Really silly things I've done...: November 2016

Tattooed Millionaire UK Tour 1990

00. 19-06-1990 Newcastle, Mayfair

01. 20-06-1990 Nottingham, Rock City

02. 21-06-1990 Walsall, Junction 10

03. 23-06-1990 Glasgow, Barrowland

04. 24-06-1990 Manchester, International II

05. 26-06-1990 Birmingham, Hummingbird

06. 27-06-1990 London, Astoria (Iron Maiden played The Trooper)

07. 28-06-1990 London, Astoria

Introduction

Hello.

Before I go any further this will be written in a different format to other things I’ve written. I wasn’t keeping a personal diary at the time, digital photography hadn’t been invented and the internet was still at least two whole years away.

This will be more of collection of tales, the sort of things you tell your friends while chatting about nothing.

Prelude

At the start of 1990 I was working in a confectionary warehouse in Willenhall, West Midlands. It was a job I loved because of the people I was working with but I truly disliked the company so I’m not going to name them.

In 1990, as well as KERRANG! we still had The Friday Rock Show on BBC Radio 1 (10pm to midnight). For most people of my generation, The Friday Rock Show and KERRANG! was the be all and end all.

As a slight side issue, when it came to Bruce Dickinson and Iron Maiden, the Iron Maiden Fan Club was run properly in those days. It did actually feel like we belonged to a club, something special. A lot of time has passed since those days and when I look back to then from now, we and every Maiden fan in the FC, owe a great debt to Keith Wilfort.

In the spring of 1990 the IMFC contacted us with information about a Bruce single, album and tour which had developed from “A Nightmare on Elm St 5”, which had been released the previous year.

The story went something like this. Bruce was approached to do a song for “A Nightmare on Elm St 5”, “The Dream Child”. Once finished the opportunity arose to record and release a solo album, so that’s what happened.

A Nightmare on Elm St sound track album, USA import, the UK version was suppressed on the day of release.

At the same time more detailed information had appeared in KERRANG! While a few weeks later Bruce was chatting with Tommy Vance on the Friday Rock Show and proclaiming, “…and some place in Walsall I’ve never heard of…”

Were we really going to get a chance to see Bruce close up and personal?

To this day (summer 2016) I still don’t know why I decided to do the tour I just did. I didn’t know anyone who’d done a tour, I knew people who had done both nights at a venue, people who had done Birmingham and London, Manchester and Birmingham, but a whole tour… So where the idea or desire to do a whole tour came from beats me.

As I’ve already mentioned there was no internet in those days, if you wanted a ticket to a gig you went to the venue and spoke to a human being (remember them?) in a box office or you spoke to a human being at a ticket agency whether that was in person or over the phone.

I now had a problem. How do I get tickets? KERRANG! had the answer to that. The adverts that ran in KERRANG! carried the phone numbers to the individual venues and the ticket price too. Yes kids you read that right, it’s not like today were you don’t get to speak a human being, were you don’t get told the ticket price. It was up front and in your face. Band. Venue. Date. Price. I thought the internet was supposed to make things better…

KERRANG! appeared on the Tuesday, I got paid on the Friday, I phoned all the numbers to ask about buying tickets via the post, and because I didn’t have a cheque book I spent the following morning in my local post office getting postal orders bought and sent off.

Bank Card? Don’t be silly. This is 1990 remember…

Can you believe this, when I wrote to the individual venue box offices buying my tickets and sending off my postal orders, I also asked if they could send me a photo copy from their local A to Z which I hoped would help me to find them and I promise you that every venue sent me a photo copy from their local A to Z marking their location. In hindsight I could have gone to my local library and done the same thing but I was young, inexperienced and basically naïve. How quickly I was to grow up.

Within a week of sending off my requests for maps and Bruce tickets I’d received them, all of them. Yes kids you read that right, it’s not like today were you have to join an invisible queue, after giving a password, without knowing the price of tickets, before paying a booking fee… PER TICKET, before postage, only to have them NOT sent to you until a few days before the gig so that you spend days and days and days trying not to panic because you still haven’t received your tickets, you know the ones you bought months and months and months ago… I thought the internet was supposed to make things better…

Newcastle, Mayfair

Tuesday, 19^th June 1990

I missed this gig.

Yeah, I know, opening night of the tour and I didn’t go. It was Janick’s home town gig too… What did I write earlier? “…I was young, inexperienced and basically naïve. How quickly I was to grow up.”

