My Exciting Life in ROCK (part 2): 12/6/2004 - Hobgoblin, Brighton

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Looking back through my MIND for details of these gigs it's funny the sort of things that spring to mind. It might be a song we played, a friend we made, or perhaps the subtle architecture of the venue itself. In this case the things that immediately spring to mind are Aldi's supermarket and a young lady's breasts.

For some people that's pretty much the ideal Saturday night, but it wasn't quite what I was expecting. I thought this was going to be my chance to do an interview for a National Magazine and get a proper live review - the journalist in question was extremely keen on coming and had emailed me a couple of days before to make sure it was all going ahead, so on the train down from London I'd been rehearsing some Witty Remarks and Telling Points which I wished to get across to The Kids. Once I arrived at The Hobgoblin - a pub which had all the signs of being a ROCK pub in normal life, by which I don't mean gentle hints, but ACTUAL SIGNS saying "ROCK" - I got a telephone call from him, telling me that his excitement at the prospect of talking to ME hadn't extended quite as far as checking which date it was happening, and that he was actually meant to be doing something else that night. Ah!

THUS it was that I went upstairs feeling slightly DESPONDENT, finding the area DESERTED except for The Lovely Brothers, having a VERY Lovely Brothers emergency. For those who've never SEEN The Lovely Brothers a) please rectify the situation IMMEDIATELY and b) you should know that they're a sort of punk rock/baroque performance theatre/comedy prog rock outfit, KIND OF like Jilted John crossed with Caravan crossed with a TERRIFYING art collective from the 1970s. Actually, the thing about The Lovely Brothers is that DESCRIBING them makes them sound like PRECISELY the sort of band I would usually LOATH, but when they PLAY it all suddenly makes an ALARMING sort of sense.

The emergency was that they were missing a drum pedal, and that the owner had gone to a RESTAURANT with it. A restaurant? What sort of band has members who disappear into Restaurants with items of Percussion? Answer: The Lovely Brothers.

I made my way to the stage and commenced my soundcheck, during which something rather unusual happened: the venue FILLED UP. Normally when I'm soundchecking people FLEE, but this time they FLOODED in until the room was RAMMED. It was a hot hot night, and there was only JUST enough space for me to come off stage (signifying End Of Soundcheck) and then be PUSHED forward back onto it by the MASS of bodies, ready to ROCK.

It was AMAZING, also a bit SCARY, but I need not have worried as the gig went BRILLIANTLY. The only LOW point was when I did my song "Never Going Back To Aldi's". People just sort of LOOKED at me, incomprehending, and when I finished to scattered, half-hearted applause a lone still voice from the back of the room called out "We don't have Aldi's in Brighton. We have Lidl".

Ah. That would explain it then. Things soon picked up though and by the time I finished with a version of "Boom Shake The Room" SO LOUD that the ROCK LANDLORD had to wiggle his finger in his ear and tut theatrically while sweeping up falling plaster downstairs (probably) it was all getting a bit OVERWHELMING. The situation was only added to when a HORDE of people (six of them!) bought CDs, and I caught sight of a young lady striding PURPOSEFULLY towards me with a pen. I was suddenly struck with FEAR - as I say, it was a hot night and she was wearing a low-cut top, so when she LEANT FORWARD and asked for my autograph I was TERRIFIED. Yes, I know this is the OPPOSITE of the correct ROCK attitude, but the idea that she wanted me to write on her KNOCKERS (medical terminology) set me QUIVERING with DREAD. What was the correct etiquette for doing so? Was I allowed to hold onto them to get a grip? And how on earth would I explain it when I got home?

LUCKILY she then proffered an ARM, and I realised that THAT was what she was after. PHEW. In the circumstances, LIMB SIGNING seemed quite normal and sedate, although it's not something I'd ever done before or since. I don't know if it was the ROCKNESS of the pub, the hot evening or the SEA AIR, but at the time it seemed no more remarkable than thanking somebody for coming.

After me there was the MARVELLOUS Anal Beard, a band who were frankly too a) TUNEFUL b) NICE for their name and then The Lovely Brothers. As well as being hard to describe, The Lovely Brothers are also, for some reason, always SIGNIFICANTLY MORE GRATE than I ever remember them being. When arranging my travel for the evening I'd been AT EASE about the fact that I'd have to leave before they finished, but stood watching their first couple of songs it was INCREDIBLY difficult to DRAG myself away from the monstrous theatre of absurdity and ROCK that they were laying on.

On the train home I deeply REGRETTED the fact that I'd missed the bit where they all stripped off their jumpsuits and did press-ups while singing about Arnold Swarzenneger. As I say, it's difficult to describe, but I bet it was BRILLIANT.

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