Exactly one year to the day since I last saw them, back when Neil, Hammy and myself did the 100 Club. Great for my numbers OCD.
This time it was Colchester Arts Centre, which is a former church. Always a good sign. High ceilings, echoey walls and that faint feeling you’re about to be judged by someone who’s been dead a long time. Perfect setting for a night of ska and alcohol. If this is religion, then I’m in.
Line-up was Jimmy and Neil as expected, plus Jason – an old mate, but new to our little gig club.
They played all the Specials favourites. The proper ones. The songs you actually came for. Wall-to-wall crowd pleasers. I even recorded part of it, which is useful because I have absolutely no recollection of Ghost Town being played at all. Apparently, it was. Video evidence confirms this. My memory does not. See next paragraph for reason.
Pre-gig routine involved Felixstowe and Walton first, which in hindsight was probably a tactical error. Drank more than planned, arrived in Colchester already in the advanced stages of “this was a great idea earlier”.
Travel was train there and back, but a taxi from Ipswich to Felixstowe because there are no trains after 10pm. Nothing kills post-gig euphoria quite like discovering Greater Anglia has clocked off for the night.
Still, logistics aside, it was a bloody good gig. Tight, loud, no filler, no mucking about. One of those nights that reminds you why you still bother leaving the house instead of watching repeats and complaining about the heating.
Home and in bed before midnight.
Just.
Much Too Young
Rudy
Ghost Town
Monkey Man
Nelson Mandela