It’s Wednesday and hopefully, with the first balmy day of the year we turn our back on one of the longest winters for a generation.  Manchester streets are trying hard, shorts, hot pants and sunglasses are out.  We aren’t quite there yet, but we northerners don’t know when we might get a consecutive day without rain.  It’s a well-travelled route to the academy, I’m starting to recognise the yellow jacketed security staff. Rockflesh founder and all round photographic wizard, Johann, the brobdingnagian European has left his phone in the car.  This is a problem, we aren’t down on the press list and the staff aren’t volunteering options.  Back to the car.  After a few calls we get in touch with the tour manager, Bill.  Problem solved. 

The Academy 3 is a rectangle, bar, mixing desk & stage, all in line.  The sound has no where to escape, a wind tunnel of rock and roll. The stage is small, a four piece fills the stage and there is an absurdly large gap for pro photogs (take note Hangar 34).  In a venue this small, there isn’t the sense of anticipation, people lean awkwardly at the sides of the hall, or meander around waiting for focus.

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