In 2000 i was still in The
Knuckledraggers and we had a gig lined up at The Hole In The Wall in
Wellington with fellow Nelsonites Dogslobba, supported by The Deaf
Terrorists. I was on a self-imposed exile at the time due to out of
control drug consumption, and was slowly coming right but knew i had to
make the trek back up the line for this gig. Drove up with my mate Moose
on the Thursday and managed to squeeze in a band practice. Got up the
next morning and got ourselves chemically sorted, and suddenly we were
off on a summer holiday, cruising real slow, taking in the scenery,
music blaring, yelling over the top of each other, not a care in the
world. Stopped in Havelock for a coffee with a friends elderly mother,
and i have this distinct memory of suddenly jumping up and yelling "The
ferry!!!" And then it was all on. Action Jackson behind the wheel, full
tit all the way. Made it just in time to run on the car ramp as all the
other guys stood up the top laughing at us. They laughed even more as
they told me i'd parked the car in a tow-away zone. Shit.
We were staying at Nath and Stephs' so made our way up there and then all headed down to a cafe for an open mic performance night that'd been organised by a few ex-Nelson musos, and some of us indulged ourselves with the spotlight.
Saturday finally dawned late in the morning for us all, and we wasted no time in getting ourselves down to the city and hitting the piss. What a messy afternoon it became, and then evening, as we made our way to the venue and mixed with all the punters as they arrived. Quite a sizeable crowd in the end.
Deaf Terrorists were first up, a 3-piece drums/guitar/singer arrangement. I remember them playing an enjoyably chaotic set, despite the vocalist and guitarist having a penchant for spitting everywhere, especially at each other. Never understood the appeal in that caper.
They were followed by Dogslobba, another 3-piece with Rik from Gripper on drums/vocals, Johnny Knees-Up from Johnny Christ on bass, and legendary busker Harold Mudd on guitar/vocals. A brilliant combination of musicians that still remain one of my favourite Nelson bands. They were fucken wicked that night, powerful and tight, and got the great response they deserved.
The Knuckledraggers closed it off, and we were also stoked at the response we got, despite the liberal smattering of mistakes that pervaded the set. Was an honour to take our own local version of Oi music to the capital city and more or less pull it off. At one stage the Deaf Terrorists guitarist launched a massive sticky globule of phlegm that covered one side of my face like a piece of warm plastic. I clearly remember being perplexed about how i should respond - give the cunt a good clout, spit back at him, wrap my guitar round his head, or just keep playing like nothing had happened. I chose the last option and somehow didn't even miss a chord. But if anyone happens to know that cunt, could you let him know i've been saving for the last decade and can now pay back his generous "loan" with plenty of interest.
Afterwards we managed to narrowly avoid a potentially nasty brawl at a fish n chip shop with a group of pissed up rednecks that just didn't like the look of us, before joining up with everyone else back at Steve Droog's for a messy bout of alcohol consumption that stretched right through to the break of dawn. The Wellington crew were great hosts that looked after us and laid on the good times.
Caught the late afternoon ferry after a long hungover day, arriving at Picton in the dark, and sure enough, my car had been towed away. So, as all the rest of the crew drove off to Nelson, me and Moose were left to wearily trudge through the streets looking for the home of the towtruck guy, only to find noone home. He eventually arrived back about ten o'clock at night to issue us an exorbitant fee that could only be covered by Moose tapping into his mortgage payment money, much to the future wrath of his unsuspecting wife. Survived a flat tyre and a dangerously empty gas tank to finally make it back to Nelson at about three in the morning.
We were staying at Nath and Stephs' so made our way up there and then all headed down to a cafe for an open mic performance night that'd been organised by a few ex-Nelson musos, and some of us indulged ourselves with the spotlight.
Saturday finally dawned late in the morning for us all, and we wasted no time in getting ourselves down to the city and hitting the piss. What a messy afternoon it became, and then evening, as we made our way to the venue and mixed with all the punters as they arrived. Quite a sizeable crowd in the end.
Deaf Terrorists were first up, a 3-piece drums/guitar/singer arrangement. I remember them playing an enjoyably chaotic set, despite the vocalist and guitarist having a penchant for spitting everywhere, especially at each other. Never understood the appeal in that caper.
They were followed by Dogslobba, another 3-piece with Rik from Gripper on drums/vocals, Johnny Knees-Up from Johnny Christ on bass, and legendary busker Harold Mudd on guitar/vocals. A brilliant combination of musicians that still remain one of my favourite Nelson bands. They were fucken wicked that night, powerful and tight, and got the great response they deserved.
The Knuckledraggers closed it off, and we were also stoked at the response we got, despite the liberal smattering of mistakes that pervaded the set. Was an honour to take our own local version of Oi music to the capital city and more or less pull it off. At one stage the Deaf Terrorists guitarist launched a massive sticky globule of phlegm that covered one side of my face like a piece of warm plastic. I clearly remember being perplexed about how i should respond - give the cunt a good clout, spit back at him, wrap my guitar round his head, or just keep playing like nothing had happened. I chose the last option and somehow didn't even miss a chord. But if anyone happens to know that cunt, could you let him know i've been saving for the last decade and can now pay back his generous "loan" with plenty of interest.
Afterwards we managed to narrowly avoid a potentially nasty brawl at a fish n chip shop with a group of pissed up rednecks that just didn't like the look of us, before joining up with everyone else back at Steve Droog's for a messy bout of alcohol consumption that stretched right through to the break of dawn. The Wellington crew were great hosts that looked after us and laid on the good times.
Caught the late afternoon ferry after a long hungover day, arriving at Picton in the dark, and sure enough, my car had been towed away. So, as all the rest of the crew drove off to Nelson, me and Moose were left to wearily trudge through the streets looking for the home of the towtruck guy, only to find noone home. He eventually arrived back about ten o'clock at night to issue us an exorbitant fee that could only be covered by Moose tapping into his mortgage payment money, much to the future wrath of his unsuspecting wife. Survived a flat tyre and a dangerously empty gas tank to finally make it back to Nelson at about three in the morning.
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