The adventure concludes!

I made it!!

Despite all the odds, I actually made it.

Finding out about my favourite bands impending split on Wednesday to make it for the gig on Friday didn’t give me much time.  The ticket agencies sold out by then, on Thursday a friendly guy from the venue, who by now actually knew me for the amount of times I had rung them, told me of a couple of record stores that might have some tickets left. When I got home I checked the web and rang their numbers. One didn’t stock any and the other Replay Records was just shutting so said that I should try again in the morning.

The morning of the gig.

I did. They had tickets.  But they couldn’t hold on to tickets for me. I had to get there from Cardiff to Bristol and pick them up from the store that closed at 5.30.  By my lunch break they had sold out anyway.  The guy there actually felt guilty about it but there was nothing he could really do.  I wouldn’t have made it to the store before it shut anyway.

Things were looking bad.

My head cold had actually worsened and at various points I considered going home, but not for long.  I had all the time in the world to be ill. Bristol was the only gig I could feasibly make it to before Million Dead went their separate ways.  So I just ran to the 16.00 train and made my way to Bristol.  The one respite at this point was that at least I wouldn’t have to try and rely on public transport on my own in a city I didn’t know, as Neil was going to pick me up.

Arriving at Temple Meads station was one of the first weird incidents of the day.  I bumped into a friend’s sister who I haven’t seen in a long time, who had been canvassing to companies around Bristol.

I followed my map carefully and within moments became utterly lost.  Fifteen minutes later I found myself outside of replay records.  I may have made it in time if there had been tickets left.  I found my place and worked my way to the Louisiana.  It looked like a great little venue – a pub essentially, with a top floor that hosted the gig.  This however hit me with another obstacle.  I was going to have to ask for spare tickets – but how do I do that in a pub without annoying people by going table to table?  Again considering my low chances I thought of going. But id come all this way so why give up.  I hung around outside for nearly half an hour asking the few early arrivals if they had any spares and was met with negatives and confused looks.  All the while there was a guy on a mobile and perhaps he noticed my plight, as when I asked him he said no but asked my name.  He went inside and I spotted a tag-pass on his belt.  He was gone for a while and as thoughts that he had just gone back to work prepping for the gig nearly finalized my failure, he reappeared.

BAM

On the guest list.

Surprised?

I nearly burst.

Inside I was a billy no mates but couldn’t care less, this billy was on top of the world.  I found the guy who let me in and offered him a drink for the first out of around five times that night, he was sat with some of the support and noticed MD singer Frank there too.  As soon as the doors opened for the gig I was up there, only then did I notice Julia on the merch stall so after getting signed in by the lovely lady on the door I got back down to pick up one of their t-shirts and do a bit of arse kissing – well, I may never have the chance again so don’t care how cheesy my thanks ‘for all they’ve done’ were.  I also got her to pose with one of their ‘im only working here because I need the fucking money’ t-shirts :)

The support act? Well, I was terrified that id have to tell the guy that let me in (who turned out to be their sound guy) “yeah….they were... er …really… great…”  However, they actually were… only I was still terrified.  The lead singer performed in nothing but a sock for a glove and his boxer shorts.

Im certain I saw his old boy a few times as he writhed manically against band and audience members alike.  He fell into the crowd a few times flailing about.  The songs were ramshackle, but fitted in perfectly with the lunatic mishmash of sexual frustration made into music.  Donning a pair of crows wings and producing his arse for the final song heads nodded in the crowd but everyone in the audience viewed the spectacle as one would upon seeing a corpse for the first time.  Utterly unsettling, yet somehow you cannot peel your eyes away.  Their name? well, I did take considerable pride saying to the doorwoman “im on the guest list for Gay For Johnny Depp.”

