The Curse Of The Sandringham

Aaaaaarrrrrrgggghhhhh!

The Sandringham was, in July 2002, one of the most enjoyable gigs I have ever played. In March 2008, it was the hottest, most cramped, loudest, hiccup-laden performance in memory.

Before I go on, I must qualify that anything I say here does not represent the view of Anubis, or in any way mean to diminish the excellent conglomerate we're taking part in, nor does it mean that I didn't feel pleased, post-gig, with the pleasure that the audience derived from our set. Far from it.

But I spent 35 minutes with only 7 sizes of my size 15 feet actually on stage, and the other 8 precariously hanging over a 1.5 foot drop into a wilderness of cables and anonymous roadcases, in what HAD to have been 50 degree heat, in a room no bigger than your average living room, with 130 people, minimal lights and a sound person, who already insenced at our displeasure of being cut by 10 minutes (through no fault of our own), realised she had no idea how to actually mix a keyboard player, and I might as well have not been there at all.

I lost about 4 pints of water in perspiration.

Musically, we mirrored the sound. Uneven at best and catastrophic at worst! Dougie, hearing nothing but himself got caught in polrhythm hell when he went into a 5/4 section over everybody elses 4/4 groove, and then we fell apart. Hilarious.

Nearly everyone of Steve's cymbals fell over.

My organ disappeared many times from inaudiable to absent and back again.

Nick got completely thrown at the end of the third part of disinfected and gave up completely before returning with twice the venom.

Robbie, perversely sang better than ever, and everyone said so.

The situation meant, on my part, a very static performance where I was unable to move (at all, for fear of broken ankles on my inevitable falling into the pit) and pinned in. The stage was smaller than the drum riser at the last Pink Floyd show.

The crowd lifted the performance as much as possible but during the show, which I believe to be our worst ever, the band were dispirited and very angry. Much of this ire is directed at the incompetence of the sound reinforcement person, and the inadequacy of the performance space to accomodate a 5 piece band with quite a technical set-up.

The positives, for there are a few, is that the audience was very responsive, and Anubis seemed very well recieved. Robert in particular came up for praise, and a poaching coup was attempted by another band, but failed at the hurdle of Nick requiring a fee for the use of Rob's services. Steven was also praised by people for his feel and percussive intelligence.

I wasn't, but then I was inaudiable for the majority of the time.

Nick and Doug's new rigs were very very good.

My old pal and former bandmate/current floydmate Chris made the trek and was uncharateristically positive about the performance (Chris specialises in 'constructive critiscism' that usually culminates in my slight disillusionment), and his advice, energy and enthusiasm meant much to this writer. The other garden ornament in my life, Dean the Spaniel, my fellow imitation muffin and Major Domo of the Floyd show, producer of Anubis and very easily irritated, also appeared, bleary eyed and sleep deprived, and disappeared before I got to the spot where I knew he was previously standing. Apparently he was positive too, but he has not been heard of since. I hope he didn't fall into the toilet (overflowing with flies buzzing around it).

The venue has gone down much in both it's ambience and sound quality since the days we debuted 'They Breed Them For The Credit' there in 2002. Still, I had Lazikos to look forward to.

On the way home, Rob and I reviewed the recording. The sound was atrocious. The music was average, the vocals were exceptional. The performance was enraged. We turned it off, at the conclusion of 'the Collapse', and went for a greasy post-gig nosh. When we began the last leg of the journey, we found the recorder had deemed the file corrupt and had formatted the card it records to, dumping the whole performance back into the ether from whence it was dragged.

The Curse Of The Sandringham strikes again.

Next stop: The Bridge. Hopefully with the excellent sound I have come to expect from the venue.