the hall we see a couple of the lads talking to two yellow – clad firemen. Turns out that we were the problem ( oops….). To be fair, we had no idea. Damian had asked the venue when the smoke alarm isolators would be ready for use, and had been told “ now “ about an hour and a half ago, The hazer has been steadily pumping out smoke since then, and despite the fact that the main room isolators are on, the ones in the kitchen area, it transpires, aren’t. and due to the vagaries of the way the building is ventilated, a draught has sucked our haze smoke into the kitchen area where it’s set off merry Hell. Luckily the management here are good, reasonable people and they know that we’d acted under their staff’s instructions and had done our job properly, so the Fickle Finger Of Fate doesn’t end up pointing in our direction. We belt through about ten more minutes of soundcheck then we’ve got to call it a day, but let’s be honest…if the lads don’t know what they’re doing by now then they never will. It’s a late start tonight so I get the chance to have a chat with an old pal, her husband and their friend before the show goes up, and it’s great to see them again. Jim and Irene are here again too…..that’s already ( I think ) four shows so far !!! We’ll be giving them the keys to Bishops Stortford next for their dedication to the cause. I wouldn’t say Bishops Stortford is small, but the keys to the town are actually under the front door mat next to the milk bottle holder…Unlike last night, this is more of a partisan crowd, and in this intimate venue the noise they make is truly impressive. No “polite response “ stuff tonight…..they’re right behind the band straight out of the traps. The first half seems to pass by in a flash, and there have been plenty of highlights. Yet AGAIN though, it’s Light My Fire in the second half that elicits the first wave of mayhem, and this crowd are SO obviously up for it that at the end of the set Den once again jettisons the singalong of “ Walk Alone “ in favour of the carpet-bombing of Spirit In The Sky, to the lasting joy of the crew ( all secret metalheads, every one of us !! ). With a final crash it’s all over, the band are taking their bows, the crowd are STILL going mental, and I’m wondering where I put my waterproof clothes. This has been a great show on every level, and the crowd have lapped it up. I briefly spot my friends on the way out and they’re fulsome in their praise , as are the house management, who proclaim this the best show they’ve had in for years. It’s frustrating, but it’s all part of building the show. Three to five years is the minimum time it usually takes any new project to get established. We’re nearly there…But back to the weather. The water is back ( it never really went away ) and now we’re faced with the prospect of loading out in a total deluge. It’s so bad it’s as if there’s a sadistic git standing on the venue roof and directing a cold, high powered hose at us, but no, it’s just the rain. Despite, or perhaps because of this, the gear gets loaded quicker than normal and we all climb, dripping, into our respective vehicles. I’ll draw a veil over the Nasty Next Hour, complete with overheating cars, terrible visibility on the M25, high winds and rain, ALWAYS rain. Suffice to say that by the time we get into the car we’re soaked right through to our hoggers, and all the heater seems to be doing is to fill the car with the smell of wet dog as our clothes steam in the warmth. I feel stiff and achy and I’m shivering as though I’ve been in the deep freeze for a bit, so there’s only one cure as soon as I get home…..hooooooooot baaaaaaaaath. A mug of Ovaltine may also have been involved, and my Satisfactionometer is so far off the scale by the time I get into bed that I scarcely think about the fact that I got so excited about the prospect of a bath a malty drink before bedtime. All that was missing was the Saga magazine for me to riffle through as I steeped in the tub. Old fogey ? Me ? How dare you, Sirrah ?! I'll have you know I'm both cool AND trendy ! I even wear not one but TWO earrings....! Oh yes, I'm young at heart, me. Now, if only this bloody arthritis would stop hurting....

Basildon Towngate Theatre Wednesday Nov 21st

The day dawns, cold, grey, wet and miserable as the troops gather to reconvene, and this really is one of those times when the prospect of hauling gear in and out of trucks and venues in the pouring rain seems marginally less appealing than root canal surgery without anaesthetic. The only plus factors today are that a) we’re not travelling all that far and b) Basildon Towngate is a really nice venue. That all still seems like ( literally ) cold comfort as we splash and splosh our way through the teeming downpour, and when we finally pull up outside the theatre after a couple of hours there’s a marked reluctance to actually leave the warmth of the cab and “ assume the position “. This, Faithful Blogreader, is where harsh reality and the perceived glamour of the music business collide head – on, and guess who comes out best ?! Yep. However, we’re nothing if not dedicated professionals ( snort ) so we just grit our teeth, gird our loins, bite the bullet and several other expressions denoting the fact that we’d really rather be tucked up warm in bed, and get on with it. Fortunately, the load – in here is fast and easy, and once we’re inside and the doors are shut, we enter the bizarre twilight world of the road crew. I’ve not really talked about this before, but it’s a strange aspect of our everyday lives. Just as the casinos of Las Vegas have no outside windows and no clocks in the games rooms, thus ensuring that the gamblers lose track of exactly how much time they’ve spent trying to plunge themselves into debt and penury, so it is with us when we go into a theatre to build a show. The only time that has any meaning is the magic hour of five o’clock, when the band will mooch onstage for soundcheck. Otherwise the day is spent in the half – dark, cut off from normal life and with your entire focus on placing that piece of kit, plugging in that cable, focusing that light. Unless you’re the one who has drawn the short straw to do the food run, or you’ve popped out of the stage door for a quick smoke, you don’t see the outside world again until the van is pulling out at the end of the night. No matter where you’re playing, your world shrinks to the stage, the wings, the mixing position and the dressing rooms. It has the effect of homogenising each day, and on a long tour this can become a bit difficult to deal with. You can always tell “ career road crew “ as they’ve got this slightly faraway look in their eyes, caused by too long spent in darkened theatres and tour buses. Or it might be down to huge amounts of drugs, of course. No such worries with our clean team, mind you…..the most rock’n’roll it gets with us is an extra helping of hot sauce on our kebabs. But enough of this blather….back to today’s business. There’s been quite a bit of palaver about this show. We were originally scheduled to play here on the tour in spring, but after the show had been on sale for a while the theatre realised they’d actually double-booked the date, and as the show it clashed with had been confirmed before ours, it took