Strutting our stuff in Stroud

( Picture taken Feb 2008, Borderline London copyright Life in the Straighjacket)

Monday night we travelled to Stroud in Gloucestershire to see Hayseed Dixie live, WH having also seen them the night before in Exeter. 2 gigs on consecutive nights has got to be good going, he's more of a fan than me now.

We knew we’d got the right place when we pulled into the station car-park behind the Imperial Hotel and parked right by JW's famous new bike. After checking out the windows of the Polish deli and Polish restaurant (never knew Stroud was so ethnic) we settled in Wetherspoons on St Patrick’s night to the sound of two Irish guys having an argument and a whole bunch of, you-guessed-it, Poles. Shortly after the meal arrived we got a first glimpse of JW and Dave-who-does-our-sound trying to act all incognito with tweed cap and horn rimmed glasses. We kept our distance but did notice several other ‘fans’ paying homage at the service counter. Jake was spotted having a crafty smoke outside. Time to leave and go suss out the venue. The Subscription Rooms are owned by the local council and are an old fashioned theatre venue with chandeliers, a ballroom and a recent makeover of the bars and cafe area. Huge bouncers in Crombie coats guarded the door and divested us all of any suspicious looking articles, in my case half a (plastic) bottle of water. We wondered what we were in for.

Inside, the clientele seemed to be a mix of the local 'arty' types and yummy mummies attired in Boden and Joules. " A glass of chardonnay I think please, Henry." The men were bank-manager smart in casual mode, cashmere sweaters and cord trousers. Quite odd really. We wondered if they knew what they were in for. One or two broke the mould and looked like the normal Hayseed crowd, if anyone who loves them can be considered normal, a crowd of lads in false beards and cut off dungarees, a handful of bikers and the usual denim/leather clad brigade of lone males with too much hair. Frightened off by the distorted wall of sound which greeted us as Instill started their support set, we retreated to the coffee bar which declined to supply us with coffee but appended the statement that if they had known that 600 people would all be wanting coffee they would have switched the machine on. We sat and drank our cokes surrounded by an atmosphere more akin to a school PTA meeting amid cries of "Oh No, they've even got a siren now" and a loud "Ger off,you're crap" in a Brummie accent. At that stage we began to think there was another alternative event going on in the building.

Fortified by the warm coke, again we ascended the stairs for the main event as Instill performed their final number. the applause was lukewarm. The crowd in front of the stage did not seem very interested in any of the music, rather they were keen to seen 'down the front' and were braying to their friends across the room. Trays of pint glasses were placed on the stage and conversation resembled the hunt ball. When the boys came on to tune their instruments there were several loud cheers from the back and the whole hall surged forward in anticipation, displacing the local hoi-polloi with a few real fans.

After the customary 'Hello and Welcome', Kirby Hill got them going properly. The crowd seemed to be Hayseed newbies as very few hands went up when JW asked who had seen them before. The boys were on cracking form though and soon won them over, almost bringing the house down with Holiday about ¾ way through. They appeared to have been injected with speed as they tore through a mix of oldies and No Covers stuff. Dale was doing a great Maori haka for most of the set, his eyeliner even darker then usual; Jake got a load of laughs for fancying the support drummer (really?); and Don-Wayne dedicated his Daddy’s tune to Rachel-at-the-back for the encore. Dale singing 'Sweet Alabam' was just one high point in a set which had all the stomping classics and those of us who knew the words singing along as fast as we could manage which was not fast enough most of the time. A musician friend had told WH that on the Sunday they played at least 200 beats per min and this seemed even faster. After over 90 minutes the show was over.

We had to skip the after gig party at a pub up the road and had to high-tail it back down the M5 to go to an early funeral on Tuesday. No doubt there would be a few sore heads in Stroud that morning. We've just got to wait another few months now for the boys return later in the year as we can't get to any of the other gigs on this tour sensibly, holidays, weekends away and work conspire to prevent us.