It's the early hours of March 13th 2004, and I've had too much to drink. With me is a similarly intoxicated 17-year old (I didn't buy the drink, Guv'nor) Robbie and a most gracious host, the just turned 18, keeper of the drink cabinet (yeah, I'll point the finger), Matt.
What I didn't realise at the time, as a 24 year old, was that one (albeit slightly slurred) line from the youngest in our number was to be the catalyst that would trigger the project that would subsequently occupy the next six and a half years of my life.
'Chocolate and Porn is needed'.
On route to the Quix service station, via marshland, mosquitos and unpleasant gradients (I was even less fit back then), we talked and talked. Conversation seemed to hang around the subject of Ev's recent death and more pertinently, writing a concept album based on it. Sure, if it seemed like a good idea when we'd sobered up... why not?
It is interesting to note that in the time it took to finish the record, that marshland had been turned into a fully functional, landscaped housing estate, with lawns, trees and all the trimmings. Suburbs are built quicker than Anubis records.
But this has all been described already, by me, ad nauseam.
230503 has been downloaded across the globe, has been bought and paid for by people we don't even know, in places like Japan and the UK. This is more than I, more than we, ever dreamed of.
All those feelings, the shows, mastering day, first full playback at Dean's, playing the album in rehearsal, seeing Matt's album cover for the first time, all come flooding back as the countdown to the 230503 show continues at a fearsome pace. We have one more full-band rehearsal to do, and we've recorded the last rehearsal version of 230503 we're likely to, at least this time around. We've elected to, like most gig weeks, not record the final rehearsal.
The idea of doing this gig is something I've had in my head since that night at Matt's. I've never performed an album in it's entirety before (excluding Dark Side Of The Moon). This ticks a big box for me. It also marks the end of the map, in a sense. Everything from here on is uncharted waters, and I have no idea what lies ahead, other than what maybe illuminated by the new songs that Rob, Doug and I have been putting together. But when they become Anubis songs and the next album takes shape, the direction will be largely unfamiliar.
I know Robbie (now nearly 24 and infinitely wiser than his inebriated 17 year old self) sees this show as a means of putting this project to bed in order to get straight on with the next one. Can't pin that boy down for a second...
I, to a certain extent feel the same way, but I find that I'm dwelling more on the journey itself. Every step of the way from planning to writing to recording to rehearsing to performing has seen obstacles conquered, plans made, milestones reached.
It's a given I sometimes over-romanticise about these things, but the honeycombs of my brain are richer for having such a warm view of all these experiences. To me, 230503 cumulatively represents a personal search for what I invisaged my musical life to sound like. It has rewarded me, many times over, for taking on the challenge and when I hit the opening bars of The Deepest Wound next Saturday night, there will not be a more satisfied and proud person on this planet.
