At last, a gig on my home turf!
Saturday 26 March had loomed large in my calendar for a good few months. It’s not often that we manage to find gigs in our illustrious capital city. There are many reasons for this, but the primary one is that London venues simply won’t pay what it takes to get us all together in one place. We’ve done a few fanclub / special event type shows in recent years at the Ruskin Arms (Iron Maiden’s spiritual home) and just about managed to get ourselves there and back, but this is the first “regular gig” in a long time to take place within the sound of Bow bells.
My day started with a bit of forward planning. A few days previous I had been taken ill with a Devil Bug, and having recently moved it struck me as a grand idea to go and sign up with the local witch doctor. Upon registering with their fine service it became apparent that my passport had expired. With a trip to Nijmegen beckoning in a few short weeks, I was racked with a bout of loud expletives (much to the horror of the poor receptionist at whom they were directed) and went home to ask the internet how one goes about renewing one’s passport. Saturday morning was spent putting that research into practice at the local post office, while also picking up a more suitable dress shirt to match, as best I could, what Dave Murray is wearing on Iron Maiden’s current tour. It was also incumbent on me to pick up an “emergency wig”; rabid readers may recall an unfortunate incident in Plymouth resulting in what Adrian “d’yer want the good news or the bad news?” Swift affectionately summed up as “looks like a fanny on yer head!”. With a brisk jaunt around town on Saturday morning put behind me, I walked home and set about getting my stuff together for the gig.
Arriving at the venue a refreshing 30 minutes or so after leaving home (thank you, TFL!), I came upon various members of our support act for the evening. Ghoad are a Saxon tribute band, who have been together as a classic rock covers act for the better part of a decade but who recently turned their talents to the tribute world. Their genesis sounds awfully familiar – a pre-existing band notice that their beloved band are poorly represented on the tribute circuit and decide to try their hand at it. We wish them the best of luck for the future! Ghoad’s Manager Andy Findley filled me in (as it were!) on the situation – there was no-one to let us in until a bit later. The Bridgehouse II is the relocated spirit twin of The Bridgehouse, a seminal rock venue in the East End throughout the seventies before being shut down in 1982 and razed to the ground in recent years. Iron Maiden themselves played there in the early days, and the Bridgehouse II is there to take it’s place. A small room on an industrial estate in the wastelands of East London, it seems a slightly surreal place to find a venue.
Half an hour later, the Unbranded and Slightly Damaged Selectadrive Sprinter rolled up with the rest of the band aboard. Bruce “I’ve just done a rather awful trump” Dugginson was complaining of cramp, having had a rather uncomfortable journey, while everyone else looked in decidedly chipper moods. Speed “fugg may owld boots!” Haggis wasted no time offering me up as a sexual favour to the support act in order to get me a lift home (charming!), while Nicko “dum de dee dee dum de dee dee” McBrain Jnr was devasted to learn that there were no eateries nearby. Honestly. I don’t know where he puts it all.
We quickly set about lugging all the gear up the stairs (always fun, I can tell you!) ably aided by the Ghoad boys. By this time it was a mere 90 minutes to doors opening, so I tried to set my gear up as quickly as possible. Sound-check duly ensued, and we ran through the two numbers we had prepared especially for the gig (including the rarely performed Purgatory and the never-before performed Back In The Village – oh, you lucky people!). Both went off without a hitch, more or less, and were received raptly by the pre-gig audience! We cleared off to allow Ghoad to sort their stuff out, and I promptly decamped to the bar. By this time the doors were almost ready to open, and punters started trickling in. I escaped to the outside (where it was colder than expected!) to quietly sup on my pint of Guinness. While I waited outside with the lads, various friends and family appeared. As I said, it’s a rare thing that a gig occurs anywhere near my locale, and when it does my nearest and dearest jump at the chance to see me and my be-wigged colleagues knocking out the choons.
Ghoad brought Saxon to the masses, and in no time at all it was our turn in the “dressing cupboard”. Not wanting to waste any time (punters would be wary of the last Tube departing just after the midnight hour) we bounded onstage to “Satellite 15...” and got on with the show. We played a blinder, with the rarities well-received and the classics being greeted with utter joy. I had one or two marvellous personal moments with mates of mine popping up in front of me on stage right singing right along with me, which was a real treat. I had one slight nightmare at the end of “Hallowed...”, trying to go for the crash-ending but finding my fingers seizing up so what actually came out was a flurry of mishits and Brown Notes. Rather embarrassing! Recovering from that, we rounded out the gig with the encores and said our on-stage farewell while Eddie “Mother of Mercy’s me favourite” the ‘Ead couldn’t resist tearing my dying wig from my bonce and giving me a good slice with the blood-soaked knife. A job well done, although let me tell you it was bloody loud. Even with my slightly-less-than-rock-and-roll earplugs in, my ears were buzzing the next day. I hope the punters have recovered!
I packed down my gear and, having missed the last Underground train, was kindly offered a lift home with the departing Andy and Nibs from Ghoad. This, I’m assured, had nothing to do with ‘Aggy’s inferences earlier in the evening! I’m not usually one to wimp out of loading out the gear (with one notable exception at The Brook, though I still maintain I was busy drinking at the bar and no-one told me the load-out was in progress!!!), but it was such a nice feeling to be at home on the night of a gig without the slog of a long journey home the next day. I arrived home and promptly walked round a mate’s house to continue the party! Splendid stuff.
On a personal note, a huge thanks to all the friends and family who came along (with or without ear protection!). Special thanks to Goc for marshalling the Facebook hordes, to Ross and Sasha for providing me with faces to melt down the front, and to Corey for coming along even though he can't stand Maiden! Kev, Beth, Mike, Mum, Dad, it was properly lovely to see you there. Thanks to Eddie, Mrs Eddie et al, and to the fine chaps of Ghoad.
Until next time, UP THE ‘KIN IRONS
Dave “are you pimping me out?” Hurry
The collected musical adventures of Christopher James Harrison / Dave Hurry / Manic Gers.
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
Saturday, 5 March 2011
HI-ON PLYMOUTH - 25 & 26 February 2011
Back at The Junction! Ever so slightly less than a year since our last visit, we return to our favourite venue in Plymouth. The journey began far too early for my liking. Train travel these days is becoming more and more extortionate, and in an effort to reduce costs (thereby ensuring everyone else gets that little bit more of a cut after expenses) I opted for the cheapest train. Which arrived in Plymouth about three hours earlier than necessary, and had me out of bed at 8:30am on a day off with one thought on my mind – "Who’s fucking idea was this?"
I met Nicko 'I, er, uh, um, errr' McBrain Jnr at Paddington just as the screens directed us to platform 8. My ticket said "Coach B, seat 82A". The seats in coach B ended at number 80. Well then. Junior quickly located two empty seats in the quiet coach and we parked our behinds. In all it was a slightly surreal journey. The sky slowly turned from bright clear azure to dismal grey as the rain started pelting down around us. The announcement that the coffee shop was open was accompanied by an over-zealous canine passenger, intent on broadcasting his thoughts on the matter to the rest of the train. I managed to reduce the residents of the quiet coach to fits of laughter by advising that they not eat the burgers. In hindsight, a quip about hot dogs would have been better. I believe the relevant internet term is 'lol'.
Normally, when en-route to a gig or just before I leave, I invariably receive a call from Adrian 'no glass, I’m from ‘Ull me' Swift. These calls nearly always start "Er, 'ave you left yet?" which is followed, nine times out of ten, by details of something that’s been left behind or news of some disaster that has befallen another member of the band. Examples of this are littered throughout the gig diaries – anything from a lack of spare guitar strings to Speed 'my entire life was in that car!' Harris' spectacular troubles getting to Plymouth last time. So I was not surprised to get a call when Junior and I were about an hour out of Paddington. He was just winding me up though – everything was a-OK and the lads had stopped for a wee while in Tamworth.
Pulling into Plymouth at 2:30pm, Junior and I immediately went in search of lunch. The lad needed to find a towel for those wet moments onstage, and I was looking out for a suitable grey shirt to match the clobber of my Maiden namesake. Nothing doing, unfortunately – the slightly-too-light granddad shirt would have to do for another gig or two. If anyone reading this has any leads on where Mr Murray gets his gear, give me a shout! Deciding to cut our losses, Nicko whipped out his iPhone and tried to find a route to the venue. After trying (and failing) to get our bearings, we jumped in the nearest cab! Unfortunately there was nobody in at the Junction. I suggested a pint (surprised?). Nicko spotted a friendly looking pub in the distance, so it was into The Fortescue for a pint of SA. This turned out to be the only pint I paid for all weekend!
The Junction, in my memory, had the smallest stage of 2010 for us. Ever so nice, then, to arrive at the venue and find that the stage has moved to the other side of the venue and become ever-so-slightly larger. I was delighted to discover that this meant that stage right puts me right by the bar.
C---chug-a-chug---D---chug-a-chug---E---chug-a-chug – "GUINNESS PLEASE!".
