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Live Music Thread
- Thread starter Brett Angell Delight
- Start date
coollino
Player Valuation: £80m
Jeez, he would have saved an incredible amount of money there
Rita_Poon
Player Valuation: £90m
ok apologies. Been there already, I was ticket blind. ta.
Papa Shango
Player Valuation: £70m
Last act I saw live was Poppy in Liverpool a couple of months ago. It was boss.
Next one is GOAT in Manchester in October (I think).
I don't get to as many gigs as I used to seeing as my bedtime seems to be about 6pm these days.
Next one is GOAT in Manchester in October (I think).
I don't get to as many gigs as I used to seeing as my bedtime seems to be about 6pm these days.
bigjonny
Player Valuation: £25m
I forgot I’m going to see Waxahatchee at Leeds Irish Centre next month.
Last one was The Enemy Sept 2022.
Next one should have been Manics next week in Llangollen but have sold my ticket as can't afford to go now.
Always wanted to see Hall and Oates but they had a major fall out so no chance now
Next one should have been Manics next week in Llangollen but have sold my ticket as can't afford to go now.
Always wanted to see Hall and Oates but they had a major fall out so no chance now
Rita_Poon
Player Valuation: £90m
Batfink the warmup?
coollino
Player Valuation: £80m
I had to Google that one as I am under 60 years old
Nottingham Rock City!! Only ever went there once, in 2002 I think, to see (hed)PE and Papa Roach. Both bands were in the bar afterwards, and yer man from Papa Roach was out of his tree. Turned down attention from a succession of young groupies, to continue chatting absolute broken biscuits to me and my best mate. Nice fella.
Rita_Poon
Player Valuation: £90m
My friends and I were talking about the times that bands have been booed off stage. This led me to google one occasion I remembered (Styx in front of 40 thousand drunk Texans) and I found a funny thread on some blog on exactly this topic: bands you’ve seen booed offstage.
The entry below (obviously I didn’t write it) is pertinent to this thread and maybe some of you were at this gig:
**********
The Beastie Boys - Royal Court Theatre, Liverpool - 30 May, 1987
Growing up in the 60s, it was hard not to fall in love with Liverpool. It seemed to be full of musicians and comedians, and I thought everyone lived like The Liver Birds! When it came time to think about where I wanted to study, Liverpool was high on my list. When the first lecturer I met there during my day of interviews turned out to be the brother of the owner of the village café, it just seemed like fate. I had to go there.
Liverpool is a great place, and Scousers are great people. They can be hysterically funny, but they don't suffer fools gladly, and they are fiercely loyal both to their city and to each other. Liverpool also has a reputation, unjustly I feel, as being a rough place. True, it is a port, and has more than its fair share of shady characters and shady areas, but overall it is a vibrant, exciting place.
Like a lot of places, the locals fancy themselves as a bunch of hard-nuts. Rivalry with other cities, and especially with other soccer fans, meant fighting was, and is, a way of life. Into this arena in May 1987 came The Beastie Boys, three white guys from very privileged backgrounds. Like Napoleon, they would soon meet their Waterloo!
In my concert going experience, there are a few acts that seem to generate an excitement and expectation level before each show that is palpable. You have the feeling that an energy level is building, and the place could explode at any minute. The Stones have that, Paul McCartney (in lieu of The Beatles) has that, Led Zeppelin had it.
I had been turned onto the Beasties by a friendly local record store salesman, Tim. How could you not like the amusing lyrics and the Zep riffs? When the Liverpool date was announced, Tim asked if I was interested in going. Of course, it seemed like it would be fun.
We turned up at the Royal Court Theatre, and immediately you could sense something in the air. There were tons of scallies outside trying to find some scam to get themselves inside. We strolled up to the door and Tim knew the security guard that checked our tickets. "It's pretty lively in there," he said. After stopping for a beer, we entered the theatre proper. The energy level in the room was running at alarm levels. "F--k, this place is wound up," said Tim. Deciding that this was perhaps not the best night to be front of stage, we hung around at the back, just in front of the mixing desk.
The support act was another Russell Simmons act. I can't remember exactly who, but they were tolerated more than enjoyed, and the crowd taunted them the entire time. Eventually, it was time for the Boys themselves to take the stage. They had 2 guys running turntables behind them, and two strippers in cages on each side of the stage. No sooner had they begun than it started raining cans of beer on the stage, and the throwers were good shots! They hit the turntables, they hit the strippers, they hit the Beasties. After a few minutes, the show was stopped, the band left the stage, and someone made an impassioned plea for the 'nonsense' to stop, and that the show would not continue until people stopped throwing stuff, and refrained from throwing anything when the band re-appeared. There were some jeers from the crowd but the rain of missiles stopped.