We already knew that there was going to be a Maiden album later on in the year which meant a UK tour so I was basically saving my holidays in the hope of doing as many Maiden dates as I could. Little did I know…

Nottingham, Rock City

Wednesday 20^th June 1990

The over-riding memory I have of doing Rock City is that I was actually getting to do Rock City. Doing Rock City was like getting to the end of the yellow brick road. I was finally going to get to see the Wizard of Oz.

It sounds really silly now, but back then Rock City was spoken of in hushed tones. There were venues all over the UK that carried legendary status, ironically enough Newcastle’s Mayfair was one of them, as was London’s Marquee, but no one spoke of them in the same way as they did about Rock City. Rock City was like The Rainbow or Whiskey a Go Go a heavy metal version of Studio 54, well almost.

There were only three ways you could find out about Rock City. 1. KERRANG! and the photos that they published. 2. People who you met at gigs in Brum who had travelled from the East like the wise men of metal spreading the word of the gospel. 3. Go there on a pilgrimage.

I’d like to say that I wasn’t disappointed but I was. It was such a let-down once I’d got there. I’m not slagging it off. It just wasn’t how the photos had made it look. I don’t remember there being some magical atmosphere either. I just remember standing there in a large room and thinking to myself, well this isn’t what I was expecting. That’s when I spotted a large curtain, I walked over, grabbed the edge of the cloth with a firm grip and before I exposed the wizard I calmly let go of the cloth turned around and walked back to the bar.

I stayed towards the back of the venue for the gig.

Advert from the Express & Star.

Jagged Edge, who I’d seen at Junction 10 a few weeks before supporting Thunder (the now infamous night when I fell asleep leaning on the stage, much to Thunder’s annoyance…) played a blinder. They really were a good rock band.

Bruce bounded on stage to “Riding With The Angels”. WOW! You could have knocked me down with a feather. What a brilliant idea. I’m sure everyone was expecting a Maiden song, but no, here was a Samson song. It worked so well. 90 minutes later were all leaving the venue. Well that rocked… and it went so quickly.

After the gig I made my way to the train station, I don’t know why, but I decided that roughing it in the train station for the night would be a good idea. I don’t know why I didn’t just pay for a B+B somewhere but I didn’t, actually, it’s because I didn’t have the money, but that’s not really the point, the point is, I was going to rough it in the train station. What could possibly go wrong? It’s not like I was going to get thrown out onto the streets only to have it snow in the middle of June. Little did I know…

“You can’t sleep there…” shouted a voice in my direction just as I was nodding off, while lying on a bench on the platform, like a body in a coffin. “What..?” I said, raising my head and trying to focus and find the body from where the voice was coming from. “You can’t sleep there…” He repeated, “We’re closing the station...” He continued. Did he just say they were closing the station, I thought to myself, “I’ve got a ticket”, I said while fumbling through my pockets in a vain attempt to find it, “Here it is... look… I’m going to get on the first train to New St…” He was having none of it, “Sorry mate, we have to close the station, you’re going to have to leave”. So out onto the streets of Nottingham I got thrown. I spent most of the night/morning just standing in the entrance to the station like an unwanted prostitute.

Eventually boredom beat me and I went for a wonder around Nottingham and apart from the occasional passing police car, no one seemed to take a blind bit of interest in me or what I was doing. Somewhere close to 4am ish I found myself near the Robin Hood statue. It snowed. In Nottingahm, in June, close to 4am, near a statue of Robin Hood, it snowed. Knowing full well that no one would ever believe me, I took out my camera, opened the lens, got everything in focus, pressed the button, released the shutter and nothing. Uh!? I looked at my camera, I’d run out of film… GUTTED!

Walsall, JB’s Junction 10

Thursday 21^st June 1990

That’s Janick, I thought to myself as I walked through Walsall town centre passed the Hippo. “Janick”, I shouted in an overly excited way, not really meaning to as I tripped over my tongue as much as I was stumbling over my feet while desperately trying and failing to remain cool and aloof, he turned around and looked my direction, “I saw you play in Nottingham last night, great gig mate…” I said with a really big daft grin on my face. “Thank you”, replied Janick. I then promptly left him to his shopping and sight-seeing.

Sight-seeing in Walsall? Did I just write that?