Then of course it was time for my heroes.  I was already in the second row.  The venue is tiny and I wouldn’t want it any other way than for my favourite band to be within arms reach.  The venue was sweltering, the only time I’ve been hotter was in a vastly overpacked barfly.  There was a real tension in the air but nothing remotely hostile, the entire thing was friendly no matter how aggressive the music.  There was, indeed, 'a lot of love in the room'.  It was the best gig of my life, but only for the fact of who it was, the odds id overcome to make it in the door and the fact it was the last time id see them all together.  Quality wise? The sound was awful.  Frank couldn’t be heard, but that didn’t matter, we were the voice.  Every single word.  When we could hear him the sound was tinny at times, but it didn’t matter.  If there’s any tensions between them, they well and teuly leave them at the door.  Onstage they went at it as if this were the very final time they’d be on a stage.  They were all tired, but fired on regardless despite the oven the room had become.  Song after glorious song rolled past, my most beloved of songs ‘Smiling at strangers on Trains’ was quite early but it mattered not as each number elicited a cheer from me.  A personal highlight came near the end as Ben and the lovely Julia thumped out the beginning of B-Side Sasquatch.  The crowd noise level dimmed as it seemed there were only a handful that knew it, but felt on top of the world when Frank caught sight of me singing along and tapped his forehead and pointed at me.  I never expected them to play that one on their last tour.  Calling for a cheer for the support he berated the cool kids at the back and I loved him for it.  When I saw them in Cardiff I was frustrated that I could barely move amidst a motionless cluster of scenester fuckheads.  “lets hear it for Gay For Johnny Depp”  loud cheers, if slightly nervous they might come back, ensued.  “and the lot of you scenesters at the back can stay there if you didn’t bother to check out the support” or something, he may have used harsher words, what do they care now it’s the end of the road?  Frank was feeding off the love in the room, a fantastic frontman, full of charisma without an ounce of arrogance, constantly leaning into the crowd, clasping hands and connecting with their fans.  During the new single – to be released as a download on the last day of their unity – the crowd sang back in what surely should have led to a rise in popularity, with the sing-along ending of ‘to whom it may concern’s “im only working here because I need the fucking money”. ‘Breaking the back’ ignited the crowd, during which I ended up on the other side of the floor and feeling tenderised.  Im hurling song names that likely mean nothing to you now so ill cut my salivating to the finish - the gig ending with the customary ten minuter ‘The Rise and Fall’, pushing every last ounce of energy out of themselves, running with sweat, frank was dripping, Julia’s hair flailing all over the place as ever.

They don’t believe in encores.  They didn’t need one.  Everything that needed to be given to us had been.  That was Friday night, the best night of my life.

Afterwards I made my way unsteadily downstairs and gulped down a well needed pint of water.  My shirt was so soaked you could wring the sweat out of it.  I bumped into the sound guy and again offered him a drink.  I got chatting with him and found out that Gay For Johnny Depp actually comprise of former members of Instruction (the band behind my infamous ‘im so fucking great’ t-shirt)

Then I got to meet my heroes.  Frank and Julia were talking with the fans, I got to talk with them for a while, getting a picture with the lovely lady and one with frank throwing ‘the claw!’  In keeping with the Cardiff gig I got them to sign something different, producing the (slightly mangled from my pocket) map I used to get me there, explaining my efforts to what I hoped was a genuinely impressed Frank.  More importantly to me and my Take-That-like obsession I was over the moon that he actually remembered me.  Upon mentioning my glee that they played sasquatch a look of recognition crossed his face “Phill isn’t it…. You sent me pictures from the Cardiff gig” awww my hero! Woo!

Everywhere downstairs were smiles.  I chatted about his next step, hes going solo for a while, a softer style.  His many jokes about turning million dead into a folk band one step at a time rang ironic as his solo work will likely be acoustic from the looks of his new site and blog.  Go listen to my favourite song writer – now with music that wont put you off simply because hes shouting.  Afterwards, he says, he wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up in a band with Ben, and I wouldn’t expect that to be soft due to the fact the man was bearing the band T-Shirt of PIG DESTROYER (u may not know them but theyre not friendly)  Pictures, signings, inspiration and relief.  The lead singer of GFJD was a drunken mess, an absolute shambles and very funny.  Neil came to pick me up so I said my last goodbyes to two musicians I hope that – even though it wont be together – I will see again.  If they remember me ill be ecstatic, but if not I don’t mind.  Everything they needed to give had been given.  That was Friday night, the best night of my life. :)

'After all the struggle and the strain

After all the loss for little gain

The harmonies have faded away

But the melody remains'

Million Dead - Harmony no Harmony