A wonderous insight into my teen years
put to a happy tune.
All footage filmed by Kyle Reed or my friends.
Song: Reel Big Fish- Nothing But A Good Time (Fame, Fortune and Fornication, 2009)
Wednesday, 28 April 2010
Tuesday, 27 April 2010
Creating writing? That's so old school.
It's been a while since I've posted anything on here. What with the ridiculous law revision cramming of the soon to be revised ridiculously crammed law unit. Bleurgh.
I took a few precious moments out of my revision to delve into the relics of a document folder labelled 'school,' in which i found an abundance of essays and rehashed Wikipedia pages fobbed off as 'research'. I really should have erased these years ago but somehow my obsessive compulsions scream at me that sonnets about my friends 'being attracted to men' and guides on how to PEE must live as long as I.
Among such things I also found a file titled Johnny's Johnny. I used to thrive on writing creatively in any way I could and somewhere in my room hidden from humans are the remains of crude half finished Goosebumps books and spy novellas. Well, they used to exist. I looked most forward to the English classes where I had to generate something original and something inspired. Johnny's Johnny was my answer to the brief of GCSE Creative Writing and one of my first and favourite inventions.
It's no Bloody Chamber, but to cut a long 'you had to have been there' story short, here is my somewhat dramatic account of when my best friend and I took some guys clothes while he showered.
Johnny's Johnny: Beast In The Showers
I waited. The cracked window rattled in the wind. I knew it would break, any second. It was like waiting for a bomb to go off. The whole cabin shook. The weather outside was insane. However, the eight-hour hike had knocked all strength out of me.
Everyone was upstairs, watching some b-rated movie on channel three hundred and something. This place sucked. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. ‘The Lakes,’ they called it. Same difference. Jim and Tom filled the silence with immature laughter, the dirty magazines controlling their minds. Pathetic. No, I preferred to waste away on my bunk.
He was in the shower. Secretly, I hoped he would drown in his own smugness. He’d made this trip hell. He was known as Johnny and was pure evil. When we’d reached our goal, The Old Man, highest mountain peak in the area, I could have finished him off. I didn’t, so instead I feared for my life.
Another giggle. I was getting tired of this. “You guys up for a laugh?” I said, obviously disturbing an important pastime of theirs. Like they could laugh any more than they were anyway.
“What like?” Tom asked, in a curious tone. I had their attention. I told them my plan. Told them it would be easy. They were just as much afraid as I was, but I didn’t show it.
The lock on the cubicle door slid away with ease, completing my flick knife’s task. He sang a deadly chorus of poison as he washed his filthy self. It sounds over the top, but he’s not human.
“Look!” Jimmy whispered, shaking like a pager. Johnny’s boxers were in view. They were his spies. Tom reached in; aware he would lose his life at any moment. There it was. In a flash, the shower room was empty, Jimmy plunging it into darkness with the click of the switch. It was empty, except for the trapped beast in the shower. A howl of fury escaped as I leapt to my bunk.
It seemed like forever before he appeared; dripping with the acid he had washed in. That’s when I saw it. That’s when he infected me with his evil. That memory; a life sentence. Jimmy was first, his forehead being slapped into the future. I could feel his pain. He was on his knees, begging for mercy. Still, Johnny screamed with pleasure. I wanted to help but was frozen by my fear. I fell down the side of my bunk, now trapped between it and the wall. This was the end. I had no chance. Tom, protesting his innocence, joined alliance with the evil. Together they taunted me, trying to capture my soul. I resisted, struggling to get under the bed. But it was too late. Johnny crushed my chest with his monster size 12’s, forcing my gaze towards his weapon. It ruined me. From underneath the bed I could see Jimmy. He wasn’t moving. I wished to hear him laugh. I couldn’t call his name. I couldn’t breathe. I could only hear the beast’s howl of satisfaction; could only see him step off me, cursing me one last time.
I thought the movie would end soon. But it didn’t. They didn’t save me. I’d seen it. I’d seen what no male teenager should ever see. So a bomb did go off. It was nuclear, left my mind paralysed. It will leave my children with horrible defects. I should be thankful I have lived to see them. But I am scarred with this permanent image. The image of evil; Johnny’s Johnny.