For the next 30 minutes or so, we kept bumping into each other as we did our shopping and sight-seeing, this is what happens when you pay a rock star a compliment, they stalk you…

Back tracking for a second, the previous year I’d bought tickets to see the two Magnum gigs at JB’s Junction 10 (or Junction 10 as we called it because saying “JB’s Junction 10” was far too long and to say “JB’s” meant Dudley), this lead to me meeting the bloke who ran the place. The day I meet him not only did he sell me the tickets but he sold me the dream, he gave me a tour of the place and a love was born.

Ten months later and the Bruce tour is announced. Without giving to much away and still not wanting to drop people in the shit, I’d managed to do a deal, which meant that when the Bruce tickets went on sale, I’d already been promised ticket No.1, No.2 and No.3

By the time the tickets had officially gone on sale to the public, it was already too late for the good folk of Walsall because as promised I already had tickets 000001, 000002 and 000003.

If I remember correctly Mill had No.2 and Sid had No.3

Normally at Junction 10 you could lean against the stage but that night they put a barrier up. Shame really. Oh well. Still, it gave us something to lean on.

Mill, Sid and myself did exactly what you expect us to do, we rushed the barrier, none of this we’re too cool to go down the front stuff. Straight on the barrier stage centre.

L to R, Jagged Edge – Trouble, promo with bio, signed copy of the official release.

Jagged Edge played an absolute blinder, like they always did, they really were a bloody good band, they had so much stage presence, a grace that normally comes from a band with much more experience than them, it’s as if they were destined to be in a band, to be on stage and as much as I loved that band and I did, tonight and for the rest of the tour, they got in the way of me and Bruce…

Just like the night before Andy, Bruce, Dicki and Janick bounded on stage to Riding With The Angels and it worked so well. Remember this is before the internet, there were no mobile phones, KERRANG! wouldn’t review the tour until at least another week so no one knew what the set list was going to be, everyone thought it was going to be a Maiden song or at least the first song from the album, everyone was wrong, everyone in the room was completely side swiped by it and it really did work so well, it was a master stroke, an act of complete genius. Brilliant stuff.

What the fuck was he wearing? I hadn’t noticed last night, actually most of the previous night had been a bit of a blur but tonight I was up to speed, in my local venue, with my mates, tonight I was able to take it all in… Easy Tiger… EASY…

To this day I don’t know how to describe what Bruce was wearing. It was like a cross between fishing waders and a jump suit, in a rubbery, PVC, type material, all very strange. White T Shirt and the usual white boxing trainer/boot things.

While I’m on the subject, Andy, boots, faded blue jeans and Jack Daniels T Shirt cut down to a vest. Janick, Converse, skinny cut black jeans, white vest and faded blue denim jacket. Dicki, trainers and denim cut off shorts.

There was no back drop, no production, just an in house PA and an in house lighting rig, well, a few spot lights hanging from the ceiling, you could hardly call it a rig. Bands that played Junction 10 just turned up, got on stage, plugged in, got on with it and got off again and tonight would be no different.

The band played like their lives depended on it. Seeing a band playing a pub or club is so far removed from seeing a band play the NEC or any other arena for that matter, it’s easy to forget that this is where a band starts their career, you forget that they are human beings and not just some money making global marketing machine that rolls up does its thing before disappearing into the night to do it all again somewhere else.

The last time I’d seen Bruce (apart from the night before in Nottingham) was at the NEC in 1988 which was filmed for Maiden England and even though I was literally right down the front for both nights, down the front at the NEC would still put me half way back inside Junction 10, just like any other pub or club gig we were so close to the band, but this was no ordinary band.

Once the shock of Riding With The Angels was over everyone just got on with enjoying the gig including the band.

The thing that struck me was how much fun they were having. In later years I was to witness it time and time again, but for now, it was 1990, gig number three of the tour and it was all still fresh. It would be very easy to just roll up, take the piss, take the money and disappear into the night, but they didn’t.

As much as I’d love to sit here years later writing about this or that and maybe more importantly Bruce, I can’t, I couldn’t take my eyes off Janick, he was all over the place. If you’re reading this then I’m guessing that you are already familiar with Iron Maiden and Janick’s antics, well let me tell you that he was no different then to how he is now, the only thing is that because he was on a much smaller stage his antics were even more in your face and over the top. I do remember looking away at one point to only look back and find him trying to climb on top of the PA stack while still playing his guitar, which reminds me, I also have a memory of him having two guitars on stage and while he played one guitar he swung the other around in the air with large circular arm movements, just like Pete Townsend but with two guitars. Well this is going to make the next Maiden tour interesting I thought to myself.

Janick’s plectrum.

