19/06/2014
Stockbrokers and Sweaty teenage girls!
No this is not another Sunday Times expose about London City’s finest spending their bonuses on sauna based or**es with school girls but a lead into the first ever Ramusement Club event which went down like an MDMA’d ho**er last night at The Club at The Acadamy Manchester.
When the first Random Music Amusement event was drawn by founding committee member Mrs Kerry Fayomi there was a collective feeling of “What the f**k!” Andy Jordan of Made in Chelsea semi-fame supported by Room 94 and George Taylor would not have been any of the attending committee member’s choice on any given day, but that’s the beauty of The Ramusement Club-anything can happen!
I was the first to arrive at a sundrenched Joshua Brooks. An excellent pre-gig venue. There’s outdoor seating next to the last ever used Pissotiere in Manchester, cask ales for £1.95 and according to Boomy “a surprisingly subtle yet powerful house Merlot!”.
Mr and Mrs Fayomi were late leaving me to mingle with the local students and the post work world-righters. My grey matter was inspired by the educational banter coming up with what will surely be a retirement inducing idea for an app; “Find My Sun”. An app which advises the user of which venues, bars and restaurants have outdoor areas and are in the sunshine at any given time.
Budweiser and wine supped we flitted with glea to our gig. Arriving at an eerily quiet Manchester Acadamy we were unsure as to whether we’d come to the right venue. Checking with the lady on the ticket desk, who had a look of a person thinking; “what the f**k are you doing here, are you perverts, is this some sort of sick bet!?” We proudly grasped our tickets and skipped to the bar. Further alcohol purchased we meandered with our open minds down to the gig venue.
On entering the room and after the initial slap of heat and humidity the overriding thing that you noticed was that we were unique amongst the crowd. Of the 200 or so in attendance 90% were giggling girls from the age of 14-19, 8% were floppy-haired harry’s and Henry’s in skinny jeans and masses of arm jewellery and 2% were embarrassed drag-along fathers or husbands hiding in the shadowy areas of the rear bar.
Open mind, open mind, open mind, open mind, stop looking at that girl she’s 17, open mind, open mind, to the bar.
We’d missed the opening act George Taylor, who I’d seen before and he’s alright, a swaggering Manc who’s into Oasis and Paul Weller, acoustic guitar and attitude, quite good.
Room 94 were playing and with my open mind and no cynicism I can truly say that this five piece group of young boys are unique. In an industry so dominated by boy bands who are overly manufactured, overly gelled, PR driven, nicefilled and bland these are the real deal.
They have lead singer with floppy hair and skinny jeans, guitarist with a gelled quiff, a drummer who’s just a really nice guy, a keyboard player who was just below our eyeline so it looked like he was playing with himself all set and they played trail blazing songs like Teenage Dirtbag!
They were s**t!
Our ducks out of water watershed moment was when the lead singer ( I think his name was Henry Whitstock-Poppleshaft) queried to the crowd if there were any teenagers out there! As my previous figures outline 90% squealed with fizzing hormonal joy!
Open mind, open mind, open mind, wow she’s actually got amazing breasts, open mind open mind open mind!
And so to the main event Andy Jordan, the band entered first with a bit of standard five bar scene-setting blues jamming, then entered the “main man”.
I’ve mused and struggled on how to best describe his entrance;
“Bounded on stage like a constipated gorilla on crack”
“Whirled on stage like a rabid Tazmanian devil”
But the best analogy I can come up with is he came on stage like an overly excited dog chasing a sausage shoved up it’s arse!
Wearing a street-cred attempt sleevless t-shirt and wide boy baseball cap backwards he exclaimed;
“Top of the morning to all yee Northerners, If I speak a bit quickly or you struggle to understand me I apologise but I went to private school in the real world down South and Daddy is very rich!” (not actual quote)
He did however introduce his first song with a background explanation. When I think of rock and roll I think of Bon Jovi growing up on the streets of jersey with an old coat for a pillow and the earth as last night’s bed or of Rod Stewert bedding number 325 in his mansion with her wearing it well.
Mr Jordan outlined how his first song was about the trials, struggles and unhappiness he experienced as a lowly stockbroker in The City! T**t!
Neutral drivel followed along with his pretend fi*****ng and strumming of an acoustic guitar. The highlight was the sexy and angel-voiced Georgie who was his backing singer. A quirky blonde wearing denim dungarees with one strap dangling she overshadowed the Chelsea Cheese sucker with her powerful and sultry vocals.
Mr Jordan sang songs that I don’t know the names of and can’t really remember what they sound like but I do remember most of them were about meeting a girl on the tube and then her moving back to Ibiza or him jet-biking on the Thames then meeting a girl on a rowing boat then a song about shooting in Cheltenham then meeting a girl in the stables blah blah blah.
The low point was reached when he advised he would be doing a cover of a 90’s classic, hopes were raised temporarily with thoughts of Slide Away or Luck Man, but when he gipped and puked out an awful version of an awful choice of “Boom Boom Boom” we didn’t say “Wahow” oh no!
It was clear he is not in it for the love of music as his facial posing and prancing proved. He was always looking around at the audience, not for feedback or energy but to see them looking back at him. There was no crowd interaction, he called the band “HIS band”, he is the worst dancer I have ever seen from the Chelsea area although to be fair he can sing pretty well.
The funniest moment was when he announced the final song of the night, sang it, said his thankyous and left the stage. Within 23 seconds half the throng had made their way to the exits when one teenage fan, presumably overwhelmed by uncharted hormonal feelings, dehydrated from the vodka and feeling slightly sorry and obliged whispered “En...” Before she could finish the “core” Mr Jordan bounded back on, having realised the sausage had fallen out of his arse and was on the stage, to do an encore.
The best bits;
In the downstairs Disabled toilet there is an actual working shower (I tested it) and so at the next gig we are bringing our towels and bath robes for mid-gig freshening.
The drummer looked like Michael Gibson.
The lead guitarist looked like a transgender computer programmer.
Cask Ales in Joshua Brooks are £1.95 a pint.
Georgie.
New rules were also passed by the committee.;
All members must make their way to the front of the stage for atleast one song.
Maximum gig cost is £15.
Never pay to watch Andy Jordan again.
Good fun, role on next event, details to follow.
