Leicester Square was a swarming, squalling sea of people, police behind their barricades, fans waving precariously from balconies, crowds half-come to salute the stars, half-come to join the crowds.
And they were there for... tonight's stellar setlist at Storm? As advertised on the smudgy black-and-white photocopied flyers, a few oh-so-optimistic volunteers were handing out in the sprawl, my name optimistically Letraset-ted most heavily among the headliners?
Well, no, no, of course not. Apparently tonight was all about The Last King Of Scotland, and once I'd managed to skirt my and my guitar's way round, and round, and round the stern diversions downstairs to Storm's sanctuary, that was the last thought the Last King Of Scotland had from me. If no one else...
Well, dear reader, your correspondent got through another night on-stage, off-stage again without being bottled. Or bottling. The three hours between checking in and taking to the stage conjured up mixed emotions, appreciating the Dutch courage-drinking time while apprehensively noting the, er, drinking time.
But by the time it was my turn - as the unexpected climax, about 10.15pm after a rejigged preliminary schedule - I was only just about tipsy enough, let alone as wiped out as perhaps feared. And also thankful to be following on-stage, not the impressively-twiddly-fingered guitarists of earlier in the evening, their sweeter-toned crooning or more coherently-catchy-yet-intelligent contributions rining intimidatingly in the ears...
No, my immediate forebears included a sniggering someone calling himself Bryceman, perhaps the most repulsively uncouth and, yes, I'm afraid, untalented act it's been my displeasure to see, ooh, this week anyway... And then an earnest and enjoyable act called, er, Rock And Roll Andy, he of the astonishing retro-metal hair, and quite ear-bleeding yet senses-tingling assault on "With A Little Help From My Friends"...
And then it was, finally, sadly, downbeat me, opening up yet again with "Autopilot", hurrying into "Auf Deutsch" (with an awkward attempt at pre-song "banter" - huh; something along the lines of "Okay, you've had your two hours of fun..." and some inaudible mutteringly anti-climactic "punchline"...), then slowing things down a tad with "Never Been Kissed" (will maybe transcribe this 'un's lyrics up sometime... but maybe, mercifully not...), then, er, "The North Circular Song", the equivalent of my "hit" "The Morning After", before ending rather dashingly with a medley of songs featuring important North London influences: namely, "Say You'll Be There" by the Woodside-Park-raised-Emma-B-including Spice Girls, and the epically beautiful "Ain't No Pleasin' You" by Dave and Chas, I mean, sorry, well you know who I mean...
And that was that. Good night London, you've been ... an audience, KEEP ON ROCKIN'.
Well, I didn't quite say that last bit. And "Keep on folk-rockin'" just wouldn't have seemed quite right either...
Kudos, thanks and mild disbelief is due towards Amanda and Mike, who both made their way to the gig merely due to, or more accurately despite, only reading my ramblings here. Was lovely to meet you both In The Real World, and it really was appreciated. The (blogosphere) system works...
I'm only sorry about the shoddy performance.
Oh, and the Chelsea score, that too.
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