(Bruce Dickinson) In Search of The Now Man… Part Two...

In Search of The Now Man… Part Two

Wacken, Germany

Ticket and wrist band

Wednesday July 31^st

06.30 Woken by that bloody alarm clock again, to a house full of washing that was trying to dry and a sky full of angry clouds that were fighting over which one of them was going to have the pleasure of pissing all over my day.

08.45 The fight having been won some 45 minutes earlier by the biggest, nastiest most evil looking cloud I have ever seen in my life. I love thunder storms but that was something else. Why was the sky so low? It was as if someone had jacked up the Earth.

I couldn’t put it off any longer. I leave the house and make my way to Birmingham, via Walsall town centre and the TSB for some cash. “Water, water, everywhere…” vast sheets of water covers everything and anyone stupid enough to stop moving while everything and anyone moving just gets saturated.

10.30 Birmingham, Digbeth Coach Station, I just about make it. Isn’t it weird how the smallest amount of torrential rain can stuff everything up…? What is wrong with this country? It’s only rain…

13.30 London, Victoria Coach Station, and the over powering smell of sweaty backpackers, LOVELY! Bodies and ruck sacks send steam into the air while condensation drips down from the roof. We’ve created our own little “rain cycle” but at least it will keep the Eco Warriors happy, stupid hippies.

There are two English traditions that I’m about to be re-introduced to.

Firstly, Information Announcers that can’t speak English… It’s true and you know it. How do these people get these jobs? I love my country, I love what she stands for, but if you are going to come here to work, learn and speak the bloody language FIRST!

Secondly, it doesn’t matter how far you travel, if you stand still long enough the weather will catch up with you. The joy of living in a small country I guess. The storm thundered in, quite literally, and good stuff it was too. A boat, a boat, my kingdom for a boat…

15.05 After checking in with Euro Lines we leave London, “we” being “Celia” and her Spanish friends and “Ed” who is from Venezuela and studying in England. In all there were around a dozen of us that were all making our way to Wacken. The coach sails towards Dover. Stories start and continue to be told. I drift in and out of sleep. I dream of pirates and swash buckling adventures.

Just some of the bands I'd miss because of shopping and football

18.00 I woke in time to see us entering Dover, but where in Dover, I hadn’t got a clue where we were. It was a little un-nerving to be honest. Then it happened, the police storm the coach and demand everyone’s passports. They, as usual, have got it wrong, let them out and stop them coming in… It’s true and you know it. I double check their uniforms, no, they were English police and not French.

Then I saw it. The Tunnel. We were going to cross The Channel by going under it. This must mean we are not in Dover.

To be honest I was really excited about using The Tunnel because I’d never done it before, but wasn’t it a let-down, what an anti-climax it is, it is so boring. It was only compounded by the fact that for the first part of our trip we had slowly de-hydrated on the coach, even though it was humping it down with rain it was stupidly hot and sticky and I was looking forward to the bar on the ferry.

There was no bar in The Tunnel. I don’t understand why, it’s over 30 miles long, if Carlsberg had made The Tunnel it would probably be the greatest bar in the world…

20.30 We appear from a hole in the ground somewhere in France and we roll off towards Brussels.

23.05 Brussels and a change of coaches. Nobody seems to have a clue what is going on, and it all starts going horribly wrong. We all end up on different coaches but at least we were on the way to Hamburg. I think.

Thursday August 01^st

00.20 Antwerp. Wednesday has become Thursday and “another city goes by in the night…”

02.00 German Border Guards demand our passports and very pleasant they are too, NOT!

06.30 I woke just as the coach arrived on the outskirts of Hamburg. That’s it? Just dumped in street somewhere in Hamburg? Thanks Euro Lines. I could see the train station so I made my way there. I found a tourist and stationary shop so I stocked up on post cards and I bought myself a map of Hamburg.

(Until I get these images scanned in properly then these will just have to do)

I walked to my hotel, there was no point getting a taxi there because the rooms wouldn’t be ready and I’d been on my arse for the last 12 hours or more and I needed the walk to honest.

Hamburg in the morning was very peaceful and very pretty. They have done a good job rebuilding it. It was already 20C to 25C, it was hot and it was sticky and yet there was a lovely breeze coming of that river. Good thunder storm weather?

08.00 I arrive at my hotel (“Monopol”) only to be told that I’m not staying there I’m staying at the “Hotel Keese” just up the street. So, back up the street I go, I get to reception, I introduce myself and the lady checking me in informed me that my room was… READY! Bloody Hell… Brucie Bonus or what… I went straight to my room and took a shower. Heaven, truly heaven.