A very easy soundcheck followed, facilitated by Nathan the Sound Man’s handy mantra of "plug in, turn up, leave the front of house to me!". Chris had told me of some recent woes the venue had encountered with the P.A. system, which had been mitigated for this weekend by hiring certain bits of gear in. Everything sounded fantastic, both onstage and off, and so we ran through a few songs to check that everything from the rehearsals the weekend before had sunk in. We must say a big thank you to Darryl and Pat for once again coming down to take some video footage of our sound check. This proves to be a valuable aid to critiquing our sound and performance, and tweaking anything we feel is not up to scratch.
Video courtesy of Darryl 'Ross Halfinch' Stubbs
We ran off to the Travelodge to book in, and returned just in time for The Journeymen to take the stage. Swifty was on acoustic duty on Friday, leaving Saturday night up to me. The boys went down a storm – it was nice to watch this bit of the show and gauge crowd reaction, which was superlative.
Then in no time at all it was wig o’clock. Therein lay a problem – it seems that Hurry’s syrup had taken something of a waspy! My trusty blond locks now featured a (rather appropriate) bald spot on top! Time to buy a new wig I think. After a few un-PC 'Hurry on chemo' jokes, the intro tape was rolling. This is the first time for us using 'Satellite 15…' as an intro, and as a result none of us knew precisely when to start making our way to the stage. We ended up stood there like lemons for a good minute before having to come in on that first chord. Never mind!
We were bloody good. This was Steve 'don’t open the fridge!' Haggis’ first chance to show us what he’s got onstage, and he didn’t disappoint. Despite a couple of unable to hear the vocals difficulties due to the wobbly monitor system, we played a blinder. The 'Somewhere in Time' album part of the show went down a storm, and I remember particularly enjoying the harmony sections of 'The Loneliness Of The Long Distance Runner' and 'Déjà Vu'. The atmosphere from both the venue staff and the crowd had put us squarely in our comfort zones, and Eddie 'the new album is great!' the 'Ead put in a fine appearance much to the delight of the audience. Again, thanks go to Kelsey Fox, an up and coming Plymouth-based film-maker, for bringing along her camera to film the entire first night. It was also nice see our good friend Amy George in the front row, camera in hand, belting out the lyrics along with the fine Mr Dugginson!
Post-gig there was a good deal of merry-making and chatter with the punters. A good number of friendly faces from previous gigs here and throughout Devon and Cornwall had returned, and a splendid young chap by the name of Claude had come all the way from Luxembourg for this weekend – what a star! We piled in the van and headed back to the digs for some well deserved kip.
-------------------------------------------
Saturday morning (well, afternoon) came around in no time at all. Bruce 'crash test' Dugginson and Nicko 'every fist I can find' McBrain Jnr had opted to get their own room as the rest of us snore too loudly, disturbing them from their beauty sleep. Divas. Fully rested (and still a bit wired from the excellent night before) we took a wander into the town centre in search of some grub. A functional Wether-lunch was taken, and with Spook from the forums in tow we continued our exploration of the town. Steve 'Ann Summers? Now you’re talking!' Haggis took a tour of the charity shops looking for a replacement buckle for his guitar strap, but all I wanted was a cup of coffee. After a fair bit of wandering about we finally sat down for a coffee and a tasty treat. Then it was back to Mutley Plain in search of a pint. The kind proprietor of the Dog & Duck (over the road from The Junction) gave us a round on the house in praise of our performance the night before – very kind, thank you sir!
Adrian 'smells a bit like crab-paste...and Pedigree Chum' Swift took Junior and Duggers off to collect the van while 'Aggy, Spook and I wandered back to The Junction. A few more casual beverages were consumed and a few songs run through before retiring upstairs to get ready. It was my turn to wield the acoustic, and true to form Duggers and I pleased the crowd with our takes on Still Life, Blood Brothers et al (including, once again, our tribute to the late, great Ronnie James Dio).
We hit the stage just after 10:00pm with the classic 'Live After Death' opening four, and a couple of new ones before performing 'The Number of the Beast' album in it's entirety. This album is chock full of classics we play at near enough every gig, but the inclusion of 'Invaders' and 'Gangland' (as well as 'Total Eclipse', removed from the album at the last minute to the regret of the band) kept things fresh. Eddie 'tag team shit!' the 'Ead had dusted off his prong (ooh err!) and put in a spectacular performance during both The Number of the Beast and Iron Maiden. Again, the punters and the venue were absolutely fantastic. The atmosphere was positively electric – it's so easy to underestimate how much an audience brings to a performance, and far too easy to forget that it's an intrinsically symbiotic relationship. The gig flew by, and I think we all could have quite happily gone on much longer. Still, we must always leave them wanting more!
Video courtesy of Jess 'more cloudy cider please' Tilley
Leisurely packing the gear down with a few drinks after the show, we almost didn't want to leave. Duggers and I managed to get ourselves into a rather advanced state of refreshment, while 'Aggy and Junior (as well as the driving Mister Swift) stayed rather more sensible! After several hours of party and chatter we said our goodbyes and managed to kip down at around about 4:00 A.M.!
In the morning, with 'Aggy complaining that he felt hungover despite having barely touched a drop (old age, mate!) we came to life slowly, divvying up the readies and making our way to the van. Junior and I were dropped off at the train station (about an hour and a half before hour train!) and the rest of them started out on the long journey north. Four and ¾ hours of train later, we pulled into London and went our separate ways. I got home at about 6:00pm, still on an absolute high.
This crowd and this venue reminded us all of how much we love doing this. Thank you The Junction, and thank you to the fans!
Dave 'egg in the nest' Hurry.
I met Nicko 'I, er, uh, um, errr' McBrain Jnr at Paddington just as the screens directed us to platform 8. My ticket said "Coach B, seat 82A". The seats in coach B ended at number 80. Well then. Junior quickly located two empty seats in the quiet coach and we parked our behinds. In all it was a slightly surreal journey. The sky slowly turned from bright clear azure to dismal grey as the rain started pelting down around us. The announcement that the coffee shop was open was accompanied by an over-zealous canine passenger, intent on broadcasting his thoughts on the matter to the rest of the train. I managed to reduce the residents of the quiet coach to fits of laughter by advising that they not eat the burgers. In hindsight, a quip about hot dogs would have been better. I believe the relevant internet term is 'lol'.
Normally, when en-route to a gig or just before I leave, I invariably receive a call from Adrian 'no glass, I’m from ‘Ull me' Swift. These calls nearly always start "Er, 'ave you left yet?" which is followed, nine times out of ten, by details of something that’s been left behind or news of some disaster that has befallen another member of the band. Examples of this are littered throughout the gig diaries – anything from a lack of spare guitar strings to Speed 'my entire life was in that car!' Harris' spectacular troubles getting to Plymouth last time. So I was not surprised to get a call when Junior and I were about an hour out of Paddington. He was just winding me up though – everything was a-OK and the lads had stopped for a wee while in Tamworth.
Pulling into Plymouth at 2:30pm, Junior and I immediately went in search of lunch. The lad needed to find a towel for those wet moments onstage, and I was looking out for a suitable grey shirt to match the clobber of my Maiden namesake. Nothing doing, unfortunately – the slightly-too-light granddad shirt would have to do for another gig or two. If anyone reading this has any leads on where Mr Murray gets his gear, give me a shout! Deciding to cut our losses, Nicko whipped out his iPhone and tried to find a route to the venue. After trying (and failing) to get our bearings, we jumped in the nearest cab! Unfortunately there was nobody in at the Junction. I suggested a pint (surprised?). Nicko spotted a friendly looking pub in the distance, so it was into The Fortescue for a pint of SA. This turned out to be the only pint I paid for all weekend!
We headed back to The Junction to find Chris, the proprietor, had arrived. After taking us through the various changes the venue had gone through in recent times, he sorted us both a drink (very kindly!) and we waited for the rest of the band to appear. We weren’t waiting long. While ensconced in my laptop and the quest for a shirt, I heard the dulcet tones of Bruce 'thunderknickers' Dugginson. The Selectadrive van of choice for the weekend had delivered the remaining members, so it was time to load in and make some noise.
The Junction, in my memory, had the smallest stage of 2010 for us. Ever so nice, then, to arrive at the venue and find that the stage has moved to the other side of the venue and become ever-so-slightly larger. I was delighted to discover that this meant that stage right puts me right by the bar.
C---chug-a-chug---D---chug-a-chug---E---chug-a-chug – "GUINNESS PLEASE!".
A very easy soundcheck followed, facilitated by Nathan the Sound Man’s handy mantra of "plug in, turn up, leave the front of house to me!". Chris had told me of some recent woes the venue had encountered with the P.A. system, which had been mitigated for this weekend by hiring certain bits of gear in. Everything sounded fantastic, both onstage and off, and so we ran through a few songs to check that everything from the rehearsals the weekend before had sunk in. We must say a big thank you to Darryl and Pat for once again coming down to take some video footage of our sound check. This proves to be a valuable aid to critiquing our sound and performance, and tweaking anything we feel is not up to scratch.
Video courtesy of Darryl 'Ross Halfinch' Stubbs
We ran off to the Travelodge to book in, and returned just in time for The Journeymen to take the stage. Swifty was on acoustic duty on Friday, leaving Saturday night up to me. The boys went down a storm – it was nice to watch this bit of the show and gauge crowd reaction, which was superlative.
