My Exciting Life in ROCK (part 2): 20/9/2003 - The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds

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There were TWO all-dayers going on in Leeds on this Saturday, and I very glamorously FLITTED from one to the other. Well, I FLITTED to the first one anyway - it was run by that Marvellous Label WRATH records, and I enjoyed an hour or so watching some GRATE bands there before, SOCIAL GADLY-LIKE, saying my farewells and heading off to my own gig on the other side of town, at the Gogojohnnygogogo do.

Here is where the flitting ENDED, due to a simple geographical FACT about Leeds: it features HILLS. Being of Fenland Stock I am at best SUSPICIOUS of cities on hills - there's so much nice FLAT land around, what reason could there be for building a city somewhere so INCONVENIENT? My only answer: just to be difficult. ALSO being of Fenland Stock means that I am GENETICALLY DISADVANTAGED when it comes to inclines and ascents, and by the time I got to The Brudenell Social Club, where the gig was happening, I was a WRECK of a man. A good sit down, a lot of WHEEZING, and BEER was required.

Once recovered I realised that there was STILL a long time left before I was due to play - when you've been in the world of ROCK for as long as I have you find that the mere fact that you've not packed it in means some people can be fooled into thinking this is because you are A Bit Famous, and not just because you've got no other hobbies to do instead. THUS occasionally I get to play a bit later on the bill, which is generally a GOOD time as people tend to be slightly more DRUNK. The DOWNSIDE of this is that I TOO tend to be slightly more DRUNK, so steps have to be taken in order to ensure that the thin thin line between Jovially Tipsy and HAMMERED BEYOND MEMORY is not crossed before taking the stage.

THUS I went round the corner and had a very strange vegetable lasagne in an Indian Restaurant. Yes, I know, its is not exactly a CLASSIC of Indian Cuisine, but I'd not had a vegetable lasagne for YEARS. It used to be the ONLY Vegetarian Option available ANYWHERE when I first went veggie (sometime before the Agrarian Revolution), so when other options became available I went for THEM instead. It was thus NOSTALGIA that swayed my ordering, although it soon became clear that I was the only one with ANY memories of lasagne, as the CHEF seemed never to have been near one. You know when you have CURRY from a Chinese Restaurant, and it's basically chip shop curry sauce poured on Sweet & Sour Vegetables? That's sort of what this was like, except with LASAGNE.

It was all VERY confusing and mentally ADDLING - so much so that I might as WELL have sat and drunk beer all afternoon. When I got back the oddity was added to by the venue itself. The Brudenell Social isn't some club with a funky name, it's a real-live functioning Working Man's Club, with proper stage, lights, two tier seating, and those little copper covered tables that you used to have in all pubs everywhere in the 1970s. I felt like a TURN at the end of the Meat Raffle.

My COMPOSURE was further ruffled when I got on stage by crap heckling. As I've said before, heckling, when done well, is GRATE. It adds excitement and WIT to the evening, bringing out the best in performer AND in audience. Unfortunately it is almost NEVER done well, usually being EITHER a drunken twat SHOUTING because he's upset that somebody ELSE is getting all the attention OR a small group of people mumbling things that are vaguely HUMOROUS to them three but is both MEANINGLESS and annoying to everyone else, for whom it is too quiet to understand but JUST loud enough to BUG them. Both versions: RUBBISH.

However, almost as if The Gods Of ROCK were trying to restore the karmic balance of the evening, on the OTHER side of the room was the antithesis of Crap Mumbling Hecklers: GIRLS DANCING!

GIRLS DANCING at gigs is, officially, THE BEST THING EVER. GIRLS DANCING is like the Top Trumps car with a 10 Cylinder Engine, it beats EVERYTHING. Ask ANYONE in a band and they would rather have GIRLS DANCING than any number of encores, famous attendees, record companies or, indeed PAYMENT. GIRLS DANCING! GRATE!

The only way GIRLS DANCING can be improved is when you get GIRLS ASKING QUESTIONS afterwards, and that happened too, with a young lady questioning me pertinently about a song I hadn't even played. This was all very exciting - the idea that someone has not only HEARD some of my songs elsewhere is thrilling enough, but if they've actually LISTENED and had a think about it, that's AMAZING. And, of course, as everyone knows, it counts DOUBLE when it's girls.

GIDDY with all this Girl-Based EXCITEMENT I was a little under prepared for the rest of the evening, which heavily featured the most DIFFICULT PUB QUIZ EVER. I don't mean one of those where the history round is a bit tough when you're tiddly, even understanding THE QUESTIONS needed more mental effort that an entire normal quiz put together, and the ANSWERS were beyond the entire ROOM working as a team. It was like an angry mob of cryptic crossword setters INVADING an infant school on a drowsy Wednesday in June and DEMANDING they learn LATIN.

THUS I was battered mentally from both sides when I watched The Cribs, one of the few bands I've ever played with to go on to be A Proper Famous Band Off The Radio. As usual when I play with or SEE bands who go on to do this, I had no INKLING that this might happen, quite liking them but not being that keen on the fact they sang with American Accents. Still, A&R is not really my JOB, so let us look kindly on the slightly drunken and VERY confused Hibbett who stumbled round the corner to the Taxi Office, too DONE IN to risk walking to the station up and down those accursed hills. Poor chap, it had been a tiring day!

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