2013 with the Wedding Present

I saw quite a few bands in 2013.  And I saw one particular band quite a few times.  The Wedding Present.

It started with Brighton. We'd been twice before to David Gedge's At The Edge Of The Sea festival, but I wasn't convinced we should go again.  'They're playing two nights,' I said, 'but on the first night they're playing George Best all the way through, which isn't my favourite Pressies' album, and then they're doing Hit Parade, and you know I don't like bands playing an album all the way through as a format.  It takes away any element of surprise.'

I had been to see Bruce Springsteen at Wembley Stadium in June on the night he decided to play Darkness On The Edge Of Town - an album I'm not familiar with - in its entirety.  I found the gig correspondingly dull as a result.  (I recognise that of the 60,000 people at that gig, 59,999 probably wouldn't agree with my description of the gig as 'dull', and I hasten to add that I'd seen Bruce play the Etihad the previous year and enjoyed it immensely).

However, come the end of August Kate and I were in Brighton for the annual (and now two day) celebration of all things Wedding Present.

The band played on Saturday and Sunday, running through George Best on the first night and the twelve consecutive chart placed singles from 1992 that made up the Hit Parade album on the following night, and were on fine form as always.

The venue, Concorde 2, has very few places to sit down which makes the festival nature of the event - running for seven hours each day - something of an endurance test for someone of my advancing years.  So between the opening act (Cinerama on both days, playing sides one and two of their album Va Va Voom) and the Pressies we availed ourselves of Brighton beach, where we went and laid on the pebbles to watch the sun start to go down before the main event of the evening.

When we got home, the idea of going to see the Pressies on their November UK tour seemed like a good idea. Dusting off The Hit Parade for the first time in ages to listen to it anew had persuaded me that seeing the band again a couple of times more would be a good thing.

'And,' I said, 'they're playing Paris and then two gigs in Lille. Do you fancy going to see them three times in 36 hours?'

Kate, despite firmly rebutting any labelling of her as a Wedding Present obsessive, did.

So the flight to Paris and the trains and hotels were booked.  'But it's your job to sort the tickets for the gigs,' she said.  Which was easier said than done. My schoolboy French was not sufficient to enable me to navitage the two venues' websites, and with no English language website available, I emailed the band's record label Scopitones for help.  Acknowledging the difficulty in getting tickets for European gigs Jessica, David's girlfriend, kindly arranged to put us on the guest list for Paris and Lille. 'And you do know the band are playing a matinee in Lille?'

The Paris gig was at La Maroquinerie, a small club which online reviews of other bands suggested had great views and a great sound.  We watched from the first floor balcony as the band, coming to the end of the continental leg of their tour, played a not dissimilar set to what we'd witnessed in Brighton.  The gig, aided by a great venue, was a good one.

Afterwards, we spoke to Jessica who said that the band would be playing a toned down set for the matinee in Lille the next day and that they'd be on stage at 4pm.

From Paris next morning we went by train, arriving in a very wet Lille around lunchtime.  After a quick bite to eat, and having scouted out the location of the venue on arrival, we headed down to L'Aeronef for the first of two planned gigs that day.

On arrival at the venue the signs were not promising.  Two separate adults were leading their young children up the metal staircase to what we thought was the venue, which looked shut.  Arriving at the rear entrance we could see several more adults with assorted children ranging from toddlers to kids up to perhaps eight years of age.  We seemed to be in the wrong place.

The woman at the door was not encouraging.

'We've come for the Wedding Present gig,' I said.

'Come back this evening,' she replied. 'At 8 o'clock.'

'We've come for the matinee,' I said.

'The Wedding Present are this evening,' she said firmly. 'There is a matinee, but you cannot come in.'

'But we're on the guest list,' I protested.  At this, she relented and led us to the box office where she issued us with two tickets.

Waiting in the lobby, where I managed to spend a couple of Euros on a handily placed Rollng Stones pinball machine, we weree still not sure we were in the right place.  We'd come to see a rock band but everyone else had small children with them and looked as though they were going to a kids' birthday party.