Then in no time at all it was wig o’clock. Therein lay a problem – it seems that Hurry’s syrup had taken something of a waspy! My trusty blond locks now featured a (rather appropriate) bald spot on top! Time to buy a new wig I think. After a few un-PC 'Hurry on chemo' jokes, the intro tape was rolling. This is the first time for us using 'Satellite 15…' as an intro, and as a result none of us knew precisely when to start making our way to the stage. We ended up stood there like lemons for a good minute before having to come in on that first chord. Never mind!
We were bloody good. This was Steve 'don’t open the fridge!' Haggis’ first chance to show us what he’s got onstage, and he didn’t disappoint. Despite a couple of unable to hear the vocals difficulties due to the wobbly monitor system, we played a blinder. The 'Somewhere in Time' album part of the show went down a storm, and I remember particularly enjoying the harmony sections of 'The Loneliness Of The Long Distance Runner' and 'Déjà Vu'. The atmosphere from both the venue staff and the crowd had put us squarely in our comfort zones, and Eddie 'the new album is great!' the 'Ead put in a fine appearance much to the delight of the audience. Again, thanks go to Kelsey Fox, an up and coming Plymouth-based film-maker, for bringing along her camera to film the entire first night. It was also nice see our good friend Amy George in the front row, camera in hand, belting out the lyrics along with the fine Mr Dugginson!
Post-gig there was a good deal of merry-making and chatter with the punters. A good number of friendly faces from previous gigs here and throughout Devon and Cornwall had returned, and a splendid young chap by the name of Claude had come all the way from Luxembourg for this weekend – what a star! We piled in the van and headed back to the digs for some well deserved kip.
-------------------------------------------
Saturday morning (well, afternoon) came around in no time at all. Bruce 'crash test' Dugginson and Nicko 'every fist I can find' McBrain Jnr had opted to get their own room as the rest of us snore too loudly, disturbing them from their beauty sleep. Divas. Fully rested (and still a bit wired from the excellent night before) we took a wander into the town centre in search of some grub. A functional Wether-lunch was taken, and with Spook from the forums in tow we continued our exploration of the town. Steve 'Ann Summers? Now you’re talking!' Haggis took a tour of the charity shops looking for a replacement buckle for his guitar strap, but all I wanted was a cup of coffee. After a fair bit of wandering about we finally sat down for a coffee and a tasty treat. Then it was back to Mutley Plain in search of a pint. The kind proprietor of the Dog & Duck (over the road from The Junction) gave us a round on the house in praise of our performance the night before – very kind, thank you sir!
Adrian 'smells a bit like crab-paste...and Pedigree Chum' Swift took Junior and Duggers off to collect the van while 'Aggy, Spook and I wandered back to The Junction. A few more casual beverages were consumed and a few songs run through before retiring upstairs to get ready. It was my turn to wield the acoustic, and true to form Duggers and I pleased the crowd with our takes on Still Life, Blood Brothers et al (including, once again, our tribute to the late, great Ronnie James Dio).
We hit the stage just after 10:00pm with the classic 'Live After Death' opening four, and a couple of new ones before performing 'The Number of the Beast' album in it's entirety. This album is chock full of classics we play at near enough every gig, but the inclusion of 'Invaders' and 'Gangland' (as well as 'Total Eclipse', removed from the album at the last minute to the regret of the band) kept things fresh. Eddie 'tag team shit!' the 'Ead had dusted off his prong (ooh err!) and put in a spectacular performance during both The Number of the Beast and Iron Maiden. Again, the punters and the venue were absolutely fantastic. The atmosphere was positively electric – it's so easy to underestimate how much an audience brings to a performance, and far too easy to forget that it's an intrinsically symbiotic relationship. The gig flew by, and I think we all could have quite happily gone on much longer. Still, we must always leave them wanting more!
Video courtesy of Jess 'more cloudy cider please' Tilley
Leisurely packing the gear down with a few drinks after the show, we almost didn't want to leave. Duggers and I managed to get ourselves into a rather advanced state of refreshment, while 'Aggy and Junior (as well as the driving Mister Swift) stayed rather more sensible! After several hours of party and chatter we said our goodbyes and managed to kip down at around about 4:00 A.M.!
In the morning, with 'Aggy complaining that he felt hungover despite having barely touched a drop (old age, mate!) we came to life slowly, divvying up the readies and making our way to the van. Junior and I were dropped off at the train station (about an hour and a half before hour train!) and the rest of them started out on the long journey north. Four and ¾ hours of train later, we pulled into London and went our separate ways. I got home at about 6:00pm, still on an absolute high.
This crowd and this venue reminded us all of how much we love doing this. Thank you The Junction, and thank you to the fans!
Dave 'egg in the nest' Hurry.
Tuesday, 22 February 2011
HI-ON REHEARSAL……WAIT, WHAT? - 19 & 20 February 2011
Well well well, boys and girls!
After a sensationally lazy year of not-really-writing-diaries-due-to-general-procrastination-and-disillusionment, Mr Hurry has pulled his socks up, pulled out the stops (and pulled on various other things to salacious to mention in these pages) and is back on the diary writing bandwagon. Or, should I say, tribute bandwagon.
I’m frequently not as witty as I think I am.
Apologies must go to faithful readers (if I had any) and to the rest of the band for the dismal lack of effort on my part last year. I fully intend to make up for it this year! The gig itinerary is looking healthy for 2011 with several special gigs in there already (those pre- and after-show parties are looking particularly tasty to me right now).
So, 2011 has arrived! The first order of business, as those of you who stalk us around the internet will no doubt already be aware, is to announce the temporary absence of one Mr Speed “I Love Frubes!” Harris. Our trusty stage-left-then-stage-right-then-stage-left-again whirlwind is taking a break from the tribute circuit to concentrate on his master’s degree, with which we wish him all the best of British luck. Our stand-in for the year is a veteran of the Scottish tribute scene, having played in Maiden Scotland (and having been in a Marillion tribute as well, much to Mr Hurry’s delight!). We welcome Steve “take my bare arse!” Haggis into the fold.
With a new member to break in and some album-themed gigs in the pipeline, it seemed opportune to have a rehearsal or two. Adrian “fancy a Mr Whippy?” Swift dutifully booked us two days in a rehearsal room in Leeds, which seems to be the most central location for us now (that’s right, we’ve really swapped a bass player in South Wales for one in Glasgow – things in Hi-On Maiden don’t really make all that much geographical sense these days!). After booking my travel I set about refreshing my memory of the songs that were coming up. Our next two gigs feature full album performances of Somewhere In Time and The Number Of The Beast respectively, and certain songs which we don’t regularly play needed a bit of topping up. Wrapping my fingers around songs like Déjà Vu and Invaders reminded me of just how much I love doing this.
And so it came to pass that on a cold February morning I was to meet our esteemed tubthumper Nicko “sex on toast” McBrain Jnr at Kings Cross. Far too early in the morning to reasonably function, we grunted a few incoherents at each other and headed for the platform. Doing some revision en route got us both suitably woken and geared up for the weekend, and in no time at all we’d pulled into Leeds and piled into Swifty’s motor. Mr Swift had managed to leave various near-vital pieces of kit at home (including his amplifier and Nicko’s cymbals), though luckily half of my amp was available and the rehearsal studios could provide splashy splashy bits of metal that go craassssssssssssssh in the night. Splendid.
We first clapped eyes on ‘Aggy (as he will now be known!) in a misty Travelodge car park. The intention had been to check into the room and then naff off to rehearse, but sadly there was no-one about to let us in so it was time to roll. We were already late (I’m still not entirely sure how that happened) and arrived at the rehearsal room to set up somewhere between 2 and 3.
It took us all a good few songs to warm up, but once we’d got going we were on form. ‘Aggy made it look easy, despite professing that his hands were seizing up on him at the beginning. We had all contributed to a list of songs that we felt we had to focus on, but much to our surprise we sailed through damn near all of them. I made plenty of mistakes (it seemed I had been a little over-confident in my memory of some of these songs!), but by and large it was all gelling together very well. At 6pm we downed tools and headed back to check in, before going out on the lovely town of Yeadon for a hearty Italian meal and a glass of soup or two. It was nice to have some time to get to know ‘Aggy, and to introduce him to our particular brand of idiocy!
The next morning, after a disappointing Morrison’s breakfast (I’m sure it was better last time, chaps!) and a brief trek to The Tarn for ice cream on a chilly winter’s morning, we were straight back in the room for more. After a short while we were joined by Bruce “not around long enough to say anything stupid enough for a nickname” Dugginson, who led us through belting renditions of everything on our “Songs To Worry About” list in record time. With an hour to spare, and having run out of songs we weren’t sure about, we packed down and headed off early (some earlier than others, eh?!).
After fond farewells, I was shipped back to Leeds station for my homeward journey (Junior had opted to stick around with Dugginson for the evening). I conked out on the train and woke up just in time to stagger back to Hurry Towers.
And there you have it. Firing on all cylinders for the Plymouth weekender, the Hi-On train keeps rolling.
Until next time,
Up the Irons!
Luv,
Dave “did I leave it in the pub?” Hurry
After a sensationally lazy year of not-really-writing-diaries-due-to-general-procrastination-and-disillusionment, Mr Hurry has pulled his socks up, pulled out the stops (and pulled on various other things to salacious to mention in these pages) and is back on the diary writing bandwagon. Or, should I say, tribute bandwagon.