precedence, and we had to move back to now. What we DIDN’T know was that while our agent was putting this tour together, he was doing the usual thing of asking each venue for a few options of available dates so he could try and get the routing to make some sort of geographical sense ( doesn’t always work, of course….our tour routing frequently takes on a pattern so random that it looks like the venues were chosen by a gibbon throwing darts blindfolded at a map of the UK ). One of the two dates they had free was November 8th, so, again, as is usual practise, this was put on hold, until our agent finally plumped for today’s date as it fitted in better with the rest of the dates he’s negotiated. It was really only as this current tour was starting that we realised the theatre had, far from just putting November 8th on hold, actually advertised our show and put it on sale for that night ! The only way we found out was that we started getting miffed messages from fans who’d bought tickets for the 8th and rocked up to the Towngate, expecting a night of Sixties mayhem, only to find that they had tickets for “ The best ventriloquist in most of Basildon, Marvello and his puppet Snouty The Dolphin “ .( actually I may have made that up…..whatever, it definitely wasn’t us on that night ). All of this does give us a slightly queasy feeling about tonight….this will be the THIRD advertised date for our show. Will people still come, or will they be so cheesed off at all the chopping and changing malarkey that they stay home and decide to sort out their sock drawers instead ? In the end, the turnout is actually healthy, but I can’t help feeling we’ll still have lost SOME people along the way….and not only was this not our fault, we weren’t even aware of the problem !!!! We’re reasonable chaps, but someone really does need to be shot at dawn for this, or at least be beaten to within an inch of their lives. I’ll have a word with the local council….The show itself is a gig of two halves, Gary. Although we’ve been here before and gone down brilliantly, the reaction to the first half is definitely appreciative, but somewhat muted. The band aren’t doing anything differently… if anything they’re playing better tonight that they did at the last gig….but there’s no real vibe coming back from the auditorium, and everyone remarks on it at the interval. The venue management must have put something in the half-time drinks, though, because after that it changes totally. I know I’ve mentioned this before but it often seems to be Light My Fire that’s the tipping point. You’d think that the smacked-out maunderings of a hippy drug monkey coupled with the sheer length of the song and the keyboard and guitar histrionics that it features would have the audience reaching for the smelling salts, but every night, almost without fail, they’re a – whoopin’ and a – hollerin’. So it is tonight, and from here on in it’s in the bag. It’s actually quite a remarkable thing to be onstage and to see and feel the palpable change in an audience reaction….at the risk of sounding clichéd , it really IS the magic of rock’n’roll music. It’s been another great success tonight, and the euphoria lasts right up until the EXACT moment that the loading bay doors are opened, revealing a black, stormy, wet Essex night. I feel a sharp pain in my buttocks and whirl around. Yes, it’s reality biting me on the arse again…….

Winter Tour 2012, First Week

Hereford Courtyard Sunday November 11th ……and suddenly the tour’s not just upon us, it’s clambering all over our eiderdowns and sticking a foot in our goolies. Hard to believe that it’s been nearly seven months since our happy band last climbed aboard the Flying Bogey to criss – cross the highways and byways of this Sceptr’d Isle.. Sooooo much has happened in that time, yet as the gear comes out of the vans and into the Courtyard Theatre in Hereford, it feels like the last gig was just a couple of days ago. Most obvious change this time around is the absence of the aforementioned Flying Bogey. Turns out there was a problem with her knurled grunion rod or overhead underhang or some such mechanical jiggery – pokery, but the net result is that there’s no Big John and no nice warm bunk waiting for us at the end of the loadout. As such we’re going to be at the mercy of the evil Dr Travelodge and his vile minions, and we’ll all be driving ourselves too. I can hardly wait. There’s a new face on the team as well….Rodders has had the proverbial offer he couldn’t refuse and so is gallivanting around the country with Joan Armourplating. As such we’re welcoming back Damian Goddard, who did lights on the mini – tour with us a couple of lifetimes back. We’re also going to be without Nick for the first nine or so gigs; he’s got some commitments at home that he can’t get out of, and as such Chris “Junior “ Stocker will be stepping in to cover backline for that period. Otherwise it’s the usual suspects…..Chris Skornia’s back on keyboards for the tour as new bug Alex Richards has the sheer effrontery to actually have a Proper Job which prevents him coming out on these longer jaunts, and then there’ll be Arthur, Tomps, Pug and, of course, your humble scribe. I must also apologise for the tardiness in getting this blog malarkey rolling; normally I write on the bus after the show or in the morning following it, but as we’re self – driving, I just simply haven’t had the time, and so I’m doing a kind of précis of the first six shows. Hopefully normal service will be resumed shortly…..I also wanted to clarify why we’re back out on tour. It’s because we owe a cartel of Colombian drug barons an enormous amount of money for all the cocaine we’ve bought, and they’ve threatened us with a fate worse than death if we don’t cough up ( although I must say I can’t actually imagine a fate worse than death….). Seriously though, it’s partly because we’ve been running into issues with Easter in the spring tours, when some theatres simply won’t book shows over that weekend. As long as we stay clear of panto season, an autumn / winter period should hopefully be better, but as we couldn’t leave it eighteen months from last spring’s tour until NEXT winter, we’ve stuck in this mini-jaunt to bring us in line again so than we can tour annually. Capice ? Excellent !!Hereford turns out to be an interesting night in all sorts of ways. Firstly, and most gratifyingly, it’s sold well, so there’s no shaking off the tour rustiness in front of two men and a dog in some rural barn…..any mistakes will be writ large ‘pon the stage. No pressure, then….Damian’s probably got the hardest task initially; we’d got to the point with Rodders where some kind of rock’n’roll ESP was at work, but Damian’s coming in virtually from scratch, which means setting up all the cues and scene changes again. He’s not helped in this by the absence of the moving lights we used last time out; we’re actually getting some for the Coventry show but for the first gig it’s the house lights only, and he also has to listen to me bleating on with all the various cues and directions. Lovely. In the foyer before the show we’re amazed to see Jim and Irene, who have trekked over hill and dale to the Courtyard Theatre to help us raise the curtain on this tour, and it really DOES make