Crush UK at the Shed, Brierley Hill or was it Dudley?
I got up at about ten am, showered, shaved, shampooed and so on. I left the house and strolled down to the new cash machine at Tescos. I went in the newsagents and bought a Guardian, then slipped into the "Who Killed Kenny Arms" and ordered a pint of Stella Artois. I read about the probably delayed general election and the foot & mouth epidemic generally. At noon I called the drummer and he said he'd be around to pick me up at about two, two-thirty. I ambled back to my house at one-forty five in the gentle March sunshine.
Eventually, Mr.Bell arrived, we loaded my amp, my guitar and my bag and me (!) and drove round to Capt.Black's headquarters. He was ready to go and made our final preparations. Sonny Below, the drummer from the Paul Lamb Band, who also lives in the Capt's street was there hanging about. He was waiting for his band van to arrive to take him to a gig in Southampton. We all stood and chatted musicians' nonsense for a few minutes.
We got away at about two-forty five. We went down Wimbledon Chase, along Bushey Road, onto the A3, turning right onto the M25. The traffic was quite busy and at a standstill for a while. We left the M25 and joined the M40. The traffic flow was much quicker. The pleasant weather persisted. We were able to happily cruise at 80-85 mph nearly all the way to Birmingham. We stopped at the service area for quick wee and chocalate and Red Bull. We navigated onto the M42 and found the A391 turn off.
We saw a large nineteen thirties pub' and wagered that it would resemble the place we were going to!! A lot of big suburban places like that have been extended to include a hotel and night club and many a gig occurs in such an environment. Eventually we found the place on the map and the venue, The Shed was in sight. (It wasn't a thirties pub' at all, it was more like a DIY super store!!)
Capt. & Mrs. Black had already arrived. There was no-one at the venue yet to let us in. It was about six-thirty. We took ourselves off to the local pub' next door and drank beer, gin & tonics and ate crisps and nuts.
On return to the Shed, the staff had arrived. It was a nicely appointed place with bar, dance floor, railings, an upstairs bar, a spacious stage, large lighting rig, a menu and a disabled toilet; to name but a few amenities. There was an overwhelming farty smell occupying the place. Not a sulphurous farty smell, more of a cabbage and peanuts farty smell. The soundman was the usual disinterested type with a less than usual amount of "I'm in charge and a captain of the music industry" stroppiness. But he was not very conversational though!!!
We unloaded our gear directly onto the stage via the loading dock. At this time the support band arrived. They were about our age and seemed to know what they were doing. They were very enthusiastic and rather got in the way as we tried to set up. Also they wanted to talk about amps and guitars more than music. This is always the sign of a hobbyist and not a musician.
The dressing room was fabulous. It was bigger than the entire Redwing Pub!!!! It is the most palatial I've ever seen in thirty one years of gigging!! One wall was just mirrors, there were comfortable armchairs and sofas, a big TV, our own toilet etcetera. Very nice!!!
We started soundchecking. We heard the PA gear was only a week or two old. This was evident the way the sound man (never found out his name) operated the equipment. He swathed Rick's kit in microphones and adorned our amps with direct injection boxes and the like. Rick started doing the kick. Bang, bang, bang for ages and so through the entire kit. Then he did my bass. There was a terrible ring of bottom feedback following every note I played. After what was an unnecessary time he admitted to it and cleaned it up. The sound was far too loud and with almost non-existant monitor level. But that's normal for most bands!!!
We got off the stage and retired to the dressing room. The other band soundchecked. They used their own drum kit and amplifiers. This means the sound man completely disembles the mic and di box set up and sets it up for them. The net result is (and this happens at every gig where there is a house PA and a support band) they get to play with the sound system in place and checked but we go back on with the equipment stuck in the approximate places, with the settings on the board, not as they were when we checked but just turned on. The whole ritual is a complete waste of time and electricity.
The man came at about ten and told the other band to start. There were three punters in. The other band were terrible. But support bands usually are. The singer/ bass player sang out of tune (I expect he couldn't hear him self). The guitar and drums were a bit bedroom as predicted. Frankly the material (their own) was dire and the drummer and bass player didn't seem to listen to each other. Of course I may have it wrong and that's how they wanted it to sound.
We went on at about eleven thirty (?). We whipped into Pretty Vacant and the sound was more than off putting!! Capt. Couldn't hear himself, the drums were very loud, and there was no bass on stage. Luckily the bass was so loud in the main mix that I could hear it anyway. On about the third tune, the Capt. busted a string and had to abandoned his belovéd Vox for his standby Telescaster.
In the middle of the set the sound smoothed out a bit and we were playing very well indeed concidering the general unfamiliarity of the sound. Two "common-as-muck" local bints came to front of the stage and said, "Do you know any Whitesnake?" I said, "How do you cook it?" They went away. The crowd was quite big 150-200 people(?). It was difficult to estimate because of the lights. They were a a bit staid with the applause. But that is what these "Friday night £5 to get in and get pissed after the pubs close" club gigs are like. Ninety five per cent were waiting for the disco to start. As far as I could see, there were no people there especially to see a punk performance. We could have been a Dubliners tribute band, a Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep tribute band or the Joe Loss band as far as they cared!!!!
During Anarchy In The UK, the Capt.'s guitar went off completely. We did a whole chorus with just bass and drums with Rick and I only singing as the Capt. went to fiddle with his amp. What had happened was the disco operator decided to unplug the Capt.'s FX pedal's main supply because is was, "plugged into one of his (the disco operative) sockets"!! At the end we came off stage and did no encore. The disco person was in the dressing room going on and on about this blessed socket. He kept saying, "I've told the sound people before not to use these sockets". He got quite wound up about it. We didn't whether to give him a slap or laugh at him!!!! He was a talentless gormless prat of the first order. Once the gear was packed up and secured Capt. & Mrs. Black took off to Shropshire for the weekend. Rick and I had the option to crash out in the dressing room till morning. But it turned out that we would be locked in until 11am, which is when the cleaners arrive. We considered the options and we chose to have one last drink (pint of lager and Red Bull respectively!) and drive home. I think we wanted to get away from this place as soon as possible and as fast as possible!!!. We had a swift journey home, only getting lost once! This was when we took the A38 turn instead of the M42. We were out side my house in Wimbledon at four am.