I’m frequently not as witty as I think I am.
Apologies must go to faithful readers (if I had any) and to the rest of the band for the dismal lack of effort on my part last year. I fully intend to make up for it this year! The gig itinerary is looking healthy for 2011 with several special gigs in there already (those pre- and after-show parties are looking particularly tasty to me right now).
So, 2011 has arrived! The first order of business, as those of you who stalk us around the internet will no doubt already be aware, is to announce the temporary absence of one Mr Speed “I Love Frubes!” Harris. Our trusty stage-left-then-stage-right-then-stage-left-again whirlwind is taking a break from the tribute circuit to concentrate on his master’s degree, with which we wish him all the best of British luck. Our stand-in for the year is a veteran of the Scottish tribute scene, having played in Maiden Scotland (and having been in a Marillion tribute as well, much to Mr Hurry’s delight!). We welcome Steve “take my bare arse!” Haggis into the fold.
With a new member to break in and some album-themed gigs in the pipeline, it seemed opportune to have a rehearsal or two. Adrian “fancy a Mr Whippy?” Swift dutifully booked us two days in a rehearsal room in Leeds, which seems to be the most central location for us now (that’s right, we’ve really swapped a bass player in South Wales for one in Glasgow – things in Hi-On Maiden don’t really make all that much geographical sense these days!). After booking my travel I set about refreshing my memory of the songs that were coming up. Our next two gigs feature full album performances of Somewhere In Time and The Number Of The Beast respectively, and certain songs which we don’t regularly play needed a bit of topping up. Wrapping my fingers around songs like Déjà Vu and Invaders reminded me of just how much I love doing this.
And so it came to pass that on a cold February morning I was to meet our esteemed tubthumper Nicko “sex on toast” McBrain Jnr at Kings Cross. Far too early in the morning to reasonably function, we grunted a few incoherents at each other and headed for the platform. Doing some revision en route got us both suitably woken and geared up for the weekend, and in no time at all we’d pulled into Leeds and piled into Swifty’s motor. Mr Swift had managed to leave various near-vital pieces of kit at home (including his amplifier and Nicko’s cymbals), though luckily half of my amp was available and the rehearsal studios could provide splashy splashy bits of metal that go craassssssssssssssh in the night. Splendid.
We first clapped eyes on ‘Aggy (as he will now be known!) in a misty Travelodge car park. The intention had been to check into the room and then naff off to rehearse, but sadly there was no-one about to let us in so it was time to roll. We were already late (I’m still not entirely sure how that happened) and arrived at the rehearsal room to set up somewhere between 2 and 3.
It took us all a good few songs to warm up, but once we’d got going we were on form. ‘Aggy made it look easy, despite professing that his hands were seizing up on him at the beginning. We had all contributed to a list of songs that we felt we had to focus on, but much to our surprise we sailed through damn near all of them. I made plenty of mistakes (it seemed I had been a little over-confident in my memory of some of these songs!), but by and large it was all gelling together very well. At 6pm we downed tools and headed back to check in, before going out on the lovely town of Yeadon for a hearty Italian meal and a glass of soup or two. It was nice to have some time to get to know ‘Aggy, and to introduce him to our particular brand of idiocy!
The next morning, after a disappointing Morrison’s breakfast (I’m sure it was better last time, chaps!) and a brief trek to The Tarn for ice cream on a chilly winter’s morning, we were straight back in the room for more. After a short while we were joined by Bruce “not around long enough to say anything stupid enough for a nickname” Dugginson, who led us through belting renditions of everything on our “Songs To Worry About” list in record time. With an hour to spare, and having run out of songs we weren’t sure about, we packed down and headed off early (some earlier than others, eh?!).
After fond farewells, I was shipped back to Leeds station for my homeward journey (Junior had opted to stick around with Dugginson for the evening). I conked out on the train and woke up just in time to stagger back to Hurry Towers.
And there you have it. Firing on all cylinders for the Plymouth weekender, the Hi-On train keeps rolling.
Until next time,
Up the Irons!
Luv,
Dave “did I leave it in the pub?” Hurry
Wednesday, 2 June 2010
HI-ON NORWICH - 15 May 2010
The triumphant tribute to Iron Maiden return to Norwich after a 2 year absence. Our last gig in this neck of the woods was at the Waterfront in February 2008 - a memorable gig, which I believe was our second of that year. We were supported that night by the acoustic stylings of a fine young local lass, and the guitarist from this group had in the meantime formed another band who were supporting us this time. Norwich - it's a small world!
As I set about packing my things, I wondered what would go wrong this time. More often than not on the morning of a gig, I'll get a phonecall from Adrian "he's only there to fill in the gaps between my guitar mastery!" Swift, informing me of some problem or another. The time ticked away, heading relentlessly towards my departure time. I thought I'd gotten away with it.
"Er, chap - have you left home yet?"
Our stage left genius / plonker (delete as appropriate!) had managed to leave both our Rockbags(tm) at home, which meant no easy sound-switching. The horror! Thankfully I had a spare at home. Mr Swift, on the other hand, wasn't quite so lucky. He'd have to use the sounds in his head (the head of his amp, that is!). I shot out the door with my glorified MIDI switcher (in ridiculously heavy flight case) in one hand and my bag in the other and headed for Stratford where I picked up a train to Norwich.
The day was sweltering; a beautiful, sunny Norfolk day. Navigating to the venue from the railway station was a slightly tricky task, as Google's walking map left a little to be desired - in fact it left out several turnings! Consequently I arrived a little later than intended at around 5:30pm. The King Edward VII is a tidy little venue, set back from the road on the leafy outskirts of Norwich town centre. I arrived to find Swifty and Bruce "wobble, wobble" Dugginson had arrived and Swifty had started setting up his gear. In quick succession both Nicko "she looks like me mum" McBrain Jnr and Speed "proper gayface" Harris turned up, the latter with his taller offspring in tow.
Arrival I...
II...
III: To the bar!
After setting up me gear and lamenting the state of my strings (ol' Swifty, who looks after the guitars at his castle in With'un'see, hadn't had the time to replace them as he'd hoped) I shimmied upstairs for a gander at the digs. I'd been told we were kipping at the venue, which can mean anything from "in sleeping bags onstage" to "in caravan out back" (both perfectly acceptable solutions). Not this time however - this time we were being put up in the B&B which had been handily dumped right above the venue! I took room 1, which was like having your own little dressing room. Feeling proper rockstar, I set about getting me gear ready to go onstage.
Wig, ready to pounce...
We ordered food, and Duggers and I plonked down for an Alan Partridge marathon. In no time at all, the support band hit the stage. As they'd borrowed some of our gear we couldn't get ready until they'd done. Once they had finished we set about getting our stuff ready then legged it upstairs to wig up. Doctor Doctor rolled, and the good ship Hi-On steamed onstage. The gig went well, despite my concerns - I didn't play particularly well at soundcheck, as I hadn't really prepared properly in the gap between gigs. No real problems were encountered, and the crowd (although a bit reserved at first) really got into it. All in all a successful performance, although it was a little weird to hear Mister Swift without his usual muscular tone.
After the show I retired upstairs with a pint of the black stuff to decompress. It was very nice to have a room to plonk down in after the gig - normally you're stood around for ages before a bed is anywhere near. i eventually wandered down for a chat with the punters (and another sneaky pint), and in no time at all it was the end of the night's serving. Bugger, thought I, but luckily the venue allowed us a last drink to take upstairs with us. I immediately ordered two and found a much better use for my in-room fridge than the milk and orange juice that previously occupied it!
What's in the fridge, Mister Hurry?..
...surprise, surprise!
The next morning we chucked all the gear in the van and headed off our separate ways. The Van of Quite-Alright-Really dropped me at Norwich station where I'd missed a train by a mere few minutes. This necessitated waiting around for a good hour and a half, which I decided to spend holed up in The Compleat Angler watching the grand prix. Oh, how terrible.
Until next time!
Dave "he's on his sixteenth Guinness by now" Hurry
As I set about packing my things, I wondered what would go wrong this time. More often than not on the morning of a gig, I'll get a phonecall from Adrian "he's only there to fill in the gaps between my guitar mastery!" Swift, informing me of some problem or another. The time ticked away, heading relentlessly towards my departure time. I thought I'd gotten away with it.
"Er, chap - have you left home yet?"
Our stage left genius / plonker (delete as appropriate!) had managed to leave both our Rockbags(tm) at home, which meant no easy sound-switching. The horror! Thankfully I had a spare at home. Mr Swift, on the other hand, wasn't quite so lucky. He'd have to use the sounds in his head (the head of his amp, that is!). I shot out the door with my glorified MIDI switcher (in ridiculously heavy flight case) in one hand and my bag in the other and headed for Stratford where I picked up a train to Norwich.
The day was sweltering; a beautiful, sunny Norfolk day. Navigating to the venue from the railway station was a slightly tricky task, as Google's walking map left a little to be desired - in fact it left out several turnings! Consequently I arrived a little later than intended at around 5:30pm. The King Edward VII is a tidy little venue, set back from the road on the leafy outskirts of Norwich town centre. I arrived to find Swifty and Bruce "wobble, wobble" Dugginson had arrived and Swifty had started setting up his gear. In quick succession both Nicko "she looks like me mum" McBrain Jnr and Speed "proper gayface" Harris turned up, the latter with his taller offspring in tow.
