| |
About 15 years ago the video for Our House was
being shown on MTV. I was floored. I
got a flat top and wore a suit to school.
Someone called me Suggs. It was the high point of ska
in my neck of the wastes. I had already discovered ska through the
(English) Beat and the Untouchables; and the mod style that I love
so much through Quadrophenia, but Madness was able to introduce it
to the American masses
like no other band. Well that all went away
when something else came
along. I think it was the big Thriller thing. I continued to wear suits
and a few of my friends continued to call me
Suggs, but soon forgot why. My tastes in ska have broadened since then, but
Madness has always special
to me. And then the announcement came. Madness was
coming to America. Without
even thinking I booked passage to LA. I
figured I could always find a
place to stay when I got there, and probably
get a ticket when I showed
up, yeah? Besides the show I had chosen was on
26 April [1998], my 30th
birthday. It was a sign. So that is how my
quest began. Press on, dear reader.
Okay, so
I'm a geek, and I am on a few email lists, so what?
Like you're
not? It was from the Madness list that I found
out about the show and
it was because of the brilliant Maddies on the
list that my quest was
successful. Special mention to Joe 'Skips' Schipsi in Philadelphia for
buying me a ticket, and to Asaf and Dawn in LA
for giving me a ride to and
fro. But there were problems, there are always
problems. It started way before I ever left for LA. In
the months before the show I
started a nice on-line panic. The Madness list
was subjected to my pleas
for ticket and lodging information. In
hindsight, I cannot see what the
problem was, as I was only sending about 17
messages a day. I did get a
nice nickname and new theme song out of the
deal, so that's a plus. From
now on you may call me 'Nerves' and can garner
a positive response by
playing Cardiac Arrest in my vicinity. But, in
the end I got a
ticket, a place to stay, and a ride to the
gig. I was all set.
Saturday 25 April, 9.00a. I arrived at Market
Street Station with time to
spare. Misreading the SkyRide schedule, I had
about 30 minutes until my
bus
leaves at 9.28a. Gate #2. I sat, pulled out Wodehouse,
and relaxed.
9.20a. The bus was only 8 minutes away.
9.25a. Okay, the bus should have been here
now, as it was to leave in 3 minutes.
9.28a. The bus should have been pulling out
of the station, but it still had not arrived.
9.30a. No bus. Began to get a bit, yes,
nervous.
9.38a. No bus. 10 minutes late. My plane was
scheduled for a 11.30
departure and the bus
was
supposed
to get into DIA at 10.16. Add 10, you get
10.26. No problem, I could still make my flight.
9.45a. No bus. Moved past the nervous
stage, into worried stage.
9.50a. No bus. Moved past the worried
stage, into very worried, and pacing stage.
9.55a. No bus. Moved past very worried and
pacing stage, into nervous
wreck, annoyed, get me RTD on the phone, who the hell is in charge
here! stage.
10.00a. No bus. I now insisted the rent-a-cop
call someone and find
out where the damn bus is.
10.15a. The r-a-c informed me that the 9.28 SkyRide left Market Street
Station on time and is in route to DIA, presently on Pena Blvd.
10.15.02a. WHAT!!!! Call it back, get me a
cab, RTD owes me $200, kill
the driver, wrong gate my ass, string the
bastard up!!!! I'm going to
have a break-down now, thank you. At this point there are only three things that
could happen. 1) I catch
the
10.28 bus, and hope that my flight is delayed. 2) I catch the 10.28, miss
my flight, and change my ticket. 3) I catch
the 10.28, miss my flight,
not be allowed to change my ticket, then
randomly begin to throw rocks at RTD buses.