It would also be very easy to sit here year’s later writing about how Andy and Dicki were bit players in the band and it was just Bruce and Janick from Maiden on stage, but I can’t. They did exactly what you need a drummer and bass player to do, they kept time, held it all together and without them it just wouldn’t have worked. The band needed that stability, that foundation, nothing flash or fancy, leave all that to Janick and once in a while Bruce would do, say or sing something worth watching or listening to.

Also, without wanting to come across as a bit of a clever knickers, you know, hindsight is 20/20 and all that, but I got the impression that Bruce felt completely comfortable on that stage, in that environment, basically… not in Maiden. I’d been saying it since 1988 that to me something seemed wrong (with Maiden) of course all my mates basically said I was talking out of my arse, but I felt something just wasn’t quite right and here we all were watching it live on a stage in a club in Walsall, it was more obvious to me now than ever, the only thing is this time, some of the mates I spoke to were starting to agree.

Just like the previous night those 90 minutes simply flew by.

After the gig I spoke to Bruce about getting my stuff signed at the Brum gig. “We’re doing a signing session…” said Bruce, “I know” I said, “but I won’t be able to make it because of work…” I then told Bruce about my plans to do every night of the tour, he smiled like a loon and a deal was done.

Glasgow, Barrowland

Saturday 23^rd June 1990

Cumbria looked really pretty as the train made its way to Glasgow Central as did Glasgow. I don’t know what I was expecting from Glasgow but this wasn’t it. A very beautiful city, wonderful architecture and well worth the time and effort in getting there.

I followed the photo copied pages from the A to Z of Glasgow, but do you think I could find the Barrowland… Completely confused and feeling a bit daft, I crossed the street to buy a can of Coke and a Mars bar. While in the shop I asked the Asian Sikh shop keeper, “Could you tell me where the Barrowland is please mate?” “Are you taking the piss…?” replied the Asian Sikh shop keeper in the broadest, thickest Glaswegian accent I have ever heard in my life. He made Billy Connelly sound like Mary Poppins.

The Asian Sikh shop keeper in the broadest, thickest Glaswegian accent I have ever heard in my life then pointed out of the door and across the street. I looked. I felt really stupid. “Oh yeah”, I said. Across the street and looking like a reject from Blackpool Pleasure Beach stood the Barrowland.

Barrowland is a building which has a market on the street level during the day and it’s well worth visiting Glasgow for that and that alone, I must have spent a good two hours having a good old fashioned rummage.

While standing in the queue I got told a bizarre story by two teenage lads. They were best mates, both from Glasgow, but their parents were either side of the sectarian divide, one Catholic the other Protestant, one Celtic the other Rangers, neither one was allowed to be friends with the other one, but both of them had decided to ignore their parents and stay friends and continue to defy their parents all be it secretly.

I wonder where they are now.

Religion, you could shit it…

Once upstairs and inside the venue I realised that it was an old fashioned ballroom and I loved it. I took my leather jacket off, hung it over the barrier and lent on it, completely forgetting that I was wearing my newly bought and signed long sleeve white Bruce shirt. WHAT A MISTAKE! That’s that ruined then…

Even while leaning on the barrier I could feel the wooden ballroom floor bouncing as everyone in the room jumped up and down. Even now, while writing about it, it makes me smile.

After the gig a few of us hung around to meet the band and get some things signed. While this was going on I found myself chatting to a Marillion fan. Realising I was running out of time I popped into the local chip shop and bought a fish supper except the fish was a mince pie.

Mr Marillion said we should go to the hotel to meet the band. He was local. He had a car. A plan was hatched. So off we went.

As we drove through the streets of Glasgow and having now finally finished stuffing my face I wound down the window of the car and threw my wrapper onto some wasteland… As soon as it left my hand I regretted my actions. I felt so stupid.

What did I write earlier, “…I was young, inexperienced and basically naïve. How quickly I was to grow up.” In my defence, I don’t have one, but there is a but and that but is this, every time I’ve been back to Glasgow I’ve made it a personal crusade to find at least two pieces of litter and pick them up and place them into a bin. No, really I have. I didn’t have to tell you any of that… Think about it.

We find the hotel. We park the car. We walk into the hotel, passed the bar which was to our right, up to reception and Mr Marillion said to the receptionist something along the lines of, “We’re here to see Bruce Dickinson could you let him know we’re here please” and I promise you she picked up the phone, rang his room and passed the phone over to Mr Marillion. I just stood there open mouthed.

