Another grand day out starting 6ish with a few Becks and Sailor Jerrys (@ £2.50 a throw it was an offer too stupid to refuse. And me and John were too stupid not to.) Hooked up with Davey Toiler in a nearby boozer about 7, usual bitching session about “Hugh Cornwell’s Love Child” and the usual auld shite ensues
. Banged into the band and crew in the downstairs’ bar as we were heading out to the gig and found out their 9pm slot (ideal for those of us with an unmissable last-train-home to catch) had been bumped back to 11pm due to another support band being added at the last minute. Shit! We’d only see about half an hour of the gig
. Unless, of course, John struck once again with his great-idea-at-the-time proposition to forgo the heady lure of public transport, enjoy the gig and worry about little things like how to get safely home/where the fuck will we doss tonight? until later. Tried phoning a mate who lived locally, but as it was 2 in the morning by that stage, and we were dribbling like fools, and he’d just been woken from his kip, and he was probably mibee even banging his burd at the time, the answer was, surprisingly, no. Well, not even “No.” if truth be told, more a deathly fucken silence that prompted me to answer, “I take it that’s a
“No” then?”.
The sound of the phone slamming down from his side was his only response.
So a most sincere Fanx to FatBusJim and Phil who very kindly let us doss in their hotel room, and also to Mick who let Phil kip in his room so’s me and John could join the trumpeting wind-section-of-the-orchestra in FatBusJim’s room. Yer kind offer was well appreciated by me and John, though it struck me later as a funny reversal of Rock N Roll custom that the band travelled all the way up to play in our home town, and we ended up kipping on their floor.
You lucky, lucky bastards are guaranteed a blast at the Hope N Anchor; it’s a faultless, brilliant night out, especially if you love the music of The Stranglers. Last night Straighten Out played a blistering set (after a wee false start right after the introtape of Holst faded out), with a seltist that has been seriously ramped up since last year- Nuclear Device and Thrown Away being a couple of the later Strangs songs added with aplomb. The whole band were amazing, Shaggy high kicking and prowling, owning stage left, Bob holding his own at the other side, looking confident in the Cornwell role (and now even cultivating a wee Shuggie quiff too, I noticed). “New” drummer Casey owned the drums, it was, I have to say- a massive improvement on drum duties since I last saw the band. His playing during Sewer, in particular, was well impressive. And Mick on keyboards was, well,
Mick on keyboards- note perfect arpeggios and hair raising synth sweeps, and all played with authentic Dave Greenfield Big Massive Hands. As FatBusJim remarked at the hotel bar later, “He’s like that Hellboy bloke!”.
Just a few bits of advice when you do go and see them though;
Don’t mention to Casey the drummer that he’s a dead ringer for Brooce Springsteen.
Seriously.
Oh, and don’t ever ask FatBusJim if he’s from Yorkshire- his resulting answer revealed more naked flesh as was strictly necessary in a family pub before the watershed.
Cheers guys.
I'm a comedian and poet, so anything that doesn't get a laugh is a poem. B.Hicks.
"Further modulation of the frequency rotation, Triggered waveband activation - near elation"
'Why are you so edgy, kid ?'
)in the Crystal Palace before the gig.