Arrival I...
II...
III: To the bar!
After setting up me gear and lamenting the state of my strings (ol' Swifty, who looks after the guitars at his castle in With'un'see, hadn't had the time to replace them as he'd hoped) I shimmied upstairs for a gander at the digs. I'd been told we were kipping at the venue, which can mean anything from "in sleeping bags onstage" to "in caravan out back" (both perfectly acceptable solutions). Not this time however - this time we were being put up in the B&B which had been handily dumped right above the venue! I took room 1, which was like having your own little dressing room. Feeling proper rockstar, I set about getting me gear ready to go onstage.
Wig, ready to pounce...
We ordered food, and Duggers and I plonked down for an Alan Partridge marathon. In no time at all, the support band hit the stage. As they'd borrowed some of our gear we couldn't get ready until they'd done. Once they had finished we set about getting our stuff ready then legged it upstairs to wig up. Doctor Doctor rolled, and the good ship Hi-On steamed onstage. The gig went well, despite my concerns - I didn't play particularly well at soundcheck, as I hadn't really prepared properly in the gap between gigs. No real problems were encountered, and the crowd (although a bit reserved at first) really got into it. All in all a successful performance, although it was a little weird to hear Mister Swift without his usual muscular tone.
After the show I retired upstairs with a pint of the black stuff to decompress. It was very nice to have a room to plonk down in after the gig - normally you're stood around for ages before a bed is anywhere near. i eventually wandered down for a chat with the punters (and another sneaky pint), and in no time at all it was the end of the night's serving. Bugger, thought I, but luckily the venue allowed us a last drink to take upstairs with us. I immediately ordered two and found a much better use for my in-room fridge than the milk and orange juice that previously occupied it!
What's in the fridge, Mister Hurry?..
...surprise, surprise!
The next morning we chucked all the gear in the van and headed off our separate ways. The Van of Quite-Alright-Really dropped me at Norwich station where I'd missed a train by a mere few minutes. This necessitated waiting around for a good hour and a half, which I decided to spend holed up in The Compleat Angler watching the grand prix. Oh, how terrible.
Until next time!
Dave "he's on his sixteenth Guinness by now" Hurry
Sunday, 30 May 2010
HI-ON PLYMOUTH - March 26 2010
This one didn't start well.
I had totally failed to book the day off work to get down to Plymouth, and the powers that be had decided to send my entire office on a 'team building day' in the city. The upshot of this was that I wouldn't be able to get away until 4:00pm to get down to Plymouth. Which is a bit of a long way on the train. Time was against me, but not quite as much as it would be against Speed 'my entire life was in that car' Harris. More of that later.
These 'team-building' exercises were being carried out largely in a basement underneath the Slug & Lettuce on Wardour Street. When I surfaced at lunchtime my mobile phone revealed a worrying number of missed calls from Adrian 'bit of a problem' Swift. Knowing something must have gone wrong (it always does in this band, somehow!), I frantically tried to call him back to no avail. In lieu of Swifty, I called Bruce 'fancy learning the bass?' Dugginson who would be sat next to Swifty in the Van of Wonder and Safe Arrival in Plymouth. Duggers informed me that Mister Harris' motor had decided to throw a wobbler about 40 minutes from home, and that it was unlikely that he would be able to get to Plymouth in time for the gig.
All the equipment was in the van, so it was a matter of finding a bass player just in case. I ran through the songs in my mind to see if I could find any black holes where I didn't know what the bass line was. Having played the part of all three Maiden guitarists (and, on one faithful night, stood in for the singer!), it seemed only right and proper that I should have a go. Thankfully the news soon reached me that Speed was on a bus headed for Swansea, where he would join a train for Brizzle and then another for Plymouth. The sight of Speed Harris on public transport is a rare thing indeed, and the image gave me some giggles for the rest of the day.
I was released from our team-building event (after a bit of haggling with the boss) a little early and found myself on the 4:00pm train out of London Paddington to Plymouth. Four and a half hours, and a few phone calls later, I arrived. A short walk to the venue saw me arrive just as all the gear had been set up - splendid! Eddie 'I hear you're having trouble' the 'Ead was in fine form at the bar as I walked into the venue, which was going to be a rather intimate affair.
The stage is about the size of a postage stamp, surrounded on all sides by a banister-like contraption. Even with myself, the drumkit, Swifty and Duggers on the stage there was no more room. Most of the night would be spent rooted to the spot! Not that this bothers me as I'm not really one for legging it about the stage (unless in spandex....it's just so freeing!).
After checking everything was working alright, we retired to the cellar which doubled as a dressing room. Nicko 'soul brother' McBrain Jnr entertained us with some rather amusing videos while we twiddled our thumbs and waited for the arrival of the bottom-end of the band (as it were!). During this time, Mr Dugginson and me went back upstairs to briefly entertain the crowd with our acoustic machinations. I had made the mistake of playing a Marillion riff in soundcheck, and one fellow prog fan in the audience was rather loudly requesting some more of this. Maybe next time!
Speed eventually arrived with the entire contents of his car in a rucksack. The poor bugger had been cooped up on a train like a battery hen, and didn't look too pleased. Unfortunately we didn't have time to lament, so we quickly wigged up and got ready to hit the stage. Against all odds we played brilliantly. Being restricted in movement has it's positives in terms of your actual musical performance, with no tripping over cables, or being thwacked in the face by errant bass guitar headstocks to worry about you become a little more focussed on the task at hand. The punters seemed to be having a whale of a time, though my thickening dark facial hair provided some amusement when framed by the light blonde wig!
After the show we ended up having a few beverages before packing down the gear and heading off to the Travelodge. Delighted to be back on the 'Manic Cushion', I had a splendid nights sleep. In the morning we were all dropped at the train station, with Mr Speed leaving first while Nicko and I waited patiently for our train back to London.
Thanks Plymouth! At time of writing we're going to be back visiting you for two nights in February 2011, and I for one can't wait. Thanks also to Eddie and Mrs Eddie, along with the friends they brought with them whose names have yet again escaped me!
Until next time...
Dave 'all the beer in the cellar....for me?' Hurry
I had totally failed to book the day off work to get down to Plymouth, and the powers that be had decided to send my entire office on a 'team building day' in the city. The upshot of this was that I wouldn't be able to get away until 4:00pm to get down to Plymouth. Which is a bit of a long way on the train. Time was against me, but not quite as much as it would be against Speed 'my entire life was in that car' Harris. More of that later.
These 'team-building' exercises were being carried out largely in a basement underneath the Slug & Lettuce on Wardour Street. When I surfaced at lunchtime my mobile phone revealed a worrying number of missed calls from Adrian 'bit of a problem' Swift. Knowing something must have gone wrong (it always does in this band, somehow!), I frantically tried to call him back to no avail. In lieu of Swifty, I called Bruce 'fancy learning the bass?' Dugginson who would be sat next to Swifty in the Van of Wonder and Safe Arrival in Plymouth. Duggers informed me that Mister Harris' motor had decided to throw a wobbler about 40 minutes from home, and that it was unlikely that he would be able to get to Plymouth in time for the gig.
All the equipment was in the van, so it was a matter of finding a bass player just in case. I ran through the songs in my mind to see if I could find any black holes where I didn't know what the bass line was. Having played the part of all three Maiden guitarists (and, on one faithful night, stood in for the singer!), it seemed only right and proper that I should have a go. Thankfully the news soon reached me that Speed was on a bus headed for Swansea, where he would join a train for Brizzle and then another for Plymouth. The sight of Speed Harris on public transport is a rare thing indeed, and the image gave me some giggles for the rest of the day.
I was released from our team-building event (after a bit of haggling with the boss) a little early and found myself on the 4:00pm train out of London Paddington to Plymouth. Four and a half hours, and a few phone calls later, I arrived. A short walk to the venue saw me arrive just as all the gear had been set up - splendid! Eddie 'I hear you're having trouble' the 'Ead was in fine form at the bar as I walked into the venue, which was going to be a rather intimate affair.
The stage is about the size of a postage stamp, surrounded on all sides by a banister-like contraption. Even with myself, the drumkit, Swifty and Duggers on the stage there was no more room. Most of the night would be spent rooted to the spot! Not that this bothers me as I'm not really one for legging it about the stage (unless in spandex....it's just so freeing!).
After checking everything was working alright, we retired to the cellar which doubled as a dressing room. Nicko 'soul brother' McBrain Jnr entertained us with some rather amusing videos while we twiddled our thumbs and waited for the arrival of the bottom-end of the band (as it were!). During this time, Mr Dugginson and me went back upstairs to briefly entertain the crowd with our acoustic machinations. I had made the mistake of playing a Marillion riff in soundcheck, and one fellow prog fan in the audience was rather loudly requesting some more of this. Maybe next time!
Speed eventually arrived with the entire contents of his car in a rucksack. The poor bugger had been cooped up on a train like a battery hen, and didn't look too pleased. Unfortunately we didn't have time to lament, so we quickly wigged up and got ready to hit the stage. Against all odds we played brilliantly. Being restricted in movement has it's positives in terms of your actual musical performance, with no tripping over cables, or being thwacked in the face by errant bass guitar headstocks to worry about you become a little more focussed on the task at hand. The punters seemed to be having a whale of a time, though my thickening dark facial hair provided some amusement when framed by the light blonde wig!
