Here’s a problem.
I really want to write something fascinating about our much looked forward to gig at the Grapes on Saturday just gone……but although it went well, it wasn’t remarkable and I can’t think what to write.
Mind you much of this might have to do with the fact that Mrs Rock God has been extremely ill with a chest infection for the past week and the Rock God of these pages has been assigned to the sofa in the living room and having had very little sleep….I’m wrecked.
Being honest I am not as young as once I was and I am feeling the effects of not having my standard seven hours a night.
Anyway, away with such mundane things, what of the gig I hear you cry.
Well as I have written before in these columns the Grapes is like home to us and having not performed there for over a year we have been really looking forward to returning, especially as they have had a major refit.
I did my usual ‘blatting’ of our mailing lists and sending press releases to the media and newspapers etc, which is something I have to do every single gig (oh boy what I would give for a press officer who could do this one particular task for me). We really wanted the venue to be rammed to the ceiling with excited punters, celebrating Christmas and having a good time.
We practiced a special ‘Christmas set’…..which due to time constraints meant a rocked up version of ‘We wish you a merry Christmas’ and an acoustic sing-a-long version of the ‘Fairy Tale of New York’.
And I ate vitamins like Smarties in an attempt to avoid my wife’s illness (all performing singers live in terror of the rogue chest infection).
We found as much festive tinsel, lights and hats as we could muster and we were ready.
And then the day arrived.
CJ & I arrived at the pub having almost flattened a Chav with the trailer (would I be right in thinking that the British Chav’s are equivalent of the American ‘Trailer Trash’ that we hear about in the movies? – either way for those not of the English Isles, Chavs were said to have originated from Chavington in Essex…however for the most part it is widely recognised as ‘Counsel House and Violent’).
However, some stiletto heeled Doris in a skirt that was more like a belt than a garment and displaying thighs that would not have been out of place on an all England Rugby Full back, decided that she could not wait until we had passed into the ally down the side of Grapes and jumped between the trailer and the car.
If she had gotten one of those dainty heels caught in the light wiring she could have ended up becoming an ornamental accessory on the back of CJ’s brand new company Vectra.
She narrowly missed becoming a tasteless joke (what do you call a Chav who has been crushed under the wheels of your trailer?........a start!). However, being a good, loving Christian boy I won’t make such tasteless observations.
We met Aaron at the pub who had come straight from work……and I did the stupid thing of entering into debate with him.
I have learnt that one should never talk to my son for about half an hour after he has got home from work. His world is full of musicians, would be musicians, and teenage boys who aspire to rock stardom. Aaron does not suffer fools gladly……and his world is full of them.
The normal protocol is to sit him quietly down, feed him cups of tea and allow him a rant on the stupidity of the average moron that are the stock and trade of his profession. Once his spleen has been vented, he is then in a more settled frame of mind to discuss his preferred passion…guitars…at this point his mother and girlfriend leave the room.
However, we were in a hurry and we all too quickly got into a heated debate about our stage positions as the stage itself was too small to take all three of us. Accusations of ego were banded about…nothing serious mind you, but enough for CJ to shake his head in that familiar way as he recognised the ‘Loaders’ were having their usual ‘domestic’.
Anyway, I showed the better part of valour and went with Aaron’s suggestion as I was just too damn tired to argue….besides which, we both knew that our argument was really being fuelled by the fact the growing worry that the pub was almost empty and a growing dread that we might be playing to an empty building once again.
It was 7pm on what was supposed to be the busiest day of the year for the pub trade and there can’t have been more than 20 people in the whole place.
It wasn’t going to happen to us again was it?
Anyway, we set about putting the whole stage set together which this time includes Fairy lights and Tinsel.
Out of the side of eye I got drawn into the conversation of two young chaps who were deep in a very emotional conversation, which included one of the more, bearded and masculine fellows balling his eyes out like a baby.
Talk about making you feel uncomfortable.
Anyway, we managed to get set up quickly and in good time and so we trotted off to find chips (for those reading this over seas, you cannot, and I repeat CANNOT beat the good British chip…for that read ‘Fries’). Our ‘chips’ are made with real potatoes and not Maize and are a meal in themselves.
“All Hail the British chip”!
The only thing that killed this whole argument was that our fettles were served to us by a couple of burley Greeks called Stavros and Spearo.
However the chips, British or otherwise hit the spot and were now ready to rock.
CJ furnished us with a pint of our traditional Guinness (real beer) and we got laden down with a couple of pints of water each.
Then Aaron and I went off to change in the cellar.
Back in the day of Mudheads Monkey, we had a fantastic Mercedes truck that had a cab big enough to change in, with curtains and everything. Nowadays, if we want to make an effort we have to change in the toilets…..but not tonight…believe me…not tonight!
The basement would have been Barney’s (from the Simpsons) dream….bottles of beer and cider, wine and other weird and wonderful concoctions lay everywhere.
However, we were here to change into our suits (yup, we were going smart again), and this time Aaron was outdoing me by wearing a waist coat under his.