But the venue duly opened the doors to the main arena and we trooped in along with the parents and their many offspring to be greeted by the sight of Tilly on the Pressies' merchandise stall, the first familiar face and the first clear indication that we were definitely in the right place.

What followed was one of the most bizarre gigs I've been to - the Wedding Present coming onstage, plugging in their instruments and launching into a 25 minute set in front of an audience of adults and small children sat cross legged as though they were all back at school.  Which in the case of some of the audience members would have been less than 48 hours before.

The evening performance - for grown ups - was also low key, with no mosh pit and the restrained audience standing well back from the band.  This was no fault of the band, but the French crowd were quite stand offish.  Needless to say, we took advantage of the crowd's diffidence to stand on the front row, and being able to watch the Pressies from close quarters without being sent flying by an overweight fiftysomething (and I write this as an overweight fiftysomething myself) was a rare delight.

We arrived back in the UK and immediately began planning our trips around the UK.  By the time Wolverhampton rolled around, the enormity of what we'd signed up to began to hit me.  Wolverhampton on a Tuesday night would be followed by Leeds, Glasgow, Aberdeen and Liverpool. Five gigs in eight days.  Okay, the band were following the same schedule but we were fitting the gigs in around our day jobs, with a half day's leave taken on Friday to allow us time to get up to Glasgow the only concession to the itinerary we had set ourselves.

Wolverhampton was wet, with the rain sheeting down.  The venue, it has to be said, wasn't great, and we were at the back of the crowd where the chattering classes gather and where the sound wasn't as crisp as you might expect.  Never a great spot to be.

Leeds two days later was much better.  The venue was bigger and a larger crowd made for a cracking atmosphere.  The Pressies almost always sell out what is their home town gig and the O2 Academy, with its large dance floor and clear sight lines, is a great place to witness a rock band in full flight.

The following evening we were in Glasgow.  Another O2 Academy and another great venue.  The band were extremely loud and the crowd raucous.  Talking to guitarist Patrick Alexander, drummer Charles Layton and bassist Katharine Wallinger afterwards we were probably less than coherent as we babbled enthusiastically to them about how much we'd enjoyed the performance.

We would have gone to see the band in Aberdeen (indeed, we had tickets and I had booked a hotel in Aberdeen) but a chance conversation with Tilly on the merchandise stall brought home to me the fact that the Aberdeen gig was on Sunday. (I had booked the hotel for Saturday) and that I had screwed up.  Since I had to be at work on Monday afternoon, we were going to have to give The Lemon Tree a miss. Fortunately, I found someone on Twitter who could make use of the tickets so they didn't go to waste.

The following Tuesday saw us, and the band, in Liverpool.  Another O2 Academy gig, with the Pressies playing upstairs while The Cult took up occupation of the larger downstairs space.

Epic Studios in Norwich was the venue for our penultimate gig of the year.  The former home of Anglia TV and where Sale of the Century, hosted by Nicholas Parsons, was filmed, the cameras were also on for this gig and streamed on t'Internet for anyone who cared to part with £5 for the privilege.  The set was more of a greatest hits, with nothing from the Hit Parade, and the band were once again excellent, although David fluffed the intro to closing number End Credits by forgetting the lyrics, forcing the band to restart the song.

And, finally for us and the band, Leeds again at the Brudenell Social Club with a raucous crowd, a couple of enthusiastic bouncers and Gedgey getting banged in the mouth by a stray microphone. 'I'll bring a gum shield next time,' he said.

So that's it for 2013.  Kate and I saw 11 performances by The Wedding Present, and two by Cinerama.  Quite a haul given that we had no firm plans to go and see the band come the end of July.

Seeing the band play their matinee gig in Lille and witnessing the obvious delight of the band at the enthusiasm of some of the younger members of the audience was a highlight.  As was the whole adventure of seeing the band several times over.

And will we be going to see The Wedding Present in 2014?  Well Athens is already pencilled in the diary....