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IGKTW Comp - Sitting on the dock of the bay in Leicester. (1333 hits)

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Labels: IGKTW

Rating: 1.71 on 50 reviews (Rate this item) (V)

Submitted by Redskieslookfake (View user info) at 2006-04-21 19:03:47 EDT

If you cared to walk into smoke filled interior of the Black Bull in Leicester around last September you might have caught sight of Old Red. He was about sixty, and had a fine white beard which contrasted with his well worn beret, surely a souvenir from some European jaunt I guessed.

The permanent cigarette dangling from his lips was largely accountable for the smoky aroma that would cling to your clothes on your stumble home. As well as his strong smelling cigarettes, Red had a fondness for filtered coffee, which he sipped from the biggest cups the pub offered.

My abiding memory of him is seeing him sitting in his seat next to the fire, while a minor bar brawl went on around him, a bemused half smile on his face. Violence always seemed to perplex him, although his mouth must have held only six teeth.

I never saw Red touch alcohol, and I never asked him why, there was just something about his craggy face which discouraged you from asking. You didn't want to add any more creases.

I bought two of the largest cup of coffee they served and sat down at his table last night. He looked a little startled but seemed to warm to my smile.

"Red?" I asked tentatively, "I heard from one of those guys that you used to be a bluesman?"

The old guy smiled, his white beard and few yellowing teeth making him look a little like the world's worst Santa Claus.

"That's what they say is it?" he mused. "I used to earn my keep by playing a little blues. Chasing the green manalishi." There was a hint of memory in his voice there, and a look in his eye, like he was testing me.

So he was playing 'name that tune' with me was he?

"Now, when the day goes to sleep and the full moon looks
The night is so black that the darkness cooks
Don't you come creepin' around - makin' me do things I don't want to," I recited calmly.

Red half smiled, just a flicker. "Shall I tell you about the time I first met Greeny?"

I nodded eagerly and took my first sip of the coffee.

----------------------------------

Leicester in the late fifties was not a busy city like Liverpool. There were no sailors clutching foreign vinyl to sell to the local record shops. Nor did you see American service men plying young English girls with the latest melodies from the States while trying to persuade them to drop their pants and lean against a wall to show their appreciation. I'm kinda glad actually.

What there certainly wasn't was the rich influx of culture that comes with being on the waterfront. When I was growing up, the closest you had was tuning into the American service's radio that still was being broadcast across Europe to US forces stationed in Germany, keeping an eye on the Soviet Union.

It was listening to the first blues tracks on my wireless, huddled up in my bedroom when I first decided to be a professional bluesman, much to my middle class parent's grumbling disapproval.

I'd clutched my battered guitar and vowed to be as good as BB King and waited for the explosion. There wasn't a huge argument, to my surprise and mild disappointment. Certainly not upset enough to inspire a song. It seemed almost logical, I'd never been suited for school (they'd never been keen on me bringing my guitar to class), and they'd given up persuading me to go and get a job.

In some ways I wish I had burned my boats there and then, it would have motivated me a bit more when I found myself bouncing around in the back of a VW van with six volt headlights on full beam trying desperately to light up the pitch black country roads that defined our journeys from one unappreciative pub to the next.

It wasn't just publicans who didn't appreciate us. There were plenty of other people who found the sight of a van full of musicians an opportunity to be as parochial as they could be. We'd pulled into a service station to put a few quid of petrol of in the tank, and been confronted by a sign stating "No Long Hair."

The frowning mono-browed man who confronted me took each pound note with sullen ill-grace. Thankfully my beret was large enough for me to conceal my own long hair. I found myself hummed a John Mayall song as I waited for him to get my change, only to stop when he scowled. I got my change and walked out, leaving no tip. A man who doesn't approve of the blues gets no love from Red.

The songs we played then talked of being wronged by a woman, of growing up under an authoritarian rule. 'Spade music' we called it, and we plundered just as much as we could from every blues album we could get our hands on. I recognise the irony now in the cry of the black underclass in America being played by white middle class guys from Leicestershire when we each of us knew we could turn up on our mum's doorsteps, with bedraggled long hair and dirty laundry and be taken back in with little more than a tut and a frown.

When it came to hard times, we'd none of us had any, until one night in London. We were booked to support a band, some Yardbirds knock-offs with too many bad guitarists arguing over the limelight. Nice enough lads otherwise.

We'd got there at four in the afternoon and I'd curled up in the changing room. A converted cupboard with an unshaded light-bulb hanging from a length of dirty white flex. You didn't get too much sleep travelling on British roads, they were bumpy. It's got a lot better since let me tell you.

