Events
Gary Stewart Band Rock The Wardrobe - Brought to you by Nate Camponi -
Well, Gary Stewart and his band rocked the house for a second time in the presence of the LeedsMeUp.com members last Tuesday. His gig on the 4th October at the Wardrobe was nothing short of spectacular, with regular Leeds Me Up members James, myself, Katie and Youdy frontin’ a couple of extras – Gemma Surtees and Benny B.
After shaking ‘the one, the only’ Gary Stewart’s hand at a pre-gig greeting, we parted ways and got the drinks in.
For the first half an hour, Benny, Gemma and myself chatted about this and that and finally received a phone call from my dad, who was in Bar Reclaim, a further few yards up the road. Knowing what my parent’s time keeping is like when they’ve had a few jars, I lied to them and told them the gig started at 8:15pm, when the true starting time was a good half an hour later.
Impressed by my sly scheme, my dad shook my hand and said “Good going, chief – so you have learned something.”
By the time James and Youd arrived, my parents and their mates, Sharon and Andy, were pissed on lager and greeted them with great enthusiasm.
What could be said as most spectacular about the evening was the fact that the band went down superbly well with my parents, Sharon and Andy; each of them commenting on how good a song-writer Gary is, how well his band could play their respective instruments and how they were light-years ahead of any other unsigned band (something that could not be said for the band playing directly after Gary Stewart – just let’s say, I’ve heard better music on ShitMusicFM).
Gary and his troop played all of the LeedsMeUp’s favourites, The Seductive Ghoul being performed in a truly legendary fashion and Tripping Holes clearly being the one the group all really like to play.
Everyone commented on how pissed-out-of-his-tree the ‘nutty harmonica player’ looked and how great the band performed, specifically praising the composition and song-writing.
But, what’s this? Who walks in, right out of the blue, in the middle of the gig?
ONLY PATRICK FUCKING PJ FUCKING McGRATH!
Where’s the big man been all my life? Apparently, training to be a plumber, the profession of which he is now committed to!
The after-gig drinks session went down a storm, with PJ chatting away to everyone he could get his hands on.
After Gary and Ruth became my dad’s new best friends, we realised the evening was going down well with all parties. The music and drink flowed freely and everyone’s debit cards were swiped through the tills in a classic piss-taking fashion, making what was shaping up to be a good night, absolutely fantastic.
Benny B downed around 9 pints of Carling and impressed everyone with his ‘look at me, I’m not even slurring my words’ persona, which everyone else, with their pussy bottles of Corona and stumbling all over the place, were mightily upset about.
When the night finally drew in, we all clambered into taxis and paid our £25 fair back to Liversedge, where I collapsed into bed with that all too satisfying ringing in your ears you get when you’ve been in a club that’s far too loud to not come with a health warning.