All this guitar malfunction meant that for once I had a legitimate excuse to meet Stuart the guitar repair man in a pub during my Saturday lunch break (I normally just go anyway!). That said we must have looked rather a strange sight- as far as I'm aware you don't often see a table covered in guitar pick-ups in the Coach & Horses in Ickenham (although thinking about it, you probably do when Stu's in there). We decided on replacing the pick-up rather than getting it re-wound, not least because Stu had sourced a Seymour Duncan Alnico bridge replacement. I'm looking forward to trying that one out... it gave a welcome break from a day in the shop that could politely be described as 'trying', for reasons perhaps best not described here.
Still, no moaning allowed (I did anyway!) as Big Andy, East and myself are off to The Albert Hall to see The Who. Big Andy's pre-booked a parking space (good man) and in no time we're in The Queen's Arms waiting for former Price manager and all round good bloke Eddie Richards who's coming to the gig with us. He's been to a football match and is getting the tube into town- through the magic of mobile phones we meet out on Queen's Gate just as Dougal Butler (formerly Keith Moon's driver) reversed past us at high speed (yes, you read that bit correctly). After a drink or 2 it was off to the RAH, getting to our seats just in time to see Vincent Vincent and the Villains who I found enjoyable if a bit 'samey'. Still any band with a song called 'Jealousy and Bitterness' can't be all bad can they?
Back in October last year I saw The Who at The Roundhouse and rambled on in these very pages about me and them, them and me... nothing much has changed since then- despite jet lag and vocal worries they produced a predictably brilliant performance in front of what was for me a rather subdued audience. Highlights were many and varied though 'Black Widow's Eyes' stood out among the newer songs and the 'My Generation' improvisation contained some excellent Townshend soloing. So rather than talk about the show...
Why is it that wherever you sit, at whatever event, there is always a total idiot in front of you. Tonight's idiot had bought his 2 sons with him and, in attempting to impress them with his- and I use the term very loosely- dancing, he very nearly qualified for at best some abuse from me and at worst a kidney punch from Big Andy (not a recommended pastime let me tell you). The only reason neither happened was that nothing either of us could do to him would have hurt him as much as he was hurting himself in the eyes of his kids who were literally squirming with embarrassment. It reminded me of that 'dancing dad' character in 'The Mary Whitehouse Experience' T.V. show from a few years back- you know the one, contorting unco-ordinatedly to his children's music while saying things like 'it's got a good beat to it'. Amusing on screen, nauseating in the flesh, let's hope VH-1's camera's caught him in full flow and that Mr. Idiot is so horrified by what he sees going out on global T.V. that he never leaves his house again.
Not that I'm bitter or anything... on the other hand- if you can see him that means you'll be able to see Andy and me as well. Now that could be really embarrassing!