My Exciting Life In ROCK (part 1): 6/11/2007 - The Shed, Leicester

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People quite often say to me "And what's the WORST gig you've ever done then?" I'd like to think they ask it to compare to the SPLENDOUR and MAJESTY of my usual performances, but it may actually be because they can't believe ANYTHING could be worse than what they've just seen me do. When other bands get asked this they tend to say "Oh, the Montreal Megadome - only a thousand people in, Sebastian played a D minor 7th instead of a D minor 7th diminished in the third movement, and only two encores! GHASTLY!" I, however, tell this story.

Back back back in the 1990s I was a member of various groups, one of which was The Fabians. It was a LOOSE COLLECTIVE OF MUSICIANS.

No, come back, it's all right, there will be no WORLD MUSIC here today. We were a Loose Collective because we were never sure who'd be turning up to gigs, and when there we were never entirely clear on what we were supposed to be playing. This was partly because we didn't have normal songs - the band was run by Jimmy The Kung Fu Cookery Teacher (now better known as Jimmy McGee of The Bobby McGees) who had vague ideas about some music people could play while he told stories or recited POETRY. I know, it sounds bloody awful, but somehow it really WORKED. I acted as LIEUTENANT, standing behind Jimmy and NODDING or pulling faces at other members of the band when it was time to change BITS, and people seemed to really enjoy it. I specifically remember one gig in Leicester when some kind soul came over to me and said "How does it feel to be in a band that people actually LIKE, at last?"

It felt GOOD, but like all good things it had to end in drunken shame and embarrassment in front of a group of children and disappointed parents. We'd been booked to play a gig at The Shed, which at that time was Leicester's main place for Local Bands to play their first gig in front of 50 friends, second a week later to 30 of them, and then split up in an empty room the next weekend when they're first on at the all dayer. As ever with The Fabians people were wishy washy about how many of them could turn up, but it was still a surprise to arrive and find that only myself, Jimmy, and my friend Neil had arrived.

Jimmy had told us that the gig had been sorted out by some friends of his - I assumed this meant some ROCK MATES, but actually it was the Music Teacher at the school where he taught Home Economics, and the other band on were doing it as part of the GCSE coursework.

Thus I went on first on my own, to play second support to somebody's homework. Did I put on a brave face and emerge triumphant? No, I died on my arse. I could have done things a bit differently, indeed a bit better - some would say drinking four pints of Guiness before starting was foolish, I would say it was essential, and others might argue that maybe if I'd looked around the room a bit more and realised it was full of Pushy Parents then i WOULDN'T have chosen to start with "Fucking Hippy" (chorus: "You Fucking Hippy!") but hey! We all make mistakes, and I'm sure STING finds himself screaming drunken profanities at kindergartens on a regular basis on the Police Reunion Tour.

Afterwards I skulked off to sit in a dark corner downstairs, where the regular JAM NIGHT was going on. As is and always will be the case, a JAM NIGHT never involves any Jamming, although I do remember one marvellous night when I saw two lads scare the living dayights out of the local Jazz Bore On Jam Night by interrupting his extended version of Van Morrison's Moondance (even shitter than the original - amazing but true) to ACTUALLY JAM with him. I'll never forget his TERRIFIED FACE as they leapt around playing HEAVY METAL while he GRIPPED his keyboard like the last plank of the Good Ship Jazz, wrecked in the Punk Rock Straits.

Anyway, watching a bunch of gits applaud each other for MASTERING THE TWELVE BAR BLUES didn't cheer me up, and nor did having to stand up again in front of twenty icy faced stalwarts of the PTA while we accompanied Jimmy's -suddenly more sweary - lyrics on bass, drum machine, and synth, especially when Neil got bored and made the synth do THE SOUNDS OF NATURE.

To the deafening sound of GLARES we finished with the song "Daycare Centre", a traditional set-closer for my old band VOON, which consisted of us turning everything up, tuning everything sideways, then leaping around making a bloody racket while screaming "DayCare Centre" for EITHER ten minues OR until the landlord came over for a quiet word. Contrary to expectations this DIDN'T turn the whole night around, and ten minutes later we were packed up and sitting quietly watching the main event looking thoroughly ashamed of ourselves. You can only watch a small girl struggle to reach a cymbal with a drumskit for so long before it stops being funny, so I went downstairs again to watch the "Jamming" and wondered if maybe I'd been wrong - maybe my future WAS in faithful cover versions of "Wonderwall" and "The Passenger"?

I got back upstairs to find Neil ready to go and Jimmy with a MASSIVE grin on his face. "What's happened?" I asked.

"The Landlord came over for a word - we're BANNED from ever playing here again!"

RESULT!

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