Two day punk festival in an English seaside resorted created a backdrop to 
another perfectly executed musical extravaganza. Not long after arriving to the location that would have fitted excellently in “28 Days Later” I was told that we had agreed to play for nothing and pay for the travelling ourselves. Somehow I failed to see the logic as we’d played here before and got paid for it. Promoter said we would be getting drinks in, so I thought we can even the situation.
In the typical rock and roll fashion we got later informed that the headlining band had overspent their drink budget, which meant that no one else would be getting any drinks. They would also have food specially cooked for them and we could have manky dried sandwiches (probably dated to the heydays of British seaside holiday resorts), plain salted crisps and tea. The rest of the band and entourage was delighted. I couldn’t help feeling cheated.
In the most ordinary way I would then go and befriend the headliners. Them having been in the circuit for years they knew where I was coming from and not long after I was drinking tasty bourbon, finest French wines and having a succulent meal specially cooked for me according to my instructions. In the distance I could see rest of our band being grumpy and looking into their dried cheddar.
Fancy a cuppa?
By the time we hit the stage I could feel the French wine hitting me. The wine glass flew somewhere and the strings broke. Once again the headliners came into rescue with a spare guitar and we somehow, finally, ended up finishing the set, which surely wasn’t much off from the early Ramones gig at the CBGB’s. Once again I was heavily present in the accompanied review. Don’t think we got asked to come back anymore tho.
Under the influence...