Gaspode wrote: ↑Tue Dec 08, 2020 6:50 am
Pray tell us of your U2 anecdote Jules....
Oh very well Gassy - as you asked so nicely.
Way back in 1987, when I was a youthful Engineering student, I went with my chum Richard to see U2 at the Birmingham NEC. It was the night of the General Election (I had remembered to vote early in the morning by the way – I wasn’t going to lost my democratic right, make no mistake) so Bono, or Mr Hewson to give him his proper name, was all shouty and very political. I don’t think he liked Mrs Thatcher from some of the things he said. I’m not sure whether she’d said something to him about his performance at Live Aid some years earlier, where he’d prevented the band doing their biggest single “Pride (In The Name Of Love)" because he’d cleared off down into the audience on a mission to save some girl who was getting crushed at the front of the audience, leaving them to jam away sans vocalist for about seven minutes wondering what the absolute fuck was going on as they were unable to see him (a blessing some might say). Rumour has it that the girl’s recollection was that Bono was a bit hot, sweaty and rather smelly, but let’s not digress too much at this point. Great mullet though. I always wanted to have a mullet but perhaps luckily my hair would always start to curl upwards whenever it reached my collar.
So where were we? Ah yes, Rich and I were in our seats, about halfway from the front. Imagine if the floor of the NEC was a football pitch, U2 were playing in goal and we were sitting on the halfway line. The support band Hurrah! had been on earlier. By coincidence, I’d seen them a few months earlier when they supported The Stranglers at The Wirrina in Peterborough. I was right at the front for that gig and they were jolly loud, I can tell you. I don’t know why I mentioned that as it’s not particularly relevant to this tale, but I do like add extra details from time to time, just to provide some extra interest.
U2 were about halfway through their set, when it came to the part where Bono had to play his guitar. Someone on the front row started heckling him, saying things (I imagine – it would have been impossible to hear from where we were) like “Oi Bono, where did you learn to play as badly as that?”, “You’re rubbish!”, "Get off you Irish twat!" or “I could do better than you”. It was after a comment like the last one that Bono stopped and said (I can’t type in an Irish accent I’m afraid) “Right then matey boy, if you’re that good, why don’t you come up here and have a go?”. Bono’s bluff was called when this chap, with the blessing of the security guards, leapt up onto the stage and strummed a few chords. “Oh,” he said, “by the way, I have my mates with me. We’re in a band”. “Begorrah,” says Bono (I clearly lied about not being able to type in Irish), “you’d better get them up here too”. So he did. There was one exception. Their bass player hadn’t got a ticket for the gig that night.
The words “Is there a bass player in the house?” came through the PA. Yes, there was. Me! I was like the Red Sea had parted and I was being called. This was my moment. I could get up on stage, in front of about 10,000 people, to play with U2. How cool would that be? What a tale to tell my grandchildren! I stood there for what seemed like an eternity with this prospect running through my mind, summoning up the courage to dodge the security guys who were at the halfway line and then convincing my legs to quit their jelly-like state and carry me to the stage.
It was all in vain however as I was beaten to it by someone nearer the stage. The sad thing is, Bono suggested that they played “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” by Bob Dylan. It’s a simple song – G, D, A minor, G, D, C, repeat ad nauseum. But, could this bass player who cruelly stole my chance of stardom fathom this out? No, he could not. He was rubbish. Absolutely rubbish. Worse than the band's regular incumbent. He was probably a drummer masquerading as a bass player for all I know. I’m not bitter. I could now be insisting on having all the brown ones removed from the bowl of M&M’s in my dressing room, hobnobbing with Elton John, and spending all my money on fast women and loose cars, instead of dealing with idiots who know nothing about computers. Still, there you go. As Steve Winwood would agree – “If you see a chance, take it”.