– The only boobs you get to see are the man-boobs of the lads in their 40s wearing tight vintage tour T-shirts from the last time they saw the band (in 1993, in the Liverpool University student union apparently…)
– The lead singer is asked by the bouncers “where do you think you”re going?” on his way backstage fifteen minutes before the start of the concert
– He has swapped his long blond dreadlocks for a dreaded bold patch since you last saw him on stage (the lead singer, not the bouncer. The bouncer has been a bone head all his life)
– You take a sneak preview at the set list at the sound engineer’s desk, thus ruining any sense of anticipation you may have had about what good oldies would be played
– You get annoyed when the band does not stick to the set list and launches into a few surprise numbers without consulting with you first
– You check your change when ordering your pints instead of carelessly stuffing it in your front trousers pocket. And realise that the barman has tried to pull a fast one on you.
– You run to catch the last train home rather than look for a post-concert watering hole for an all-night bender
– Your ears are still ringing the next day (especially the right one)
– Your hangover looks like it is going to last for ever
A great time was had by all of me at That Petrol Emotion (the name was daft back then, it may sound even dafter now – if at all possible). The concerns about their ability to “still do it” evaporated instantly with the first few bars.
These guys surely know how to weave the sounds of their Les Caster and Paul Strato (I’d rate them way up there with Metallica and Thin Lizzy when it comes to guitar duets)
And yer man showed that one does not necessarily need dreadlocks to have stage presence.
And the rhythm section was impeccable.
I saw 5 middle-aged blokes who came onstage to a cold room (no first act!) and turned the thermostat to “Shit hot” in not even half a song. Respect!
The only difficult part will be to erase the man-boobs out of my memory.