Well, I went to see Status Quo at the Sheffield Arena tonight, and when I checked the post code for the sat nav I noticed that the support act was Joe Brown.
This was a blast from the past. I can remember him from when I was a kid, so it was great to know I’d get to see him play live. He still looks the same as he ever did, with his stand-up hair! He’s been in the game for more than 50 years now.
He’s incredibly talented though – and his son, who is a pretty decent guitar player, plays in the band.
Joe said that he was wary about playing to arena-sized crowds – his band usually plays smaller venues – but was taken aback by the reception.
Quo played their typical set: all the old favourites, along with some that I’d never heard live before. Even my mate, who is a big Quo fan and goes to see them every year, said that.
They tour almost continuously, and I know they had to cancel some dates not long ago because Francis Rossi was ill. It makes you wonder how long they can go on when you consider Rossi is 61 and Parfitt 62. Rossi in particular looks drawn, and they expend a lot of energy when they do a gig. Still, while it lasts…
On the people watching front, there was no crowd surfing – as there was at the Bullet For My Valentine show last week. This was good, because we were only 6 rows back and I understand that zimmer frames hurt when one hits you on the back of the head. The crowd was satisfyingly short, so when they all stood up there was absolutely no obstruction of my view. And there was even less obstruction after about 45 minutes, when they all had to keep sitting down for a rest.
Minor irritations were people with weak bladders (and possibly colostomy bags) keep going out to the loo – and, being middle-aged couples they always go in pairs. And the smell of cheap perfume… oddly enough, reminiscent of the smell in a well-maintained gents.
Gone are the days (well, except for that Bullet For My Valentine show, and maybe that MGMT one… and Primal Scream… hang on a minute!) when everyone smelled the same: like a sack of potatoes, or something else slightly perishable which had been kept in the shed for a long time.