Move over, R.L.Stine.
I took a few precious moments out of my revision to delve into the relics of a document folder labelled 'school,' in which i found an abundance of essays and rehashed Wikipedia pages fobbed off as 'research'. I really should have erased these years ago but somehow my obsessive compulsions scream at me that sonnets about my friends 'being attracted to men' and guides on how to PEE must live as long as I.
Among such things I also found a file titled Johnny's Johnny. I used to thrive on writing creatively in any way I could and somewhere in my room hidden from humans are the remains of crude half finished Goosebumps books and spy novellas. Well, they used to exist. I looked most forward to the English classes where I had to generate something original and something inspired. Johnny's Johnny was my answer to the brief of GCSE Creative Writing and one of my first and favourite inventions.
It's no Bloody Chamber, but to cut a long 'you had to have been there' story short, here is my somewhat dramatic account of when my best friend and I took some guys clothes while he showered.
Johnny's Johnny: Beast In The Showers
I waited. The cracked window rattled in the wind. I knew it would break, any second. It was like waiting for a bomb to go off. The whole cabin shook. The weather outside was insane. However, the eight-hour hike had knocked all strength out of me.
Everyone was upstairs, watching some b-rated movie on channel three hundred and something. This place sucked. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. ‘The Lakes,’ they called it. Same difference. Jim and Tom filled the silence with immature laughter, the dirty magazines controlling their minds. Pathetic. No, I preferred to waste away on my bunk.
He was in the shower. Secretly, I hoped he would drown in his own smugness. He’d made this trip hell. He was known as Johnny and was pure evil. When we’d reached our goal, The Old Man, highest mountain peak in the area, I could have finished him off. I didn’t, so instead I feared for my life.
Another giggle. I was getting tired of this. “You guys up for a laugh?” I said, obviously disturbing an important pastime of theirs. Like they could laugh any more than they were anyway.
“What like?” Tom asked, in a curious tone. I had their attention. I told them my plan. Told them it would be easy. They were just as much afraid as I was, but I didn’t show it.
The lock on the cubicle door slid away with ease, completing my flick knife’s task. He sang a deadly chorus of poison as he washed his filthy self. It sounds over the top, but he’s not human.
“Look!” Jimmy whispered, shaking like a pager. Johnny’s boxers were in view. They were his spies. Tom reached in; aware he would lose his life at any moment. There it was. In a flash, the shower room was empty, Jimmy plunging it into darkness with the click of the switch. It was empty, except for the trapped beast in the shower. A howl of fury escaped as I leapt to my bunk.It seemed like forever before he appeared; dripping with the acid he had washed in. That’s when I saw it. That’s when he infected me with his evil. That memory; a life sentence. Jimmy was first, his forehead being slapped into the future. I could feel his pain. He was on his knees, begging for mercy. Still, Johnny screamed with pleasure. I wanted to help but was frozen by my fear. I fell down the side of my bunk, now trapped between it and the wall. This was the end. I had no chance. Tom, protesting his innocence, joined alliance with the evil. Together they taunted me, trying to capture my soul. I resisted, struggling to get under the bed. But it was too late. Johnny crushed my chest with his monster size 12’s, forcing my gaze towards his weapon. It ruined me. From underneath the bed I could see Jimmy. He wasn’t moving. I wished to hear him laugh. I couldn’t call his name. I couldn’t breathe. I could only hear the beast’s howl of satisfaction; could only see him step off me, cursing me one last time.
I thought the movie would end soon. But it didn’t. They didn’t save me. I’d seen it. I’d seen what no male teenager should ever see. So a bomb did go off. It was nuclear, left my mind paralysed. It will leave my children with horrible defects. I should be thankful I have lived to see them. But I am scarred with this permanent image. The image of evil; Johnny’s Johnny.
Move over, R.L.Stine.
