My Exciting Life In ROCK (part 1): 1/11/2000 - The Jug of Ale, Birmingham

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People in The Krazy World Of ROCK (KrazyNESS levels indicated by the SPELLING of Krazy: KRAZY!) may often seem, to outsiders, to be unnecessarily misanthropic with regards to their colleagues. When we gather together we may often be heard SLAGGING OFF all and every other member of the Krazy World Of ROCK Fraternity in a way that is both ungentlemanly AND unforgiving.

Truth be told, MOST people involved with The Krazy (etc.) are actually quite nice. Certainly, if you compare people in BANDS to similar areas of hobby/showing off/ART then they are absolutely LOVELY. I've BEEN in a room full of THEATRICALS a few times and HANKERED for the kindly, selfless, ego-free environment of GIGS, and though many Comedy People are near-normal, many of them are LOONIES. And not in a good way.

No, your ROCKERS, they are usually dead nice, and INDEED one could say that The Harder They Rock, The More Likely They Are To Make You A Cup Of Tea. HOWEVER: the few that ARE awful, really are BLOODY AWFUL. It is THESE people that we talk about when we get together.

Take for instance the other bands playing on the bill on this particular evening. The headline act were already half an hour into their soundcheck when I arrived - as you may know, the idea of a soundcheck is to test that all the GEAR is working and for the kindly soundman to get his levels approximately correct. Unfortunately certain people think it is MOSTLY an opportunity to play THEIR ENTIRE SET from start to finish whilst GLOWERING at the IDIOT SERVANT who is unable to make the dodgy Pub PA sound EXACTLY like a) the incredibly expensive CD they spent three months making in a studio that smells of GLADE Air Freshener where the engineer cried for half an hour every night after they'd left, wondering how his life had go so wrong that he had to put up with arseholes like THEM to make a living OR b) HOW IT SOUNDS IN THEIR MINDS.

This lot were VERY MUCH of that ilk, and spent another 45 minutes checking their levels, adjusting the microphones, complaining about the brightness of treble in the foldbacks, and basically BEING GITS. And all this for an Acoustic Two Piece! NOT an orchestra, NO flugelhorns or even recorders, not even a drumkit - just two wankers. They finally stopped when one of them STORMED off in a HUFF, heading home to get his even more expensive guitar which he would use to DELAY the start of the entire evening by soundchecking for ANOTHER half hour when he got back.

Some people deserve to have EXPLOSIVES attached to their instruments don't they?

I went on and did my Traditional 30 Second Soundcheck. Call me a terrible person if you will, but it is SO tempting sometimes to just go on, plug in, sing for half a minute and say "Is that OK?" that I think HECK IT! and Go for it. Unfortunately the people to whom this is Rather Pointedly AIMED never realise I am POINT making (they're usually still packing away their GUITAR STANDS), and it also tends to mean my sound is RUBBISH, but HEY! It makes the soundman smile, and that's MORE than worth it, right?

A few beers later I went on and did my set in front of the seven people who'd wandered upstairs, one of whom was my brother James, who lived in Birmingham at the time. He'd never seen me play a gig before so was understandably ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED, but happily this was one of those rarest of events in my early career, a Really Good Gig, and by the end of it he'd even moved from the back of the room (where he'd been COWERING) to the middle, where I could see the BIG PROUD GRIN on his face. Aah, I can see him now, GRINNING away there - THAT sort of thing is the entire reason for doing THIS sort of thing, it was lovely!

Two other events of note happened during my set. Firstly, the crowd SWELLED from seven up WELL into double figures, and included some people I didn't know who actually bought RECORDS off of me - I told you it was a Really Good Gig!. The second other event featured a CELEBRITY - The Bloke From Ocean Colour Scene! Nowadays I live in London where celebrities are two a penny and cast members of Eastenders do part-time jobs in Tesco, but living in Leicester (SOLE celebrity: that really tall Rugby Bloke who looks like Frankenstein's Monster, but I can't remember his name) I was UNUSED to it, so got a bit EXCITED. I mean, I don't LIKE Ocean Colour Scene, of course I don't, that would be LUDICROUS, but I couldn't help myself going into the usual DERANGED IMAGININGS - would he come up to the gig? Would he think I was brilliant, sign me to his record label, introduce me to celebrity pals, book me as tour support and in a couple of years be ringing me up in my Monaco Retreat to ask if I remembered him and could spare the time to listen to some new tracks? Eh?

No, he wouldn't. He looked through the door from the corridor for about five seconds, then went back to talk to his mates.

After I'd finished there was some discussion about what to do next. I certainly didn't want to see any more of the headliners, EVER, but thought we might as well stick around for the next guy. After all, we'd SUFFERED TOGETHER with not having much of a soundcheck, and who knew, he might be lovely?

His first song took five minutes, which felt like fifteen, then halfway through his second song he stopped and SHOUTED at the audience "WILL you be quiet? Show some respect - this is FOLK Music!"

My brother and I, like the entire rest of the room, took his warning and went downstairs to start slagging him off RIGHT away.

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