Wednesday 7th September - Skid Row @ The Electric Ballroom

In all my years growing up (I use the term loosely) in London, I'd never set foot inside the Electric Ballroom. Aside from the strangely high stage (and no security barrier), it was pretty typical for its size. In its favour, though, the barstaff were friendly and efficient, the drinks may not have been watered down, and the security people failed to piss me off.

First onstage were The Renegade Playboys. That "they don't spell Playboys with a z," is the best thing I could say should tell you something ... They truly sucked.

Even in LA, in 1989, no one would have taken them seriously. Fast-forward 16 years (fuck me, that makes me feel old) and I teetered between admiring their balls (under the make-up, I'm sure they did actually have some) for sticking to their guns, and wondering quite what they hoped to achieve. Their strangely out-of-place drummer looked as though he was playing hooky from his family's kebab shop... and I breathed a large sigh of relief when all five of them fucked off at the end of their set.

I'm a bitch, I know ;-)

Next up, again, were the mallet-wielding support act. I had been informed in the queue that they were, in fact, called Head On, and not Hhheaaaooonnn... another town, another solid performance, and yet another smashed VCR.

Anyway, to Skid Row... The short version: they fucking rocked.

Again, I took a camera, and thanked God for digital. Being snap-happy is so much cheaper these days, and you don't have to keep re-loading film.

My favourite shot was Rachel singing Psychotherapy:



Each time I've seen them play this week, watching Rachel play bass has made me want to cry. I tried to console myself by reminding myself that they guy must have been playing for around 25 years... but I'm still left hoping that one day, I can play one tenth as well as him.




Anyway, the highlight of the gig, for me at least, was Scotti stealing my camera before imploring the audience to raise their middle fingers then taking a picture of us from the stage... makes for a nice souvenir, if nothing else!



Me grow up?? No... at least I don't see it happening any time soon!

Johnny was in great form, and took great pleasure milking the crowd for all we were worth:



Scotti's always been my favourite... but most of the photo's I got of him were total shite. Especially this one:



Johnny consistently refers to him on stage as a crazy man... he looks more like Devil Man! I looked at the photo, and eventually decided I have better things to do than Photoshop horns onto it ;-)

At the end of the show, I wanted the setlist. I asked Mike (the cute tour manager) if he'd get it for me. It was too noisy to hear his reply. I suspect it was "no," "later," or "get a fucking life you sad muppet." In all honesty, there were too few syllables for it to be the latter, so I suspect it was just "no".

I got it anyway, but it's torn in two. And I had to vault onto the monitors to get it... I should apologise for the view to anyone unfortunate enough to be standing behind me...

Anyway, I had a great time, and amazingly, was in bed, in Oxford, by 2 am.