To go or not to go – that was the question trundling through my head at the start of last week.
None of my usual partners in crime were showing the slightest sniff of interest.
If I went, I’d have to go alone. Was that even “normal”? (That particular thought lasted a split second as normal doesn’t usually apply!)
Logic – if I didn’t go then I would spend Thursday evening sulking and wishing I had. If I did go and it didn’t turn out too well then I’d wasted my money and given my detractors ammunition to last until Christmas.
Well, you only live once. So I decided to go!
Those of you who have been following my posts should’ve figured out by now where this is heading.
The cause of my great deliberation was, of course, another gig. This time it was The Quireboys 30th Anniversary gig at The Garage, Glasgow.
I loved their first album – still do – and have loved their last two but I have never seen them live. The latest CD came with a live CD and a DVD. Both of these are great but did leave me slightly concerned that this 30th Anniversary tour may involve just too much beer, if you catch my drift.
At the end of the day, there was only one way to find out. Cue another log in to Ticketmaster and Hey Presto once more I held a concert ticket in my hands.
This was going to be a first on two levels. First Quireboys show but also the first gig I’d gone to on my own – unchaperoned!
As I boarded the train, I have to admit it felt a little odd heading off into the darkness without at least one of my usual chaperones. Being the creature of habit that I am, once off the train, I set off in search of caffeine to fuel me for the evening. Sitting in iCafe on Sauchiehall St on my own, I watched the world go by as I topped up my caffeine levels. It was beautifully peaceful and relaxed.
Outside the venue, shortly before seven, I joined the end of the short queue that had formed. There were a couple of familiar faces ahead of me that I recognised from other recent gigs. Once inside, and after a quick stop at the merchandising stall to purchase the obligatory t-shirt (slightly disappointed at the lack of choice and that the only shirt on sale didn’t have the tour dates on the back), I headed into the hall and wandered leisurely up to the barrier. Standing there with no concert buddy beside me felt weird but then the first band stepped out on stage and all thoughts of being unchaperoned vanished. I was soon lost in the brilliant opening set by Irish band Preachers Son- highly recommend them!
Behind me the hall was filling up nicely.
The Vargas Blues Band were on next and I have to slip into “girlie mode” for a moment. I’d kill for their lead singer’s hair! Long thick blonde curls. Why do the guys always get the best hair? He was a blur of hair for most of their set as he lost himself in their music and danced in his own hair encased world. Another really great band worth checking out.
By the end of their set, the hall was suitably filled. It wasn’t getting any warmer, mind you! The hall was decidedly chilly- another first for a gig!
As the earlier caffeine had worked its way through the system, I abandoned my barrier position and made my way through the crowd to the ladies room, bumping into two colleagues from work en route. Surprisingly, I was able to return to my previous vantage point with no problems. Now, however, there was a familiar face standing behind me. A FB friend and Scotland’s biggest Massive fan had arrived with his friend. It was great to meet them both and to have some company for The Quireboys set.
Shortly before nine The Quireboys took to the stage. And so began an hour and three quarters of good fun RnFnR J
Yes, Spike had his pint of beer to hand on occasion but, from the spark of mischief in his eyes, he was having as much fun as the crowd were. He sang. We sang. He forgot the lyrics at one point. We sang the correct lyrics back – much to his great amusement.
Hearing “7 O’clock” round off their main set made me regret never having been to a Quireboys show before.
Their encore ended with a rousing rendition of “Sex Party” and, with an anxious glance at my watch, I realised I was tight for time to get back to the station to catch the train home. With a hurried farewell to my fellow Massive fan, I shot off through the crowd and into the night. (Not quite Cinderella trying to beat the stroke of midnight as I kept both Converse on but you get the picture!)
With my mother’s words of warning about staying away from dimly lit streets and not talking to strangers echoing through my head, I trotted briskly back to the sanctuary of the Central Station, catching the train home with time to spare to buy a much needed bottle of water and a cereal bar aka dinner.
As I sat on the train flicking through the photos from the evening, I reflected on my deliberations of earlier in the week.
To go or not to go? Hell, yes! And I can’t wait to go back again when they return next year!