a difference to see friendly faces in the audience, especially so far from home. Well played, you two !! This is essentially the same show we toured in the Spring, with, ( I think ) just one change to the set, so that helps as well. Mind you, the fact that the new set lists we’re all working off have the wrong running order on doesn’t really make life easier….! As ever, though, experience prevails, and we kick things off in fine style…in fact, it’s as though we’d never been away. Nothing falls over, no-one forgets their words or fluffs a chord, and all in all it’s a strong start to the tour. The load – out’s a bit slow as there’s no Nick to call out the “pack” for his vehicle, so it all ends up being a bit of a bugger’s muddle, but this pales into insignificance when it becomes clear that Den’s lost his car keys. This is Bad News, as we’re not exactly just a few miles from home here, and the car’s needed to ferry Den and Phil around. After much intense searching, the only thing that can be surmised is that they were somehow lost when the band headed to a local watering – hole for some nosebag earlier today. We mooch off to the Travelodge with it’s overall lack of bedding, warmth and general cheer, and our heads are full of contingency travel plans all the way there. It’s been a good first day in general, but this doesn’t bode well….. Coventry Belgrade Monday November 12th The day dawns misty, wet and miserable, but this all changes when Den’s keys turn up in the pub from yesterday. Cue huge sighs of relief all round, and a suggestion from one of two of the party members that we actually superglue them to Den’s hand to avoid further such incidents. Pug and I are picking up some moving lights from our old mucker Ian Robson at TechPS in Milton Keynes today, but as we set out it soon becomes clear that someone has moved MK further east in the night, as our two – hour journey through the bucketing rain inexorably stretches into three, and suddenly we’re struggling to make the 1.00pm load – in time at Coventry. We manage to roll up only twenty minutes late, only to find the loading bay blocked by a posh red car. This, it transpires, belongs to the Creative Director of the theatre, who is clearly not so bloody creative that he can actually read a schedule and see when there’s a show due to be coming in to his theatre. As the minutes tick by and tempers start to fray, thoughts of tow – ropes and using vans as bulldozers begin to flit across our minds, but just before any vehicular unpleasantness can be perpetrated the offending luvvie returns and clears the way. Now, we LOVE the Belgrade, and they seem to love us right back. This is our fourth time here, and it’s a beautiful place with excellent facilities. In the ideal world we’d like to be coming here further into the tour when we’ve got all the lights and stuff firing on all cylinders, but it is what it is, as they say, so here we are. Damian has a massive struggle with the moving lights, which steadfastly refuse to have any truck with either him OR his lighting desk, and much cursing ensues, punctuated by a loud thrashing noise and what would appear to be bits of lights tinkling to the floor. The slightly later show start time they have here gives him the chance to invoke the Lighting Gods, and thus by burning incense and chanting, at curtain up we’ve got a full, if occasionally recalcitrant, lighting rig. No such worries for the band tonight….buoyed by the fact that there are six hundred people in front of them going banzai, they set the controls to “ Stun “ and duly deliver. On this form they truly are unstoppable, and even if it’s not their slickest performance they still beat the shreddies off anyone else on the planet playing this kind of music…and yes, I DO include the original artists who are still plying their trade. As Sir Elton says, they ARE the best. End of. Only slight disappointment from a crew angle tonight is the choice of “ Walk Alone “ as the encore….though we can appreciate it’s merits as an arms – aloft singalong, the band have better fare in their locker, and we’d like to see them raze the place to the ground with some raw power. No such gripes from the crowd though, which includes Jim and Irene yet again ( you folks are stars ! ) as well as the Baroness Of Brazen Bopping, our pal Marilyn Reynolds. Marilyn also solved our “ Forgotten Programmes “ dilemma by picking them up and bring them here ( nice one, Maz !!! ) and we’ve also seen the lovely Dawn Gerrard, so it’s been almost a full house of the Uber-Fans. As we’re relatively close to our respective bases ( except for Damian, who resides in the Grand Duchy Of Ipswich ) we’re all heading back home tonight, and that does take the edge off the cold and relentless rain which manages to permeate everything on the load-out. There’s still a bit of farting around with the gear in the other van, but by employing our Zen-like powers of concentration ( and a fair amount of brute force and ignorance ) we get out in reasonable time. Under normal circumstances we’d all be out of here in an hour, but it’s still not too shabby, and I’m looking forward to being home and ( literally ) dry in about 50 minutes, when a Good Samaritan act backfires and derails my plans. I’ve stopped in a garage to get some fuel ( they’re terribly good for that, you know ) and just as I’m paying I’m approached by a harassed and oil – covered chap. He’s got a flat tyre and it turns out that the wheelbrace supplied with his Frog – built car is as much use as tits on a bull, so he’s asking everyone who comes into the garage if he can borrow theirs. Partly because it’s pissing with rain and partly because lots of people are just selfish bastards, he clearly isn’t getting far, and he asks me more in hope than expectation, especially as I’m driving a chuffing great van and he’s in this Gallic crap-heap. Sometimes there IS a god, though, and amazingly, the wheelbrace fits….but that’s as far as it goes. This chap isn’t small by any standards, but after several rain – soaked minutes of hernia – inducing effort, none of the wheelnuts will budge. I then remember that there are extension handles in the van for the wheelbrace, so I duly bring them over, fitted them on, and suggesT to this poor chap that I give it a try. Now, as those of you who have seen me will know, I’m not exactly suffering from anorexia. I’m a big lad. “ Well covered. “ A stranger to salad. Changing a wheel should be a mere bagatelle. However, when my full 18 and a bit stones are precariously balanced on this wheelbrace handle and the bloody wheelnuts STILL won’t move, I begin to realise with sinking heart that I am encountering the Good Deed Dilemma. Do I say I’ve done my best and leave the poor chap stranded, or do I stay involved and risk being here until the start of the next Ice Age ? Christian charity or a warm bath and bed ?? Luckily the decision is made by a scream of tortured metal, as a wheelnut finally gives way beneath my porcine assault. Slowly the wheelbrace lowers me to the floor, and just as I’m thinking “ I can’t do THAT again…” the next one comes out in sympathy, and so my new – found friend takes over, and with his effusive thanks ringing in my ears I drip my way to the van. Note to self…..if anyone ever approaches