After the show we ended up having a few beverages before packing down the gear and heading off to the Travelodge. Delighted to be back on the 'Manic Cushion', I had a splendid nights sleep. In the morning we were all dropped at the train station, with Mr Speed leaving first while Nicko and I waited patiently for our train back to London.
Thanks Plymouth! At time of writing we're going to be back visiting you for two nights in February 2011, and I for one can't wait. Thanks also to Eddie and Mrs Eddie, along with the friends they brought with them whose names have yet again escaped me!
Until next time...
Dave 'all the beer in the cellar....for me?' Hurry
HI-ON EUROPE - Eindhoven & Antwerp, 19/20 March 2010
So here we were again! Off to Europe in that wonderful Van Where Nothing Works Except The Engine!
As is usual on these Euro trips the band were converging on Manic Towers. The van rolled up as I was enjoying a splash of wine, and the Speedmobile rolled up a short time later with Eddie in tow. I had stocked up on beer and pizza (the fuel of every band worth their salt) and we dug in while Speed 'it’s all about the sphincter control' Harris entertained us with all the stuff he finds on the internet and Spinal Tap's mighty composition 'Saucy Jack', which was to become the theme tune of the weekend.
Despite needing to get away early in the morning, we still managed to sit up til silly o’clock. I remember Unencyclopedia causing a fair few fits of laughter as we went through the articles on our various locales before coming across the Iron Maiden article. "If the fucking roadies can’t give me a realistic 200-foot manger, then I can’t stand on stage and sing for a little while!" An instant classic, and a line worthy of our splendid frontman Bruce 'basting yourself in your own juice' Dugginson.
Departure from Manic Towers...
Breakfast P&O style...
Up and out in the morning, and fuelled by coffee, we rolled forward for a rare on-time arrival in the port of Dover. This leg of the last trip had featured some utterly appalling accidents in the botty department from one Speed Harris. The air turned brown, faces turned green and the dead of Kent turned in their graves. Thankfully all was quite from that thunderous anus, and for the first time in recent years we actually made it onto the ferry we’d booked. Reeling from the shock of this we joined the queue for P&O's huge, ludicrously expensive, full English breakfast. Adrian 'clotted cream disaster' Swift and I wandered off for a well deserved pint since Speed had agreed to do the driving on the other side of the channel. Top man!
Ten minutes later we arrived in Eindhoven.
The Rambler is a fine looking venue on the corner of the high street opposite Eindhoven railway station. Typical, I thought to myself – my journey to a gig often involves a long train ride and a long walk – this would have been a (very) long train ride but hardly any walk at all! While Nicko “Stumpy Joe” McBrain Jnr and Speed loitered at the front of the venue for a while, the rest of us sauntered over the road for a sneaky stein of ale. Yours truly is not a lager drinker, but on the continent somehow the beer tastes purer. It’s a good job too, as we were there for quite some time waiting for signs of life at the venue. We were three or four pints to the good by the time we saw movement over the road.
The "moody life on the road" shot
Arrival in Eindhoven I...
II: Post-arrival tab time...
III: Post-arrival beer time
After loading in and soundchecking, it appeared there were some problems with the power stage left. This could have made for an interesting night for Mr Swift, whose bells and whistles would reset every time the power fluctuated! Thankfully this was speedily resolved, although we were then informed of a 11:00pm curfew. 11:00pm! The support band didn’t finish soundchecking until 9:30pm, so this curfew was immediately discredited. Said support band, 'Bulldozer Breed', were quite something. Somewhere between Manowar and L. Ron Hubbard.
After the support band were done we came downstairs to find that a horde of friends from Nijmegen had made the journey to come and see us!!! We were all utterly over the moon to see all our pals from Rockcafé Backstage, and we instantly knew this show was going to be a killer.
Onstage at last, the tiredness got the better of me on a couple of occasions (fingers not responding to solo requests, feet not hitting the right pedals etc.) but by and large we played a blinder. The folks from Nijmegen got right up the front and really gave us some much needed energy, which was amazing – it simply wouldn't have been the same without them. Despite my best efforts at saving his life, Eddie 'sorry lads, I’ve got to do a runner' the 'Ead went after Sooty with his knife once again. Poor sod.
2 Minutes to Midnight - Live at The Rambler, Eindhoven
We were very kindly kept in booze by the venue for the evening, and it wasn't until 4:00am that the Jägermeister came out. Hic. There was some other concoction, the name of which has been stolen away from my memory, but whatever it was it wasn't good! We eventually set off for the hotel with our friend Melvin in hot pursuit. Melvin has a tendency to catch up with our Mr Swift on these European trips and causes all sorts of trouble. Thankfully he was left somewhere over the border and we arrived at the hotel intact. There was some argument over who got to sleep with the snorers (Eddie and myself), and I seem to recall there was already someone in one of the rooms we were allocated. Hilarious. I coughed up some funds which allowed us to stay in the hotel until much later than checkout time, which allowed us some precious hours of sleep not usually afforded to us on these trips.
The next morning/afternoon Eddie, Duggers and I went for a walk around to see what we could see. After enjoying a sophisticated luncheon of omelettes and wine it was time to ensure everyone else was fit and ready to naff off. Which of course they weren't! The rest of the lads grabbed a sophisticated luncheon of their own before we took the uneventful journey to Antwerp.
After lunch...
We arrived at De Rots Rock Concern just as a bit of a bar-room brawl was reaching it's conclusion. After humping in the gear (shuffling around the melee and avoiding errant trams as best we could), I buggered off with Swifty and Duggers to find somewhere to park the van. In a dazzling display of intelligence and orienteering, we got spectacularly lost on the way back. It should have been simple, as we only took about two turns out of the venue! On the plus side we did get to see a bit of Antwerp, which is a fine mixture of narrow cobbled streets, main roads and the odd square. The boys nearly lost me as I spied an Irish bar on the other side of one particular square, but I was reigned back in rather sharpish as time was not on our side. All roads lead to the gig, and around a few more corners we found ourselves back at the venue.
Eddie wants more metal...
A big church...
A big statue (thanks to Duggers for perspective...!)
After setting up our gear, we were informed that the curfew here was 10:00pm - a whole hour earlier than the poorly observed restrictions in Eindhoven. This curfew was set in stone, however, so as soon as a tasty dinner of Rice And Stuff had been consumed the support band, Pitched Black, blasted onstage at 7:30pm. Finishing up just after 8:00pm with a rendition of 'Anarchy in the U.K.' (especially for us!), the poor buggers were constantly heckled by one of the brawlers from earlier with shouts of "666!". He'd soon get his wish, and as soon as the stage was clear we wigged up and rolled the intro tape at 8:30pm. We kicked Belgian botty, let me tell you - the crowd really gave us a warm reception and we all played our socks off. Oftentimes on these Europe trips, we don't get a lot of sleep so even by the second gig we can be physically exhausted. Having had a fairly good night's sleep between gigs, this time we were rested up and firing on all cylinders. It rocked.
The venue had provided us with a number of drinks tokens, which were quickly decimated after the gig. We were sleeping upstairs in the hostel above the venue, so the gear got packed down but left onstage in favour of a spot of drinking. I started in on the rum and managed to clean the venue out of Havana Club. A heroic effort, I felt! By the time I moved on to the vodka, only Swifty and Eddie were left standing with me. There may have been some Jäger. There may have been some sausage. There was most definitely some more Sooty abuse. The poor thing is going to need counseling soon. I don't remember going to bed, but I certainly woke up in one.
Sooty goes in for "The Finisher"...
Hanibal Swift & Groucho the 'Ead
The next morning, I led a rather groggy Mr Swift out in search of the van. It's a good job he didn't venture out on his own, he would have gone completely the wrong way down the river! Either that or he would have disappeared into the Marmite Cafe, never to be seen again...
I rode shotgun all the way to Calais, earphones buried in my ears enjoying some Pink Floyd to accompany the rather boring visages of the motorway. Border control at Calais was a complete farce. Our passports were checked no less than four times by four different operatives. I don't know whose passport mugshot looks a bit shady. Messrs Harris and McBrain both look decidedly grumpy, while Duggers is grinning like a loon and the rest of us look decidedly normal. Who knows, but we were all decidedly hacked off by it all by the time we managed to get in the queue for our boat. In no time at all we rolled up outside Manic Towers, where it transpired that Nicko Jnr. had tried to have me sleeping bag away! Cheeky c*nt.
Swifty's new home
Almost home...
Here endeth another story. Thanks to both venues for their kind hospitality, we hope to see you again soon! Extra special amazing thanks to all the folk who made the trip from Nijmegen to see us - words can't express how much it meant to see you all there. I hope it didn't take too long for Carola to recover from filing her Chunder Report!
Until next time...
Dave 'leave Sooty alone!' Hurry
As is usual on these Euro trips the band were converging on Manic Towers. The van rolled up as I was enjoying a splash of wine, and the Speedmobile rolled up a short time later with Eddie in tow. I had stocked up on beer and pizza (the fuel of every band worth their salt) and we dug in while Speed 'it’s all about the sphincter control' Harris entertained us with all the stuff he finds on the internet and Spinal Tap's mighty composition 'Saucy Jack', which was to become the theme tune of the weekend.
