Unfortunately Crack magazine's tryo rock journo @bain3z or his lensman was not available to review the house debut of the (what were you called?) four strong combo flown into entertain the throngs adoring at the feet of now 50 something Essex Scribbler on the Tendring peninsula,. Some wag had posted a slight variation on the house number and post code of the venue much to everyone's inconvenience.
Nervously checking the lids of the cool boxes containing the bring your own rider the Scribbler continuously damped down expectations about the forthcoming performance even more than the early doors downpour, low expectations certainly not denied by anyone unfortunate enough to have caught the sound check, especially the Svengali/McLarenesque manager and tour promoter Lady Scribbler.
At just on 10 the lights dimmed and after a tirade worthy of Hooky on his Closer tour the Essex Scribbler handed the mic to the swaggering front man and as the solid (?) rhythm unit set things off the Scribbler on geetar launched into the intro of I Wanna Be Your Dog and the pogo fest in the mosh pit erupted..sort of.
Judging by the amount of smartphones being wielded this seminal moment would spawn a hundred vines on YouTube and many embroidered tales of I was there when......
A second number later explained as being a mash up of two Sabs numbers led into a once started and then reheated Teenage Kicks. We had been told to expect 3 and a bit songs and following a long drawn out request for an Encore the band launched into a Saxon ditty, 747. Well, three of the band did as the young pretender bassist had a fit of artistic pique and unplugged his bass and stormed off (actually he sat back
down, as he didn't know what to play). This was the three and a bit of the set, and it became quite clear that in fact no one actually knew what to play or shout and with a splurge of feedback that was that.
All in all a fecking good night. Not sure if the Scribbler really fancied his customary 30k bike ride the next day though...