overlap

"On The Edge Of A Broken Heart" was a late 1987 single by barely forgotten Brit rockers Briar. It's also a decent description of the time, though that's another story. After recent correspondence, I've been racking my brains for what else I can remember about Mr C's. When I first went there I was still under age for being served with alcohol, which was hardly an interest of mine in any case, but the trouble of my mate borrowing his older brother's driving licence, another mate's suggestion that the door stuff ring his mum for confirmation and the will-we-won't-we part of getting in to the place all live on in my mind. Though the golden age of the New Wave Of British Heavy Metal was long gone, there were still a handful of bands of that ilk hanging around. The first gig I saw there was Girlschool, supported by Silent Attack, a local band who I remember being mildly diverting but other than a guitar player with a predominantly red guitar, I don't remember much. Girlschool I remember as being great, even if like virtually everything at that time, I knew by name but couldn't have named a single song. It's hard to believe that without spending a fiver on an album, or borrowing it from someone, it was virtually impossible to know what a band were like. I don't know that we've lost that much in the myspace age where everything is as accessible as you could possibly wish, but it wasn't just me that was a lot more innocent back then. Somewhere in my accumulated life junk lurks Kim McAuliffe's autograph from that night, the first in a very longline of memorabilia/tat (depending on point of view). It was several months later that I made it back to the venue, this time to see the last version of the Tygers of Pan Tang featuring Jon Deverill, one of the most under-rated British rock voices. Within a fortnight I was back again, this time to see Leicester's Chrome Molly, a band who would go on to remember me as the person that undertook a sixty mile round trip by bicycle to get to another gig of theirs. A rather energetic band, CM took onstage activity to new heights, and I even ended up striking an unexpected deal to get both the t-shirt and the cap when I was a quid short for the pair and couldn't decide which I wanted. < twenty minute gap in which I've found Steve's finally built a CM website, and sent him a message on F*cebook - what was I saying about the modern world and accessibility ? > Within the next month I'd also seen The Grip for the first time, Redbeards From Texas (ZZTop-alike blues-rock fun), and caught two support slots by another local band, Rich Bitch. I don't know whether it says more about me or them that I still remember the chorus of their eponymous, set-closing song. For that first show, The Grip were still a trio, but by the time they came back in the November (supported by Silent Attack) they'd expanded to a four piece, the addition of Steve Redvers on bass meaning Willie could do a bit of extra guitar and the odd bit of keyboards. I'd have to check my diary to see which of the two shows Spike from the Quireboys joined Willie for the final song, which was probably Great Balls Of Fire. At the latter of these I chose to invest in the t-shirt on the basis the England You're Dead ep would be more likely to turn up again than the shirt. Less than a month later I was in legendary London metal shop shades, and they'd already sold out of copies. And that was the last I'd see of that ep for some years... The Tygers came back again, a day I remember well for more than just that. There's a signed copy of the Burning In The Shade album here in my shelves, and after my first taste of bitter (from a can, from their rider) and half an hour of backstage starstruck (nothing but good luck) chat, I was retrieving my bike form the bushes round the corner and heading home. The above mentioned Briar turned up, promoting that single with a b-side non-novelty song written by one Jonathan King. not a lot oF call for that sort of thing even then. I saw John Otway for the first time, I saw Tigertailz (and ended up with a "free" t-shirt - don't ask!). I saw the magnificent Truffle again - a band whose material was something like the middle ground between Dio and Magnum, and that's another tape I must dig out again now I think about it. Bands I failed to see there include Deacon Blue (don't ask), and Warfare and Rock Goddess who were allegedly booked but the gig never materialised. And then I saw Wolfsbane, which changed my life all over again. I never really thought about it at the time, but this was rather a formative experience in going to small gigs, probably getting on for three quarters of them on my own. Which never bothered me in the slightest. Like everything else, Mr C's ended, then re-opened named Lator's for a time, though by then I'd moved away. In an unsurprising twist for the twenty first century, Mr C's is now back as a venue, even if it seems to be the lower floor rather than the upstairs area where it used to be. It even has a website - check it out. Given the chance I'll try and stop by when I'm down there next time if there's something on, for a true step back in time experience. Those were the days, my friend!

Labels: Chrome Molly, gigs, The Grip, Wolfsbane