Saturday, 9 May 2009

Manchester mystery tour and sucioperro

Thought Id take a risk and write something when I've had one or two glasses of red. My Manchester mystery tour and second Sucioperro gig of the year happened on Thursday 7th May. First of all, it's important to point out that this gig was one of the best I've ever been to. I was absolutely lost in musical joy. Sucioperro are a band of three that make the noise of many more. Powerful and epic. I was utterly pleased to experience a preceding gig at Liverpool on 1st May but comparatively speaking Manchester roadhouse was astounding. It wasnt just the music, it was the crowd and something about the vibe that made it as near perfect as you'll probably ever get. Two encore tracks were not expected but received with aching smileyness. Raging riffs, screaming but melodic vocals. As I said, joyous. If anyone reads these words and hasnt experienced Sucioperro yet, I urge you to do so - you won't be disappointed. http://www.sucioperro.com/ and www.myspace.com/sucioperro. I’d like to pick a track highlight but it’s impossible to do so. All songs were delivered with precision. Support bands were good – particularly the second one (whose name I cannot remember) – they sounded similar to 65 days of static. On a different note, I drank far too much - met with the unanticipated possibility of pinot grigio at a music venue lead to over-indulgence of the highest achievement. I attended the gig with Mark, a fellow Sucioperro aficionado, as part of an exclusive board meet - exclusive in that there was only Mark and I involved in it! My first experience of a board meet up. I’d certainly do it again.

I stayed in one of Manchester’s top hotels – it previously sat somewhere near number one on Manchester Evening News’ exclusiveness list. Sadly though, they changed the d├ęcor, ambience, staff, added some dirt, broken furniture and re-graded themselves from 5 star to 2 star for my stay. Actually Im being unfair – the hotel was okay (or as we say in Staffordshire – it was oreet). It was very near the Manchester Roadhouse (the venue) and near to the station. Ideal really (from a particular viewpoint). After the gig, Mark and I visited the hotel bar briefly – luckily we were sensible or possibly already too drunk to spend too much money there. Mark went home, I fell into a fitful and dream-filled sleep (after landing in my room, fortunately I was still sober enough not to collapse in the bar).

The next day I awoke, spent some time trying to remove my hangover and create the impression that I was a human being rather than zombie. I checked out and headed into a vaguely sunny Manchester. Decided to make some ethical purchases and was embarrassed to find that my trusty debit card, always so reliable in the past, refused to pay. Red-faced and flustered, I left and attempted to secure money from the cash-machine which was a contradiction on this day because cash was not delivered into my hopeful hand, instead I was met with a server error. A latter phone call with my bank informed me that I was hideously overdrawn (my adjective, not theirs). The luck of the Irish was definitely not with me because I then discovered to my absolute delight (insert sarcasm here) that I didn’t have enough cash to get home! Inefficient planning coupled with an unhealthy desire for spending meant that I spent hours in Manchester waiting for my friend Jase to finish work so that he could take me home. Though I suppose, putting a positive slant on the proceedings you could argue that I was lucky that Jase worked in Manchester because I have no idea how I would have got home otherwise. I left the hotel at 11 am and Jase finished work at 5.20. It was a long and cold day (you can only spend so long sitting in a pub with very little money and only a free paper to keep you company) so I also spent an hour perched on a plastic bench under a bus shelter. For some reason passing drivers found my sitting at a bus shelter very interesting. As if they had never seen a shivering blonde female before. Lots of staring and the occasional peep later I was rescued by Jase. I arrived home to rush around like a women on edge in preparation for a hen party. I went from some of the best music I’ve ever heard to music that I hope I’ll never hear again in the space of a day. It’s an interesting life.

The next time I go to a gig, I will take more cash and check my bank balance before leaving the house. I will also attempt to interject the vodka and wine with some soft drinks. It’s a plan, probably unachievable but definitely a plan. I will now retire to my bed for some much needed sleep (it’s ten to 1am in Staffordshire you know!).

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