“What are you going to say to him?” I asked, looking around nervously at our actions and enviously at those in the bar, “If he’s going to come down for a drink”, he replied. Seemed like a good idea to me.

I stuck my head around the door and into the bar, Paul McCartney and his road crew were very busy being very busy, I don’t care if he was a Beatle, he isn’t Bruce Dickinson. I walked back to the reception and reported to Mr Marillion what I‘d just seen, as I turned around, All About Eve walked into the hotel… (*swoon*) bloody hell she’s very pretty in the flesh, not that I saw any of her flesh, well, no more than what was already on display.

Paul McCartney, Bruce Dickinson and All About Eve (*still swooning*) in a hotel in Glasgow… Nothing to see here… Move along… MOVE ALONG!

Back at Glasgow Central I suddenly became aware of lots of people hanging around. A club around the corner had finally closed. It was close to 4am. No one was sitting. Everyone was standing. Trying to keep warm? They were kind of dancing on the spot. Lots of chatting. Chewing of gum. Looking at a single public phone on the far side of the concourse. That’s when I noticed two blokes who didn’t quite fit in. They were watching everyone else just like I was. That’s when I noticed someone behind a window with a camera on a tripod filming everyone. That’s when it clicked. This is going to be interesting I thought to myself. 1990 was infamous for many things, Acid House, dance culture and secret raves being three of them. They were all waiting on a phone call and the two blokes, who were obviously police, were waiting to follow them and get an easy arrest. So wasted were the clubbers that no one even noticed them, they just stood there in the open concourse.

Bring! Bring! Went the phone and approximately 50 people in a mad rush to get to it fell over each other and began to fight over who would get to it first, just like brides maids desperately hoping to catch the bouquet at a wedding. I’d love to see the video tape from that camera.

Did you know that they play bag pipe music through the PA at Glasgow Central at Stupid O’ Clock in the morning? Well you do now. Bastards. I was just nodding off too.

Once I’d got a bacon roll and a large very sweet cup of tea I dragged myself onto the first train to Manchester. As I found my seat the band and Dickie Bell walked passed me. We all looked at each other, I’m not too sure who’d had the roughest night. We nodded at each other and carried on doing our own thing. They left me alone and I did the same to them.

Manchester, International II

Sunday 24^th June 1990

The train pulled into Manchester Piccadilly, those that wanted to get off got off and those that didn’t, didn’t. I made my way to the taxi rank, asked the driver how much it would cost and how long it would take to get to the venue. I’d already decided that I was going to do some sight-seeing and a bit of shopping, so after the taxi driver had given me the information I needed I turned around to walk away only to find the band and Dickie Bell immediately behind me in growing queue.

“Hello”, I said to the band and Dickie Bell, “Hello”, replied the band and Dickie Bell, “You can have this one if you want, I’m off shopping”, I continued as I gestured to the taxi before walking off in the other direction, the band and Dickie Bell just stood there and stared at me as if I’d just stepped out of a freshly landed space ship. I guess you had to be there but it was funny.

Shopping and sight-seeing done I took a slow steady walk down to the venue.

At the gig, I found myself leaning on the barrier and while chatting to the people around me I managed to blag a photo pass off the photographer in the pit. I thought nothing else of it until a few days later when it arrived in the post.

The object hit Bruce right between the eyes. He’d tried to dodge it, but he wasn’t fast enough, even with all of his Fencing skills he just couldn’t avoid the impact that left him staggering around the stage like a boxer on the ropes.

Abruptly the band stopped playing as Bruce clawed at the object that had hit him which was now rolling around the floor. He picked it up. It was a piece of screwed up paper. Nothing bigger or heavier than a postage stamp had taken him out. But because it had come straight out of the spot lights it must have looked like a semi-detached house coming at him.

Bruce lost it. Properly lost it. He went on the mother of all rants. What… does he think he’s Blaze Bayley or something…?

After the gig I found myself out side chatting with Myke Gray (Jagged Edge - Guitar) and some random northern bird while complaining about the state of my ribs, not only had my ribs taken a bit of a bashing at Glasgow, but tonight they really took a pounding, while the following day I almost went to hospital, such was the pain, I’d been down the front at gigs before but this was the third night in three days and it was starting to hurt in places and in ways that it really shouldn’t, but as for Manchester, a bottle or two of Newquay Steam Beer helped sort the pain out.

