That's right. It actually happened in this lifetime. I went to see Streetlight Manifesto LIVE and certainly very kicking in the back room of The Old Bell Hotel, in DERBADOS! OH MY GOD.
Ok, so, calling in for a cheeky one at the Sleaper* for a quick Pedi**, I went with Il Dottore himself to The Old Bell, now a well known 'rocker' establishment and Gig venue. Doors at 8:30, £15 advance tickets. Ouch? Maybe a little but certainly worth it. I should think that at £15 it was a snip! Once in the back room, we observed many things:
1) Tattoos are awesome
2) Drinks are expensive
3) They really are a white man's band
Ten minutes later the first supporting act came on, the James Warner Prophecies. having never heard of them before, I was naturally a little skeptical, but that was swiftly blown away in waves of awesomeness, Derby banter, Drop D tuning and basically great tunes. The set was tight and to be perfectly honest could have gone on for a few songs more, but surely this is the sign of a perfect support act? They were headlining on the 3rd, but I couldn't get to it! Gutted. But I did buy their latest EP at the show, and engaged in lively conversation with their front man (handshake secured!) about all sorts of music and whatnot! They are pretty much awesome guys!
Next up after a short quarter of an hour were RANDOM HAND. That's right, RANDOM HAND. What a bunch of nutcases. Drums, Guitar, Bass, Vox and...Trombone? You look at it and go "Eh?" and then remember that they're a Ska Punk/Punk/Hardcore Band, and then go "eh?" again and then what the even hell just go see them, they're INSANE. They got a Wall of Death*** started with only 100 people. It was crazy. Standout banter moment was when their lead Vox/Trmb. suddenly noticed that the taping on the mic wire just happened to be an accurate portrayal of the Polish flag! Who knew? I first saw them when they were supporting Reel Big Fish in 2009 at UEA. They are also pretty much awesome...if you like it like that.
It was during RH's set that my companion noticed that there was an orange on the floor. That's right. An actual orange. Those who received the text were confused to say the least, but true story bro. It was really there.
On to the main event. What we were all there for. Like all of us. Literally everyone. At this point my memory tells me only a few things: I had to sit on a wooden bar and dance from the waist up because I had hurt myself that much already; Water is good; My Brother is a folk tale. That last one makes sense, trust me. Oh my Christ they are SO much better live...I mean, most bands are, especially Ska bands. Ska is a live sport, evidenced fortuitously by Dance Craze, a film all about the 2-Tone scene that included loads of footage of the big names of the time live, and also had a companion LP, which I picked up in an Oxfam for like, a quid fifty? Genius.
There was one moment where the entire room held its breath. One tiny island of silence in the maelstrom and miniature mosh pit that had reformed after Random Hand's concussive performance. What could this be? Seconds later, this happened...
I got a gun in my hand but the gun won't cock, my finger's on the trigger but the trigger seems locked. I can't stop staring at the tick tock clock, and even if I could I would never give up.
With a vest on my chest, a bullet in my lung, I can't believe I'm dying with my song unsung; and if and when I die won't you bury me alone, 'cos I'll never get to heaven if I'm singing this song...
And at that point the entire place explodes. And I mean seriously. Everybody knows the words, everybody knows the timing, everybody knows when the horns stop and start and everybody moves as one. You ever felt that feeling, for one brief second of belonging? Check. I can't remember all the songs in the set list now, but I can remember how much pain I was in the next day. I spent an entire 36 hours laid up basically. Told you I was crippled! You know what? It was worth it. I don't care that I fell down every time I got up. I bruised my feet, pulled my calves and rendered the ligaments in my ankles completely useless for the chance to see and sing and dance to my favourite band. Worth it.
Nathan came to meet us just at the end. He just came in and looked for the whirlwind. Ask him! Anyway, he stuck around and got pint after pint of water for us and got us to the taxi rank. What happened next propels my brother into legend as far as I'm concerned. Knowing a lot of people that run pubs and clubs in Derby is no bad thing. Basically, with a few well placed questions and a holy mission, he got to meet the band. WHAT. Yep, while I was being whisked home by a bright yellow taxi (Pikachu yellow?), he met the band. And then he got their autographs for me. AAAAAAHHH!!! The menu they all scribbled on is safe and sound in a pocket, and then possibly to be framed. WOOP WOOP.
So. Conclusion? Best thing ever. Bar none. All the concerts and operas and recitals in the world that I have done and will do will never ever come close. Sorry, but that's the way it goes. Even though I will ever be a Songman, I know where my heart lies, and that's not a lie. I'm certainly getting branded (inked), but probably not pierced. The Bishop almost threw a fit when I said to him straight faced that I was getting branded, and saying it out loud the other night at HQ certainly garnered some welcome attention, so I just have to decide what I want and how it'll go. I've got a lot of blank canvas on my back, so we might as well get a lot of coverage. We'll just have to see.
So. Streetlight Manifesto. Live. In Derby. Almost too good to be true. I did miss Big D and the Kids Table though, and I sure love those guys too. Given the choice I would always go Streetlight though. OH MY GOD IT WAS LITERALLY THE BEST THING EVER!
* The Thomas Leaper, a Wetherspoons on Irongate (A6)
**Pedigree, a fine English Ale brewed by Marston's of Burton
***A circular mosh pit in which persons involved are flung around the edge by other members of the outlying crowd
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