Find the hotel radio and tune into The BBC World Service. “This is London calling…” Oh Joy, my little piece of England, “The magazine “Shoplifters Monthly” has ceased trading after only two issues. A spokesman for the magazine said, “We just don’t understand the lack of sales””.

09.00 I sat outside my hotel watching the world go by, writing post cards and baking in the heat. Ed turns up and then goes off to check in. Drunks and bums stagger by and a one legged hooker keeps hassling me, “with or without?” I couldn’t decide if she meant with or without a condom or her missing leg. Something was being lost in translation. Then I thought would it be more or less expensive with or without her missing leg? I leave to explore the joys of The Reeperbahn.

Oh God, in all the excitement I forgot to mention that when I got to the hotel I found it was on The Reeperbahn, 4 days and nights in the infamous red light district of Hamburg… TRAGEDY! Nice one Argon Events.

12.00 Midday came and went and I finally got a text off Dave informing me that the Argon Events coach was at least 3 hours away. Enough was enough.

Anyone who knows me, knows how incredibly afraid of heights I am, but since 9/11 and my New York experience, I have developed a completely insane desire to go up the tallest buildings that I can find (no, I don’t understand it either). Now, the thing about Hamburg is that it has a very tall TV tower and basically its two concrete space ships on a stick and about 1000ft tall and only a 5 minute walk away. So, Ed and Myself decide we are going to up the tower, except that when we get there it was closed, permanently. BUGGER! We were so miffed. Unable to think of a way around the situation we did the only thing that made sense, we went shopping.

Ed took me to a record shop that he knew of from a previous trip called “Saturn” up by the train station. HOW CHEAP!? Bloody Hell Fire.

I might not have the biggest record collection but I’d happily argue it’s one of the most eclectic -  and I can fully recommend “Under The Green Corn Moon”

Eventually we made our way back to the hotel where the Argon Events coach had finally arrived, just as the weather started to change for the worse.

Remember when I wrote if you stand still long enough the weather will catch up with you? Well it did and it was the mother of the black cloud that I left behind in Walsall. So, by the time the storm hit our part of the city I was running all over the hotel and hanging out of the windows takings photos. Again, this storm was special. The sky went so dark and so low. It’s as if someone had placed a bucket over my head, everywhere went totally dark. Slowly and surely the storm made its way over the city and off towards the festival site… Oops! Welcome to Donington.

This is the thunder storm that bought so much chaos to Hamburg (top to bottom).

“St Pauli” approximately 100 metres from our hotel.

The next two photos were taken from the stairwell at the rear of the hotel looking towards an amusement park and building site. I tried to move up one floor to get a better view. The white on the right hand side of the image is the window frame/wall.

Notice how the TV Tower simply vanished… EEK!

18.30 We hit The Reeperbahn, club after shop after bar after food after and over again, Ed, Dave and Myself expose ourselves to the joys of the area while swopping stories of past adventures. Thursday drifts towards Friday. Fire engines noisily race up and down The Reeperbahn trying to de-flood Hamburg and we head off for an early-ish night.

Friday July 02^nd

For the front see Part One

07.00 Woken by that bloody alarm clock again and the realisation that it was still raining. I really didn’t want to get wet and I gave very serious thought to making my own way to the festival later in the day.

08.30 After the delights of a German breakfast and really must try one, we made our way to the coach and considering the weather everyone seems very upbeat.

I find a packet of cigarettes and a Harley Davidson Zippo lighter on a table and a stunning thing it is too. There is no one around to claim and I make a mental note of where and what time I’ve found it.

09.30 I woke as we entered the site only to find that it is still raining, but on the far horizon and I do mean far horizon the sky is brighter and higher, so the rain will stop, eventually.

As we slipped and slithered our way through the camp site our spirits were lifted by the sight of a police car that was stuck in the mud, they should have bought a Land Rover shouldn’t they, especially as it’s now a German company, Vorsprung Durch Technik…

That’ll learn to look properly wont it.

After we had made our way through what in some places was up to 7 to 8 inches of mud I realised that once I was covered in a nice thick layer of mud it had a surprisingly good waterproofing effect and I must confess that I spent the next 2 to 3 hours in an impressively dry state.

Over the next 12 hours only a few things happened, these are they and are in no particular order.

It stopped raining. But what was this? The organisers were laying down straw everywhere. Massive bales of hay, what a fantastically effective and simple thing to do. That wouldn’t happen at Donington.