Does anyone out there remember Newquay Steam Beer in those long slim slender bottles and the flip top ceramic bottle stops? All of which reminds me of another Jagged Edge gig in Brum a few months later which got cancelled just before show time, so we all went off to the pub where vast amounts of Newquay Steam Beer was consumed, which cutting a long story short resulted in me waking up, where I’d fallen asleep, lying on a bench, like a body in a coffin, while waiting for the bus, outside Birmingham Cathedral, in the now pouring rain… Not sure why, but once I’d got on the bus, no one sat next to me all the way back to Walsall.

Anyway, back in Manchester, while chatting with Myke, plans were made for blagging a lift to Birmingham with the band but I got side tracked by other attractions which meant it didn’t happen.

Eventually I found myself at Chorlton Street Coach Station, waiting for a National Express coach. They used to have a coach which zig zagged its way down the country to London starting in Glasgow I think, or maybe Aberdeen, anyway, that’s not the point, the point is it stopped in Manchester and Birmingham on the way to London.

The coach station had two things of interest, the first was a drinks machine - which worked, and the second was prostitutes. Remember earlier when I wrote, “…I was young, inexperienced and basically naïve. How quickly I was to grow up.” God was I to do some growing up.

As I waited for my coach I got approached by a prostitute asking if I was looking for business. Once I’d convinced her that I wasn’t looking for business and that I wasn’t just being shy, I was kind of welcomed into their little world.

My first observation is that, where there are prostitutes there are clients, where there are clients there are police actively patrolling the area, so where there are prostitutes, clients and police, there is safety in numbers. The way the police deal with what is going on is very clever. By letting everyone just get on with it, trust is built, where there is trust, there is less likely to be crime, where there is less crime the police can concentrate on more important things and with prostitutes and their clients being out and about they are a valuable source of information, when it comes to observations, times and places.

My second observation is that every prostitute had a story. I don’t think I heard the same story twice. Some were prostitutes because of a drug habit, some to fund their education, some for the thrill - to beat the boredom in their life, some because of mental health issues, and on and on it went. I had an instant flash back to an American TV show called “Kolchak: The Night Stalker” and I remember him saying in one of his monologues something along the lines of, “…Everybody has a story…” and it’s always stuck with me.

Up until that moment I’d always tried to not judge people and I’m so glad that I’d lived my life like that. I suddenly found myself in a world completely alien to mine and I loved it. I loved the brutal honesty of the prostitute and her client. I found the whole environment refreshing. I found myself experiencing an instant attraction to the people on both sides of the experience and the police too.

After that night, whenever I was roughing it, I always tried to be where the prostitutes were.

And guys, just for the record, at no point in the night did I hear any prostitute say that she needed saving or wanted to be saved.

Birmingham, Hummingbird

Tuesday 26^th June 1990

I rushed home from work, grabbed the things I’d arranged to get signed, jumped on the 51 bus and fell asleep. I wake up. No one has robbed my stuff. I get off the bus and walk around the corner to the venue. Meet up with Sid and in we go. We bump into Dickie Bell, I ask him to pass my things onto Bruce and explain that I’d already spoken to Bruce in Walsall. Kindly he agrees. With very little left to do we go to the bar.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Leo Sayer?” said the barmaid, Sid falls around laughing, “No”, I replied, lying through my teeth. “I suppose it’s better than saying I look like Andy Gibb”, I continued. “Who’s Andy Gibb?” asked the barmaid. “One of the Gibb brothers”, I said. “Who are the Gibb brothers?” asked the barmaid. “The Bee Gees”, I said struggling to find the will to live. “Is Leo Sayer in the Bee Gees?” asked the barmaid.

I know what you’re thinking, that conversation never happened, but I can tell you that it did.

I can’t really remember why we did what we did, but we watched the Jagged Edge set from down stairs on the floor before going up stairs to watch Bruce from the balcony.

Jagged Edge being Jagged Edge just got on with it. They really were a bloody good band. When I look back from 2016 it’s difficult to accept that I didn’t really take more notice of what was going on, we had so many young British bands that were breaking through that I suppose we were a little bit spoilt, there was, Wolfsbane, Thunder, Little Angels, The Quireboys, The Wild Hearts (later Wildhearts) The Almighty, Atom Seeds, True Grit and that’s just the ones I can think of off the top of my head. We all just seemed to accept that these bands would take over from Maiden, Priest, Sabbath, Saxon, Leppard… No one seemed to question it. It was just going to happen. Am I remembering this wrongly but, didn’t some of the press start calling it the NNOBHM part II?

