Good Gigs, Bad Gigs

Before I go on, the title of this Blog is not about a certain Man United Player’s performances between the sheets with certain members of his family. Ahem!

Just read a super article about bad gig experiences from musicians and journalists around the world. Funniest one by far had to be the story about The Loves tragic end. If you don’t know about it, have a read here. It’s rather superb. As for the story about Ian Anderson from Jethro Tull, I can only imagine how arse-splittingly funny it must have been to see someone throw piss over the old hippy

So, I thought I’d share a few intimate ‘moment’s we had during our days in Intermajic. Enjoy

The Pit, Duke Street, Early 1999

This place really did live up to its name! I think it was the old Pink Parrot. What a fucking hole! Amongst our list of songs we used to do a slow-ish number called ‘Rest Your Head’ and needless to say it was going down a storm! (hahaha, extreme sarcasm).

Half way through the aforementioned song a member of the audience approached me (luckily I knew her so her chances of being booted in the head were minimal) and said “Dave, drop it man, its shit”. I actually took note and cut the song half way through much to the relief of my co-members. The song never re-surfaced again, thank fuck.

After that the small matter of electrocuting myself, fusing the microphone and having a hairy debate with ‘the owner’ of the club for not paying us topped off a pretty grim night!

Needless to say we never returned! Blessing in disguise really as I’ve never walked up such a steep, dangerous, slippery flight of stairs in my life!

The Cavern, Liverpool, 1990-something

We used to enjoy playing The Cavern as they supplied you with super amps and we were quite friendly with the Norwegian guy who did the sound even though he was making rather un-wanted (homo)sexual advances towards Ben (must have thought he was a fellow Nordic/Teutonic)

Anyway the day started with us arriving early with The Cavern shut! As we’re waiting outside we were approached by an old Chap of The Street looking for a ciggie! What he really need though was a place to have a burst as we noticed that he had holes in his shoes with the vilest BROWN piss trickling down his leg and gushing out of them! The day was obviously doomed to failure!

When The Cavern finally opened its doors we we’re befriended by a superb bunch of chaps who went by the name of Llama. After chatting for a bit, their rather ‘colourful front man, Ralph decided to skin up and pass a spliff around. St this point, the strange Norwegian chap managed to avert his eyes away from Ben’s Buns and notice Ralph’s spliff. Llama we’re off the bill and told to leave. We managed to stay thanks to some marvellous diplomacy courtesy of yours truly! So we went the pub to take stock!

When it was our slot to go on we had been in the pub for a lot longer that we anticipated and were pretty pissed! So, we went on … pissed! During our set or maybe backstage (I’m not really sure what happened, you’ll have to ask Mart) Mart got into some sort of ‘disagreement’ with some Peninsula Wools who were drafted in place of the aforementioned Llama. So, what does Mart do on stage? That’s right; he offers them all out (including their fans that outnumbered ours)

The night ended in failure, put a possible war between The Wirral and the rest on the Sane World of Merseyside was thankfully averted! Funny day even though the war rages on!

King George’s Playing Fields, 2000-something

We’d been asked by some nuttier who worked for Knowsley Council (Dave Something) to do a gig to try and save The Georgies from having houses built on them. God knows why as it was probably them who approved the planning permission!!

Anyway, we ended up doing this out side gig to the great and the good people of Huyton. The sun was shining and reflecting of the millions of Lacoste Trackies scattered amongst the field (Kidda Stock, if you will). Stuey’s arld fella even turned up (“Hello Dave! Nervous!!?? Chin up lad, chin up”)

Don’t really remember much about the gig itself except an old mate of mine called ‘Dec’ turning up and giving me a little bit of acceptable abuse (banter). As it was a long day and the free cans of Skol were flowing down nicely I was feeling rather pissed. After another bout of banter from Dec I decided to get my own back and shouted “alright Dec lad, you look dead skinny mate, you haven’t got AIDS have ye?”

Now the people of Huyton are very tolerant to political correctness, sadly the council isn’t. That was the last time we did anything from Knowlsey council. I personally think the chaps should have thanked me for that!

Either way, tumble weeds were flowing and the look of dissatisfaction and head shaking from Stuey’s dad towards me sealed a pretty bad day at the office for us

Then again, at least the locals from The Quiet Man didn’t turn up

There are many more stories I can’t think of right now, but if they spring to mind I’m sure I can bring them to the wonders of the world wide web some day

Night night children

Mol

Geek Yanks Love Chic The Mancs

Sorry it’s been a while chaps. Been sorting out my pre-nuptials! (My missus is gonna be made up with my CD collection if we ever divorce!!) hahaha

Anyhow, just been reading yet another glamorous story about The Smiths and certain peoples continuing fascination with them! Yawn yawn fucking yawn!

The article in question is about a bunch of American publishers who have decided to write about (what they interpret) The Smiths’ songs were about. Really baffles me about what some hack from across the pond really knows what Morrissey and Marr were writing about! It also got me wondering of our dear ‘cousins’ across the pond really knew what ‘The Boy With the Thorn in His Side’ or ‘Panic’ was really about?

The story continued depicting the likes of Morrissey and Marr as some sort of bizarre super hero comic book characters. Batman meets Mozza, I suppose you could say? Either way, it sounds like a bunch of Yank geeks who have randomly picked out The Smiths from one of their mate’s CD collection to gain notoriety

But, what really got me about this article is obviously how interested the general public in the old U S and A are in this band from ‘Plucky Old En-ger-land’? Could they really give a shit about The Smiths singing about a cold and wet Manchester during the Thatcher era or The Singer’s opinions on Vegetarianism or subversive homosexuality while they’re sat on their big fat arses in their chequered three quarter length shorts tucking into a giant Burger King the size of their heads in thirty degree heat? Yeah, gonna be a real big seller in Stateside that is it?

But, going back to it, is it me or do some people still fucking bang on about Manchester bands like The Stone Roses and The Smiths with a degree of ‘romance’ that strangely enough (IMO) borders on stalking and over fantasising? You’d think at times they were talking about The Messiah or (sorry about the pun) the second coming of Christ the way some people still ‘hold a flame’ for them

If it’s not some manc from Wythenshawe called Gary (or Gaz) rabbiting on about how culturally important Salford Boys Club was (to Morrissey’s ‘alternative’ fantasies, of course) it’s some other blert from Whalley Range banging on about how great The Hacienda (or “Haciendo!!) was!

1^ST hypocritical moment:

Now, I know most people may well be reading this and calling me a hypocrite with my fierce association and defence of all things to do with The Stones, Led Zep, AC/DC, Bowie, etc, etc, but, I think there is a rather partisan attitude towards the likes of The Smiths and The Stone Roses that sort of makes me wonder if these people do realise that there are other regional bands and sounds out there that could easily be explored instead of burying your head in all things that were once ‘great’ about Manchester!

2^nd hypocritical moment:

Everyone knows my home town is Liverpool and pretty much everyone on the planet is aware of a certain rock n roll sensation at the start of the sixties called The Beatles. These four chaps went onto claim the title as one of the most influential bands of all time ALL AROUND the world (including America, not just Liverpool). And that’s my point: America is a big place and everyone who lives there has, at some point in their lives, heard their music …

… Unlike The Smiths.

Then again, what difference does it make?

Ahem!

Mol