We went around the stalls, clothes, CD’s, food, drink, the weird and the wonderful and what about that inflatable shower thing? It was basically a car wash for humans. That wouldn’t happen at Donington either.

Both T Shirts were bought at Wacken. Were they at the other festivals?

Met up with friends, “the family”, it was good to see them again. I hadn’t seen some of these people since “Top of The Pops” and it was a pleasure to meet new ones. We all shared a beer or two or three and told more stories of past adventures.

I saw nowhere near as many bands as I should have manly because I was too busy meeting people and having a good time. I did see, Domine, Necrophobic, Iron Savior, Rebellion, Pretty Maids, Savatage and JBO.

As for Bruce? Please see Part One. As for the set list? It was longer, harder, faster. I still could not divorce myself from the fact that this band has so much fun and it infects you. I really miss seeing this band. Why can’t they play every week?

The tone of the gig was set from the very first steps onto the stage. Bruce took a camera and its tripod and immediately removed it from front centre stage and placed it behind the cabs on stage right. The look on the camera man’s face was of, total disbelief, and great stuff it was too. He was just left standing there, a camera man without a camera… BRILLIANT!

A second camera man then decided to walk onto the stage, stage centre with Bruce in full foot on the monitor mode and ram the camera in his face… you have never seen a camera man move so fast in your life. The camera man must have thought he was running for his life and all the time Bruce is still singing, not missing a word or a note and trying to kick the camera man up the pants.     

I won’t mention the third camera man. I love it when it kicks off.

Bloody hell fire that stage was big.

The set was everything you could ever want from a Bruce gig. Every solo record was visited and it was as close to perfection as I think you can possibly get. Even the Drum solo was fun. I just hope I find a bootleg of it.

Thank you… No, thank YOU!

I know this is a short comment on the gig, but if I get started I won’t be able to stop. This gig was special. This was my 37^th Bruce solo gig and it special, it would easily fit into a top five list of gigs. EASILY!

I did find a bootleg of the gig - now there's a story

22.30 After the Bruce set we wondered around the site, meeting up with old friends and saying our goodbyes, then more eating and drinking, while talking the night away, simply burning words and wanting it all to go slower (RUSH – “Time Stand Still” anyone…?).

Oh God! Spooky tale of the day? While on the barrier just before the Bruce set, we met a young, very pretty blonde girl named Vicki. She is 21, English but living in Melbourne, Australia. She had come over by herself and was flying home the next day. Just how much balls does that take? What a star.  The spooky bit? She was staying in the same hotel as us… REALLY? What are the odds?

Saturday August 3^rd

02.00 Somewhere around 2am we were picked up from the site but we were all still too busy throwing stories into those quiet places you find in conversations. Time was flying by. I saw a shooting star. I made a wish. I don’t remember falling asleep, only waking up as we pulled up to the hotel with everyone else on the coach fast asleep.

We had a quick trip across the street to the ESSO garage for beer and snacks. I also forgot to mention that yesterday I discovered that you can buy beer in a petrol station. WTF!? Very slowly and quietly we crawled away to our rooms, with I must be honest, a bit of a whimper, not very Rock n’ Roll.

04.00 Somewhere around 4am and grinning like a lunatic, I finally got to bed.

10.00 I’d set my alarm late. I wasn’t going to the festival today, there was no one I wanted to see and anyway, there was shopping to be done.

Re the Harley Davidson Zippo lighter, I pop down to the Monopol Hotel and leave my name and number with the hotel staff.

12.00 I slowly started to notice a growing number of Man City fans that seemed to be appearing from nowhere…  everywhere… You know when you stamp on the floor and ants start crawling out of the pavement? It was just like that, every time I looked up there were more City fans just pouring out of doorways, hotel lobbies, bars. I could not believe my luck, a pre-season (friendly) Hamburg v Man City. Kick Off 6.00pm (you all know what’s coming now don’t you… and so did I…).

I contacted Mick and told him what was happening and he said that Chas, Dave and himself would leave to festival and come down for the game. We went into the city to do some shopping. Loads of CDs later we all meet up at the Hotel Keese.

I crabbed my England/Bruce/Killer Clowns flag and Mick, Chas, Dave, Dave, and I head across the street to what seemed to be an old market square (Hans Albers-Platz?) where the City fans had decamped hung their flags and banners. We all piled into “The London Bar”? Then stood outside drinking and watching the locals become increasingly nervous, as were the police.