Anyway, we watched Bruce from the balcony and another good gig it was too. But tonight there was a twist, the Tattooed Millionaire UK Tour clashed the World Cup Finals, “Italia 90”

England had won their group but had struggled, just for a change, but they had progressed into the last 16, where they were to play Belgium in Bologna on Tuesday 26^th June 1990.

Remember this is 1990. There is no internet. No mobile phones. No Sky Sports, its BBC or ITV. So no one in the front of house has a clue what has happened. No one has seen or heard the result, No one has seen that now infamous David Platt goal (on 119 minutes because England being England had managed to stuff it up yet again and not beat Belgium in normal time and so had conspired to take the game into extra time) but someone, somewhere back stage did know the score and had told the band.

The set having finished after the previous song meant we were looking at an empty stage. Cue the encores, the band walked back on stage and continued where they had left off.

Bruce walks up to the mic, mentions the World Cup and an England game and delivered a long non-enthusiastic ramble before saying, “You didn’t miss much… We won 1-0…” The room simply erupted. I’d never seen or heard anything like it before. You know those modern day images of fan zones when you see the crowd go bonkers and anything not nailed down goes up in the air? It was just like that, anything and everything went up in the air, including the drum kit, I’m not sure what Dicki Fliszer was thinking but who cares and to this day I’m amazed that nothing or no one went over the balcony.

Sid with Jagged Edge and she still knows more people than God.

While all that was going on Myke Gray, Fabio Del Rio and Matti Alfonzetti managed to find myself and Sid on the balcony. I have no memory of how or why but they did, the only reason I remember it is because of the photos that were taken.

Eventually we found our way back down stairs and while standing front of house, stage left watching all the chaos continuing to unfold over walked Andy Carr carrying my bag that I’d handed to Dickie Bell earlier.

Andy said something along the lines of, “You’ve got a good collection”, to which Sid replied, “You should see his Maiden stuff”… I guess you had to be there…

I thanked him for signing my records while taking them out of the bag to look at them. BOLLOCKS! I thought to myself… Instead of Fabio signing them because he’s playing on them, Dicki had signed them because he was the tour drummer and I presume was in the dressing room while Fabio wouldn’t have been. I tried to hide my disappointment. I was still very grateful, no really I was, but…

In the years that followed I was tempted to take them to a Jagged Edge, Taste or SKIN gig, to ask Fabio to sign them, but I never did, I sort of grew into the idea of having all my records signed by Dicki and not Fabio, it made for a good story and just for the record, I’m still very grateful. Thank you.

London, Astoria

Wednesday 27^th June 1990

Looking back, I’m confused as to how I just accepted my actions as normal. I got home after the Brum gig at Stupid O’ Clock. I got three or four hours sleep. I then went to work. I then left work. I then got the bus to Walsall before getting a different bus home. A very quick change of clothes before jumping on the 51 bus into Brum. I dived off the bus in Corporation Street, I walked around the corner into New Street Station and jumped on the first train to Euston Station.

All it needed was for one thing to go wrong and it would have all come crashing down around me and it almost did. The train finally got into Euston Station I ran across the concourse and disappeared into a hole in the floor and the joys of the London underground at the back end of rush hour.

Tottenham Court Road the smell of London and that kebab shop on the corner where the kababs actually taste of lamb.

I rushed into the venue just in time to hear the start of the Jagged Edge set. The floor was rammed and for some daft reason I thought, I know what I’ll do, I’ll go upstairs. So I did. No one stopped me. No one asked to see my ticket. I just bounded up the stairs like I knew where I was going, remember earlier when I wrote, “…I was young, inexperienced and basically naïve. How quickly I was to grow up.” I was learning… or so I thought…

I spotted a bar and made straight for it, only to bump into Dave Murray who was standing at the bar by himself getting the drinks in, “Hey Dave”, I shouted in his direction while still going the other way and into the upstairs balcony, Dave turned around and said, “Hello”, with that big mile wide smile that he has and started to try to talk to me, but as I said I was going the other way and into the upstairs balcony… Yeah… Yeah… Yeah… I know that NOW… Why didn’t you tell me that in 1990?

Yeah… I deafed him… Really, what was I thinking?

The balcony had little booth type seating and people were actually eating meals. It was so bizarre. I latter found out that the upstairs balcony had been for “Guest List” only. Oops…

I found myself watching the gig from behind a mixing desk that was on the front of the balcony, great view and a great sound.