Sunday, 21 March 2010
Imperial Leisure @Mr Kyps, 20/03/2010
What has six heads, one horn and a whole new albums worth of material to show off? Skankalicious London based six-piece Imperial Leisure have descended on Mr Kyp's for a night of singing, dancing and a lot of beer. Previously a ten headed, three horned beast, the newly honed ska-rap mob have spent this month on tour around the country, showcasing brand new tracks from their upcoming second album due out in the summer.
Known for their hyper guerrilla gigs and eclectic mix of sounds and styles, Imperial Leisure have played Glastonbury and Reading, toured with ska legends Less Than Jake and even played a mobile gig in front of France’s most recognisable structure. “That place is so iconic,” vocalist Denis Smith remembers, “we didn’t realise what we were doing until we saw the video footage back and couldn’t believe we were actually at the Eiffel Tower!”
Tonight’s set is -as expected - full of bounce and flair. Their music is as infectious as the smiles on the fan's faces and the new material goes down a treat. Its classic tracks 'In a Letter', 'Man On The Street' and 'Alperton' from debut album The Art of Saying Nothing that incite energy in the faithful attending that any band would be envious of.
What makes Imperial Leisure special is the lack of distance between the crowd and the band members themselves. Everyone in the 300 capacity venue tonight is here for the same reason- to have the best time. They’re proud to show off their new work, described by guitarist AJ White as a ‘melting pot of ideas’, and do so with confidence and pizzazz.
At one point the front man finds himself bounding through the crowd, pouring a bottle of cava over their heads and in
viting those at the barrier to sing down the mic. Who, of course, are more than willing to oblige. It’s a moment that really highlights the fact that Imperial Leisure are a fans band - and they revel in the interactivity.
As they leave with set closer ‘Untouchable’ and the fitting lyrics of “this place makes my heart pump, when I’m feeling low this lifts me up”, everyone is satisfied and no one could be happier. Especially the young 17-year-old invited backstage for a CD signing for his birthday.
Imperial Leisure are going places and this summer should prove the most exciting yet, when their second album is unleashed amongst the public. A Great British Summertime it shall be indeed.
Known for their hyper guerrilla gigs and eclectic mix of sounds and styles, Imperial Leisure have played Glastonbury and Reading, toured with ska legends Less Than Jake and even played a mobile gig in front of France’s most recognisable structure. “That place is so iconic,” vocalist Denis Smith remembers, “we didn’t realise what we were doing until we saw the video footage back and couldn’t believe we were actually at the Eiffel Tower!”
Tonight’s set is -as expected - full of bounce and flair. Their music is as infectious as the smiles on the fan's faces and the new material goes down a treat. Its classic tracks 'In a Letter', 'Man On The Street' and 'Alperton' from debut album The Art of Saying Nothing that incite energy in the faithful attending that any band would be envious of.
What makes Imperial Leisure special is the lack of distance between the crowd and the band members themselves. Everyone in the 300 capacity venue tonight is here for the same reason- to have the best time. They’re proud to show off their new work, described by guitarist AJ White as a ‘melting pot of ideas’, and do so with confidence and pizzazz.
At one point the front man finds himself bounding through the crowd, pouring a bottle of cava over their heads and in
viting those at the barrier to sing down the mic. Who, of course, are more than willing to oblige. It’s a moment that really highlights the fact that Imperial Leisure are a fans band - and they revel in the interactivity.As they leave with set closer ‘Untouchable’ and the fitting lyrics of “this place makes my heart pump, when I’m feeling low this lifts me up”, everyone is satisfied and no one could be happier. Especially the young 17-year-old invited backstage for a CD signing for his birthday.
Imperial Leisure are going places and this summer should prove the most exciting yet, when their second album is unleashed amongst the public. A Great British Summertime it shall be indeed.
Thursday, 11 February 2010
The Rebel Alliance Tour, Sunday 7th February@Mr Kyps
If one were to ‘skank’ – the dance form associated with the feel good music of ska - then one would lean forward, out stretch the arms and, essentially, jog on the spot. To the upbeat of some reggae inspired tunes, of course. On February 7th The Rebel Alliance Tour stopped off at Poole’s atmospheric live music venue Mr. Kyps and ‘skanking’ is exactly what those who checked it out did. The tour sees the union of three of the UK’s young heroes of the ska scene today; Random Hand, Mouthwash and The Skints, as well as international acoustic artist Chris Murray.