The police were keeping discreet distance, I had a bad feeling about this, but I thought it was best to keep it to Myself for the time being. Earlier in the day I had grabbed hold of a few of their lads to find out what the score was. It had already gone off at the airport, IN ENGLAND!

The predictable violence had continued and to be honest I just thought the German police were waiting for the chance to pounce.

In the middle of all of this we met John McKibbin and a top bloke he is too. If I remember correctly we met in the middle of the crossing the street. He just walked up and introduced himself. We told stories of our connections to Bruce while the rest of the group stood there rolling their eyes, I’m not sure what they were thinking, but I can guess, I then told John that I already had his number in my phone and took it out to prove it. That sealed it. We both had to be genuine.

He wasn’t in the slightest bit fazed by the fact that I already had his number. He invited us all to his pub the following weekend for the end of tour secret gig. RESULT!

We got a taxi to HSV Hamburg. WOW! Now that’s what I call a stadium. I nearly leave my flag in the taxi. We get tickets, €10 and make our way inside the ground. Hold on! Terraces and beer? RESULT! We happily join the 2,000 or so City fans, I hang up my flag and settle down for what turns out to be the worst game of football I’ve ever seen… and I’m a Walsall fan…  Still, the stadium looked good. The pitch was in great shape and the aeroplanes coming into land gave me something to look at.

HSV Hamburg v Man City

My Walsall, England, Killer Clowns flag guarded by Dave, Mick, Chas and Dave who doesn’t like to stand out in a crowd…

I decided to go for a walk and see what it looked like from there end… and didn’t I nearly come unstuck…oops … I kind of figured that because of what I was wearing (Adidas trainers, shorts, and a Wacken T-Shirt) that they wouldn’t realise I wasn’t Hamburg. How wrong was I? I very quickly realised far too late that I was surrounded by some of their lads. We spoke. I explained I wasn’t City, I was Walsall. “Who? “ They asked.  “Judas Priest” I replied. I’m here for Wacken. Then someone made a comment about my hair and looking like Kevin Keegan. I said, Keegan “was my hero as a kid”, they looked unsure, I continued,” transferred from Liverpool in 77, European player of the year TWICE”, “European Cup Final in 1980…”, “you lost to Forest…”  oops… They started to smile. “You are funny”. The group thinned out.

I took a photo from there end of my England/Bruce/Killer Clowns flag.

See those red seats... Towards the top, near the walkway… That little red and white flag…

We’d had enough. Someone had the bright idea of leaving early. It was the same idea that almost everyone had had. For some reason that I can’t remember we ended up walking through those woods back to the train station. Again all the predictable violence happened. It wasn’t that bad just shuffles really. Until someone ran out of the woods with this massive stick/log type thing and tried to swing it at whoever he was trying to swing it at. It was so big he could hardly pick it up never mind swing it properly. Everyone was far too busy laughing to fight. “Dads Army” anyone?

Eventually, we got to the station “Stellingen”? Mick, Chas and Dave get on a different train to Dave and Myself who were left on the station waiting for the next train to “Reeperbahn”. Then it starts to go wrong again. The platform fills up, I’m out of depth again, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. No dress code. I can’t work out who is German and who is English but worse of all I can’t work out who the hooligans are. Fans in Hats, Scarfs, Shirts, are happily getting involved, nothing to serious, but it meant I didn’t know who was who. My flag went into my pocket. How would I explain to Dave’s Mum that he’d got done over by the lads from Hamburg? German Riot police arrive. Bloody Hell Fire! I wouldn’t want to fuck with them, they looked like a cross between the “SS” and “Robocop” (that female officer with the blonde hair and blue eyes was very cute, I still wouldn’t want to fuck with her though even if I would like to … cough … cough…). Moving on!

21.00 I promise this is true. I started to get phone calls and text messages from England banging on about the violence. It had already made English TV.

By this time Dave and Myself had reached the Reeperbahn. Police were falling out of bars with City fans in full head locks, like large breasted ladies falling out of low cut dresses, it was hard not to look or be impressed. 

They were basically going into bar after bar after bar and rounding up anyone that looked remotely English and arresting them. Here comes the revenge… Blue flashing lights lit up the street like a cheap disco effect. Being English was now not cool. Time to not be here.

22.00 After a very quick shower it was back to the hotel lobby and pleasant surprise, Vicki, she had over slept and so had missed the coach to the festival. So that’s how it was, Vicki, Dave and Myself had another night of exploration on the Reeperbahn, shops, drinks, food, drinks, bars, photos and conversation.

