My Exciting Life In ROCK (part 1): 24/2/1998 - The Blue Note, Derby

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With Artists Against Success getting set up as a record label and my newfound determination to STRIKE OUT and trying doing gigs that WEREN'T within walking distance of my house, I was eager to take any gig that was going. THUS when Mr Frankie Machine asked me if I wanted to take a gig in Derby that his band couldn't do, i was ready to SNAP it up.

Playing gigs in Derby has almost always been fun for me - as we'll see later on, there have been exceptions, but mostly they've been GRATE. I'd recently played a rather nice one at The Victoria Inn - I'd had a pleasant gig during which i'd got a couple of LARFS from BANTER, the main act had been in a HUFF with me precisely because of this, the bar staff had given me free booze because of THAT, and on the way home we'd had some deep fried Christmas cake (nicer than you'd think) - so I was WELL UP for this one, and even more so when people kept telling me how PRESTIGIOUS it all was. Before this there hadn't been a gig at The Blue Note for eight years, and so the fact that I was on as first support act meant I'd be the first to tread those hallowed boards in the best part of a decade, following on in the tradition of alumni like Joy Division and The Smiths. In fact it was SO prestigious that i got a bit scared, so Frankie said he'd come on and do a couple of songs with me, his BANJO acting as a comfort blanket.

We arrived at the venue to find the promoter standing around looking excited but befuddled, almost as if he'd never done this sort of thing before... our suspicions were first aroused when I asked "What time are we on?" and he said "Oh, I don't know", as if that was a question for somebody else. "Oh, all right then", I said, "But what time do you think we'll be soundchecking?"

He smiled - this was one he knew. "Well, it's half past seven now, and we've got two full bands to soundcheck before you get on. So I expect it'll all be done by eight o'clock."

MY SPIDER-SENSE WAS TINGLING. Surely he meant to say "So i expect you'll get a five second line check at about 9 o'clock and go straight on"? But no, he seemed to really believe that two local bands would be able to set their drums up, adequately prepare the settings on the "attack" dial, make the vocals "less tinny", get the levels on the monitors so that each of them could hear only themselves, and then do one song for ten minutes before saying "No, i couldn't hear the high hat" and repeating the whole process UNTIL THE END OF TIME, and have that all sorted within the next half hour.

At nine o'clock he was looking very upset indeed - the second band were still adjusting the gain on the bass amp. Apparently he HAD put on gigs before, but had somehow had his memory wiped of all salient facts. Still, by quarter past nine they'd finished and the DJ was testing his kit by playing The Hits Of Britpop - imagine the music you'd hear played at a wedding NOW, and that's pretty much it. As he did so the the PA Guy was looking at us, so I assumed he was expecting us to get on with our soundcheck. We got up on stage, plugged ourselves in, and waiting to go, filling in time by HILARIOUSLY miming to the songs being played. Fifteen minutes later, after a particularly spirited version of "Lazarus", I went over to the sound desk to ask if he was ready for us yet. "Oh, did you want a soundcheck?" he asked, in all innocence. He seemed to have thought we were a cut-down troupe of DANCERS, like a hairier Britpop PANS PEOPLE - either that or he TOO had had a mind wipe, and lost all knowledge of What Soundmen Do.

He wasn't the only one - the promoter seemed to still be suffering from it, as every five minutes he'd wander in, look around to see if anything had started, tut, and stroll out again. He'd forgotten he was meant to be doing anything AT ALL - if this carried on he'd have forgotten where he lived by the end of the evening, so I pinned him down and got him to tell me - 9.25pm.

At 9.25pm I went onstage, leaned in to the microphone to start, and heard the promoter say over the loudspeakers "First band on in ten minutes!" Had he forgotten I was playing now? Just to be safe I stayed on the stage until the soundman turned the DJ off, and we were away - the first band to play The Blue Note in Eight Years! Now the weirdness would end, and the PRESTIGIOUS GOOD TIMES could commence!

Oh how wrong I was - i had neglected to consider the final section of the evening, THE AUDIENCE OF THE DEAD. Obviously, while we'd been body popping to Sleeper, the MEMORY DELETION had been going on at full tilt in the bar, and the audience had been also been MIND WIPED. Some genetic memory of Gig Etiquette must have remained, as they managed to stumble into the gig area, but then just stood looking AGOG at me and Frankie. I finished the first song and they stood there, GLARING, their brains FURIOUSLY trying to recall the correct response. To the right of me three skinny indie kids started to clap. Everybody else started at the sudden noise, then followed suit - it was like watching Well Meaning But Dim ALIENS trying to meld seemlessly into our human society. Or perhaps they'd been locked in here for the past eight years, waiting ever more desperately for another band to come while, all the time, knowing that their VERY HUMANITY was slowly ebbing away.

One thing they'd DEFINITELY forgotten (OR HAD WIPED) was the fact that it's OK to leave if you're not having a good time. There was a whole BAR stocked with BOOZE mere feet away from them, but instead they chose to stand, swaying slightly, glaring at me like 25 really REALLY disappointed zombie parents who've just got home from a heavy New Years Eve Party to find you've left half-eaten BRAINS in the stairwell. They did not understand how this had happened, but did not have the mental strength to deal with it, so there they stood.

When the gig had finished we packed our things away quickly, smiling all the while, and trying not to make any sudden movements. We decided, on balance, it was best NOT to hang around and chat, so slipped away into the night. Half an hour later I was sat on a sofa having a living room, wondering whether i too might come to FORGET everything that had passed this night.

Over eight years later, this has yet to come to pass, but they do say, on the Anniversary of that night, you can still hear the thud of the promoter's footsteps, as he walks those prestigious steps, waiting for the main band to finish their encore...

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