I woke up to a message on Sunday morning – Do I want to play a gig with Glen Matlock tonight – do I want to do a gig with an absolute legend in my hometown, five minutes from where I live – Well i was a bit worse for wear after watching a rather blinding set from Irish punk rockers the Defects and still on a “big buzz” from an amazing Killing Joke gig the night before and it just didn’t register, i went and had a cup of tea and then it hit me – fuck – its Glen “fucking” Matlock, he of the Sex Pistols & Rich Kids and one of those responsible for a very young me turning to punk music and letting it ruin my life ever since. Yes of course i was doing it – no brainer really and i would be paid too – absolutely splendid – whats the time? – ooh fuck its nearly three and all i have done all day is drink tea and fanny about online. I had to change my strings (good move) write out a longer set than usual (not a problem) rehearse said set list coz i hadn’t played a few of them in a while (bad move) went and soundchecked (good move) the stupidly went to the pub beforehand (very bad move) to settle the nerves a bit and bumped into a few people I knew, as you do in your local, told them to get along to the Ramsgate Music Hall, they wont be disappointed (I think they were)
I turned up to the gig with 40 minutes spare before i went on, I had had a few but I was OK (I wasn’t), I had only had a couple of pints, another one or two won’t hurt (it did) – I get up play the first notes and completely forgot the opening words of a song I had been doing for ages, ironically “We’ve forgotten” being the first two words of it, i stumbled thru the swiftly rehearsed following song, completely bolloxing it up and then finally settling into the set, thoroughly enjoyed it and even sold a couple of CD’s and made a couple of new fans which was nice.
Then like a tit in the dressing room i manged to spill my beer all over Glens brand new books, well one of them got it worse than the rest so i bought it (at a discounted rate of course coz it was beer damaged) apologised and made a swift exit after the obligatory selfie. Glen didn’t bat an eyelid congratulated me on a nice set and cleared the room just before he went on, doing a rather short (to my pissed head) set but it was rather good with a couple of Pistols numbers a Rich Kids song and I believe a Small Faces tune and a fair few others – Thoroughly nice fella. One to cross off the list of legends I have had the privelidge to play with, although would like a do over on this one as it is the second time I have made a tit of myself in front of Glen. The other being Borders in Brighton about 14 years ago but thats another story.
Here is the selfie with Glen and my ole mate Paul
HERE’S SOME DIY
That is the name of the compilation album that “Fit For Work” appears on
the link for the full review is here
I apprear on this 3 times as myself, on guiitar with DeKadanCe and bass with Surgery Without Research – If you dont want to read the whole thing which is highly encouraged as it is a cracker of a review – here are the review bits of all 3 tracks
Russ Crimewave donates one of the best songs of the entire collection with the gruff and raucous one man pulse ‘Fit For Work’. An antagonised masterpiece of raw, off the street musicianship that speaks to many folk who are at the brunt of the governments cold-hearted approach. Of course the bending fiddlers of those free fruits need a thumping but our artiste is concerned with those that are truly suffering and being told to get up and do that which they are not capable of. A searing piece this, a real miffed construction and a stand-out cutlet from a lengthy bout of absolute quality.
… the following westernised wank off of ‘What About You’ by DeKadence are a great couple of bedfellows with this latter song acoustically distorted and somewhat cavernously haunted and throwing the CD into new rhythmic realm. Folky and fucked this is a nice place to visit and keeps us alert as to what may come next
Surgery Without Research
Surgery Without Research plough on with a street based roughness, clout back with common people’s coarseness and bring to the table raw and ready silage from a sewer of discontent. Lacking frills, this open wound called ‘Pig Government’ bleeds threat and no matter how unprocessed it is, the fact remains that stuff like this is the backbone of a scene sometimes too pretentious for its own good.