At one point we ended up in a Rock Café/Bar type place which was next to the Star Club where the Beatles played. And why is it always me that’s hit on by gay guys? There were 3 of us at that table, Vicki, Dave and Myself and yet it was me. Why is it’s always me…?

We continued to drink the night away and we welcomed in a new dawn.

Sunday August 4^th

00.00 Somewhere well after midnight we slowly made our way back towards the hotel and as we sat outside drinking and talking the night away. Ed suddenly appeared out of the night air like some sort of vampire. He was quite literally suddenly there. So that was that, another excuse for a beer, so off to the ESSO garage for more beer. We stocked up on beer and snacks. We went back to the hotel and continued to sit outside drinking, eating and talking.

A full set. Well, an empty full set…

06.00 We start to melt away to our hotel rooms. The sun was rising up from behind the city. The air cool. The street outside was busier than Walsall on a Saturday afternoon. Sirens were still going off and my bed swallowed me alive.

10.00 Woken by my alarm clock and how I was dreading that sound. It took me 2 hours to pack my ruck sack and reach reception. I made a mental note to buy a bigger ruck sack and to do less shopping…

12.00 Sporadically we started to arrive in the hotel ball room. We de-bagged the weekend and made plans to meet up in London next weekend for the secret gig. But you could feel that Mary Poppins vibe creeping up again.

Re the Zippo lighter. I got a phone call off a very happy sounding Spanish, Portuguese lady. I ask her to confirm the lighter by describing it and eventually I pop down to the Monopol and find her husband outside where I confirm who he is and again ask him to confirm what the Zippo lighter looks like and eventually they are re-united and he is very happy.

Mick, Chas and Dave arrive. John also arrived. Ed staggers in. Dave pops up from the other hotel.  More drinks are ordered and “Spunk” passed around. Now “Spunk” is a horrible sweet that quite frankly you wouldn’t want to put into your mouth, it’s very much like… ladies you know what I mean…

Fruit flavoured condoms and Spunk - WELCOME! to the Reeperbahn

All too soon it was time to say our goodbyes. Mick, Chas and Dave went off to the airport. Dave went off to catch the Argon Events coach. We all agreed to meet up next Sunday. Which left Ed, John and Myself with nothing better to do than go and explore the Reeperbahn for one last time. So we did. But because of the events of yesterday as soon as people heard my accent we all got treated like shit (that was my excuse for not going up the bar anyway… hahaha…). This is one of the sides of football hooliganism that few people see. 

19.00 Ed and Myself arrive at the coach station in Hamburg. But the coach didn’t. Thanks again Euro Lines. We did manage to get another coach, the last coach, due to leave at 23.00

23.15 Finally we leave Hamburg to sound of Monty Python’s “Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life” on my CD player, it seemed the right thing to play. The next 10 hours were a blur. I slept for England.

I have distant memories of cities passing in the night. Place names I’d never heard of and dreams so strange that I dare not remember.

Monday August 5^th

09.00 BASTARDS… I woke just in time to get done by customs, TWICE! Firstly by the French. They ripped us to pieces. Mirrors on sticks, X-rays, the lot. They took every one off the coach. Made us queue up and we all got individually spoken to.  If I remember correctly there weren’t going to let Ed get back on the coach and thus back into the UK. Eventually we all got back on the coach only to find that all of our personal belonging had been gone through too. They had just emptied all of our things onto the seats.

The coach drove off and was immediately pulled over, this time by the British. They had just stood there and watched as we got ripped to pieces by the French and now they were doing the same. I just left my stuff all over the seats, I wasn’t going to put them away twice.

It took almost two hours to clear customs, before we were allowed to disappear into that hole again.

England. I promptly fall asleep again, only to wake up just as we are about to cross The Thames on Westminster Bridge.

14.00 London, Victoria Coach Station. I make sure Ed gets his coach, we swop contact details and we both agree to meet up next Sunday for the secret gig.

I find my coach. A young, very pretty blonde girl got on the coach and sat next to me, she was from Melbourne, Australia. She was on the way to Wolverhampton for a wedding.  She was travelling lone, just how much balls does that take. Deja-Vu. Oh Yeah! Her name? GUESS!

18.20 Walsall. I step off the bus just 200 metres from my house only to hear “SNAP” and feel a sudden lightness on my shoulders as my ruck sack strap snapped. I turned around just in time to see my ruck sack bounce onto the step and balance there as a women behind me in a rush to get off the bus before me failed miserably to avoid my ruck sack. She promptly and quite spectacularly fell head first over it and onto the pavement. Between wanting to laugh and cry I offered her an apology, but she deserved it… It’s true and you know it.

