Watford Review 2

["Ian Clarke" <gai67@dial.pipex.com>]

Again thanks to Steve W for getting the paper.  This is a review of the
aftergig party (Benn & Dave, were you there?).  Unfortunately, there's
something amiss with the story, it repeats itself, and just as it gets
interesting, it stops in mid sentance.

I repeat it for what it's worth.

IanC


IT was like a scene out of Spinal Tap. Foxy, the groups manager  not the
cringingly stereotypical DJ on ITV~, Pop Idol  was slumped against the bar,
complete with pony tail and suit, frantically puffing away on a cigarette.
Various roadies, ageing rockers and pretty, young(ish) groupies were lulling
around while a burly bouncer was turning away bemused twenty-somethings with
the immortal words: Private party tonight lads, and finally the band
walked in.
I hadnt managed to get tickets to The Whos gig at The Colosseum. So, when
the chance to interview them at the aftershow party at Area Nightclub in the
High Street came up, I jumped at it. Of course I did, Im a huge fan. Ive
got to admit though, at first I was highly sceptical about the chances of
them actually being there and whether they would speak to me. I wouldnt
speak to me if I was worth hundreds of millions of pounds, in my fifties

IT was like a scene out of Spinal Tap. Foxy, the groups manager - not the
cringingly stereotypical DJ on ITVs Pop Idol - was slumped against the bar,
complete with pony tail and suit, frantically puffing away on a cigarette.
Various roadies, ageing rockers and pretty, young(lsh) groupies were lulling
around while a burly
bouncer was turning away bemused twenty-somethings with the immortal words:
Private party tonight lads, and finally the band walked in.
I hadnt managed to get tickets to The Whos gig at The Colosseum. So, when
the chance to interview them at the aftershow party at Area Nightclub in the
High Street came up, I jumped at it. Of course I did, Im a huge fan.
Ive got to admit though, at first I was highly sceptical about the chances
of them actually being there and whether they would speak to me. I wouldnt
speak to me if I was worth hundreds of millions of pounds, in my fifties and
probably knackered after a two hour set.
By 12.3Oam, there was still no appearance, not only of the band but any sort
of aftershow shin-dig.  I was giving up hope when suddenly, en-masse, the
entourage of roadies, guitar techs and various other musos entered the
building.
We were all ushered into the back bar which was promptly closed off and then
Pete Townshend, general windmill spinning guitar jumped at It. Of course I
did, Im a huge fan.
Ive got to admit though, at first I was highly sceptical about the chances
of them actually being there and whether they would speak to me. I wouldnt
speak to me if I was worth hundreds of millions of pounds, in my fifties and
probably knackered after a two hour set.
By 12.3Oam, there was still no appearance, not only of the band but any sort
of aftershow shin-dig: I was giving up hope when suddenly, en-masse, the
entourage of roadies, guitar techs and various other musos entered the
building.
We were all ushered into the back bar which was promptly closed off and then
Pete Townshend, general windmill spinning guitar god, and Zak Starkey, top
drummer as well as son of Ringo, entered and nobody batted an eyelid, except
probably me.
I was introdbced to Foxy who, in turn, introduced me to the guys. Straight
away Zak Starkey told me that they dont do interviews, especially after
gigs when they just want to relax with friends they hadnt seen for

by Marc Dodd