me in a garage late at night again, pretend to be Polish. Or deaf. Camberley Theatre Tuesday November 13th By one of those bizarre coincidences, the chap from the garage last night was from Camberley, so I’m keeping a wary eye out as I drive up the hill into the town…..! Camberley Theatre is a dinky little place that we’ve never played before, but it’s very much our kind of gig, apart from the load – in, which involves a kind of tightrope – walk along a metal ramp with a good six – foot drop on either side. It always makes me chortle when I’m asked to supply Risk Assessments for our show, which is as safe as houses, and yet here’s the “official” way into the theatre and it’s riskier than anything WE’RE doing. Mental. The house crew are good lads, though, and they help us bang everything up in good time. Damian’s still having a ‘mare with the moving lights….amazingly, they still operate on floppy disks, and each light has a “ Personality Disk” which enables the lighting desk to tell it what to do. These, however, seem to have “ Multiple Personality Disorder “ disks instead, as they’re still stubbornly refusing to do what Damian’s instructing them. By the time he’s got these sorted he’s up against it time-wise, and the rest of the lights are behind schedule, so we have to do something we NEVER do, which is hold the doors back. This does put everyone on edge a bit, but the crowd are responsive and the place is nice and intimate, so things slot back into the groove pretty quickly. We’ve got a bunch of VIP guests in tonight as well, and we’re hoping to take the show into other areas with their help, so everyone’s on their game, and the first half literally flies by…Tomps even asks me if we cut it down as it seems to have gone so fast. We need to try and catch up on the time a bit, so our interval ice – cream hunt is curtailed to facilitate getting everyone back onstage as quickly as possible. I’d heard wild tales of honey – flavoured ice cream being available, but in the end I settle for plain vanilla in the name of expediency, and must confess to a degree of disgruntlement about this for the entire second half, such is my shallow and materialistic nature. Despite the lighting issues, the show’s a belter, and if we haven’t swayed the VIPs by the end of this then there’s no justice in the world. We even manage to get all the gear out and loaded into the vans without plummeting to our deaths from the ramp, which is nice. The band are all back off home tonight but as we’re heading to Welsh Wales and the delights of Carmarthen tomorrow, the crew are travelling a mere twenty – odd miles after the show tonight and staying at renowned local beauty spot, Reading Services on the M4. Simples, yes ? Wrong. First thing we find is the road to the M4 being closed about five miles out of Camberley, so we dutifully follow the diversion signs….which take us right back into Camberley and past the place we’ve just left. HOW BLOODY HARD WOULD IT BE TO HAVE A SIGN IN CAMBERLEY CENTRE SAYING THAT THIS MAJOR ROAD WAS CLOSED ??!!! YOU TOTAL, HI-VIS VEST -WEARING BASTARDS !!!!To compound the jollity of the evening, the sat nav address of the services is, rather helpfully, for the EASTbound carriageway, but you only realise this as you’re sailing past the exit to the westbound services, where, of course, you want to be. It thus takes over an hour to travel the twenty – one miles to this godforsaken place….but at least we’re here, right ? Wrong. Again. As I pull in, I see the crew coming OUT of the hotel ( and I use the word loosely ) with all their baggage. It appears that the evil Dr Travelodge has decided that the way to REALLY improve quality and customer service is to start implementing an overbooking policy. In essence this means that they have 100 rooms, but will actually sell 103, in the hope that someone simply won’t turn up. I mean, I know that they’ll have paid their money in advance and made all of their travel arrangements, but someone’s BOUND to say “ Ah, sod it….I’ll just not bother going after all. Perhaps the good Dr Travelodge will forward my room prepayment to a worthy cause rather than lining his avaricious pockets with it….” Sadly it appears that tonight everyone had decided that they actually wanted to use the hotel room they’d paid for, with the result that only ONE of our pre-paid rooms is available. Their solution ? Drive further along the M4 to Chieveley Services and take rooms there, and as extra compensation for this frankly illegal misappropriation of our money they’ll provide us with a FREE BREAKFAST ! O be still, my beating heart….Luckily, Tomps, Damian, Pug and Junior are reasonable human beings, and rather than berate the tearful receptionist who has been lumbered with this problem by the greedy, faceless gits who pay her minimum wage, they gamely get back in the car and head west. Arthur and I make our way to a room which Dr Travelodge would probably describe as “ tired “. I call it “ totally bloody exhausted “ or perhaps even “ criminal “, but by now we could sleep on a clothesline, and so, ignoring the threadbare sheets, the lumpy mattresses, the stained wall and the chomp of tiny beasts, we fall into an exhausted sleep, pausing only to make a mental note to burn the place down in the morning…… Carmarthen Lyric Theatre Wednesday November 14th Good sense prevails this morning, and the matches remain firmly in my pocket, but be warned, Dr Travelodge…you are now firmly in my sights, mate….The run into Wales really isn’t at all bad, apart from the Dick Turpin-esque highway robbery that is the toll on the Severn Crossing, and we all roll into the pretty little town of Carmarthen half an hour ahead of get-in time. The Lyric’s a splendid old gaff, although the load – in really does belong to a time when touring companies brought their scenery and costumes along in a horse and cart. There’s room for the two vans…just….one behind the other, and with minimal paint – loss and wing mirror damage we manage to get parked up and unloaded. The final stage of the journey is via a goods lift so antiquated it’s got Roman graffiti on it and squeals like an MP having his expenses sheets examined, but it does the job. This is one of those lovely stages where we can spread out and that really speeds things up. Aided by the sterling efforts of Mick, Johnny and Ffen from the house crew, we’re way ahead of the game today, and it really DOES feel like we’re back in the groove. The band are driving all the way here from home, so we’re hoping they don’t run into any traffic as it’s at least a four and a half hour poke for some of them. Luckily no-one has any serious problems, and as the boys have been on the road such a long time they’re happy to do a pretty brief soundcheck, giving them a bit of chillout time. This suits the crew as well, because it means we can fully devote our efforts to the rather toothsome kebabs that we’ve managed to pick up from just around the corner. We’re normally such healthy chaps, too…..The crowd’s not huge tonight but they’re definitely in good voice, and there’s a really nice vibe to the whole show (man). Den makes the most of the Welsh proclivity for singing, and is rewarded with a robust chorus from the audience on Daydream Believer and Walk Alone, proving that