18.30 I’m home. I un-pack and everything goes into the washing machine while I wade through a weeks worth of mail. In 12 hours I will be up and packing again and I’ll be off the Ellesmere Port again for another week in a hotel again. It’s a hard life isn’t it…

In Search of The Now Man… Part Three

The Secret Gig

Sunday August 11^th

I can’t tell you any more, it’s a secret. Well, I could… but then I would have to kill you...

Epilogue

“You never miss it till it’s gone away…”

I can’t think of a really clever way to end this. It has gone through so many edits and it’s probably only about 25% of what happened. Next time I will take a video camera. I guess an end is simply an end. It’s been an incredible few weeks Re the gigs and an incredible few months Re my job. Suddenly I have a new appreciation for the people that do this for a living. Is it glamorous? You tell me. Does it read like a glamorous lifestyle? Does it have its perks? Oh yes. Does it have its down side? Bet your life it does.

Now stop reading this and go and follow a band around. You’ll love it. It’s great fun.

Finally, I’ve just shown this to a friend of mine who read it and then said, “Hey, it’s really good, but it doesn’t mention Bruce much does it?” I said, “No, but that’s the point”. I then tried to explain that I had gone there to get away from here, to meet new people and visit new places to fill my head with memories while having a tongue willing to whisper into any ones ear… I don’t think she got it.

As I said to a Portsmouth fan a few seasons ago as Walsall were fighting relegation, “Football has everything to do with everything, except that 90 minutes of football” I don’t think he got it either.

The End.

P.S. Still to come...

Bruce Dickinson Gigs

01. 20-06-1990. Nottingham, Rock City.
02. 21-06-1990. Walsall, Junction 10

03. 23-06-1990. Glasgow, Barrowlands.
04. 24-06-1990. Manchester, International II.
05. 26-06-1990. Birmingham, Hummingbird.
06. 27-06-1990. London, Astoria. (Maiden played The Trooper)
07. 28-06-1990. London, Astoria.
08. 13-10-1994. Buckley, Tivoli.
09. 14-10-1994. Norwich, Oval.
10. 15-10-1994. Dudley, JBs.
11. 17-10-1994. Bristol, Bierkeller.
12. 18-10-1994. London, Marquee Club. (Recorded for LIVE LP, end of tour party, passes)
13. 07-04-1995. Nottingham, Rock City. (Guest list every night)
14. 08-04-1995. Bradford, Rio’s.
15. 10.04-1995. Glasgow, Garage.
16. 11-04-1995. Dudley, JBs.
17. 12-04-1995. Bristol, Bierkeller.

18.14-04-1995. London, Astoria. (End of tour party)

19. 05-06-1996. Portsmouth, Wedgewood Rooms.
20. 07-06-1996. Nottingham, Rock City.
21. 08-06-1996. Wolverhampton, Wulfrun Hall.
22.09-06-1996. Glasgow, Cathouse.
23. 10-06-1996. Bradford, Rio’s.
24. 12-06-1996. Manchester, Hop and Grape.
25. 14-06-1996. London, LA II.
26. 20-06-1996. Norwich, Oval.

00. 20-04.1997. Birmingham, Rock Café. (Acoustic gig)

00. 21-04-1997. Sheffield, Wapentake Bar. (Acoustic gig)

00. 22-04-1997. Brierley Hill, Rock Café .(Acoustic gig)

27. 08-08-1997. Nottingham, Rock City. (Bruce’s birthday gig)

28. 26-10-1997. Wolverhampton, Civic Hall. (Supporting Lynard Skynard)

29. 29-10-1997. London, Royal Albert Hall. (Supporting Lynard Skynard)

30. 01-12-1998. Manchester, Hop and Grape. (VIP laminates)

31. 03-12-1998. Norwich, Waterfront.

32. 04-12-1998. Wolverhampton, Wulfrun Hall.

33. 05-12-1998. Nottingham, Rock City.

34. 07-12-1998. Cambridge, Junction.

35. 08-12-1998. London, Astoria II. (End of tour party)

36. 06-07-2002. Graspop, Belgium.

37. 03-08-2002. Wacken, Germany.

??. 10-12-2011. Canterbury Rocks at Christmas, Canterbury Cathedral.

??. 02-04-2012. Buddy Rich 25^th Anniversary Memorial Concert, London Palladium.

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