It didn’t click at first, I just thought. Why is everyone down the front going mental? After about five seconds or so of confusion, on my part, I noticed Steve Harris holding a bass. Oh look, I thought to myself, that’s Arry, that’s almost Maiden on stage, you know, with Bruce and Janick…

I started to look around the stage and count, Bruce, Janick, Steve, all we need now is Dave and Nicko and we would have Maiden…

FLASH BACK… Hold on… I saw Dave earlier while he was… standing… at… the… bar… by… himself… OH NO… Why didn’t I stop and chat to him? Why didn’t I just say “Hello” properly? Why didn’t I say “Thank you”… Oh fucking fuck and fuck… and FUCK! And while I stood there having flash backs to Dave Murry’s big mile wide smile I suddenly realised that Dave was on stage with Bruce, Janick, Steve and Nicko. THAT’S MAIDEN!!!

Doo… Doo… Ticki… Ticki… Doo… Doo… Ticki… Ticki… Doo… Doo… Ticki… Ticki… Doo… Ticki… Doo… Doo…

Maiden tore into The Trooper and there was a lot of sticky leakage from my lower abdominal area.

To my knowledge this was the first public performance of that Maiden line up.

What a night.

And if by any chance, the young lady who spoke to me during “Fog on the Tyne” is out there and reading this, as I wrote, “…I was young, inexperienced and basically naïve. How quickly I was to grow up.” I am so sorry, I look back that conversation and I cringe. But if it means anything to you, I have never forgotten you, if only through shame and embarrassment.

Sliding Doors anyone…?

I walked out of the venue and up Tottenham Court Road to Euston Station. Jumped on the 23.40 Intercity 125 to Wolverhampton arriving New Street Station at 01.25 I walked around the corner and got the late night bus back to Walsall. I got home at Stupid O’ Clock.

London, Astoria

Thursday 28^th June 1990

Looking back, I’m confused as to how I just accepted my actions as normal. I got home after the London gig at Stupid O’ Clock. I got three or four hours sleep. I then went to work. I then left work. I then got the bus to Walsall before getting a different bus home. A very quick change of clothes before jumping on the 51 bus into Brum. I dived off the bus in Corporation Street, I walked around the corner into New Street Station and jumped on the first train to Euston Station.

All it needed was for one thing to go wrong and it would have all come crashing down around me but unlike yesterday everything ran like clockwork and I actually got to the venue with plenty of time to spare.

Sliding Doors anyone…?

What a difference a day makes. What an anti-climax the gig was, but after yesterday anything short of the “Second Coming” was going to be a slight disappointment.

Having learnt my lesson from yesterday I went straight upstairs and into the bar, where I didn’t see any of my heroes standing by themselves at the bar and getting the drinks in.

I made my way into the upstairs balcony and found the spot where I stood yesterday.

Yesterday the time flew by for all the wrong reasons, mainly because I was running out of it, while today the time flew by for all the right reasons, because it was so much fun.

Thank you and good night. WHAT!?

I can honestly tell you that I look at the photos I took that night and I have no memory of any of it. I might as well be looking at photos of people I don’t know at a wedding I wasn’t invited too. Those two sets from those two bands flashed by so quickly, both Jagged Edge and Bruce played like their lives depended on it, but it still wasn’t like the day before.

After the gig I kind of just stood there in a stunned state, the week had gone by so quickly, I’d chased the dream, I’d made it happen, I’d meet my heroes - well some of them, I’d seen Maiden play The Trooper, I’d travelled on a train with the band and apart from saying hello I’d ignored them and just let them get on with doing whatever it was they were doing, I’d meet All About Eve and some bloke in a bar with his band and road crew, I’d been to venues that I’d only read about in KERRANG! I’d been there (Astoria) when they’d recorded the gig for a live release, and I’d got to do some of it with my mates, who in 2016 I’m still in touch with even though we all live in different parts of the country.

If only I’d had gone to Newcastle…

Sliding Doors anyone…?

Epilogue

Friday 29^th June 1990

Later that evening I crawled into bed with a stupid big grin on my face. It took days, weeks and months, before it truly sank in.

Sliding Doors anyone…?

“Now find your own vibe, ‘cos this one’s ours”.

I did…

Noggin xx

60x40 fly poster

12 inch promo flats

What the hell was I thinking? It seemed like a really good idea at the time. A classic case of trying too hard and having far too much time on my hands. On a positive, it was to be very useful four years later, but that’s another story…

Just for the record, I saw this in a shop after the tour and bought it because it had a different sleeve, the rest as they say is history.