I woke up a few hours later, pulled my jacket on and went out into the bar to see what the audience was like. It matters when you have to decide to sing about New Orleans or Chicago all night long. Verisimilitude I called it. Most academic word I ever used.

I was sitting at the bar, watching the first people walking in when a girl sat down next to me. I played it cool when I turned to look at her. Longest mascaraed eyelashes I had ever seen and a low fringe that was so in style at the time. I ran my fingers through my beard and smiled. We talked a little, she seemed impressed that I was a musician and we talked about John Lee Hooker for a while. I inched my stool a bit closer to her and placed my hand on her knee.

Ten minutes we were in the back of the van, the old squeaky mattress in there had been graced with a few encounters like this. I was just getting into my stride when the doors were flung open behind me. I cursed my bandmates, telling them to give me ten minutes. A hand closed around my ankle and pulled me out of the van to land on the pavement. I rolled over and looked up into the angry red face of a man. He was an easy six foot, and seemed about that wide, and as well as the biggest hands I'd ever seen, I'd also caught the glint of metal under the street light.

My feet slithered on the stones as I tried to push myself away from him.

"What you playing at?" he bellowed at me. I could smell the scrumpy fumes on his breath.

"Nothing man - be cool - I ain't hurting nobody" I stammered.

"My bird you bastard. She's my bird," he continued, advancing half a step and brandishing his weapon threateningly.

I looked at his steel blade. It looked like a bayonet. Slightly rusty too. So I could add tetanus to the mere threat of having my lungs punctured.

"Shit man, I didn't know - I'd never have gone near her If I'd known she was yours," my hands raised in the least threatening way I could while my soles still sought purchase on the ground. Too much more of this and it would be a wet floor too I thought.

At least if I was gonna go, I could go out in true blues tradition. Fighting over a woman.

He took two strides and raised his knife before his eyes crossed and he collapsed full on top of me knocking the wind out of me. I frantically tried to pull myself from under him to the sound of laughter.

I looked at my drummer who was hefting a slightly dented hub cap while he laughed uproariously.

I finally got the bloke off me and offered up my response to his merriment. "What do you call a bloke who hangs around with a load of musicians?"

He wiped a tear from his eye and shrugged, still tickled by my predicament.

"A drummer, you bastard - let's play the gig and get out of here before he wakes up."

The face of an affronted drummer is as universal as the song of lamentation about a woman who wronged you. The blues isn't about your background kid. It's about whether you can get good and mopey and still have the tenacity to play music.

We played the gig and got back on the road. Brighton was the next stop and it was my turn to drive, peering into the gloom and counting the lines on the road.

Two hours motoring later and we pulled up next to our seaside hotel. Off season the hotels were empty, and were ideal for travelling musicians like ourselves. Complete with disapproving landlady, they were a real taste of home.

As we crammed into our little rooms I heard the sweetest sound in the world. The noise of glass scraping along metal. Before you start thinking about chalkboards, I'm talking about a beer bottle on the strings of a guitar. I wandered up the stairs, following the guitar sound and heard a
few scattered lyrics

"Had your life in my hands
And baby when the sun goes down
Please understand
That it was love and jealous rage
Baby when the sun goes down
I'll have to pay"

I knocked on the door and a long haired man answered the door holding a rather fine Gibson Les Paul.

Peter Green was fairly well known as a great bluesman, but then the slightly spaced out look in his face made me think again about inviting myself to a jam. He mumbled something and wandered back into his room, closing the door gently in my face as he turned away. I ambled back downstairs, leaving him to his slide guitar. Sometimes we all just wanna play the blues.

----------------------------------

"I played a lot of Peter Green on stage later on. He was the greatest blues guitarists I ever saw, and I've seen a few," Red concluded, taking another sip at his coffee.

"So that was it? You didn't play the blues until 4am while sipping bourbon?" I spluttered, somewhat put out that this didn't end in a blues song.

"You forget, not all of the blues was personal. You didn't have to be coked out of your head and crying over a woman to get the blues. That's not what it's about. The blues is as much a celebration of good times as bad," Old Red said, wagging one finger reproachfully. "Sure there were hard times, I'll tell you about them too, but most of the time we travelled from gig to gig and all that changed was the name of the beer. There's something tragic about that too you know."

With those words he finished his coffee and stood up from the table. "I''ll catch you later kiddo."

*************************************************
All lyrics are Peter Green and Fleetwood Mac.

User Reviews

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2008-04-14 18:17:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

consider me scuttled then.

;)

Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2008-04-14 18:00:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

heh.

When I lived in London I always took a perverse delight in asking people where LIE-KES-TER Square was in the most obnoxious southern American accent I could muster.