First on the stage tonight, Chris Murray and Friends –comprising of The Skint’s drummer and bassist – has the unenviable task of playing to a crowd that is yet to reach 20 in number. Despite this his set is flawless and filled to the brim with melody and bounce and it’s clear he’s in his element, ‘daring’ the inquisitive couple dozen to come closer. “Welcome to Mr. Kyps, it’s a cool place to be…and the crowd goes wild!” he jokes with a smile and genuine adoration for the support he’s received. You can’t help but warm to his charm and, frankly, he deserves a bigger audience.
Random Hand are tipped as one of the fastest rising ska punk bands in the UK today. The four-piece have previously toured with eclectic homegrown skankers Sonic Boom Six - founders of the Rebel Alliance Label – as well as Californian ska punk legends Reel Big Fish. Mouthwash have supported Florida party-band Less Than Jake and have years of experience of headline tours under their black and white checked belts. Tonight this experience shows and both bands shine at times with a raw punk energy and clear blues roots. It’s clear the crowd is never going to exceed 50-odd and both bands make the most of the fantastic atmosphere of Kyp’s to incite a dance pit. “You’re all like minded, if one dances you’ll all dance” Random Hand front man and class joker Robin Leitch screams. And, for the remainder of theirs and Mouthwash’s set, they do.
By the time bill closers The Skints take to the stage the beer is flowing and the quality of music remains high. It’s still the same faithful skankers down the front but in this environment a pit of 10 is no less impressive than a pit of 100. That said it is unfortunate that so few were in attendance tonight as those who were enjoyed every second. Ska is certainly not dead; it just needs to be prodded awake. See for yourself- catch the mighty Sonic Boom Six at Kyp’s in April.
Sunday, 7 February 2010
Rammstein Burn Birmingham
It’s a bitingly cold Wednesday night in Birmingham. The LG Arena is about to play host to one of the world’s most controversial bands and one known best for their live presence. 100’s of believers stampede through the halls to be first through the arena doors. Everyone knows that something colossal is about to go down and everyone wants to be caught in the explosion.
It must be said that without the impressive light show, support act Combichrist would be a dull and odd looking experience. With their assortment of industrial spaz-metal and a somewhat baffling resemblance to the Muppet band Dr Teeth and the Electric Mayhem, it takes a pinch of salt to appreciate what they’re trying to achieve with songs like ‘What the F**k is Wrong With You?’ and ‘*F**k That S**t.’ Ironically, the sentiments of many in the crowd by the end of the set. There is a moment of intrigue when the drummer-duo pour water over their kits, sending droplets soaring with every perfectly executed beat. But, with an audience of 12 000 eagerly awaiting Germany’s biggest musical export and well aware of the wonders their 20-something trucks have carted across the continent - nobody cares.
It is near impossible to explain just how good Rammstein are. It simply is something you have to witness for yourself. You can’t just sling clichés like ‘they put on a great show’ or ‘the audience loved it.’ Imagine the best Guy Fawkes Night - indoors - meshed with the scene where the ring is destroyed in the Return of the King.
They take to the stage using pickaxes to break through their set walls, exposing a blinding light behind. Front man Till Lindeman booms opener ‘Rammleid’ with mini lights illuminating his mouth as the crowd sing back their name. He says very little for the 2 hours of their set – comprising mainly of their latest work from Liebe ist für alle da - and he doesn’t have to. The thousands in front of him are gripped from the start by every double beat of the drum, every relentless power chord and every eclectic tune from Flake’s keys. At ti
mes you can’t move from sheer bemusement that the stage is on fire or that there is a skinny man crowd surfing above you in a Quicksilver boat. There are flames every other song and there are explosions in between. Now you can understand why it takes a whole year of advance planning and dress rehearsals.