Despite needing to get away early in the morning, we still managed to sit up til silly o’clock. I remember Unencyclopedia causing a fair few fits of laughter as we went through the articles on our various locales before coming across the Iron Maiden article. "If the fucking roadies can’t give me a realistic 200-foot manger, then I can’t stand on stage and sing for a little while!" An instant classic, and a line worthy of our splendid frontman Bruce 'basting yourself in your own juice' Dugginson.
Departure from Manic Towers...
Breakfast P&O style...
Up and out in the morning, and fuelled by coffee, we rolled forward for a rare on-time arrival in the port of Dover. This leg of the last trip had featured some utterly appalling accidents in the botty department from one Speed Harris. The air turned brown, faces turned green and the dead of Kent turned in their graves. Thankfully all was quite from that thunderous anus, and for the first time in recent years we actually made it onto the ferry we’d booked. Reeling from the shock of this we joined the queue for P&O's huge, ludicrously expensive, full English breakfast. Adrian 'clotted cream disaster' Swift and I wandered off for a well deserved pint since Speed had agreed to do the driving on the other side of the channel. Top man!
Ten minutes later we arrived in Eindhoven.
The Rambler is a fine looking venue on the corner of the high street opposite Eindhoven railway station. Typical, I thought to myself – my journey to a gig often involves a long train ride and a long walk – this would have been a (very) long train ride but hardly any walk at all! While Nicko “Stumpy Joe” McBrain Jnr and Speed loitered at the front of the venue for a while, the rest of us sauntered over the road for a sneaky stein of ale. Yours truly is not a lager drinker, but on the continent somehow the beer tastes purer. It’s a good job too, as we were there for quite some time waiting for signs of life at the venue. We were three or four pints to the good by the time we saw movement over the road.
The "moody life on the road" shot
Arrival in Eindhoven I...
II: Post-arrival tab time...
III: Post-arrival beer time
After loading in and soundchecking, it appeared there were some problems with the power stage left. This could have made for an interesting night for Mr Swift, whose bells and whistles would reset every time the power fluctuated! Thankfully this was speedily resolved, although we were then informed of a 11:00pm curfew. 11:00pm! The support band didn’t finish soundchecking until 9:30pm, so this curfew was immediately discredited. Said support band, 'Bulldozer Breed', were quite something. Somewhere between Manowar and L. Ron Hubbard.
After the support band were done we came downstairs to find that a horde of friends from Nijmegen had made the journey to come and see us!!! We were all utterly over the moon to see all our pals from Rockcafé Backstage, and we instantly knew this show was going to be a killer.
Onstage at last, the tiredness got the better of me on a couple of occasions (fingers not responding to solo requests, feet not hitting the right pedals etc.) but by and large we played a blinder. The folks from Nijmegen got right up the front and really gave us some much needed energy, which was amazing – it simply wouldn't have been the same without them. Despite my best efforts at saving his life, Eddie 'sorry lads, I’ve got to do a runner' the 'Ead went after Sooty with his knife once again. Poor sod.
2 Minutes to Midnight - Live at The Rambler, Eindhoven
We were very kindly kept in booze by the venue for the evening, and it wasn't until 4:00am that the Jägermeister came out. Hic. There was some other concoction, the name of which has been stolen away from my memory, but whatever it was it wasn't good! We eventually set off for the hotel with our friend Melvin in hot pursuit. Melvin has a tendency to catch up with our Mr Swift on these European trips and causes all sorts of trouble. Thankfully he was left somewhere over the border and we arrived at the hotel intact. There was some argument over who got to sleep with the snorers (Eddie and myself), and I seem to recall there was already someone in one of the rooms we were allocated. Hilarious. I coughed up some funds which allowed us to stay in the hotel until much later than checkout time, which allowed us some precious hours of sleep not usually afforded to us on these trips.
The next morning/afternoon Eddie, Duggers and I went for a walk around to see what we could see. After enjoying a sophisticated luncheon of omelettes and wine it was time to ensure everyone else was fit and ready to naff off. Which of course they weren't! The rest of the lads grabbed a sophisticated luncheon of their own before we took the uneventful journey to Antwerp.
After lunch...
We arrived at De Rots Rock Concern just as a bit of a bar-room brawl was reaching it's conclusion. After humping in the gear (shuffling around the melee and avoiding errant trams as best we could), I buggered off with Swifty and Duggers to find somewhere to park the van. In a dazzling display of intelligence and orienteering, we got spectacularly lost on the way back. It should have been simple, as we only took about two turns out of the venue! On the plus side we did get to see a bit of Antwerp, which is a fine mixture of narrow cobbled streets, main roads and the odd square. The boys nearly lost me as I spied an Irish bar on the other side of one particular square, but I was reigned back in rather sharpish as time was not on our side. All roads lead to the gig, and around a few more corners we found ourselves back at the venue.
Eddie wants more metal...
A big church...
A big statue (thanks to Duggers for perspective...!)
After setting up our gear, we were informed that the curfew here was 10:00pm - a whole hour earlier than the poorly observed restrictions in Eindhoven. This curfew was set in stone, however, so as soon as a tasty dinner of Rice And Stuff had been consumed the support band, Pitched Black, blasted onstage at 7:30pm. Finishing up just after 8:00pm with a rendition of 'Anarchy in the U.K.' (especially for us!), the poor buggers were constantly heckled by one of the brawlers from earlier with shouts of "666!". He'd soon get his wish, and as soon as the stage was clear we wigged up and rolled the intro tape at 8:30pm. We kicked Belgian botty, let me tell you - the crowd really gave us a warm reception and we all played our socks off. Oftentimes on these Europe trips, we don't get a lot of sleep so even by the second gig we can be physically exhausted. Having had a fairly good night's sleep between gigs, this time we were rested up and firing on all cylinders. It rocked.
The venue had provided us with a number of drinks tokens, which were quickly decimated after the gig. We were sleeping upstairs in the hostel above the venue, so the gear got packed down but left onstage in favour of a spot of drinking. I started in on the rum and managed to clean the venue out of Havana Club. A heroic effort, I felt! By the time I moved on to the vodka, only Swifty and Eddie were left standing with me. There may have been some Jäger. There may have been some sausage. There was most definitely some more Sooty abuse. The poor thing is going to need counseling soon. I don't remember going to bed, but I certainly woke up in one.
Sooty goes in for "The Finisher"...
Hanibal Swift & Groucho the 'Ead
The next morning, I led a rather groggy Mr Swift out in search of the van. It's a good job he didn't venture out on his own, he would have gone completely the wrong way down the river! Either that or he would have disappeared into the Marmite Cafe, never to be seen again...
I rode shotgun all the way to Calais, earphones buried in my ears enjoying some Pink Floyd to accompany the rather boring visages of the motorway. Border control at Calais was a complete farce. Our passports were checked no less than four times by four different operatives. I don't know whose passport mugshot looks a bit shady. Messrs Harris and McBrain both look decidedly grumpy, while Duggers is grinning like a loon and the rest of us look decidedly normal. Who knows, but we were all decidedly hacked off by it all by the time we managed to get in the queue for our boat. In no time at all we rolled up outside Manic Towers, where it transpired that Nicko Jnr. had tried to have me sleeping bag away! Cheeky c*nt.
Swifty's new home
Almost home...
Here endeth another story. Thanks to both venues for their kind hospitality, we hope to see you again soon! Extra special amazing thanks to all the folk who made the trip from Nijmegen to see us - words can't express how much it meant to see you all there. I hope it didn't take too long for Carola to recover from filing her Chunder Report!
Until next time...
Dave 'leave Sooty alone!' Hurry
Thursday, 18 March 2010
HI-ON RIFFS - 13 March 2010
The first Hi-On Maiden gig of 2010 was the rescheduled and long-awaited return to Riff's Bar in sunny Greatfield / Wooton Bassett / Swindon (one of those, I'm not sure which). The previous visit to this venue had featured one Simon "Sausage Monthly" Bradley in the place of your humble narrator, who was gigging elsewhere that fateful Thursday night prior to a trip to Nijmegen. By all accounts a splendid time was had, despite a late arrival by Ed Farce One. Hopefully everyone would be a bit more timely this week!
My journey to this gig was via another gig (with the superlative Lee Abraham Band), so no tales of road and rails to be had in this entry folks. I simply sat on the bench outside the venue, scoffed a sarnie and waited for Selectadrive's Selected Drive of the Week to arrive bearing a bandmate or two. I was not disappointed; not twenty minutes later came the familiar sight of orange text on grey van. Adrian "I'm glad I'm a bastard" Swift had been flying solo this week as the other half of Hi-On's Yorkshire contingent had been gigging 'dahn saaf' the night before. Thankfully cabin fever didn't appear to have troubled him too much. Mr Swift had spent the last ten weeks in the good ol US of A, and was looking half refreshed and half jet-lagged. We were let into the venue by the kind proprietor Andy and sat about waiting for the rest of the band. A short while later the cavalry arrived in the form of Bruce "waiter! There's a fly in me blancmange!" Dugginson, who had hitched a ride with young master McBrain and family. After fondly greeting each other, we unloaded the van.
