And so we are. The Hairy Dog is a discreet venue, tucked
somewhere down a pictureseque side-street in downtown Derby. By now, the
Nightingales tour machine is finely-tuned and as soon as Big Dave gives the
all-clear, the doors of the van fly open and the members of the band leap out
to attend to their allotted tasks. As the equipment is unloaded and carried in
under the supervision of Big Dave, Robert ‘The Chief’ Lloyd stands apart,
thoughtfully smoking the cigarette that has been rolled for him, no doubt mentally
preparing himself for this evening’s gig.
Inside the venue, Mark ‘Ace’ Jones has already begun to disgorge
the vast array of merchandise from the eight hi-impact flight cases he requires
on tour. Once emptied, these are stacked carefully behind the merchandise desk forming
a wall on which Jones mounts the various individual mechandise posters.
As Jones goes about his business, sound engineer
extraordinary Paul ‘Carpet’ Squires goes about his, barking orders at staff and
band alike to ensure that the PA is in peak condition for the humiliating
soundcheck that is to follow. Two hours later, four crushed and sobbing
Nightingales stumble from the stage to make way for support act The Ornamental
Gentlemen to soundcheck. Luckily, Anthony and Paul have arrived bearing food for
the band (chilli and baked potatoes cooked by Paul’s wife - a very welcome
change from the Ginster’s pasties the band eat most nights.)
* * *
* * * *
Call this lazy journalism if you wish, but it goes without
saying now that the gig is yet another triumph, in a long, unbroken line of
triumphs. As soon as the band vacate the stage, Jones is yet again besieged by
a baying audience with requests for merchandise. As Apperley steps on stage to
pack away the band’s equipment, I leave him and Jones to join the rest of
Nightingales in the downstairs bar, where they are enjoying a post-gig cocktail
with Anthony and Paul. The mood is exuberant, and the band are constantly asked
by adoring fans (‘Gailettes’) to autograph various items of merchandise. Schmid
signs his name on a Nightingales Vajazzle Kit before passing it to Kitson who
is herself signing a copy of the new album For
Fuck’s Sake before passing it to Apperley, who has just rejoined the group.
Lloyd sits apart, head lolling back with pride, eyes half-closed. He is
exhausted after his performance, and his High Commissioner-based cocktail – Shitfaced Donkeypunch (ABV 110%) – sits barely
touched on the table in front of him.
Finally, the moment comes when Big Dave arrives with the van
and the band must say their goodbyes to Anthony and Paul, to the Hairy Dog, and
to the various Gailettes who are hanging about for a final glimpse of their
heroes. We are all heading back to Oaklands Road (Proprietor: Mark ‘Ace’ Jones)
tonight, for the last time on this tour.
No comments:
Post a Comment