Well, here we are. Another day another gig for the fifty-somethings comes to a close. This is the moment when one realises that there are various medical conditions associated with age which those at the summit of the music business never have to deal with. I refer of course to such things as the knee cartilage, dodgy since that tackle on the Dog and Duck centre-half (note the terminology. No centre-backs then). The back problem as a result of a fracas with a recalcitrant chaise longue or the incipient prostate condition which results in the last few numbers having a certain urgency to them.
Over the years one realises that Keith Emerson never had to carry a Hammond B3 up a wet spiral staircase. Chris Squire has for a number of years not had to carry a block of flats with Ampeg written on it up three flights of stairs and Nick Mason could never get the old DW in the back of the Ferrari.
It is a source of much grunting and groaning when trying to remove a Hardcase for the uninitiated this is a drum box not Mad Frankie Fraser)from the boot of the Astra or, the collective failure of the whole band to locate the treble knob on the guitarists amplifier due to vanity. This manifests itself in a refusal of the band to wear their spectacles and results in a collective myopia involving much squinting and faces set in a strabismus. It also involves set lists with the font so large you could use it for christenings.
The ageing process produces some surprising events when playing such as alarms on watches going off to remind the owner to take their medication. A bass player of my acquaintance was wont to go down on one knee during the second set. This was not a part of the show but, he insisted as a result of exhaustion at playing two one hour sets. Having said that he did have spectacles that had Booth’s Gin writ large on the lenses.
The ageing guitar player has to deal with cramp after an hour or so resulting in a condition we call the wayward digit. The bass player has shoulders so round from carrying the WAL you could use them as a ski slope and the drummer with a hip condition that necessitates an overuse of sticky Analgesic Gel that results in jeans welded to the upper thigh.
It is not just at the Gig either. The ageing muso on his or her return home can often tumble in to bed at around four am and forgetting the grandchildren are staying, be woken some two hours later for a game of Donkey Kong. In my case it was a small child singing Christmas Carols in June. On the way home the pit stop at the local fast food joint can result in a frantic search for the Zantac or Rennies. The only drug abuse I’ve witnessed of late involves swearing at the packaging of the above and sex?….. In your dreams pal.
Next week live at Rotherham Corporation Transport Social Club.
