My Exciting Life in ROCK (part 2): 18/9/2004 - Jug of Ale, Birmingham

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DRUMS! Sometimes a blessing, occasionally a burden, but on some occasions a TERRIFYING SYMBOL of LOOMING DOOM.

My view of DRUMS got a promotional push on this particular afternoon as I took a quick detour to DERBY to see Johnny Domino, Legendary Derby Band and all round GOOD EGGS, playing one of their first gigs with their drummer: The Jeffbot 3000. They'd always used a drum machine before, and calling and I think they used the name The Jeffbot 3000 to try and EASE themselves into the idea of actually having a JAZZ DRUMMER. It was the ONLY time I saw them play with Jeff as their live shows would gradually peeter out over the next few years until they ended up not SPLIT, but not exactly up and running either. It's a shame as they were GRATE (HENCE the Legend), and with Live Drums rather FUNKY.

One journey later, passing as quickly as possible through the WAKING HELL that is Birmingham New Street Station, i suddenly found the position of DRUMS in my heart changing abruptly from JOY to HORROR. I'd been told it was an ACOUSTIC night, with no drums were allowed, so although Tim and Emma were going to come along anyway (I think, they were seeing family in Birmingham) I'd intended to play only as a DUO with Tom.

Imagine my TERROR, then, when I walked in to find not one but TWO fully working drumkits set up and ready to use, with TIM, a man EAGER to ROCK at ANY excuse, but an hour away. FEAR! DREAD! I knew that as soon as Tim saw these he would ASSUME I'd been FIBBING in order to grab the GLORY of the gig all to myself. ALSO we'd recently had a SPATE of gigs where I'd told him he'd absolutely definitely have to bring his full drumkit and thus DRIVE and further thus not DRINK, only to arrive to find SEVERAL drumkits set up. Surely his RAGE would be UNCONTAINED?

While I was PANICKING i met an Actual Real Life Celebrity. Whenever I send out copies of our CDs I always get a bit depressed by the fact that a large proportion of them go out to reviewers at mainstream music publications who i KNOW will never review them. I HAVE to send copies to these gits a) just in case and mostly b) so I can righteously MOAN about it for ever after, but I don't LIKE it so in order to KARMICALLY BALANCE the mailout I always send a few to people I think are GRATE - Nigel from Half Man Half Biscuit, Richard Herring, John Otway, THOSE sort of people. This time I'd sent one to the author Mike Gayle, whose books i LOVE. Yes yes I know they're never likely to trouble the Booker Panel, but I always LARF at them and also always end up CRYING at the end, usually on public transport.

And lo and behold, he actually turned up to the gig! I don't know if he stayed for long as Arthur The Promoter (who was also his mate) said it was all way past his bedtime, but BLIMEY! What a nice bloke!

Other nices blokes present included Grimsby Troubador Pete Green, who was playing just before us. I would see him play MANY MANY MANY times over the following years, but my enjoyment of his performance on this occasion was cut short by the arrival of Emma and, particularly Tim who, on seeing the drumkit, could only be CONTROLLED by us all running round the venue trying to find a drummer who could lend us some BITS.

It was thus an 80% complete Validators (including one Drummer on the brink of HULKING OUT) who rather unexpectedly took to the stage to face something we've very rarely seen: a PACKED house. The main act was Jeffrey Lewis so the room was RAMMED with people right up to the very front of the stage, which is itself only about two inches off the floor, so I played the entire gig basically SHOUTING into people's FACES. I particularly recall two young men, one with curly blond hair (they were VERY close to me for the whole gig) who stood looking UNIMPRESSED throughout, although even THEY joined in when we did the "OI HIBBETT!" bit in "Easily Impressed" at the end.

It was a marvelous night made all the more so by seeing the aforesaid Jeffrey Lewis, although it ended with a bit more FEAR as Tom and I navigated our way back to his house in Leicester on a cold, lonely, unlit road. Our reasoning at the time was that we'd been forced in this direction due to roadworks, but in hindsight it was probably our usual trick when we're in The Tigermobile together of just getting lost. It was a scary journey, but not as scary as the prospect of TIM'S WRATH. THAT had been TRULY terrifying.

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