The band re-appeared on stage, and immediately the can throwing re-started with renewed vigor and renewed accuracy. The strippers were out of the cages in a heartbeat. The DJs were more interested in ducking behind their turntables than spinning discs. The Beasties were doing their best to act tough, and dodge the missiles, but they quickly realized that they were up against a far more potent force than they could cope with. They made one more plea to no avail, and then left the stage for good (with their baseball bats between their legs!). An announcement was then made that the concert was over, and people should leave the venue. This did not go down well with the crowd, who intensified their bombardment of the stage even more. When people realized that the band really was not coming back, some decided to take matters into their own hands. There was an almighty crash, and the mixing desk and lighting console were suddenly reduced to their component parts. People started trying to storm the stage and destroy the rest of the gear. The next thing we hear is a poof, and suddenly the place is filling with tear gas. Things were rapidly getting out of hand. Tim looked at me, and said, "I think its time to go, don't you?" We left just as Merseyside's finest arrived in their meat wagons. They would arrest 5 people, and later arrest Adam Horowitz for allegedly returning one of the cans with a baseball bat and hitting a female fan in the face. We strolled out with the chant of "We tamed the Beasties!" ringing in our ears.
Outside on the street, Tim and I looked at each other with that "Did that really just happen" look. The show had lasted less than ten minutes. It was a surreal experience. No concert before or since matched the ferocious energy level that oozed from that crowd. You could sense that something big was going to happen, and it did.
The entry below (obviously I didn’t write it) is pertinent to this thread and maybe some of you were at this gig:
**********
The Beastie Boys - Royal Court Theatre, Liverpool - 30 May, 1987
Growing up in the 60s, it was hard not to fall in love with Liverpool. It seemed to be full of musicians and comedians, and I thought everyone lived like The Liver Birds! When it came time to think about where I wanted to study, Liverpool was high on my list. When the first lecturer I met there during my day of interviews turned out to be the brother of the owner of the village café, it just seemed like fate. I had to go there.
Liverpool is a great place, and Scousers are great people. They can be hysterically funny, but they don't suffer fools gladly, and they are fiercely loyal both to their city and to each other. Liverpool also has a reputation, unjustly I feel, as being a rough place. True, it is a port, and has more than its fair share of shady characters and shady areas, but overall it is a vibrant, exciting place.
Like a lot of places, the locals fancy themselves as a bunch of hard-nuts. Rivalry with other cities, and especially with other soccer fans, meant fighting was, and is, a way of life. Into this arena in May 1987 came The Beastie Boys, three white guys from very privileged backgrounds. Like Napoleon, they would soon meet their Waterloo!
In my concert going experience, there are a few acts that seem to generate an excitement and expectation level before each show that is palpable. You have the feeling that an energy level is building, and the place could explode at any minute. The Stones have that, Paul McCartney (in lieu of The Beatles) has that, Led Zeppelin had it.
I had been turned onto the Beasties by a friendly local record store salesman, Tim. How could you not like the amusing lyrics and the Zep riffs? When the Liverpool date was announced, Tim asked if I was interested in going. Of course, it seemed like it would be fun.
We turned up at the Royal Court Theatre, and immediately you could sense something in the air. There were tons of scallies outside trying to find some scam to get themselves inside. We strolled up to the door and Tim knew the security guard that checked our tickets. "It's pretty lively in there," he said. After stopping for a beer, we entered the theatre proper. The energy level in the room was running at alarm levels. "F--k, this place is wound up," said Tim. Deciding that this was perhaps not the best night to be front of stage, we hung around at the back, just in front of the mixing desk.
The support act was another Russell Simmons act. I can't remember exactly who, but they were tolerated more than enjoyed, and the crowd taunted them the entire time. Eventually, it was time for the Boys themselves to take the stage. They had 2 guys running turntables behind them, and two strippers in cages on each side of the stage. No sooner had they begun than it started raining cans of beer on the stage, and the throwers were good shots! They hit the turntables, they hit the strippers, they hit the Beasties. After a few minutes, the show was stopped, the band left the stage, and someone made an impassioned plea for the 'nonsense' to stop, and that the show would not continue until people stopped throwing stuff, and refrained from throwing anything when the band re-appeared. There were some jeers from the crowd but the rain of missiles stopped.
The band re-appeared on stage, and immediately the can throwing re-started with renewed vigor and renewed accuracy. The strippers were out of the cages in a heartbeat. The DJs were more interested in ducking behind their turntables than spinning discs. The Beasties were doing their best to act tough, and dodge the missiles, but they quickly realized that they were up against a far more potent force than they could cope with. They made one more plea to no avail, and then left the stage for good (with their baseball bats between their legs!). An announcement was then made that the concert was over, and people should leave the venue. This did not go down well with the crowd, who intensified their bombardment of the stage even more. When people realized that the band really was not coming back, some decided to take matters into their own hands. There was an almighty crash, and the mixing desk and lighting console were suddenly reduced to their component parts. People started trying to storm the stage and destroy the rest of the gear. The next thing we hear is a poof, and suddenly the place is filling with tear gas. Things were rapidly getting out of hand. Tim looked at me, and said, "I think its time to go, don't you?" We left just as Merseyside's finest arrived in their meat wagons. They would arrest 5 people, and later arrest Adam Horowitz for allegedly returning one of the cans with a baseball bat and hitting a female fan in the face. We strolled out with the chant of "We tamed the Beasties!" ringing in our ears.
Outside on the street, Tim and I looked at each other with that "Did that really just happen" look. The show had lasted less than ten minutes. It was a surreal experience. No concert before or since matched the ferocious energy level that oozed from that crowd. You could sense that something big was going to happen, and it did.