It was a night off, a trip down that lane called memory with another memory, Karen my former wife. We share a like for retro rock and beer, so we headed to Asquith Leagues Club which is confusingly located in Sydney’s north at Waitara. The other werid aspect to all this is that we don’t think there is an actual league team called Asquith either.
Tonight’s band was The Radiators, still tight in their fourth decade. I wanted to see how new guitarist Brent Dehn stacked up as Fess Parker’s replacement. He was great, they played two hours, and it was worth $16.50 and the headache the next morning from all that beer. The ex and I had a great time.
This Blog wouldn’t be written if it wasn’t for the inept, stupid and counter productive lightshow. Sixteen par cans on the back truss blinded us with annoying flashing, and most of the night you simply could not see the drummer – who is one of the more interesting guys to watch, with his drum stick twirling and fun.
What took things to a whole new level was when Karen complained to the lightie and then the Rad’s backline gronk who was standing alongisde the desk. The gronk told her to f–k off. That is not nice. I went to take his picture and he stormed me, my iPhone went flying. It was technically an assault, but I’m not inclined to take it any further and the phone wasn’t hurt. It took the (nice) FOH guy a minute to find it with his touch, under the FOH.
I’ll remember the gronk though, and require him to apologise next time I see him.
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