So lets get the gripes outta the way first shall we? This Mean Fiddler practice of putting a band on in the matinee slot on a Saturday night is a fallacy. The howff that Radio Birdman played is a far cry from that great space in Harlesden that the MF use to reside in. So we arrive at the venue and the band are at least 3 songs into their set by 8.15pm. Obviously that set the ol' teeth on age from the get go but we made our way through the labyrinth to the body of the crowd. Next problem was the sound at that point, a tad lumpy and only inkling at what I know in my mind's eye that yon twin guitar attack will sound like. The sonic fog cleared though and it all started coming in loud and clear. I'm reliably informed that the sound in the DJ booth was bang on all the way through, causing Brother Joe to reassess his take on the band. He heard the light, what can I tell ya? So my understanding that the band would come on at 8.45pm musta been a dream or something. The place has gotta turn into a disco at 11pm. Thats disco, not club, don't try and make it sound like anything other than the sorry hole in the Tottenham Court Road that it is. Having travelled 400+ miles to miss such a large chunk of the show was a pisser. Not though drunkenness, not through a disagreement with a cheese sandwich on hte train, no - nowt like that. Through sheer goddamn rudeness. The UK doesn't know how to treat theat all too rare beastie, the R&R legend. Spain, France, anywhere else (even Scotland) can conjure up some decorum but not London. I have a feeling that when The Dictators make it here then that's where they'll play. I'll be there at bloody teatime the night before when that happens. So anyways, when the sound was sorted, the band really gained altitude. Most of the crowd seemed to get what they came for but their second encore didn't include Transmaniacon MC like the web reports suggested. No we got bloody Cold Turkey didn't we. That encore also included a swaggering Waitin' For My Man (a really cracking version) and a blood curdling You're Gonna Miss Me so like that big, stout feller Meatloaf might say, Two outta three and all that.... So yeah, it was all over very fast. Didn't get to say hi to the band or to John Needham. As it was, we only got to hang with Jeroen for maybe an hour and virtually a handshake with Steve. Guess that AGM will have to wait?
Stayed in Chiswick though, what a contrast to the centre of town dump. Our hosts, David and Penny did us proud and made it seem like we weren't in London at all. Even saw the guy who used to let The Small Faces rehearse in his basement ferchrissakes.
T'woulda been nice if Birdman had made a stop in Scotland as was originally intended. A rousing Aye Hup woulda cleared the tubes alright. The kids who were supposed to start this new race thing are a tardy bunch. Took 'em a full quarter century to get their tails in gear but let's salute the rock'n'roll soldiers anyway. Don't make me drag up those stories about the punk rock Wars again...