But enough about the show. Rammstein said recently with regards to their tour that they worry fans care more for the flames than the music. Understandable, as no other band in the world would dangle a couple dozen laser emitting doll babies from the light rigging in poetic symbolism of the antics of Josef Fritzl. However, the German six-piece still have the repertoire to ignite a good sing along – even in a foreign language. Fan favourites 'Ich Will' and 'Du Hast' stand out as the spine tingling stadium anthems of the night. It’s new single ‘Pussy’ that gets the biggest reception, possibly because it’s mainly in English and possibly because it’s about sex. It’s probably because Till mounts a cement mixer-come-fallice and sprays the crowd with sweet smelling foam at its climax. Seriously, had to be there.
By the time they reach their second encore and set closer, 'Engel', those who bore witness to what came before stand in awe as Till takes to the stage sporting flame throwing angel wings. Not the kind you wear to ballet. The kind you would imagine the perpetrator of the end of the world wearing as he demolishes all human kind. The German government may be ashamed of them but metal fans across Europe love them. And, with flames that touch the ceiling, fireworks that scale the arena and exploding laser babies, there can be no argument that - when it comes to pure spectacle - Rammstein are hands down the greatest live band in the world.
Flames, Fireworks and Exploding Laser Babies
http://www.youtube.com/watch?gl=GB&v=tnHrGVp0jiw
It must be said that without the impressive light show, support act Combichrist would be a dull and odd looking experience. With their assortment of industrial spaz-metal and a somewhat baffling resemblance to the Muppet band Dr Teeth and the Electric Mayhem, it takes a pinch of salt to appreciate what they’re trying to achieve with songs like ‘What the F**k is Wrong With You?’ and ‘*F**k That S**t.’ Ironically, the sentiments of many in the crowd by the end of the set. There is a moment of intrigue when the drummer-duo pour water over their kits, sending droplets soaring with every perfectly executed beat. But, with an audience of 12 000 eagerly awaiting Germany’s biggest musical export and well aware of the wonders their 20-something trucks have carted across the continent - nobody cares.
It is near impossible to explain just how good Rammstein are. It simply is something you have to witness for yourself. You can’t just sling clichés like ‘they put on a great show’ or ‘the audience loved it.’ Imagine the best Guy Fawkes Night - indoors - meshed with the scene where the ring is destroyed in the Return of the King.
They take to the stage using pickaxes to break through their set walls, exposing a blinding light behind. Front man Till Lindeman booms opener ‘Rammleid’ with mini lights illuminating his mouth as the crowd sing back their name. He says very little for the 2 hours of their set – comprising mainly of their latest work from Liebe ist für alle da - and he doesn’t have to. The thousands in front of him are gripped from the start by every double beat of the drum, every relentless power chord and every eclectic tune from Flake’s keys. At ti
mes you can’t move from sheer bemusement that the stage is on fire or that there is a skinny man crowd surfing above you in a Quicksilver boat. There are flames every other song and there are explosions in between. Now you can understand why it takes a whole year of advance planning and dress rehearsals.But enough about the show. Rammstein said recently with regards to their tour that they worry fans care more for the flames than the music. Understandable, as no other band in the world would dangle a couple dozen laser emitting doll babies from the light rigging in poetic symbolism of the antics of Josef Fritzl. However, the German six-piece still have the repertoire to ignite a good sing along – even in a foreign language. Fan favourites 'Ich Will' and 'Du Hast' stand out as the spine tingling stadium anthems of the night. It’s new single ‘Pussy’ that gets the biggest reception, possibly because it’s mainly in English and possibly because it’s about sex. It’s probably because Till mounts a cement mixer-come-fallice and sprays the crowd with sweet smelling foam at its climax. Seriously, had to be there.
By the time they reach their second encore and set closer, 'Engel', those who bore witness to what came before stand in awe as Till takes to the stage sporting flame throwing angel wings. Not the kind you wear to ballet. The kind you would imagine the perpetrator of the end of the world wearing as he demolishes all human kind. The German government may be ashamed of them but metal fans across Europe love them. And, with flames that touch the ceiling, fireworks that scale the arena and exploding laser babies, there can be no argument that - when it comes to pure spectacle - Rammstein are hands down the greatest live band in the world.