Then we were ready to rock!!
As we took to the stage, we were thankful that the place had begun to fill up a bit more.
A few of Aaron’s mates had shown up. About six of CJ’s apprentices had made an appearance, and Tim our unofficial Roadie as well as Kieron, who has helped us out from time to time and his good lady wife (getting a baby sitter when you have four kids is the holy grail believe me….I’m sure that Nicky would have probably have preferred to have used such a rarity to be wined and dined in a good restaurant, maybe with a show thrown in. sadly all she could hope for tonight was having her ears pinned back by us lot and a Kebab on the way home…oh and Kieron getting pulled by the police on a random breath test…thankfully he is a sensible lad and doesn’t drink and drive…although Nicky told me that he did get involved in taking the micky out of the police officer by accusing him of making a sexist assumption that Kieron is a bloke…you meet him, there is no doubt that he is ALL bloke).
As I said the gig was good, but not exceptional.
We were greatly enjoyed by a whole pack of drunken (mainly male) revellers who cause the poor bar manager untold grief as the evening when on, and nearly took my front teeth out on several occasions when they fell into the stage and into my mic stand.
We gave it our very best and by the end the crowd had warmed up and the place was fairly full.
We got ourselves a couple of encores, something which you can no longer take for granted…and treated the punters to a screaming version of the Clashes ‘I fought the Law’ and ‘Two Princes’ by the Spin Doctors, then it was over.
We played ‘I dreaming of a White Christmas’ over the PA and got off stage.
Taking down and packing the trailer was harder than it normally is as we were all so tired.
However, we got it done and we headed off home through the crowd of drunken revellers…I caught myself thinking that cliché that proved I must be getting old “I wonder if her dad knows she’s gone out dressed like that”.
We drove passed the ‘Out door urinals’ for the men that would normally have peed into the fountains. What are we coming to eh?
As CJ drove me back to our house (Aaron had gone back out with his mates and girlfriend) we agreed that we needed to come up with a game plan next year to try and keep it exciting.
We need to draw a fresh new audience and we need to do something that will keep it exciting for us.
All suggestions gratefully received.
See, and I didn’t think I had anything to write about.
If I don’t speak to you before, have a fantastic Christmas and a wonderful New Year.
I really want to write something fascinating about our much looked forward to gig at the Grapes on Saturday just gone……but although it went well, it wasn’t remarkable and I can’t think what to write.
Mind you much of this might have to do with the fact that Mrs Rock God has been extremely ill with a chest infection for the past week and the Rock God of these pages has been assigned to the sofa in the living room and having had very little sleep….I’m wrecked.
Being honest I am not as young as once I was and I am feeling the effects of not having my standard seven hours a night.
Anyway, away with such mundane things, what of the gig I hear you cry.
Well as I have written before in these columns the Grapes is like home to us and having not performed there for over a year we have been really looking forward to returning, especially as they have had a major refit.
I did my usual ‘blatting’ of our mailing lists and sending press releases to the media and newspapers etc, which is something I have to do every single gig (oh boy what I would give for a press officer who could do this one particular task for me). We really wanted the venue to be rammed to the ceiling with excited punters, celebrating Christmas and having a good time.
We practiced a special ‘Christmas set’…..which due to time constraints meant a rocked up version of ‘We wish you a merry Christmas’ and an acoustic sing-a-long version of the ‘Fairy Tale of New York’.
And I ate vitamins like Smarties in an attempt to avoid my wife’s illness (all performing singers live in terror of the rogue chest infection).
We found as much festive tinsel, lights and hats as we could muster and we were ready.
And then the day arrived.
CJ & I arrived at the pub having almost flattened a Chav with the trailer (would I be right in thinking that the British Chav’s are equivalent of the American ‘Trailer Trash’ that we hear about in the movies? – either way for those not of the English Isles, Chavs were said to have originated from Chavington in Essex…however for the most part it is widely recognised as ‘Counsel House and Violent’).
However, some stiletto heeled Doris in a skirt that was more like a belt than a garment and displaying thighs that would not have been out of place on an all England Rugby Full back, decided that she could not wait until we had passed into the ally down the side of Grapes and jumped between the trailer and the car.
If she had gotten one of those dainty heels caught in the light wiring she could have ended up becoming an ornamental accessory on the back of CJ’s brand new company Vectra.
She narrowly missed becoming a tasteless joke (what do you call a Chav who has been crushed under the wheels of your trailer?........a start!). However, being a good, loving Christian boy I won’t make such tasteless observations.
We met Aaron at the pub who had come straight from work……and I did the stupid thing of entering into debate with him.
I have learnt that one should never talk to my son for about half an hour after he has got home from work. His world is full of musicians, would be musicians, and teenage boys who aspire to rock stardom. Aaron does not suffer fools gladly……and his world is full of them.
The normal protocol is to sit him quietly down, feed him cups of tea and allow him a rant on the stupidity of the average moron that are the stock and trade of his profession. Once his spleen has been vented, he is then in a more settled frame of mind to discuss his preferred passion…guitars…at this point his mother and girlfriend leave the room.