when that song works it REALLY works. For some reason we always seem to do well in south and west Wales…it’s just in the north that we struggle. Definitely got to put THAT right…..Tomorrow’s yet another long run, right up to Chesterfield, so the band are staying here tonight, whilst we’re pushing on to Strensham Services on the M5, two hours or so up the road. For the first time I REALLY miss the tour bus; we’re pretty knackered from yesterday and a long drive up here today, and it’d be great to just climb aboard after a shower tonight, grab a beer, have a quick post mortem on the show then hit the hay and wake up outside tomorrow’s gig. The other thing we’re missing is the sense of camaraderie that we enjoy on the bus; four of the crew lads are travelling together in the car but Arthur and I have got a van each and, of course, the band are split between two cars, so a lot of the time we’re only seeing the band to talk to when they arrive for soundcheck and at the end of the night as they leave. We’re a strong unit so this isn’t actually causing any problems, but it just isn’t the same….the bonding experience of us all being on the bus together isn’t something to lose lightly, and it’s carried us through some tough times in the past. Can’t be helped, though…..we’ve just got to get on with it. To be honest, we’re have been stuffed here if we HAD been in the bus….we might have just managed to get it into the loading bay, but then there’d have been no room for the vans, so we’d have had to do the gig acappella !! The band pootle off to their hotel ( sorry lads, another Travelodge….) and the rest of us climb into our vehicles. Damian’s worried about fuel as the car’s telling him it needs a drink toute suite, and with blind optimism I tell him it’ll be fine…we’re bound to pass a garage soon. We do. Two, actually, both darker than a tabloid editor’s heart, and then we’re waaaaaaaay out on the dual carriageway in the wet and windy wilds of west Wales ( I DO love alliteration, don’t you ?) and heading into the great unknown. There’s not a light to be seen for miles, and above the sound of the van’s engine I can almost hear Damian’s sphincter squeaking as the miles go by and the fuel tank gets emptier. I’m just starting to think about telling him to stop so I can head on and see if I can find some fuel when all of a sudden I spot lights ahead. It’s a services….Saved !! AND they have strawberry milk !!!! Suitably refuelled, we push on for the M5, now a mere hour and a half away. Piece of cake…..What we haven’t taken into account, of course, is that a bloody great bank of fog has parked it’s pea-soupy arse over most of south Wales while we weren’t looking. At times the visibility is down to just a few metres, and it’s just NOT what we need at the end of a long day. It’s so bad that one of the vehicles can’t even see Strensham Services on the M5, misses it totally and has to double back, but one by one we eventually struggle in, eyes out on stalks from peering through the murk. At least we’re in a Day’s Inn tonight, which seems like the Ritz after the vapidity of the Travelodges. The idea of grabbing a beer crosses my mind for about three nanoseconds, and then I’m gone, man, solid gone……. Chesterfield Winding Wheel Theatre Thursday November 15th I feel a new man this morning. He wasn’t very happy about it, though, so he got up and left……..After a most splendid night’s sleep I’m ravenous, and send for a couple of cows to be brought to my room, but room service say they’re fresh out of them, so we all head into the main services. Let me tell you, Faithful Blogreader, should you find yourself in the proximity of a food outlet called SoHo at any motorway services, I most strongly recommend getting your laughing gear around a culinary wonder called the Full SoHo. Luscious bacon, two fat, herby sausages, beans, freshly cooked eggs, two doorstops of toast dripping with butter and best of all, a wee pot of their home-made spicy tomato salsa, all for a most reasonable £ 6.99. Add a flagon of tea and you’ve got a breakfast fit for a king, or at least for a hairy-arsed road crew. Thus fuelled, the trip up the M5, M42 and M1 seems to scoot by, and in no time I’m marvelling at Chesterfield’s famous twisted church spire whilst trying not to run into the car in front of me. I’m actually driving past the Winding Wheel before I spot it; it’s timbered gables make it look more like Ye Olde Pubbe than a theatre, but luckily Tomps fires me through some directions just before I’m about to turn around and make another fruitless pass. I eventually find my way into the backstage area. This boasts a ramp of impressive length and steepness, and my calves and lower back start to whine just from looking at it, but luckily there IS another way in that doesn’t involve death, hernias or runaway flight cases. The Winding Wheel is a really cool little place…bit short on wing space ( i.e. there isn’t any ) and just a bit tight, but it’s got loads of character and despite being able to hold over 1000 people still manages to seem intimate. The house crew are really helpful lads, and the fact that one of them is nicknamed Frodo delights my inner Tolkien. We have to be a bit creative with screens, projectors and the like, but this is one of those days where you actually enjoy doing that, enjoy having to put your creative skills to work. The lights are looking especially good today, with nice, rich colours, and the sound is great. Should be a good one, but once again I’m a bit worried about the band as they’re doing the whole run from Carmarthen in one hit. No sooner have I expressed these thoughts than I get a text from Chris Skornia telling me that they’ve been held up and won’t be with us until about 5.30pm. This is half an hour into soundcheck time but it still isn’t too much of a problem….we’re used to dealing with this kind of situation. Let’s just hope they’re not any later than that…..This show had actually been selling really slowly, and we’d been a bit concerned about it, but a late burst has suddenly pulled it right up, and we’re looking forward to it, not least because we’re staying in town tonight and don’t have to drive anywhere !!! Chris, Steve and Jamie actually pull up at 5.00pm, just before Den and Phil, so we’ve got a full complement, and they’re bang on time. What we ARE missing, it soon transpires, is half of the stage clothes. At first we think they’ve just been mislaid somewhere in the Winding Wheel, but a rummage round confirms our worst fears….they’re not here. It’s gone six now, so there’s no way of checking if they’re still in Carmarthen, but a bit of reverse Sherlock – work gives us a good idea where they might be….and it’s many, many miles from here.. Nothing for it tonight….the lads who HAVE got their stage clothes are just going to have to divvy up with the others and see what can be done. To everyone’s surprise, it actually works pretty well, and no-one looks like they’ve just ram-raided a charity shop. In fact, EVERYTHING works well tonight….the sound and lights are great and the band are on stonking form. When it all comes together like this, I sit and watch things almost as a fan, and I think this show is truly irresistible. There’s nothing of it’s kind on the circuit that can live with