Sunday 23 September; back to the Waterloo and we watched this show from the middle of the hall instead of our customary back corner. What a difference! The place is tiny!
The Brothers flicked my geek switch (again) with a snatch of Discovery from 2112 during the warm-up. I wish they’d stop doing that because I can’t help but sing along and I’m no Geddy Lee.
The boys opened old-school stylee with It’s My Life but, halfway into the first chorus, silence.
Yep, complaints from the neighbours have resulted in a decibel meter being installed at the Waterloo. 90dB and you’re out.
Assorted wire-jiggling later and we restarted; Alan reduced to one bass drum, Dave S playing bassless (or at least less-bass) keyboards, the others just grooving gently. Did it sound good? Of course it did.
Talkers. I loathe talkers but I had them right in my line of sight. Dan was rolling out his …Miss A Thing solo and some muppet decided this would be a good time to try chatting up the lassie on the other side of the table. Made me want to grab him by his sticky-out ears and repeatedly bang his head on the table while shouting “this guy’s got more talent in his split ends than you’ve got in your entire miserable body so watch and marvel you fu…………………”
Manchester United vs José-less Chelsea on the telly. It’s hard to decide who to boo more. It speaks volumes for the boys that there was absolutely no dissent whatsoever when the screens were switched off for the second half; one of the biggest games of the season reduced to mere filler between sets – not many bands could claim that.
Second half saw Ian Roper from Storm guesting on Summer of ’69 then the usual party pieces kept the dancefloor jumping; G’n’R, Boston, Free (complete with extended funky intro as Danny took a comfort break), Whitesnake, Bon Jovi, Journey – you know the score by now.
Rock'n'Roll was sacrificed to make room for
Pick. Pick. Pick. Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.
