The phone rang on Thursday night and it was Jo the excited promoter, for our big Brighton debut in a squat tomorrow night… he was banging on about a 15k rig and how he needed to know our tech spec so it was all in place… i said as long as your sound man knows what he’s doing we can go with just a line-check…
Then i phone Dickie Balboa, the Bosshog and sicknote driver, i had heard he was pissed off and fed up, and that he had had a titful of us cunts. He said upon answering, “I want out.”
I listed to his reasons and couldnt really argue with any of them
-waiting round for fucking hours for the band to stop partying after gigs
-being ignored when he phoned ready to leave
-arguments over cash
-too old for it all
-cost of the sickmobile was crippling him
-wanted to get back into his own art
-just had enuff
-given from the bottom of his heart for years-need his time from himself
He said he would take us one last time so as to not leave us in the shit.
I got up early, hired a motor and texted Dickie: “all sorted Balb, I love you.”
We got in the car, tunes pumping and flew to Brighton in no time
WE laughed at each others hairstyles, then Doghouse tried to tell me to answer my phone and i told him to FUCK OFF, the we drove up and down the same road about 14 times until we found it……
We walked in to the squat and was greeted by Jo, he showed us to the gig room:
we stepped inside and there were 5 crusties, a dog, a mad man jumping around with his top off and a PA that looked like it was set up for a karoke in your local pub…
WHat…… THE…….. fuck.
a friendly bunch brought us food and made us feel comfortable…
slowly the place rammed out with anarchist punks, young chavs, old acid casualties and big sweaty dogs.
before we knew it we couldn’t move, rammed. people fallin over each other all over the place
I got friendly with the sound man, and he seemed to have the soundsystem tuned to it’s finest for a while, which made me think we might just be able to pull this one off….
Big heavy anarcho-punk bands slammed out their sets to a massive mosh pit, spitting cider all over each other just below a collapsed ceiling with bare wires hanging out of it….the atmosphere roared and stunk. Their big amps made it possible for them to sound pretty fucking mean, and only the vocals were coming through the actual PA, i’m thinking i gotta pump my tunes through this vocal PA after this, we have no amps…. oohhhhhh fuck.
the buzz is huge for our Brighton debut, and i’m thinking this is fucked.
I look over and our only hope of pulling this off, Jamie the soundman, was clinging on to a mic stand, with a can of special brew in his hand, eyes in the back of his head…… and then…………… BANG he fell off the stage onto the dance floor and was struggling to escape what looked like a black hole, no mind a k-hole…. “OH SHIT”
Jamie – The Sound Man
The Autonomads took to the stage and performed their Ska routine, and got the place bumping….
our good friend and London DJ, Sugarlump turned up with a bag full of t-shirts for the band, and a nice fLapSANDwitch one for me, wicked,.. he took one look at the PA and said “You’re Fucked!”
Louise Disgrace turned up with a friend but i think i was too worried to even be slightly sociable…
So, we took to stage. At this point the soundman was collapsed over the Amps balancing his body on one toe and licking the back of the amp, which incidentally was connected to the speaker leads with a Kit-Kat wrapper…. i shit you not!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Doghouse had managed to rope in a friend and sound engineer to try and make sense of the complete fucking disaster…. he managed to get us on…. we kicked off with Ectoplasmic and the place went fucking mental….
people jumping, and moshing and screaming, various nutters were grabbing the mic shouting “God Save the Queeeeen” or “Squatting is finished” … people were falling onto the stage… then we dropped Burden and BANG! the right hand speaker blew up!!! we carried on, the crowd a sea of fucking insanity spilling onto the stage….. i looked behind me at our munted engineer, he was now turnin all the knobs on the desk and amps, with his eyes shut tight and toungue hanging out…..
then BOOF, fuck all…. we were cut off completely… people were screaming…. i dragged the soundman off stage and half way across doghouse belted through his megaphone:”Ladies and Gentlemen, The Sound Man!!!” i held him up and the crowd screamed their appreciation……
a friendly topless lad grabbed my hand from the mental crowd and shouted “FUCK IT MATE, Dont stress!! we fucking love you!!!! i came from manchester for you’s and i fucking love it!”
Dog’s mate managed to get the soundsystem to come back on in the one speaker… we blasted out Pikey Drum n Bass, probably the worst we have ever sounded, the place went nuts, half way through BANG!!! game over… there was fuck all left of it.
we chilled for half hour but i was so fucking knackered…..
we got in the motor and i sped back to Cardiff, toe to the metal, tunes pumping nice, listened to The Holy Trinity EP and was fucking chuffed with it, not listened in a while……
with a fat moon in hung in the sky guiding us to our humble homeland, a wicked track from Hank Williams III caressed our echoey heads… “3 shades of Black…” – we decided this was to be the opener track for future sicknote show to bring us on stage… what a tune…. it was about 8am, i chucked the keys to The Filth and headed to my pad, i spoke to my lady on her way to work and collapsed into bed.
DICKIE BALBOA RIP
WE LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU FOR THE GOOD TIMES