First Of The Twelfth

I went out last night – a Saturday night – which is quite unusual. Even more unusual, I went to a gig of all things – which makes it twice in one year.

It was a small venue near Kingston Upon Thames. Luckily, I could get the train from here straight to Wimbledon and change there, rather than hack my way through to Waterloo.

To show how rock ‘n’ roll I was, I bought a Latte while I waited on the platform and that was pretty much my drink for the evening. For a Saturday it was a quiet, ordinary journey, although on the train from Wimbledon the carriage filled with a large party of raucous school-age girls dressed as schoolgirls.

Wearing white shirts, short grey skirts and black tights – presumably for a themed party – bubbling with inane chatter, and leaping onto each other, suddenly striking frozen poses reflected in the windows until the stuttering flash of their small digital camera set them free, they acted like the brainless fuck-holes-on-legs their future would lead them to be. If it was a school outing the teacher in charge would have sternly told them to sit up straight and please put their clitorises away, at least for a few more years.

The band was Twelfth Night, playing for the first time in twenty-one years. I hadn’t heard of them until a couple of months ago, but that doesn’t mean anything because my extensive musical knowledge is pretty much next to nil. The only reason I knew about them now was because, with only four of the five members of the original line-up able to get back together, Work Buddy – who had his own band back in the day – had been invited to play guitar and keyboards for the reunion.

The intimate locale was already crowded with expectant long-time fans, including a wandering poodle-permed gentleman in black jeans and a black Van der Graaf Generator tee-shirt, along with new fans unsure of what to expect until the band came on stage the room erupted.

Leading up to it, Work Buddy had said that it should simply be about a bunch of middle-aged guys having fun. And he was right. It was just that. They were up on stage having an absolute ball, as was the enthusiastic crowd.

Of course the weekend train timetables dictated that I couldn’t catch the end of their performance, having to wander back through the darkened streets to find the station. But next Saturday they’re playing the second gig, at The Albany Theatre in Deptford. Come along.