it, and even when it’s stacked up against things featuring original artists like Solid Silver 60s and Sixties Gold it STILL wins out, because those shows have fairly low production values. We just need the rest of the world to see it now….! We’re out in good time tonight, largely aided by the slope down into the vans which makes the loading quicker, if a great deal more hazardous, and then to our joy we find the hotel is only a few hundred yards away….AND the bar is still open RESULT !! We even get given a pizza ( admittedly cold ) by one of the noisy drunkards we’re sharing the bar with. Den, Steve and Phil join us and for a while it’s like old times, but it’s been a LOOOOONG day for these lads, and, pausing only to borrow my laptop in order to book some Status Quo tickets, they head off to bed, swiftly followed by a rapidly flagging road crew. Still, short-ish drive tomorrow….this is getting almost civilized !!!! Ilkley Kings Hall Friday November 16th An early call to the Lyric in Carmarthen establishes that the missing stage clothes are, in fact, still there. They kindly offer to courier them up to us today, but as this is going to cost nearly £ 300 and we’ve only got one more show to do before a break, we decide that we’ll make do again tonight, and opt for the twenty – odd quid courier to my house on Monday option instead. After a brief stop in Chesterfield’s leading music store to pick up some bits and bobs, we’re out on the road and heading north to the lovely little town of Ilkley. Back in the days when dinosaurs strode the earth I used to come here, as well as nearby Otley, to visit some local university mates, now sadly scattered and, in the case of one of them, sadly deceased. It’s a pretty little place with bags of character, though it’s very odd coming back here again after such a long time. Best just to get the old head down and crack on with the day’s work. The Kings Hall is an ornate and interesting venue, boasting a “rake” on the stage which is almost as steep as the one at Buxton Opera House. “ Rake “ is one of those old theatrical words still in use, and it loosely translates as “ an unfeasibly vertiginous angle to the stage, designed to turn flight cases into deadly runaway weapons “. We’ll be nailing the lads to the floor to stop them toppling down the slope, I think…..The stage is also about four feet high and so we have to hoik everything up onto it from floor level, thus some VERY creative positioning of gear starts taking place….all the heavy stuff seems to be staying on the floor with miles of cable connecting it to the worky bits high above onstage. I think if there was any way to keep the instruments down here on the floor and have the band perform up there it’d be done, but that DOES seem to be just one step beyond the many and varied talents of the crew. Still, it’ll make things a lot easier come load – out time….. I’d actually forgotten just how much they love their hills round these here parts, but I’m reminded in very short order when I go to park the van ( due to an ancient byelaw, Mercedes Sprinters are banned from parking outside the venue in the hours of daylight, unless it’s the third Tuesday in July, a full moon, or you’ve got a wet haddock in your left – hand pocket ). I’d thought I was just going to park Black Beauty ( for it is she ) “ around the corner “ as described by the house crew. Turns out that “ around the corner “ actually means “ making an assault on the lower slopes of Mount Annapurna “ which I must admit I didn’t know had been moved to Yorkshire. It’s only when the altitude sickness kicks in as I lock the van up that I realise I might be in trouble here, but luckily a passing Sherpa lashes my fainting form to a mountain goat and gets me back down to a level where I can breathe normally again. As we’d thought, when the boys arrive and see the stage, a quick re-think is called for. To stand on the rake for the entire set would be murder on the old calf muscles, so they opt to congregate on the two-foot wide piece of level stage right at the front. Steve’s OK as he’s on a purpose-built drum riser, but Chris doesn’t have the same freedom of movement as the others, and finds his keyboards positioned at a jaunty angle halfway up the incline. He asks if he can swing outwards a bit more but we have to explain that this won’t be possible as we have approximately half a ton of concrete stageweights anchored to his keyboard stand in order to prevent him and his gear joining the front row of the audience. I’ve also had to make sure that the pyros are firmly attached to this flat piece of stage…..if I’d put them further back as I normally do, the angle of the rake would have had them resembling a rocket barrage aimed at the audience, and that’s ALWAYS going to take the shine off your day. Showtime eventually comes around, and the first thing that becomes apparent is that from where Tomps and I are sitting, it sounds as thought the audience are miles away and also being pretty muted. At one point I make the comment “ They’re a quiet bunch tonight, aren’t they ? “ only to have Damian tell me on the comms that from where he’s sitting right amongst them, they’re actually pretty lively, and people are even up and dancing ! There’s another little acoustic vagary that nearly trips us up….it sounds as though the snare drum mics are really, really loud, so all manner of level-changing, graphic equalization and plain old unplugging of cables goes on until it becomes clear that it’s actually the room…..move eight feet to the right or left and suddenly everything levels out ! Once that’s established, everything settles down. The band are in cruise control tonight, we’ve got a few day’s break coming up tomorrow and our audience is ready for a party, so it’s just a case of “ gentlemen, start your engines….see you on the other side ! “. The response afterwards from the house crew is one of the best we’ve ever had….Laura, the young tech who’s been with us all day is raving about the show and texting her friends to tell them what they’ve missed, whilst head tech Andy is effusively assuring us that if we come back we’ll DEFINITELY sell out, and we’re basking in the warm glow of their adulation, right up until the doors are opened to take the first bit of gear out. It’s hosing down out there. We’re on Ilkley Moor and we are, indeed, ‘baht ‘at. Not that a hat would be much protection against the monsoon-esque deluge that lashes us each time we venture to poke our noses outside. One of our number has managed to acquire a sou-wester – like coat with hood, so he manfully strides out looking like an advert for “ Fisherman’s Friends “ but there’s no such luck for the rest of us…..we’re just going to get soaked, and then we’ve got a two to three hour drive back. Hello pneumonia !!! The sheer hellishness of it spurs us into high gear, though, and the load-out is the fastest of the tour so far. I’ve also learned that my daughters are at a hotel in Wakefield, and as I’m driving right past there on the way home I call in to have a brief but happy reunion with them, and use the time there profitably by sticking my soaking t-shirt on a radiator ! A few hours and several Red Bulls later I’m pulling up at Chez Henders. So that’s it…first part of the tour…..DONE !

