I love the smell of sawdust in the morning…but was this morning? Having Jim Beam knock out sevens shades of guacamole can really throw a mans gyroscope into orbit.
And so it began, the day of the gig…not a bird in the sky. Stillness beyond belief. The black-eyed sun intermittently peeked cautiously through the bullying gangs of cloud. The darkness just before dawn, the silence before the storm.
And it echoed down the stairs, the faint chatter of a Michael Fish wannabe singing his glum reprise, “This is the story of hurricane…”
A hurricane on gig day!? You sir, can shove your extreme weather warning where the sun don’t shine!
It’s gonna take a damn sight more than some mangy monsoon, some barmy tsunami army, to silence these Gunners and Hotspurs.
9pm. Standard kickoff in a gig of two halves. Home turf, jumpers for goalposts, mmm isn’t it?
All aboard the setlist…informally known as Skippers Dismay. The first mates and bestie have only gone and juggled the playlist! Unable to explain, we rip roar and soar into I Predict A Riot, knocking the regulars for six with it’s unpredictable licks. This is no longer a test match, this is a high-noon battle snatch with an extra glint of glory!
And the rain, rain, rain tumbles mercilessly from the sky, down, down, down into the Tube Station. Rivulets and marmadukes are hammering at the doors, but the pace is relentless and the roof in danger of being ripped from it’s moorings!
Tipping and tumbling from side to side, the crowd surfing the nostalgic tide, hit after hit thunders on the bow…
But half time sees the birthday girl tumble overboard and we are left craving footfall on a dance floor built far from the Epsom town centre ley-lines.
The condition of out-of-the-way-ness is a permanent blight on the fine venue Bar XLR. It is shameful reflection on both the Press and the residents of Epsom and Ewell that the venue doesn’t receive the publicity and subsequent business that it so rightly deserves. Especially when a quick chat with anyone in the town centre drinking establishments, reveals that they wish there was more live music available in Epsom. Well, newsflash…THERE IS! Every Friday night, just a stones throw from where you’re tolerating the TV nasties or the dirgesome DJ’s of the town centre. Step out and experience the great musical acts on offer…right on your doorstep!
Okay, catch a bus away from Avefookinrant, Wydontcha and let’s get back to show…
We’re rockin and rollin from the off, unperturbed by the raucous exchanges between Greek-God Zeus and the kebab shop owner on the street outside. Everywhere’s heavily sandbagged, Neil’s got his water wings on, Skips at the helm and J Edgar Hoover has just opened a bag of Haribo on the tunnel of love……Nice!
We’re tearing through the crowd pleasers and the miracle of moderately-priced alcohol sees the dance floor full of revellers young and old. And just as it feels like we’re gonna go under in a sea of sweat and fatigue, “Eye candy ahoy!” is the holler from the crows nest.
“And I saw her face…now I can’t believe she’s not butter!” Luxurious, soft and creamy…..Opps, missed a beat…
…and we’re back on an even keel, the wind at our heels, the hull repaired by seals, top dogs on a hot summer BBQ.
Twisting and shouting we billow the net with our final hit. They think it’s all over…
…it is now! Boom!!
– Jump The Gun