Band in the sand again

For the second night running, the Insiderz lined up to make some noise. Slightly weary (we’re getting on a little now) from the wedding on Friday, we headed east to a seaside pub, where we were joined by a new drummer, Dave, who had foolishly answered a last minute call to join us as both our regular drummers were otherwise engaged. (Chris and Mike were later caught  trying to get in to the Ecuador embassy, claiming asylum from ‘the human rights abuse that goes on in an Insiderz gig’. No escape, guys.)

The pub was empty when we got there and that just made the carry in and setting up that much easier. There were no ponds tonight and we were ready to go about 30 minutes after we arrived. We were due to start at 9 but we waited a few more minutes for the masses to arrive. When both of them had turned up, we started.

The sound was really good – a combination of a better venue acoustically, and lower volume which meant we could al hear each other. No set list, of course, but there was a crib sheet of songs we hadn’t played for a while for us to choose from. It meant we were able to vary the set, which was good because the audience was completely different from the previous night. It may have been the Swans fantastic 5-0 defeat of QPR, or the warm night but whatever the cause, there was a lot of alcohol inside the people watching us.

Out first half was just about 50 minutes and we were sweating pints by the time we finished. It was a humid night and there was no air circulating. But the two dancers simulating sex on the floor (keyword alert – school boy giggling likely), the guy leaping around and jumping into other people’s arms and the girls dancing must have sweated more. In fact one of the women dancing confirmed that she was soaking wet, and being the naive one in the band, I took that at face value.

The second half saw more of the same antics from the crowd plus the unnerving fixation of one male member of the crowd on the genitalia of one of the band. Team loyalty prevents me from revealing that it was Stuart’s tackle than received the attention of the gentleman concerned, and I would certainly never break the unwritten pact between mates to confirm that the fondling happened twice. We played a livelier set and there was a lot more dancing from the audience. By the end of the night, we had lost several ounces (or grammes, if you’re in Europe) of unsightly body mass through sweat and the prospect of a journey home in a cramped van was not pleasant for any of us. The carry out was easy enough and we were helped by the guy who had been jumping around all night.

No lights spotted in the sky on the way home, but Stuey and Lucien mentioned that they had also seen the light over Gower from the previous night. Although it was almost certainly a helicopter, there remains enough doubt to fuel a Channel 5 ‘Mysteries of Gigging’ documentary.

Keep watching the skies.

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