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……

Newport Riverfront Friday April 27th

There’s a lot of excitement and anticipation about tonight’s show. We came to Newport on our first full tour and had an absolute blast of a gig, with a good-sized crowd and a great atmosphere, and we know that the advance sales of this have been strong, so we’re all revved up. Fortified by a very splendid full English breakfast at the hotel in Eastleigh, we set off for Wales. I’ve already made a comment in a previous blog about the weird-arse arrangement that sees you paying to get IN to Wales, but getting out for free., and as we have many Welsh fans, I’ll just discreetly draw a veil over this somewhat bizarre arrangement. The only thing I WILL say is that it costs TWELVE AND A HALF BLOODY QUID to get a Transit into the principality, so I’m seriously considering having a word with some of those nice chaps at the Sangatte refugee camp at Calais and seeing if they can hook me up with some human traffickers who would be prepared to smuggle the vans ashore at Barry Island. …We’re back at The Riverfront today, a fabulous place with a great crew who still hold our nearly three-year old record for the fastest get-out. Stevenage equalled it once, but these folks really are the badger’s bathrobe. It helps that the stage is mahoosive, so everything’s easy to get at. In fact, if we reckon we could fit the entire Concorde Club into the Gordon Craig load dock, then here we could accommodate the club, adjoining hotel, outbuildings, car park and possibly the nine-hole golf course. It’s big. Last night we were crammed onto an 18’ x 12’ platform, tonight we could invite the entire population of the little country town where I live to come and sit on the stage, and we’d still have room to run a sheep-dog trial ( they must be little bastards, those sheep dogs…they’re ALWAYS on trial, aren’t they ? Must be something in the Winalot ) . In fact, so big is the stage that when the set starts it’s almost as though everyone’s TOO far apart, as it feels a bit dislocated up here and takes a couple of songs to kick things into gear. Tomps and I are so far away from the band that we can almost hold a normal conversation while they’re playing ( well, as normal as our conversations ever get ), while at stage left Pug is employing semaphore to communicate with the band across the great swathe of space that divides them. There’s also a really long forestage here ( I said foreSTAGE) which can be lifted up on hydraulics when they need to increase the platform size. Tonight, though, it’s retracted to floor level, meaning that we’ve got a pretty cool area between the front of the stage and the first rows of seats which is just crying out for a bit of unabashed Welsh rug-cutting later on. In some places these gaps are slightly intimidating, but here’s it just looks like a party waiting to happen ( Note to band, crew and self : Do not disappoint ! ). The moment the lads have got their collective mojos doing whatever mojos do when they get together, we know that this one is going to be a corker. It’s the noise that I notice first; even this far from the centre of the stage and the crowd, it’s a deep, full-throated response to each song that literally sends a shiver down my spine. There’s no substitute for sheer numbers when you’re looking for a bit of crowd reaction, let me tell you. I’ve also decided that as the stage is the size of, say, Wiltshire, tonight’s the night when I do a wee bit of experimenting with the pyrotechnics. Now, those of you who have followed the show through all three tours will have witnessed the sparkly whoosh that accompanies the intro to Pinball Wizard, and may even remember the slightly erratic flame effects that used to be in Light My Fire ( see what we did there ?). The latter were gradually phased out after a series of misfires and failures, and though I briefly tried to resurrect them in Buxton on this tour with pathetic, sub-cigarette lighter intensity results, we’re really totally over them now. However, some time ago the nice lady from Le Maitre, the company which makes the whizzbombs, gave me a little box of sample pyros, and they’ve been sitting in my pyro box ever since, waiting for the opportune moment. Well, this is that moment. Some of these things are, quite frankly, terrifying, and they’ll stay RIGHT where they are, thank you. However, I’ve had two of these little fellows, called Mini Gerbs, nudging my brain all day, so tonight I decide I’m going to give them a go. I know what a Gerb does ( roughly ) and I know that this one has a 10’ wide fallout area and a 10’ height. What I DON’T know is how long the burn time is….Gerbs are a little longer-lasting than the instantaneous ignition of my usual Silver Jets…and I make an educated guess, but it IS still a guess. At the appointed time, just as the solos finish in Light My Fire, I hit the red button, and a pleasingly high jet of sparks fills the stage on either side of Steve’s drumkit. The song moves towards it’s conclusion, and still the jets of sparks fountain up. Now they’re coming to the “ big ending” but that’s one thing the Gerbs are showing no sign of doing. Despite the fact that they’re only about four inches long, they pack a bloody wallop alright, and they’re STILL in full effect as the band gather for the big crash ending of the song. For a horrible moment I’ve got visions of Jamie having to go onstage for the acoustic intimacy of Handbags And Gladrags with Mount Etna and Mount Vesuvius here still spitting out sparkly mayhem behind him, but with virtually no warning they fizzle out. JUST in time. Only one conclusion to make, of course. These are AWESOME….I need several boxes of them RIGHT NOW. The extra little bit of wow factor that we managed to get from the additional pyros stands us in good stead, and in the final run for home of the second set the house is, as someone once said, a-rockin’. So a-rockin’ is it, in fact, that it’s with something approaching disbelief that we hear Den call for Walk Alone as the encore, but then he’s made a big thing tonight about the Welsh being great singers, so probably it IS the right call. As soon as the beep on the last VT insert has gone, we’re straight on the stage. Reputations are at stake here !! Like a little army of dervishes we rapidly strip the stage and lob the gear into the two vans. We’ve given the house crew a five- minute handicap margin as last time we had a single 7.5 tonner and it was a lot less fiddly,, but they don’t need it….and it’s EXACTLY the same time as last year, one hours and four minutes. Phenomenal…..and just as well, because there’s a lot of piddling about going on tonight ! Nick and one of the other crew are driving after the show to a halfway house and will then carry on the next morning to Wembley, where they’ll pick up a “splitter” minibus from Tiger Tours. This is because the band is going straight to Holland after tomorrow night’s show, so we’ll need to sort out who’s taking what gear as it comes off the stage at Worthing.. At the same time, Rodders and I drive the rented van , staying just ahead of John and the Bogey, and we do the run from Newport all the way down to Worthing.. Very mixed feelings on the drive down….part of me just wants to get back home to start sorting my life out, part of me wants this to carry on forever, and part of me wonders how many sticks of seaside rock it’d take to equal my body weight.….We break the journey at Chieveley services and share a coffee and a stream of inappropriate jokes with John and Pug before heading off on the last stretch. The weather’s not great, which doesn’t augur well for tomorrow, and we know that we can’t get right into the gig and powered up until 7.00am, so we pull up outside the venerable old Assembly Hall at just before 5.30am. Rodders and I get aboard the bus and I work out how much sleep I’m going to get before John or I have to go out and meet the dude with the barrier key. I’m still in the middle of this process ( or so I thought ) when I suddenly wake up with a stiff neck and a face covered by an interesting lattice pattern from the non-slip surface of the table I’ve been lying on. John’s just firing up the engine, which means it must be seven am and time to move. Outside it’s pissing down, freezing cold and blowing a gale. This’ll be Worthing, then. Last show………………..

