666 : The Day The Music Stopped

Like many of you, I am approaching the most bizarre and unwanted anniversary. On Monday, March 15th it will be exactly one year since I last clapped eyes on an in the flesh live band. 365 days before that date I witnessed the majestic Employed to Serve (you can find my review here) at the Academy 3 in Manchester. They were tight, taut and utterly excellent. A youthful cocktail of confidence and rage filled righteousness. Then suddenly the world grounded to a halt. Tours shuddered to a standstill, the cancelled or postponed signs came on one by one and the wheels fell inexplicably off my world.

Now if you are part of the “One a Year” fraternity that pitches up to an arena show or a corporate festival once in a blue moon, then my plight will mean nothing to you. But gigging is far more than a means of entertainment for me. It is a fundamental part of my core being. It is what drives me, what defines me, my hobby and my sanctuary. It is how I celebrate the good times and it’s my therapy during the bad times. Quite simply, I am less a person without it. A fundamental part of what makes me, me is currently dormant and awaiting further instruction.

I have been going to live concerts since I was 13 (my cherry was well and truly popped by Queen at the old Wembley Stadium, 35 years ago this very summer). Since that first show, this is the longest I have ever gone without standing at the front of a packed throng facing a smoke shrouded stage. The most worrying thing is whilst I do feel a real sense of internal emptiness without it, I have also got used to not having it in my life. I have acclimatised to not climbing onto my push bike at least once a week and hurtling into Manchester to stand in a packed club and wait for a sweaty young man (or lady) to shout at me. The memories are fading and the idea of being out two nights a week, every week has started to feel strangely alien.

I find myself looking forward to the return of live shows with both anticipation and trepidation. I have been chaste for over a year now. How will I feel when I walk back into Rebellion or the Star and Garter? What will it be like to be around people again? To actually be in physical contact with folks that I don’t live with. After twelves months of meticulously abiding to social distance regulations, to actually touch and push up against complete strangers? Most importantly, will the whole sensation of being part of a crowd feel the same and will I feel the same about it? I am desperate to once again witness a live band, but in many ways last March seems light years away and another life entirely. Since then the world has changed fundamentally and inextricably.

But for all my worries, doubts and flits of paranoia, I still miss it. Live streams and YouTube clips of shows gone by, have done nothing for me. I want and I crave the real thing. I know how easily I have adapted to this new world and I hope it will be as easy to ease back into the old ways. In my heart, I am sure it will be like riding my bicycle and come Conan on June 25th (my first planned post restriction lifting show) I will be back in the swing of the whole thing within minutes. My hope is that in a couple of years time this whole traumatic experience will be stuff of anecdotes and talking head documentaries. “Do you remember when we couldn’t go to gigs?” we will cry with dismay and I will be back trying to push the limits of my one gig a week quota like I had never been away.