I caught the 10.28. I missed my flight, and
luckily for RTD, was able to
change my ticket. I arrived at LAX at about 5.00p and called my
hostel. I got a shuttle out
to Santa Monica, and checked in. I ended up on
the top bunk in a room for
8. I then strolled up Santa Monica Blvd, found
a nice pub, and commenced
to drink, heavily. My
Madness list comrades and I
were to meet at
Ye
King's
Head, a Santa
Monica
pub Sunday evening, have a few pints, talk
Madness, eat a bite, and then
head up to the gig. I arrived first and was
well into my first one when Asaf, Dawn, and a friend of there's from London
popped in. We were
expecting a
few
more list Maddies, including the aforementioned
Joe 'Skips', who just
happened to have my ticket. I had gotten
myself a hotmail account so I
could keep in touch with any change in plans. All day Sunday I wandered
around Santa Monica looking for a public access
internet terminal, so I
could check in. For future reference, I found
a whole six. At the public
library. All booked solid for a week. Just so
you know. No hotmail, no
message from Joe, no update on the meet, in
short no ticket. I skipped
the nervous stage and jumped right into the
worried stage. But this time
I had an ally, I didn't have at Market Street. New Castle Brown Ale. When we decided to eat, it was still just the
four of us. I figured I'd
just pop into the pub every few minutes to see
if Joe had arrived. We had
a great dinner, and a few more drinks. I think
if it had not been for the
ale, I would have had nervous breakdown #2,
because Joe never showed up. We knew there were tickets available at the
door anyway, so we just drove
up to the gig, damn the consequences. We got
to the Universal
Amphitheatre, and no 'Skips', no ticket at the
will call window, and time
running out. Sorry, Skips old boy, every man
for himself. I got a ticket
for myself. I later found out that we had
missed each other at the will
call window by about 10 minutes, and he had
even had a little sign with my
name on it. (I owe you one.) We got into the
venue and found our
seats. Since Asaf and Dawn had gotten their tickets in
advance, they were on the
other side of the theatre then me. Funny thing
was, I had a better seat. A little harmless dishonesty, and we were all
in my section. We muscled
our way into a row by ourselves and waited out
the opening acts. The
first up were Hepcat. We actually missed them,
because we were watching a
basketball game. A bit of a disappointment,
because when they had come to
Denver last, I was a little..ummm...'pre-occupied'
with the Bluebird drink
special, to give them my full attention. Up
next were the Dance Hall
Crashers. Not bad, but forgettable. Then the
Royal Crown Review. I
can tolerate this new swing, and RCR isn't the worst revival
group, but that Barflys on the Beach really annoys me. Perfectly good
Louis Prima ruined, if you
ask me. After about 30 minutes or so of waiting for the
stage change, the lights
dimmed again. Seven well dressed men came on
stage, and the crowd lost it
completely. I mean LOST it. People were
jumping up and down, screaming,
dancing, and crying. And they hadn't even
started yet. Carl 'Chas Smash'
grabbed his mike. "HEY YOU..." That was it. Pandemonium broke out. It
was at that point that everything that had
happened was for a reason. One
must suffer before one attains perfection,
yeah? Here we were watching a
band that had shaped our lives, together as a
whole for the first time in
over ten years. They played all those songs that I love so
much. All the older, more ska-ish stuff. They did Baggy Trousers,
Embarrassment, House of Fun, My
Girl, Shut Up, It Must Be Love, Grey Day,
Driving in My Car, and a rousing
version of Land of Hope and Glory with a less
then graceful tumble by Lee
into the mikes and instrument stands on stage
right. The whole crowd was
dancing their collective arses' off, and the seats that the
Universal Amphitheatre comes complete with were
only looked at with loathing. The band was moving
even more then we were. For a bunch of old guys
they were all over the place. Suggs and Carl kept
coming over to the sides of the stage to speak to
the people in the wings, shake hands, and sit for a
breather. I think everyone in that theatre got the
'significant' eye contact at least once. At one
point Suggs came over to far stage left, around the
stacks, and apologized for the equipment being in
the way, saying that we had paid for a visual
performance as well. True to his word, he made a
conscious effort to pop up there every once in a
while. Chris was cordless and kept on doing
the heavy-metal-guitar-guy thing all over the
stage, complete with horns. RAWK ON!!! On top of all that we were
seeing a Madness with
the Mighty Barrso. Mike was on a riser to Woody's right, and
looked like he was having a great time. Woody was
dead on, and Mark was looking very cool. The whole
thing was mind-blowing. By the end of their first
set the seat sections had been abandoned for the
stairs, aisles, roof, whatever and I'm sure all of
Universal City was shaking a bit. The lads came
back for two encores. As they had jumped started
our lives with One Step Beyond
they ended our Mad evening
with it as well. Funny bit here was that they
seemed to have forgotten to
tell Woody and Bedders about it. They were
half way off the stage when
one again..."HEY YOU..." They flew back to
their places, and the whole
thing did not miss a beat. Amazing. So here it was, midnight, in LA, after seeing
Madness, with some brilliant
new friends, and my 30th birthday. Everything
bad that had happened was
forgotten. It just did not enter into the
equation. I had made a
pilgrimage, a quest, and it had been
successful. Of course the next morning I could hardly walk,
but...
|
|
