A poster for this gig had been seen displayed in the 'new' Good Vibrations Record Shop for a few weeks and I had been debating whether or not to make an appearance. Come Friday morning, after having forgotten all about this upcoming event, I was confronted by a plethora of re-newed promotion, as a veritable plague of these posters were plastered at every turn, as I made my weary way into another day at the office. Obviously ticket sales had not been going too well - it is Belfast after all, a town renowned for it's lassiez-faire attitude to gig-going (not to mention it is North-West 200 weekend - as half the population decamps to the Portrush-Coleraine- Portstewart triangle for the motorcycling event off the year). Maybe I could still make this one after all?
On Saturday morning, after the usual constitutionals (shop, papers, Lotto, etc...) I decided to text a few mates to rally up some interest. The responses varied from a 'no answer' (cunt!!)
," I'm up at the North-West" (surprise, cos you ain't into bikes) to several "Fuck Off, I hate those Derry bastards!!" 
. Oh well, at least I tried!! Not particularly worried enough to fret over this, I settled down to watch the F.A. Cup Final - a game that was on paper such a one-sided affair, that I wasn't especially interested - the only thing that would keep me enthralled was a surprise underdog victory (and after Chelsea couldn't hit a donkey's backside with a banjo) it was looking as if an upset was on the cards. Not to be unfortunately. 
Anyhoo - my mind was still not fully commited to the gig, but after debating was it worth staying in on a Saturday night on my own or heading down to a gig (which if it wasn't that well attended could mean no further appearances?), there really wasn't much choice. The effort just had to be made.
After a quick 3S's (shit, shower and shave) I was soon arriving outside Queen's University. I knew there would be two support acts - Acoustic Dan (!!) and The Pocket Billiards. Hadn't a clue who Dan was, but the prequel to his name did not inspire me so I hoped I had timed my arrival in time for the second band to take the stage. However, no such luck. As I climbed the steps to the entrance to the Student's Union (where in the bowels it contained the Mandela Hall) I was confronted by Bert (a local gig regular) who informed me the thing hadn't started yet!! After a quick chat and catch up, I thought I'd better check and see if there actually were some tickets still available (which off course there was) and as I made the trek down into the dark depths to the venue. On entering the Hall my doubts regarding attendance came true - the place was sparsely filled and Acoustic Dan was onstage. A bald Jimmy Nesbitt look-a-like with an acoustic guitar (obviously literal in naming the act!!) was belting out a racket, accompanied by a bass player (which although amplified was also acoustic - no reason to contact the Trades Description Office then). Although reasonably entertaining in lyrical content - including songs about being on a bus with only a bag of grass and getting your head kicked in by some rough sorts - this style of Belfast Billy Bragg does not float my boat. I made my way back outside for a smoke.
The Bear was standing chatting to Bert, so I joined in the craic as Brian Young and Liz crossed the road. They were off the same impression as I was and had also timed their arrival very badly - way too early. I was surprised Brian attended as he certainly could not be considered as a fan of The Undertones, but I suppose he was on the guest-list and was just showing his face. After finishing a couple of cigarettes and having suffered enough the company''s inane banter, I proceeded back into the gig, just in time for the second act to take the stage. The Pocket Billiards are a nine piece ska band - four man brass section (well one of them is a girl, but you know what I mean), twin guitar/vocal attack, bass, drums and keyboards. There is a bit of a punky-feel to their approach, making for an enjoyable mix between UB40 and Rancid. Highlights of their reasonably long set were 'Get A Job', 'SPIDES' (a term for local hardmen - closest analogy would be Chavs, but not quite as intellectual!!), 'Drunken Waster' - a rollicking tale about getting smashed, ending up under the table, still getting in a round and "A pint of lager with a whiskey chaser, you'll end up a drunken waster" - and last but not least, their anthemic set ender 'Belfast Town' - a long intro that speeds up and gets the crowd moving as the lyrics eventually make up the mid-section of the song, before ending in a psychedelic/metal thrash with the crowd going ape-shit mental until the final chord rings out and the band exit.
Another smoke break for yours truly as I have to wend my way through the ever-increasing crowd. By now the news has circulated that The Undertones will not be onstage until 11:00 - so I had half an hour to get a pint, have a few cigarettes and see who else is loitering about. Brian was being pestered by numerous old Rudi fans and Petesy is spotted at the bar looking like a cross between a Terry Pratchett character and a Hobbit. As I return from my nicotine fix, the Punch without whom there would be no show i.e. Mr Terri Hooley, is coming up the stairs as I descend. "Are you in with Brian? I've been looking for him". As ever playing the diplomat, I inform him that Brian is around somewhere, but I am unaware of his exact locality. No-one deserves to be cornered by Ole One-Eye, especially at gigs, as he is often twenty (sic) sheets to the wind.
By now it is approaching the time The Undertones are due on stage. The place is pretty full (although the upstairs seating has been cordoned off) and as the DJ mutes current disc pumping from the PA, Terri Hooley walks up to the mic and proceeds to introduce the band. If I had a penny for every time I heard him relate the story of Teenage Kicks (John Peel played it twice, Rough Trade said it was the worst record they'd ever heard, it only cost £200....blah, blah, blah), I'd have about 20p by now!! Anyway, as usual, with a Terri intro, the band are already on stage awaiting to play before he gets round to the "The Undertones" bit. Mickey Bradley, who has now taken over the role as band spokes-person, thanks him and states "It's all downhill from here". The next hour and a half is filled with all the classics - practically all the first album is played, a few of their later hits and some of the 'newer' tracks from the last album are churned out one after the other with barely a chance to draw breath. Soundwise, they are as tight as the preverbial ducks arse - the O'Neill brothers tandem guitar riffing is note perfect. Visually, their 'new' singer keeps the crowd animated, but I can't help thinking he is somewhat camp. It is the early tracks that do it for me - anything after Hypnotised leaves me cold (Julie Ocean et al) - although some of the latter-day songs would fit alongside their debut album - definite toe-tappers. The highlight for me was the re-introduction to the set of 'Listenin' In', a rarely heard classic. Surprisingly 'Teenage Kicks' was not left to the encores and appeared three quarter way through the set - but the four songs left for the requisite comeback onstage were hailed by the crowd as loudly as anything preceding them. With such a back catalogue of Top 40 hits, the band can hardly set a foot wrong (sound familiar MiB's?
) although I am sure there are some hardcore 'Tone fans out there wishing for some LP track to be played. Speaking of which, there were a couple of English fans in the crowd and, when I was out on one of my smoke breaks, a gaggle of French accents were overheard gibbering on ten to the dozen.So - another gig over and as I sit on Sunday morning thinking I made the right decision in making an appearance, another set of ringing ears are gently buzzin' and my back is screaming for the application of some embrocation. Teenage Kicks, my arse - I must be getting old.
