This is not a music review. It’s more an extended diary entry.
I think I’m the first person to arrive who doesn’t have a job to do. I can hear the sound checks coming from above and the barman’s shoes on a sticky floor. I’m wishing I brought some sewing with me. Ideally I could have a chair at the back of the room to listen and stitch.
I think they’re a ska band with a female vocalist. Really fun and bouncy.
I decide to liveblog tonight.
The sound guy says hi but can’t talk as he has to set up both floors. Two punk women arrive and debate when to start drinking. While the bar is trying to sell the last of their stock there may be a trip to the shops later on.
I’m eavesdropping but my friend won’t be here for a few hours.
It’s too cold to get a drink.
A regular asked for the fire door to be shut and a lady with a ukulele is setting up her distortion equipment. It makes her little uke sound like an electric guitar.
Evesdropping tells me there were a couple of fights last night. I’m hungry and no shops are going to be open, are they?
Friend! Talked about life and books with a mate and that killed time. Music soon.
First act downstairs in on. I wish I’d gone for food earlier as I’d likely loose my seat.
First act is a cheerful woman with ukulele. She’s replacing Junkshop Poets and is playing again with a full band later on. She toasts the hopefully-not-last-night with her tea flask.
I’m order number 81 at McDonald’s and it’s raining. Great. I’ll lose my seat but I won’t be hungry.
Running while eating in quite heavy rain. Hands freezing but belly warm. Putting a second burger in my bag I find chocolate buttons.
Find a seat at an occupied table. Everyone is heading up for the next band. Seat isn’t worth music.
Burnt tapes are rough voiced even before the Mic line starts playing up. Why fix anything on the last day. Ladies toilet door has no lock. The lead singer is dressed in a panda onesie and complains nobody else is.
Wow that was fast. I could have listened to more than 20 minutes of Burnt Tapes. Back downstairs there’s a chap with acoustic guitar. I check the forecast and it’s not good. I’ve got family dinner to go to.
It wasn’t raining too hard on the ride up. And we’re having lamb!
It’s late but whatever. I won’t see some of this family for another few months and it’s great to have them.
It’s amazing food, as always. But I can’t keep up on the conversation. My grandfather asks if I need to sit in the other room. Not today. I’m sure it will pass.
Something is very wrong and I can’t tell what it is our when it started. Could have been before I arrived. I am under threat, or so my brain tells me. I text my friends, not wanting to go back alone, just incase this is a warning sign of another episode.
My grandmother found some Christmas chocolate she gave me. It expired yesterday. I’ll eat it later. I did, while editing this post 3.4.18.
I’ll read on my phone but stay in the room.
I leave. Fomo is killing me more than the disease.
Oh they have a doorman now. Oh they’re busy. A man comes into the smoking area as I walk in and he shouts at the crowd: “get in there and support these bands!”
Nothing cleans my brain out like a wall of sound. I’m glad invested in earplugs because I can feel it in my torso. I lower my fingers to my jacket hem and feel the vibrations. Not as such dancing but twisting my while body side to side in time with the head bangers.
This is Riggots and they’re from Wigan. I find myself hypnotized by the bass guitarist’s fingers. Between songs they talk and ask if we can understand them. Is it No-witch or Noor-witch? The audience can’t decide.
I kinda stopped talking notes at this point. I was taking photos and more importantly dancing. Lots of the following is recreated from minimal notes and photo timestamps
I bought two burgers earlier and still had one. Old friend hadn’t eaten since breakfast and was working so couldn’t leave. I gave him the chicken mayo burger and I think he inhaled it because I don’t remember seeing him eat it. He had a present for me, too.
A gig poster! Birds of Hell and Unwaves! Kinda freak out a little.
End up talking BoH with another local musician (friend of a friend). Being social is easy when you have stuff common.
Bought a Burnt Tapes shirt (octopus!) and think I got hit on?? >“I’m single because girls with dyed hair and glasses never know I like them” - A guy talking to me who has pink hair and glasses.
Wow. Ok. Never seen a ska band live before. It’s just so bouncy and joyful. Though they aren’t pure ska. There’s hip-hop and a grime influence.
This is Karl Phillips and The Rejects. They are all having so much fun. The trumpet and saxophone players dance the whole way through.
Friends! Glad I didn’t wait for then to arrive because there is only one band left.
I don’t feel bad about missing what I did. I’ve gotten to a place where I don’t resent managing my condition.
I buy a round of rum & lemonade because there’s no coke left. The shouting man is back. “Support these fucking bands!”
Millie Manders and the Shut Up. Wow. Electric. She’s full of life.
Again is bouncy and we exhausted ourselves dancing.
It’s political, too. Right to life was written after Harambe died and you can guess the stance.
Millie tells us even though this place is closing tonight they are still ending music at half ten to respect the law. Then they cover brown eyed girl.
We sit on the stage downstairs and talk about the future. About music and life. There’s so much more to see and do. Millie’s words are still in my head. DIY is hard to kill. There will always be somewhere to put a gig on. I hope her energy stays with me.
Gone out for some air. Being social with strangers.
Is that a weed? I was offered some earlier buy a rather affected performer. Place closes at 3am so no point winding down just yet. I’m on the water.
After finding something other than new pound coins, we have one last round of metallica pinball, it’s time to go home. We’re still all bad at it.
Ok so someone put on The Noose by A Perfect Circle and I melt. I almost cry.
Why do my thighs hurt? Is skankers leg a thing like tennis elbow?