There was just something about watching proper English folk inwardly implode, but politely tell me its pronounced 'lester' and scuttle away disgusted.

Nice story.

Submitted by fluff (user info) at 2006-07-06 17:32:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2

No Comment

Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2006-04-27 17:55:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Oh, wait. One comment.

I have a craving for bacon.
Rashers, to you Brits.
I think.
I could be wrong.

Did I mention my brain is fried?

Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2006-04-27 17:53:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

sorry, my brain is too fried for comments by now.

Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-04-25 13:03:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I bet you thought I'd never get around to reading this.

Well, I did.

Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-04-25 12:56:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

"...I'm talking about a beer bottle on the strings of a guitar."

Like that Heineken commercial from a few months ago.

Submitted by TheSpook (user info) at 2006-04-25 09:31:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

http://www.ubersite.com/m/86916#1949861

Submitted by Doodies (user info) at 2006-04-25 00:40:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1

Boring.

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-24 16:36:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2006-04-24 15:12:04 (#)
Ranking: 2

"dude, bro dude bro dude bro dude bro. Duddeee brodude bro dudebro dude bro. dude BRO dude BRO dude Bro Bro. dude bro, dude bro dude bro...hey!"
---
Ye-eah

Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2006-04-24 15:12:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

"dude, bro dude bro dude bro dude bro. Duddeee brodude bro dudebro dude bro. dude BRO dude BRO dude Bro Bro. dude bro, dude bro dude bro...hey!"

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-24 08:55:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-04-24 08:46:12 (#)
Ranking: 2

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:26:45 (#)
Ranking: 0

Disclaimer - I have family from Leicester. They tell me it was a great place to live with wonderful social activities. When queried they are vague and refuse to give detail. I do not know whether this is merely age taking its toll on their memories, or whether it's part of the great Leicestershire tourist board conspiracy to big up their county town. I sadly suspect the latter.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This Yank suspects the latter, too - when I was in Desford on business in January, the company put me up in Leicester at Nich's Square. My impression was that it is a college town, for the most part, and not a lot of non-student residents. Sound accurate?
---
It's theoretically got a fair few colleges and two universities. It's not a small city really, but it just seems to suck the fun out of the students who go there. Even Durham allegedly has better social life.

I pity students who study in Leicester. They must come back home during the holidays and go crazy ape bonkers. WOOOH - SOCIAL TIME.

Dervel - I am shameless.

Submitted by Dervel (user info) at 2006-04-24 08:50:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

"I have no shame - do you hear?"

I concur.

Good post though.

Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-04-24 08:46:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:26:45 (#)
Ranking: 0

Disclaimer - I have family from Leicester. They tell me it was a great place to live with wonderful social activities. When queried they are vague and refuse to give detail. I do not know whether this is merely age taking its toll on their memories, or whether it's part of the great Leicestershire tourist board conspiracy to big up their county town. I sadly suspect the latter.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This Yank suspects the latter, too - when I was in Desford on business in January, the company put me up in Leicester at Nich's Square. My impression was that it is a college town, for the most part, and not a lot of non-student residents. Sound accurate?

Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2006-04-24 06:26:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-24 04:49:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

http://www.ubersite.com/m/84781#1869710

Howay now Licious - I don't point out every time you do it now do I? ;)

Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-04-23 23:26:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-23 13:25:59 (#)
Ranking: 0

ARGH +2ed myself. It's Davros' comment rankling at me.
========
Easy mistake, isn't it? I'm not going to point it out, like you did to me. This makes me the better person.

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-23 16:16:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2006-04-23 16:09:29 (#)
Ranking: 2

OOOOOHHHH Look whos all like "Oh man, my post is so awesome! Its a perfect +2, oh man, Id better +2 myself as WELL! w00t!"
---
I am truly sorry. I'll try and ensure it wont happen again. It is all Davros's fault.

Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2006-04-23 16:09:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

OOOOOHHHH Look whos all like "Oh man, my post is so awesome! Its a perfect +2, oh man, Id better +2 myself as WELL! w00t!"

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-23 13:25:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

ARGH +2ed myself. It's Davros' comment rankling at me.

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-23 13:17:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-04-23 12:57:41 (#)
Ranking: 2

Not bad for a talentless hack.

-Dave
---
High praise indeed! Let me point out that since I watched football with you, Newcastle are now challenging for Europe. Coincidence? I think not!

Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-04-23 12:57:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Not bad for a talentless hack.

-Dave

Submitted by Stuch (user info) at 2006-04-23 11:26:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Fuck. I'm still stumbling around in the dark depths of ideas and people are pulling diamonds apparently straight out of there asses!

