Old Haunts, New Tricks.
In the next week,
I’ll perform stand-up at two London venues I played regularly with my old band
Big Day Out, which will be an interesting experience.
I would never
have anticipated I’d do this when I visited them first time around, though what
we did wasn’t hugely different. Big Day Out were serious about music, less so about
performance. The Supernaturals’ lead guitarist (90s namedrop) once remarked
that if our amps packed in mid-set we’d get by doing half an hour’s stand-up.
This was almost a premonition – though I had two band members, a handful of
songs and a shedload of instruments to protect me back then. Now I just have a
mic and my mind, plus a few accompanying body parts. It’s a more exposing
scenario.
The venues in
question are the Hope & Anchor and The Water Rats. Both hold a lot of memories.
We launched our CD ‘Seven Heavenly Lemony Lemons at a Seven-Eleven in Devon’ at
The Water Rats. A coachload of people came from Hitchin to support us. Our
charity-shop-bought suits were accessorised with yellow ties and hankies that
night, and we drank from matching pints of orange juice. We shared the bill
with a band who were managed by Noel and Liam Gallagher’s older brother, who
was there but showed no interest. Simon Fuller was present too, but similarly disinterested
(we were no Spice Girls). NME promised to review it, but didn’t; mine is a life
of near misses.
We challenged an
audience member at a Hope & Anchor gig to jump up and down on a pogo stick
(provided by us) for the duration of a song, in return for a copy of the LP Sing-Along Banjo Party. He did it and won it, while we barely sang for laughter. I
saw my dad smoke a cigarette for the first time that night. I also spotted a
fantastic bit of graffiti in the toilets: ‘Uri Gellar is a Bender’. This week’s
gigs have a lot to live up to.
