» Bad gigs

Ka-Boom!
1984, Tunnel Club, Greenwich. First 'proper' gig. Everyone's there: y'know, my Dad. And his girlfriend. I'm raring to go. Hair freshly crimped. New strings on my Ibanez Iceman. Sneakily turned my amp up after soundcheck. Finally, the moment arrives and we take to the stage. Just about to start, and there's the most enormous BOOOOOOM!!!!!!! And a HUGE flash. Green smoke fills the air. "Fuck me!" I thought. "I didn't know we had pyros!" Then our drummer, Gary, stumbles out from behind his kit. He's green. His shoulder-length hair is standing on end and frizzed. And he's holding his right arm out in front of him, from which all the skin is hanging in strips. He'd just put his pre-gig fag out in an ashtray into which a fucking dunce from the metal band the night before had emptied the contents of a flashpot that hadn't gone off. Dad orders ANYONE to call an ambulance, then rushes Gary off to the gents to pour cold water on his maimed limb. My reaction: "Can we do the gig without Gary?" Turned out that no, we couldn't fucking do the gig without Gary.
(Fri 26th Jul 2013, 17:44, More)