Mister Swift on the pink piano:
Nicko "do you ever have to get your wang going before you have a pee?" McBrain Jnr started setting up his kit, while Duggers and I retired to the back room to run through our acoustic set. You may recall that in Nijmegen last year Mr Dugginson and I opened each night's entertainment with a short set of acoustic numbers featuring Maiden tracks and Bruce Dickinson solo tunes. In light of the coming trip to Eindhoven and Antwerp, Duggers thought it would be a jolly idea to resurrect this tradition and give it a bit of a trial run on the British crowd at the same time. This week's choices were Still Life, Tears of the Dragon, Journeyman and Children of the Damned (Bruce's Jerusalem was also rehearsed but dropped for time). While we were rehearsing, we heard the familiar voice of one Speed "half man, half biscuit" Harris who had just arrived with his lovely wife in tow. It's been four months since we all got together, and it really was like a family reunion. Well, a family reunion without all the drama of Aunt Betty snubbing Aunt Mavis in 1963. Something like that.
Swifty had very kindly done a bit of sound manipulation on my set up, and we had a further play about with lead delay while we soundchecked. Apart from an abortive attempt at Seventh Son (which fell apart when we got to the middle and Speed, Nicko and myself realised we couldn't remember how it went!), the soundcheck songs were tight as a button and put a huge grin on my face. Sometimes you have to be away from something musical for a long time before you remember just how much you love it. If we could gig every weekend, I'd be ever so happy. We could really do without another certain Iron Maiden tribute band (who shall remain nameless, in order that I may preserve the higher moral ground) nicking our gigs in places like Camberley, Wales, India....etc. Still, bygones are bygones, and contracts remain out. As far as I'm concerned (and as far as the fans I talk to are concerned) venues who get them instead of us are being cheated out of the better band. Fuck 'em.
My rig, I missed it:
After soundcheck I retired upstairs for a bit of a lie-down. An early morning and an afternoon gig (and a spot of afternoon drinkies, if truth be told) had left me in need of a bit of a recharge. In no time at all it was ready to go and rock, but first the acoustic set. This went down extremely well; if I'm honest, it went down a lot better than I expected. You really have to play the crowd by ear on things like this - if the venue had been full of bikers (as it so nearly was, given our proximity to Wooton Bassett and the ride taking place there the next day), it may not have gone down so well! However Duggers (being the masterful frontman that he is) had the punters singing along and engaged in the whole show. Feeling very accomplished we left the stage to wig up.
The intro tape rolled, and we were off. I had a bit of a mare with tuning as my new strings were not quite broken in, but by and large we all played a blinder. Speed in particular was very much on the ball this gig, going at the songs like a man possessed - he must have missed it as much as I did. A couple of potential trainwrecks went off with complete success - there's always the danger after a long break that something like Rime of the Ancient Mariner or Infinite Dreams with their slightly unusual structures might throw us off course. Both went smoothly and apart from a dodgy cable on stage left, the gig was unblemished. The punters had an absolute blast - you know it's a good one when the soundman leaves his desk to be at the front of the crowd!!! Highlights for me were Infinite Dreams (which I think we played better than we ever have before), and Hallowed Be Thy Name. It was simply magnificent to be harmonising with Swifty, playing the crowd with Speed and Duggers and locking in with young McBrain on the tubs once more. Absolutely fantastic to be back.
Duggers learns to spell...:
After the gig I packed me gear down and enjoyed a pint or two. Swifty, Duggers and myself had been umming and erring over whether we would take Riffs up on their kind offer of kipping in the caravan out back. Mr Dugginson as ever was keen to get home without losing too much of his Sunday, whereas Mr Swift was very keen on staying and getting absolutely blotto. Happily the lure of the ale got to Duggers and we ended up sat at the bar until at least 3 in the morning. Of particular enjoyment were the pork scratchings and the singing lessons which Duggers and Speed were giving out. Some very kind words were said by audience members as they departed, and we all had the strong sesne of a job well done. Eventually we crawled to our beds, awakening in the morning to an absolutely splendid and generous breakfast from the wonderful owners. Thank you kindly!
On to the next one!
Yours truly,
Dave "salad spew!" Hurry
My journey to this gig was via another gig (with the superlative Lee Abraham Band), so no tales of road and rails to be had in this entry folks. I simply sat on the bench outside the venue, scoffed a sarnie and waited for Selectadrive's Selected Drive of the Week to arrive bearing a bandmate or two. I was not disappointed; not twenty minutes later came the familiar sight of orange text on grey van. Adrian "I'm glad I'm a bastard" Swift had been flying solo this week as the other half of Hi-On's Yorkshire contingent had been gigging 'dahn saaf' the night before. Thankfully cabin fever didn't appear to have troubled him too much. Mr Swift had spent the last ten weeks in the good ol US of A, and was looking half refreshed and half jet-lagged. We were let into the venue by the kind proprietor Andy and sat about waiting for the rest of the band. A short while later the cavalry arrived in the form of Bruce "waiter! There's a fly in me blancmange!" Dugginson, who had hitched a ride with young master McBrain and family. After fondly greeting each other, we unloaded the van.
Mister Swift on the pink piano:
Nicko "do you ever have to get your wang going before you have a pee?" McBrain Jnr started setting up his kit, while Duggers and I retired to the back room to run through our acoustic set. You may recall that in Nijmegen last year Mr Dugginson and I opened each night's entertainment with a short set of acoustic numbers featuring Maiden tracks and Bruce Dickinson solo tunes. In light of the coming trip to Eindhoven and Antwerp, Duggers thought it would be a jolly idea to resurrect this tradition and give it a bit of a trial run on the British crowd at the same time. This week's choices were Still Life, Tears of the Dragon, Journeyman and Children of the Damned (Bruce's Jerusalem was also rehearsed but dropped for time). While we were rehearsing, we heard the familiar voice of one Speed "half man, half biscuit" Harris who had just arrived with his lovely wife in tow. It's been four months since we all got together, and it really was like a family reunion. Well, a family reunion without all the drama of Aunt Betty snubbing Aunt Mavis in 1963. Something like that.
Swifty had very kindly done a bit of sound manipulation on my set up, and we had a further play about with lead delay while we soundchecked. Apart from an abortive attempt at Seventh Son (which fell apart when we got to the middle and Speed, Nicko and myself realised we couldn't remember how it went!), the soundcheck songs were tight as a button and put a huge grin on my face. Sometimes you have to be away from something musical for a long time before you remember just how much you love it. If we could gig every weekend, I'd be ever so happy. We could really do without another certain Iron Maiden tribute band (who shall remain nameless, in order that I may preserve the higher moral ground) nicking our gigs in places like Camberley, Wales, India....etc. Still, bygones are bygones, and contracts remain out. As far as I'm concerned (and as far as the fans I talk to are concerned) venues who get them instead of us are being cheated out of the better band. Fuck 'em.
My rig, I missed it:
After soundcheck I retired upstairs for a bit of a lie-down. An early morning and an afternoon gig (and a spot of afternoon drinkies, if truth be told) had left me in need of a bit of a recharge. In no time at all it was ready to go and rock, but first the acoustic set. This went down extremely well; if I'm honest, it went down a lot better than I expected. You really have to play the crowd by ear on things like this - if the venue had been full of bikers (as it so nearly was, given our proximity to Wooton Bassett and the ride taking place there the next day), it may not have gone down so well! However Duggers (being the masterful frontman that he is) had the punters singing along and engaged in the whole show. Feeling very accomplished we left the stage to wig up.
The intro tape rolled, and we were off. I had a bit of a mare with tuning as my new strings were not quite broken in, but by and large we all played a blinder. Speed in particular was very much on the ball this gig, going at the songs like a man possessed - he must have missed it as much as I did. A couple of potential trainwrecks went off with complete success - there's always the danger after a long break that something like Rime of the Ancient Mariner or Infinite Dreams with their slightly unusual structures might throw us off course. Both went smoothly and apart from a dodgy cable on stage left, the gig was unblemished. The punters had an absolute blast - you know it's a good one when the soundman leaves his desk to be at the front of the crowd!!! Highlights for me were Infinite Dreams (which I think we played better than we ever have before), and Hallowed Be Thy Name. It was simply magnificent to be harmonising with Swifty, playing the crowd with Speed and Duggers and locking in with young McBrain on the tubs once more. Absolutely fantastic to be back.
Duggers learns to spell...:
After the gig I packed me gear down and enjoyed a pint or two. Swifty, Duggers and myself had been umming and erring over whether we would take Riffs up on their kind offer of kipping in the caravan out back. Mr Dugginson as ever was keen to get home without losing too much of his Sunday, whereas Mr Swift was very keen on staying and getting absolutely blotto. Happily the lure of the ale got to Duggers and we ended up sat at the bar until at least 3 in the morning. Of particular enjoyment were the pork scratchings and the singing lessons which Duggers and Speed were giving out. Some very kind words were said by audience members as they departed, and we all had the strong sesne of a job well done. Eventually we crawled to our beds, awakening in the morning to an absolutely splendid and generous breakfast from the wonderful owners. Thank you kindly!
On to the next one!
Yours truly,
Dave "salad spew!" Hurry
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