A long trip to sow some seeds

It's taken me a while to get round to blogging about this but at last I have arrived at my keyboard with some time on my hands. I am in fact going to recount a story about an experience I was party to that occurred last Friday. Brace yourself - it's a long one! Long enough even to rival some of Glyn's lengthier efforts! (Ha!) Along with me were Jon and Paul - the other members of the band I'm in* - hereafter referred to as E=...

(*please note that event and person specifics have been changed to partially mask what actually occurred...and make this post less 'searchable' on Google...)

The story in fact begins late on Thursday night...

All along it had been our plan to make a trip over to Northern Ireland to gig at a festival there. The organiser of the festival, called 'Lara' Festival (sic), promised us a decent gig and decent pay so who were we to turn it down? Our flights were booked for 8:25 on Saturday morning to fly from Stansted to Belfast International but on Thursday night we (i.e. Paulo) discovered that due to the current security level of our airports we needed to arrive at check in a whole 3 HOURS before the flight! So we were already looking at 5:25! I ended up getting up at 4:30 (bleugh) and we arrived at the airport at 6 ish - which was fine. In fact, when you weigh this up against the rest of the day - it was perfect!

The flights went without a hitch (relatively - my bag had to have a full cavity search because apparently my guitar pedals and cables look like a 'device'...hmmm....!?) and when we arrived at Belfast we met our man. His name for the purposes of this illustration is Cliff. At this point he didn't seem too detached from reality.

So we chucked our stuff into the back of this big minibus and went to pick up the other band who we were meant to be playing the gig with that night. We met them without a hitch and off we drove in our bus. Us 3 + Cliff + the bus driver + 4 in the other band (hereafter called Freeslave - for that is in fact their name!)

Now, to be fair, until this point nothing out of the ordinary had happened (apart from Levski's hair which I swear I saw moving... it was almost as if his head had been abducted by a colony of long haired fallow rats from the planet Zipplewig). Aside from the long journey (it was by now 12 noon) and lack of food (it was by now 12 noon) things were fairly normal - until we turned into the carpark of a small-ish church in Portadown. This church was actually a Portacabin, which I thought was entertaining given it's address. It was at this point that 'Cliff' uttered those fateful words... "Guys, we'll just swing by here to see if they've got any equipment you might find useful for tonight". At this point small bells started ringing in all of our ears. Equipment? We didn't know what 'equipment' he meant - nor did we know what equipment was already at the venue... so we followed him in...

To be confronted by the smallest guitar amp you ever saw; I think it was a Stagg practise amp. Certainly not one for a stage as the main guitar amp for a rock band. Alongside this were various odds and ends – bits of PA system, a brand new budget drum kit (no cases, factory heads i.e. nasty) and for cymbals a Sabian Solar budget pack consisting of paperweight crash, featherweight ride, and flycatcher hi-hats (that’s all they were good for).

A bit of clarification is probably needed at this point – you see we’re certainly not musical snobs, nor are we arrogant good-for-nothing muppets… our maxim on gigs is that we are always on hand to serve the event, but we also knew how much this guy was paying to have us there hence we wondered why he would think gear like this was appropriate…?

So we picked up a few bits of PA, a keyboard for Freeslave and the ‘drum kit’ but left guitar amp less and bass amp less. Paul and I guessed they must be at the venue already?

On we drive – down the road to Armagh our home for the night and the town of our gig. We arrive and it’s at this point that we start to realise this day is going to get worse before it gets better. The venue is a posh, new-ish bistro situated within the towns art centre. No sign of any more PA, or amps, or anything. We load in the PA, keyboard and drums into the corner of the bistro which is currently hosting lots of smart looking people around well set tables sitting eating, chatting, quietly and smiling even…

“Uh, Cliff, are you sure?” … “Of course, of course, why it’s the best venue in the town…” etc

We’re dropped off at our hotel. It’s nice – 3 star. We find our rooms but not before double taking (and eventually comprehending correctly) the bell boy; speaking to us in thick Irish tones “Arr yoo tha two gays in the double room?”...

In a nutshell (I realise I’m spinning this out – don’t want to miss anything) during the afternoon Jon and I visited the local music shop – the same bell boy said it had a “lethal selection of guitars” which turned out in fact to be 7 guitars, none of them with a price tag exceeding £40. The shop was filled with cardboard and after the bored shopkeeper guessed and announced that we weren’t ‘local’ we turned heel and left ‘Twilight Zone Guitars Inc’. We also visited Armagh City Shopping Centre which consisted of a lingerie boutique, 12 empty shop spaces and a spar shop. Awesome.