I was hooked throughout.

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-23 08:54:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

http://www.ubersite.com/m/86802 - original competition link for those who are curious.

Thanks Hurty

Appreciated Sphaggy, it is a little long and perhaps could have been a bit tighter in the middle.

Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2006-04-23 07:03:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Yeah, this is wicked, you crusty old minger.

Submitted by Sphagnum (user info) at 2006-04-22 10:45:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

This story was excellent. Great imagery and simple honesty.

For some reason, I found it difficult to read in parts. That could be because I'm tired but I'm not sure.

Well done, Red.

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-22 04:48:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Cheers all. I enjoyed writing this. This has been a good competition so far.

Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-04-22 04:11:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I used to visit Leicester once a month to see a supplier.. I can honestly say it made me think of Milton Keynes.

Great story BTW.

Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2006-04-22 02:19:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-21 21:40:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

"It's friday I'm in love...."

Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:37:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Meh. I give up.

Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:30:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

"with wonderful social activities"

Sport, Shopping....erm....

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:26:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Disclaimer - I have family from Leicester. They tell me it was a great place to live with wonderful social activities. When queried they are vague and refuse to give detail. I do not know whether this is merely age taking its toll on their memories, or whether it's part of the great Leicestershire tourist board conspiracy to big up their county town. I sadly suspect the latter.

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:24:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:21:49 (#)
Ranking: 2

Fuck, how did I forget the Carnival.

Reading down the list of areas and thinking 'oh that place sucks...and there...and there...' I see where Bertys coming from.
---
Leicester is the world's blandest city. It's almost restful.

Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:21:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Fuck, how did I forget the Carnival.

Reading down the list of areas and thinking 'oh that place sucks...and there...and there...' I see where Bertys coming from.

Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:18:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Hey, Leicester IS interesting.

The World cup Rugby team was basically the Leiceester Tigers wearing an England strip.
We've got the national space station.

Biggest rocket in europe, if you get my drift.

Fuckloads of Pakis and Indians. Dunno if they count as interesting.

Damn it. Once you go past Rugby Its hard to thnik of things to reccomend Leicester.

Cos I've bin to the space centre, and it sucks.

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:15:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leicester#Famous_Leicesterians

Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:14:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Yeah I just saw the title and got confuddled before I read it.

Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:13:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:11:28 (#)
Ranking: 2

I live near Leicester. If Leicester was a dog you'd shoot it. Then put the maggots to work in factories.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey.

HEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYY.

You bastard.

Hang around, I must think of a witty retort.

Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:11:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I live near Leicester. If Leicester was a dog you'd shoot it. Then put the maggots to work in factories.

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:10:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

http://www.pickatrail.com/jupiter/location/europe/england/leicester.html

New movements tend to start in the port cities. Places where new ideas are constantly being imported. Leicester is as far from anything interesting as it's possible to be. It's about the sheer normalcy of the place as much as anything else.

Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2006-04-21 20:08:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Leicester is about as far as you can possibly get from the sea in the UK.

???

Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-04-21 19:39:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Berty is built from soul. It's just coated in meh to stop it crumbling from contact with air.

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-21 19:38:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Berty has a soul too. He's secretly a romantic, I can tell.

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-21 19:37:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Cheers Berty, that means a lot man.

Licious, thanks for your input. I think giving it a bit more direction helped the flow. And apologies for length.

Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-04-21 19:36:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

And now, I'm especially glad I didn't say "We all can feel the blues, unless we have no soul at all, like Berty", like I was going to.

Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-04-21 19:35:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I love this story.

I love that you wrote from a Brit's perspective, instead of simply composing an American blues tale.

The concept that so many of us can relate to and therefore appreciate the blues, regardless of upbringing or other life experiences, is well worth writing about.

Some of your lines here are really great.

"The face of an affronted drummer is as universal as the song of lamentation about a woman who wronged you. The blues isn't about your background kid. It's about whether you can get good and mopey and still have the tenacity to play music."

"The noise of glass scraping along metal. Before you start thinking about chalkboards, I'm talking about a beer bottle on the strings of a guitar."

"Sure there were hard times, I'll tell you about them too, but most of the time we travelled from gig to gig and all that changed was the name of the beer. There's something tragic about that too you know."

We all can feel the blues, unless we have no soul at all.

Really fantastic, Jake.

Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-04-21 19:27:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Brught a tear to my eye with its simple honesty.

Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2006-04-21 19:11:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I once got threatened with a bayonet...no wait, it was a spanking.
Threatened with a spanking from my mum.

This was good if long

Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-21 19:09:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

And that's my silver jubilee. Have a good night all.