However, we were in a hurry and we all too quickly got into a heated debate about our stage positions as the stage itself was too small to take all three of us. Accusations of ego were banded about…nothing serious mind you, but enough for CJ to shake his head in that familiar way as he recognised the ‘Loaders’ were having their usual ‘domestic’.
Anyway, I showed the better part of valour and went with Aaron’s suggestion as I was just too damn tired to argue….besides which, we both knew that our argument was really being fuelled by the fact the growing worry that the pub was almost empty and a growing dread that we might be playing to an empty building once again.
It was 7pm on what was supposed to be the busiest day of the year for the pub trade and there can’t have been more than 20 people in the whole place.
It wasn’t going to happen to us again was it?
Anyway, we set about putting the whole stage set together which this time includes Fairy lights and Tinsel.
Out of the side of eye I got drawn into the conversation of two young chaps who were deep in a very emotional conversation, which included one of the more, bearded and masculine fellows balling his eyes out like a baby.
Talk about making you feel uncomfortable.
Anyway, we managed to get set up quickly and in good time and so we trotted off to find chips (for those reading this over seas, you cannot, and I repeat CANNOT beat the good British chip…for that read ‘Fries’). Our ‘chips’ are made with real potatoes and not Maize and are a meal in themselves.
“All Hail the British chip”!
The only thing that killed this whole argument was that our fettles were served to us by a couple of burley Greeks called Stavros and Spearo.
However the chips, British or otherwise hit the spot and were now ready to rock.
CJ furnished us with a pint of our traditional Guinness (real beer) and we got laden down with a couple of pints of water each.
Then Aaron and I went off to change in the cellar.
Back in the day of Mudheads Monkey, we had a fantastic Mercedes truck that had a cab big enough to change in, with curtains and everything. Nowadays, if we want to make an effort we have to change in the toilets…..but not tonight…believe me…not tonight!
The basement would have been Barney’s (from the Simpsons) dream….bottles of beer and cider, wine and other weird and wonderful concoctions lay everywhere.
However, we were here to change into our suits (yup, we were going smart again), and this time Aaron was outdoing me by wearing a waist coat under his.
Then we were ready to rock!!
As we took to the stage, we were thankful that the place had begun to fill up a bit more.
A few of Aaron’s mates had shown up. About six of CJ’s apprentices had made an appearance, and Tim our unofficial Roadie as well as Kieron, who has helped us out from time to time and his good lady wife (getting a baby sitter when you have four kids is the holy grail believe me….I’m sure that Nicky would have probably have preferred to have used such a rarity to be wined and dined in a good restaurant, maybe with a show thrown in. sadly all she could hope for tonight was having her ears pinned back by us lot and a Kebab on the way home…oh and Kieron getting pulled by the police on a random breath test…thankfully he is a sensible lad and doesn’t drink and drive…although Nicky told me that he did get involved in taking the micky out of the police officer by accusing him of making a sexist assumption that Kieron is a bloke…you meet him, there is no doubt that he is ALL bloke).
As I said the gig was good, but not exceptional.
We were greatly enjoyed by a whole pack of drunken (mainly male) revellers who cause the poor bar manager untold grief as the evening when on, and nearly took my front teeth out on several occasions when they fell into the stage and into my mic stand.
We gave it our very best and by the end the crowd had warmed up and the place was fairly full.
We got ourselves a couple of encores, something which you can no longer take for granted…and treated the punters to a screaming version of the Clashes ‘I fought the Law’ and ‘Two Princes’ by the Spin Doctors, then it was over.
We played ‘I dreaming of a White Christmas’ over the PA and got off stage.
Taking down and packing the trailer was harder than it normally is as we were all so tired.
However, we got it done and we headed off home through the crowd of drunken revellers…I caught myself thinking that cliché that proved I must be getting old “I wonder if her dad knows she’s gone out dressed like that”.
We drove passed the ‘Out door urinals’ for the men that would normally have peed into the fountains. What are we coming to eh?
As CJ drove me back to our house (Aaron had gone back out with his mates and girlfriend) we agreed that we needed to come up with a game plan next year to try and keep it exciting.
We need to draw a fresh new audience and we need to do something that will keep it exciting for us.
All suggestions gratefully received.
See, and I didn’t think I had anything to write about.
If I don’t speak to you before, have a fantastic Christmas and a wonderful New Year.
3 comments:
You could try taking your clothes off. It worked for some miners in a film I once saw.
Mind you it might attract an older less discerning audience.
Or you could run that marathon you promised to do in 2010. That would attract a lot of publicity.
An encore of 'I Fought The Law' and 'Two Princes'. You certainly know how to keep an audience happy.
As far as a startegy for next year? I think that Spandex is due a resurgence, so the Mudheads might want to be at the forefront of it's revival.
Just a thought...!
Of course, I meant 'strategy'. Numb-nuts.
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