Flames, Fireworks and Exploding Laser Babies
http://www.youtube.com/watch?gl=GB&v=tnHrGVp0jiw
Thursday, 28 January 2010
Rough Guide to Edinburgh
Nestled in the flowing landscape of the Central Lowlands of Scotland, Edinburgh remains the Scot’s battered, bruised but never really defeated Capital City. Dating back to the 12th Century, it has seen invasions, wars and disease. The Roman’s overlooked it when they brought us sanitation and roads - it is said you could smell it from 50 miles away. Today though Edinburgh is coined as one of most beautiful cities in Europe. It’s certainly one of the most sentimental and engaging.
City dwellers are proud of Edinburgh’s history. It is a stunning archaic icon of Scotland and from aloft of Castle Rock stands one of Scotland’s top tourist attractions - Edinburgh Castle. Tickets are £11 for adults, £5.50 for children and under-five’s go free, making for a fantastic, enthralling family day out. At the end of the day - from the hilltop where the Castle beams - you can watch the sun setting over the Old Town in panoramic view. Sonia’s Guest House is just a 10 minute drive from the city centre and offers bed and breakfast from as little as £30.
Edinburgh’s Royal Mile, so called as it is roughly one ‘Scots mile’ in length, stretches through the Old Town and is home to an array of both quaint pubs and lively bars. The Mitre serves food throughout the day and hosts live music as well as an impressive selection of drinks at reasonable prices. On a Saturday night the average price for a pint is around £3.30. The street itself was once the site of thousands of murders, tortures and human trafficking and is said to sit on top of one of the most complex underground systems in Europe. An old folk tale tells of a young drummer boy who was sent down to investigate the labyrinth below the Mile. When the drums ceased, locals bricked up the ends and, presuming him to be victim to whatever lay below, forgot about him.
With a history as black as sin it’s only right that visitors taste the horror of the old graveyards and underground vaults. Black Hart Entertainment’s ‘City of the Dead’ tour is described as ‘weird, wild and wicked’ and concession prices start at £6.50. The vaults have been featured on the British paranormal documentary ‘Most Haunted’ and are said to be awash with ‘off the scale paranormal activities.’ If stories of visitors reporting scratches, bruises and feeling breathing on their necks aren’t enough to quench thirst for thrills then watch out in coming months for a new discovery in the vaults. The company are in a legal battle with the council to excavate further and uncover the secrets of a suspected cut off room.
Edinburgh isn’t just a city; it is a visual celebration of heritage, patriotism and a dark history that is violent, plagued with misery and at times downright disgusting. If history isn’t the appeal then it’s a beautiful modern scene and the high street brands on Princes Street allow hours of quality browsing.
Monday, 2 November 2009
‘Mentallica’- Poole, Saturday 31st- Mr Kyps
“How do we get in?” is the first question of the night as we approach who we believe to be a roadie by the back entrance of Mr Kyps. Only he isn’t and, to be honest, we should have known better. He has it all- the long locks, the carefully groomed ‘Hetfield’ beard and the leather jacket. He has the cigarettes, the beer and, oddly, what looks like a bottle of sun cream. ‘Did you find your hair elixir?’ axe man Aid sniggers as his front man re-enters the room, fixing his metallic mane. He is Chris Jones and he leads the band hailed as ‘Europe’s No.1 tribute to Metallica.’ And I was about to find out just how justified that title is.
Dudley based Mentallica are a fantastic bunch. They’re laid back and care-free and yet remain welcoming and professional. They drink ‘girly cider’- not forgetting the ice. Best of all, they are relentless in the way they talk of how good things are for the band. “Mr Kyps is the greatest gig on the circuit,” co founder Dave Hadley beams. “Tonight is going to be good.” Tonight, of course, is Halloween. The full moon is blinding, the fog is rising and the crowd of 300 ‘tallica fans have not forgotten the occasion. It’s a rare delight to witness werewolf, zombie and ‘crazed topless fan waving blow up club’ embracing in mosh together. But that’s metal and that’s Halloween.