The plan for the evening at ‘Lara’ Fest was a film premiere (made by some of the team – apparently with a budget of £250,000 ??? – tried for distribution at the Cannes Film Festival – failed) followed by a DJ set (really nice guy called DJ Barry (sic)) followed by, at 9pm a set from Freeslave and ourselves.

Upon returning back to the venue to tune drums we had half expected a full PA rig and guitar / bass amps to be there especially as it was by now 4:30, the film started in 30 mins (and thus the evening’s programme). Jon, Guinness in hand, is starting the lengthy and awkward process of tuning drums in a posh restaurant...this is bad...very bad...

Now, at this point it's important to mention that throughout the day we had been in contact with our friends from the band Dave (sic) who at this point called up and very kindly offered their PA and their gear! When we mentioned this to Cliff he said it was an “answer to prayer” – I’m sure most major Christian Festivals rely on prayer but in quite a different way to this… I ended up outside on the phone to this guy Paddy Quinn (real name – brilliant!) to chat about PA and stuff. He said he’d arrive at around 9pm (that is the same 9pm that we needed to start the gig) but as it was the best offer we had it would have to do...

When I walked back into the Bistro I found Jon and Paul, who I’d previously left sitting at the bar, sitting at a table looking slightly shell shocked. Apparently since I was outside they had been started on by a drunk Irish bloke at the bar with the immortal line “….Hey, yooow, stop farting in miy prwesence…no, seriously, F*** Off…” - hence their new location away from the unhinged bloke at the bar. (Paul wasn’t sure if he had indeed let one off or not – they though it was best to back down just incase)

Cliff offered to pay for our dinner at the Bistro, dunno where he’s getting all this money from, but first we decide to go outside to the Cathedral gates and pray; for the day, for the gig, and for the unsure sense of fear that was building up in us. So we stood and prayed for 20 mins, said our Amen’s but as we turned to walk back in this drunk guy appears (another one) and shouts after us “…Yeah, Yooou keep walkin’…” What is it with this gig? We decide to skedaddle inside ASAP.

Upon arriving back at the Bistro a bouncer has arrived who, just after we sit down to eat, promptly ejects the drunk bloke who had followed us down the hill from the Cathedral and into the bar. Awesome mini tussle ensues – don’t remember this happening at Spring Harvest, or even the Bull and Gate for that matter…

So to cut a long story slightly shorter the PA finally arrives at 9:45pm – Freeslave go ‘onstage’ at 10:45pm we go onstage at about 11:45 and play til 12:30. Cliff kindly allows us to walk through the high street carrying our guitars and bags – feeling slightly scared but much relieved that the worst of it is nearly over.

It’s funny looking back now that there weren’t any posters for Lara Festival anywhere inside or outside the venue – nor anything with the names of the bands until the venue asked us what our names were so they could put them up on a chalk board outside (nothing to do with Cliff). The punters were primarily normal people who had come in for a drink and just happened to end up watching the bands play – there were about 25 people there – none of them knew they were attending ‘Lara Festival’. No tickets sold. No one coming along. How is this thing still running?

It’s now 1:15am – we’ve been up since 4:30am – we are knackered. We walk into the hotel to discover a blues band in full swing downstairs (under mine and Levski’s room) – they don’t stop playing half-cut bad guitar and drum solos until 2:30am when they finally shut up and we…drift…off…to…sleep…

TO BE WOKEN UP AT 9AM BY A BLUMMIN’ MARCHING BAND GOING PAST OUR WINDOW – FOLLOWED BY ANOTHER – AND ANOTHER! Unbelievable!

It has to be said the rest of the day was fairly normal (breakfast, trip home, much story telling to ensue) apart from one thing… just before we left Cliff took us to one side to chat through payment for the weekend. He explained his side of it (having paid £450 for our flights, £130 for our hotel rooms, £100 for our backline (oh you mean the backline that we organised once we got here Cliff?) but we agreed on a figure quickly and he pulled out the cheque book – and promptly signed and counter signed (i.e. forged!) the cheque in front of us! This guy is unreal! He then went to the hotel desk and did the same again… we had to get away…

So we’re all packed into the bus and Cliff clambers on to give us some final words of wisdom. “Guys, you’ve sowed some seeds. See you later.” And off he goes… Cheers Cliff…