Eastleigh Concorde Club Thursday April 26th

Well, we always knew today was going to be different….we just hadn’t realised quite how different ! We’ve been pretty lucky on this tour with things like breakdowns and issues with the gear, but today it all came home to roost. Two of our happy band set out early for Eastleigh in the vans to meet up with the local promoter and make a decision as to whether or not the screens could be used, or if we had to hire some in. Trouble is, only one of them makes it. The other van expires in a cloud of steam just north of the M4, necessitating the assistance of the good ole boys of the AA, and the word we get is that the van will be relayed to Eastleigh where they’ll try to find a garage to repair it there. So far so slightly calamitous, but things were about to get hairier. Rodders arrives at the venue to meet the local chappie, only to find that a) there was no sign of said chappie and b) there was a bloody wake going on in the room, meaning that we couldn’t get in until 4pm !! Not quite sure how the folks at The Concorde managed to withhold this piece of information from us, but withhold it they did. The other trouser-dampening moment was when we had to park the bus in the venue’s car park, as there was a fairly large, and certainly very woody tree branch stretching across the road at what looked like just about bus front window height. As it turns out, there was about six inches clearance, but for a moment we thought we were just going to have to park the Bogey on the main road outside the club. As it’s so small and inconspicuous, surely there would have been no way it would have attracted the attention of the local constabulary…..I’ve actually decided that if ever I’m in a potential survival situation, I want to have Big John with me. No sooner have I wiped the perspiration of relief from my brow that he’s got parked without damage or incident, than he’s all powered up and set for the day. This man could find electricity, wine and a cheese board in the middle of the Gobi desert. He’s not of this world…We get the word that the nice man, the very nice man, the very very nice man from the AA is going to drop the poorly van off at the gig to let us unload before he takes it to the garage, which is a right bonus as it saves us about an hour, but the joy of that is slightly offset by the “replacement rented van” incident. Once we realise we need another vehicle, I call the local branch of a well-known national car rental firm who shall remain nameless ( Enterprise )and explain our predicament. I tell them we need a long-wheelbase Sprinter or Transit and am told “ yes, we have one “, so they send a very nice young lady over to pick me up and go to their office. I go through the whole rigmarole…name, address, date of birth, place of birth, inside leg measurement, firstborn child, deeds to the house etc, then cough up an eye-watering amount of money. Finally they bring round the van…and initially I think it’s a Tonka version of a real Transit. One thing I DO know, long wheelbase it isn’t, and suddenly the very real prospect of half our gear being left on a Hampshire pavement rears it’s ugly head. I’m stuck now, though, so I head back to the Concorde Club, where I’m greeted by mayhem. Before I go any further, let me tell you about the Concorde. It’s a famous jazz club, and as such it has the low-ceilinged, split-level, plush-carpeted ambience associated with such venues. However, it’s fairly recently started hosting more mainstream shows such as ours, and they’d been very keen to have us, so our agent put in a date. The main problem we have is that we’re in the middle of a theatre tour, so we’ve got a theatre stage’s worth of gear. The entire square footage of the Concorde, however, would fit into the loading dock of somewhere like Stevenage Gordon Craig, so it’s a total flight-case fest as everyone scrambles for space. As the ceiling above the stage is really low, we can’t fly the projectors as we normally do. This means we have to put them low down to each side of the band, which in turn means that every time they move they become living projection screens, with a side order of blindness into the bargain. Still, in the immortal words of Professor Stephen Hawking, “ That’s the way the piss-pot cracks” so on we go with it. In all seriousness there’s really no way this size of show should be getting shoe-horned into a place like the Concorde Club, but they really wanted it, and we’re nothing if not versatile. We’ve already managed to work a kind of Tardis-like magic on the rental van….it’s got so much gear in it now that you’d swear it was bigger inside than out, and so getting a theatre’s worth of kit onto an 18’ x 12’ stage is a mere bagatelle for us ! The only other problem we face is that there’s a nucleus of regulars who come to have a meal and watch the jazz acts, and quite a few of them are here tonight as well, on an elevated section at the back of the room. Everyone else is at tables and chairs in a cabaret-style seating arrangement, and it’s decidedly odd. Marilyn arrives just as we’re about ready to start soundchecking, casts her eyes around the place and declares it “ intimate “. It certainly is….I’ve worn bigger boxer shorts. The other departure from the norm is that we’re not on at our usual 7.30 or 7.45pm…we’re on jazz hours here, so we don’t go on until NINE ! They do feed us a very, very pleasant dinner, but by 8.45pm everyone’s drooping, and before we go all you can hear in the room is the murmur of conversation and the clatter of cutlery. …not exactly conducive to atmosphere. As we haven’t been able to work out a way of getting the screens to run the full set of slides and animations, I find myself in the unusual and not totally pleasant situation of being redundant tonight….apart from not being able to do the full visuals, there are no comms either, nor can we use the pyro due to the low roof, so I’m sitting this one out. When the band first take the stage the response is a little muted, and the noise of the diners and hubbub of conversation are very off-putting, but as the set progresses there’s a definite shift in the audience attitude as they realise this isn’t just another band going through the motions but a full-bore, full-blown show. The band’s sheer excellence and the visual impact of the production we’ve managed to get in here start to make people turn towards the stage and not towards each other at a dining table, and eventually the first dancers get up and the cheers and applause get louder and longer. By the end of the second set we’ve wiped the floor with the audience, and we’re beset by people telling us it’s the best show they’ve seen in years or the best one they’ve seen in the club or whatever. I think even Marilyn was impressed; she’s seen the band themselves in smaller venues many, many times, but this is a different beast altogether. In the end all the broken-down vans, late load-ins, small stages, lack of space and audience ennui are forgotten, and this genteel corner of Hampshire becomes a heaving, sweaty rock club. At the end of the night there’s a BIT of a shock as suddenly we hear a shouty man with a distorted speaker exhorting the audience to cheer for yet more encores. …this is the evening DJ, and what he lacks in subtlety he fortunately make up for for in great tunes. Old classics like Stevie Wonder’s Higher Ground and George McCrae’s Rock Your Baby bring back happy memories of school discos, Top Of The Pops, teenage fumbling and the subsequent slapped faces. As the music’s so loud I can bellow along to these songs to my hearts content, and I must admit, Faithful Blogreader, that if there had been a rug onstage, I most certainly would have cut it. It really IS a lovely venue, just a bit of an odd fit for what WE’RE doing. Jamie and Danielle from the club are both smashing folks and very helpful, and so a day that started out as a nightmare turns out really very fine indeed. There are beers at the bar after, as we’re staying here tonight, with the promise of both a shower AND a full English in the morning before we leave for Welsh Wales. It is, in fact, very civilized, and Tomps and I both resolve to come back here for a jazz night and a meal and to stay at the hotel . Not like on a date, of course…that would be just too weird…so if anyone out there fancies some cool jazz and hot grub, applications on a postcard to the usual address, please !!