In my late teens and early 20s I would go to at least one ‘gig’ every weekend. We’d look through Time Out and they’d list every possible musical ‘event’ going on in every pub, club, back garden and garage across all of Greater London. And you could always get in. No booking required. We saw some amazing stuff. And also some out-of-key shit performed by drunken stoners who fancied themselves as Led Zeppelin but dropped like a lead weight. Ok, we were generally a bit selective. Because I’ve always been a terrible music snob. As everyone should be. ‘My music’ is brilliant, anything else is shite? Is beneath my level of sophistication? Is beneath contempt (pop)? But there was an incredible wealth of talent, and pubs were their way of promotion. Or failure.

Don’t know if they do that now, kids who want to be ‘stars’ just apply to tv talent shows and get their eyebrows waxed to show what great musicians they are.

But much as I used to love BIG gigs as well, at Wembley, the Albert Hall, Hammersmith Odeon, I always loved the intimacy of small venues. Ok, it doesn’t always work. In 1971 I went to the Red Lion in Leytonstone to see a ‘new band’. Tiny pub, ceiling about 2 inches above your head. About 500 people crammed in to see (then unknown) Status Quo. Were they good? Don’t remember. Were they loud? Oh yeah. Some of my teeth fell out.

And last night we went to see Graham Gouldman. Mr 10CC. Ok, one of four Mr 10CCs. He’s 78. And has been writing hit songs since 1964. For the Hollies. For the Yardbirds. For Herman’s Hermits. And, of course, for 10CC. And he’s never stopped. He’s written, produced and run bands continuously since.

It was at the Pizza Express Live in Holborn. The ‘live’ refers to music, not the pizzas. But both were just great. He played a mainly acoustic set of songs he’s written, new and old. With a group of totally brilliant musicians for accompaniment and harmonies. Who knew he wrote ‘For your love’ for the Yardbirds? ‘Look through any window’ for the Hollies? Ok, Dreadlock Holiday is easier to guess. Each track accompanied by a great story, charmingly related by a man very at ease with the world. Even though he’s a Manc. He’s a very lovely one.

But most importantly, there was pizza. The Pizza Express American Hot hasn’t changed since Churchill was on the throne, since Czechoslovakia was just one country. Although it has got a bit hotter. And no-one minds that. I’m only allowed to eat pizza about twice a year because it’s too unhealthy to be fashionable (why the fuck would you put the calorific load values on the fucking menu???). Given a choice, I’d eat it every day. A cheese sandwich with loads of other shit on top. How can you go wrong?

A really great gig. A really great man. A really great pizza.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx