And just as we thought the get -ins couldn't get any worse, we reach The Cathouse. It's like doing a gig in one of the pyramids - the stairs go on for ever and ever. We are spoilt today though, as we have 2 road crew helping us out. They have muscles of steel and accents you could cut fried cheese on. They are cool. Within 20 minutes, all the gear is up the stairs and loaded in. OK, there is another flight to go, but that, too, is done in record time.
I said fried cheese, in honour of Glasgow as Dave has promised to take Pete and me to the Blue Lagoon to sample fried Mars bars (though Pete is insisting he wants a Lion Bar, just to be different. Typical singer.), the local delicacy. I am so excited by this. After my diet of petrol station sandwiches I need something with more er ... grunt. Mind you, this morning we were spoiled, with an MnS shop in the petrol station. I immediately went a bit crazy stocking up on 'my secret emergency stash' and have goodies galore. A battered Mars Bar would just be the piéce de resistance at this point!
Dave is very quiet this morning. He's quite quiet most mornings, but really obviously so today. It's his home gig, and all his family and friends are coming, so he is very nervous and very pale. What's particularly nice is that there is a massive drum riser on stage, so everyone will be able to see him, which is great, as he is one of the most watchable drummers I have seen in a long time. He doesn't just 'play drums', he actually performs. His folks are in for a treat tonight!
I have already sussed out my best vantage point - it's right at the back but it's raised up, so once again I can stand and watch the band AND keep an eye on the merchandise. Only problem is, the stand is in the back bar, well away from the band AND the audience AND the bar will be closed. Dave suggests making some signs to tell people where the merch is.
I do this, and put little comments like 'come and say hello'.
After doors opening, it actually works. I really do have people popping round to say hello, and it's nice to see some faces from other gigs too. It's a really good crowd and people already seem to have the same loyalty to The Union as they did to Thunder, which is good to see (and something most bands can only dream of.).
At one point when the support band are on, and have just finished a number, I hear a noise. Someone is screaming. Very loudly. And for a very long time. A couple who are at the merch stand look at me.
I then realise what the noise is. It's Pete warming up, and as the dressing room is only the other side of the bar, it's really loud! My god, that man has some lungs. He yells up and down for a good ten minutes. If I warmed up like that before a gig I wouldn't even make the first song! The couple look very impressed. I am too, and a bit jealous. I've always wanted that gravel in my voice for years and Pete sounds like he has been gargling bulk bags of aggregate for about 40 years, which, quite obviously, is impossible.
Dave emerges from the dressing room, looking like a ghost. He looks at the crowd, comes over to say a brief hello and then disappears again. Poor poppet.
The gig, well, is awesome. It's pretty much the Dave McCluskey show. He must either have LOTS of friends, LOTS of family, or just the whole of Glasgow loves him. At one point I even well up. ('Get te fock' Dave would say, I can hear him now :) )
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| Rubbish photo, but great view! |
It's only after the gig has finished, and the Dave fan club has got all their photos, autographs, kisses and cuddles (the latter from his family, obviously), and the gear has been taken down the stair mountain (in even more record time than before from the Glaswegian Speedy McGonzales crew, who must live on Ir'n Bru) that I remember the bloody Mars Bar. Hrumph.
Back at the hotel, once again there is no bar, but they have a staircase in a turret, so I forgive them. Fiona and I are on the ground floor, but the room is nice, modern and quite funky. They had warned us that there might be noise from the bar round the corner. On the way back in the van we scoff about this - we are rock 'n' roll - they'll be well closed by the time we go to bed!
Luke draws the short straw for bedroom 'bar duty', and it's a snug fit, as two of Dave's band mates join us. There has been a mix-up with the rooms and Mark, Chris, Pete AND Dave are sharing a dorm-style bedroom, so I think us all trooping into Luke's room is a punishment thing. He must be a bit tired as he announces that there is a curfew on tonight, to which we all agree and then ignore!
Mark comes in from parking the van and announces he is hungry. Now after yesterday's bubble bath snub, I'm not so pissed, mellow and generous AND my stash just happens to be an MnS vegetable samosa, one of my favourite snacks.
My maternal instinct gets the better of me, and off I troop down the turret staircase to get said snack. on the way back Dave and Craig (from White Ace, now River 68s) are coming back from having a fag, and Dave spots the samosa and announces he is starving. Now I feel bad. I only have one.
I suggest that Mark share it and they have half each. I don't think Mark hears this and he proceeds to scoff the samosa. Dave watches him, like a hungry puppy, his eyes following the samosa - every bite!
Luke's curfew comes and goes, and we have drunk all the rider beer and wine. There is more on the van but noone can be bothered to trek and fetch it. So Luke ends up getting his way anyway! Or so he thinks ...
The gay bar around the corner doesn't close until stupid o'clock. And even then, the punters obviously love it so much they don't want to leave. Fiona and I listen to their conversations as they stand right outside our window. Snippets of 'but he doesn't love me', ' I know what I would say to him', ' really, you told him that'. It's like listening to a gay radio soap opera, except the reception isn't too good, so you only hear bits of it.
So much for the early night. And it's a long drive to York tomorrow. Maybe that should be Yawnk.
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