In the hours before the gig- completed by drummer Mart- the guys laugh and bounce the answers towards me with a fun-filled passion. “There was no question- it was always going to be Metallica, although the name was debated once. I still believe it should be ‘The Chris Jones Quartet” he jests, with a cheeky smile. When asked if they’ve ever met their hero’s, excitable bassist Dave sat forward with a grin. “We’d love to meet them. But I’ll tell you what, their sound manager helped us out in our opening shows and came to us once with a message, ‘Metallica have heard of you and they wish you all the best.’ That’s a moment I’ll never forget.”
On stage the guys are no different. They smile and laugh at each other, clearly lapping up every second. “We’ve got some Metallica fans in here tonight, right?” The roar from the crowd says it all. Mentallica are a tight and well oiled machine. They appear to flawlessly attack each track as it comes, covering both fan favourites and their own. They have the backdrop, an array of crucifixes across the stage echoing the album art from ‘Master Of Puppets’ and an endless supply of beer. The show itself couldn’t be better and ‘tallica classics ‘Creeping Death ’, ‘Enter Sandman’ and ‘Whiplash’ go down as expected. You can’t help but think Hetfield’s crew would be proud.
Horns aloft, you can almost envisage the 300 strong crowd take to the spirit of dress-up and don their best Sparta voice- “this is ‘tallica!” It, of course, isn’t. But believe me, it’s as close as you can get and talk backstage suggests tonight was something special. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun,” Dave mused, grabbing a beer. “Just the right amount of alcohol, the perfect crowd and the greatest sound we’ve ever had.” They’re also a bright bunch and, as he slowly takes off his clothes, axe man Aid explains to me the importance of having a clean t-shirt. “Heavy metal is a lot of things, but it’s not unhygienic.” 5/5
Dudley based Mentallica are a fantastic bunch. They’re laid back and care-free and yet remain welcoming and professional. They drink ‘girly cider’- not forgetting the ice. Best of all, they are relentless in the way they talk of how good things are for the band. “Mr Kyps is the greatest gig on the circuit,” co founder Dave Hadley beams. “Tonight is going to be good.” Tonight, of course, is Halloween. The full moon is blinding, the fog is rising and the crowd of 300 ‘tallica fans have not forgotten the occasion. It’s a rare delight to witness werewolf, zombie and ‘crazed topless fan waving blow up club’ embracing in mosh together. But that’s metal and that’s Halloween.
In the hours before the gig- completed by drummer Mart- the guys laugh and bounce the answers towards me with a fun-filled passion. “There was no question- it was always going to be Metallica, although the name was debated once. I still believe it should be ‘The Chris Jones Quartet” he jests, with a cheeky smile. When asked if they’ve ever met their hero’s, excitable bassist Dave sat forward with a grin. “We’d love to meet them. But I’ll tell you what, their sound manager helped us out in our opening shows and came to us once with a message, ‘Metallica have heard of you and they wish you all the best.’ That’s a moment I’ll never forget.”
On stage the guys are no different. They smile and laugh at each other, clearly lapping up every second. “We’ve got some Metallica fans in here tonight, right?” The roar from the crowd says it all. Mentallica are a tight and well oiled machine. They appear to flawlessly attack each track as it comes, covering both fan favourites and their own. They have the backdrop, an array of crucifixes across the stage echoing the album art from ‘Master Of Puppets’ and an endless supply of beer. The show itself couldn’t be better and ‘tallica classics ‘Creeping Death ’, ‘Enter Sandman’ and ‘Whiplash’ go down as expected. You can’t help but think Hetfield’s crew would be proud.
Horns aloft, you can almost envisage the 300 strong crowd take to the spirit of dress-up and don their best Sparta voice- “this is ‘tallica!” It, of course, isn’t. But believe me, it’s as close as you can get and talk backstage suggests tonight was something special. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun,” Dave mused, grabbing a beer. “Just the right amount of alcohol, the perfect crowd and the greatest sound we’ve ever had.” They’re also a bright bunch and, as he slowly takes off his clothes, axe man Aid explains to me the importance of having a clean t-shirt. “Heavy metal is a lot of things, but it’s not unhygienic.” 5/5
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