Up fairly early after a restless night’s sleep for some reason to help smarten up Bruce’s pad before the estate agents arrive for an open house at midday. Me and Bruce wander into town scouting music stores where Bruce lusts after expensive twangy guitars (guitarists seem to have the same attitude as cyclists – optimum guitars is n+1) and I look intently at the basses pretending I know the difference between a Fender and an Ibanez. The guy twiddling away banging out classic riffs whilst testing a guitar is not fooled. After bike part shopping and a JIT lunch food shopping we drive north for a lovely walk around a wetlands area and along the canal. Back home we prepare ourselves for our big night out by another jamming session. Trying to rain so Bruce drives us to The Donkey where we arrive just in time to buy two cheapish tickets from someone who has too many.
Support band Produkty are the one that supported Bruce when I saw him nearly a year ago. They were OK back then but sounded a little stilted and unsure of themselves. Tonight they are bang on track with a great sound system really delivering the best of their tight sound. Women on the drums and a disinterested looking but very good and great sounding bassist. Very good guitarist hitting heavy hard riffs and great twiddly solo bits. The singer has gained a great stage presence and comes over really well with a bit of chat in between songs which I always like. Their take on heavy rock and roll riffs really suits this place and I’m glad they didn’t go down to one guitar on my advice (see last November’s The Burnout post). What do I know hey? They go down well with the smallish crowd (the place isn’t that big) and a good start to the night. We wander outside for a breath of fresh air where Bruce bumps into someone who tells Bruce he’s back in Leicester after being at a prison in Birmingham. I’m a little wary as to what he was put away forr until I realise they worked together teaching English to non English speakers and he was working in Birmingham.
Soon we’re back inside the filling up pub and after securing drinks from the bar, wow, Bruce is a cheap night out these days, and ease our way to the front of the stage. A great place to stand and watch the band but not so great for the ears. Left ears to be precise. Luckily our ears are old and grisly and as already hard of hearing the speakers don’t hurt us, too much. Soon enough I’m being gently shoved aside from behind and it’s the roadie leading The Ruts onto the stage. They look their ages but pretty damn sharp nonetheless and all sporting hats. Big drummer with braces. On his trousers not his teeth. Classy start. Guitarist all in black. Bassist and main singer in black suit, well nearly a suit. Sharp. They are an incredibly tight band as you may suspect after all this time as they were pretty tight back in the day. They jump around from punk to reggae to a hardy soulfulness and at times simply full on rock. Lots of old favourites with a few newer (relatively) thrown in to keep us on our toes. Literally. For the punkier numbers there’s about 6 (max) young ‘uns down the front reliving our glory years for us. Self-conscious jumping up and down and a bit of good natured shoving. Not sure it’s a mosh pit exactly but at least there’s movement. Most of the crowd are so old they’ve probably been told not to jump and jar their knees on doctors orders. I see the mosh / pogoing coming and quietly shift back a bit but Bruce is surrounded and has a short punker behind him jumping up and down whilst using Bruce’s back as a support. Gives the impression that he’s giving Brucie a very energet back rub. Weird. Brucie must either like it or refusing to give ground cos he’s not moving. I wouldn’t say that Bruce was dancing and it certainly wasn’t with a rude boy. Anyways it’s all good fun and the band seem to be enjoying themselves immensely. They joke about how they came to play The Donkey and about Leicester. They compare political times now with the punk era, as do most socially and politically aware bands, and name check a few folk who’ve departed including Tom Petty. I think they may have slipped a bit of TP into one of their songs too. As I said, some is pretty straight up rock and roll and pretty damn good too. As they don’t want to traipse all through the crowd and then back again they pause for a couple of minutes saying pretend we’re not on stage before then doing an encore. After that they thank us and say that’s our lot. A big hairy guy in shorts jumps on stage, to be fair he runs the place and introduced the band, and starts a chant of We Want More and The Ruts DC. The band really did look like they’d had enough, well, they are getting on a bit and it was a good length set, and after 5 minutes Bruce and me consider leaving. But the guy on stage won’t give up and seemingly reluctantly the band are led back on stage for a finale after which they say that’s definitely our lot. Great gig. Back home we while away the midnight hour watching the John Otway Story – made in the late 70s I think so his career looked pretty promising at the time.
Not content with getting me feather dusting yesterday Bruce has me heavy lifting boxes down from his loft before sorting out his bike’s various ailments and then humping unwanted crap to the car and then into the local dump’s trailers. All before lunch on a Sunday morning. Worthwhile sorting the bikes as we have a leisurely ride down to and along the canal south of the city. Lovely ride and the tables are turned from when Bruce visited me and I gave him a bike with gears that didn’t work and made him cycle up to Crystal Palace. I’m on an old Indian Hero which is hardly carbon fibre. In fact it feels like a steel frame the tubes of which have been filled with lead. Mind you with the chunky tyres it’s better than Bruce’s thin tyred racer once we get off the nice canal side tarmac and onto gravel and dirt. We ride up and down the ring road for a bit before we find ye olde railway line taking us back into town and then it’s back home for a rest and tea. An earlier night tonight so after watching two films on Glasgow’s gangs, or social disruption areas as one councillor insisted on calling it, we turn in. I refuse to mention the Scotland game as it will upset Brucie and he’s been such a great host I wouldn’t want to see him cry.
Monday morning I get up leisurely like as my conference, why I’m up in Leicester, doesn’t start til 10. Pleasant bike ride to the venue which is the Leicester City ground. Last time I was here (2 years ago) I patronisingly sniggered at their photos of old players and their list of trophies won. Little knowing that they’d beat The Arsenal to the title that season. Not so smug now are you Jim! Now they have a nice Buddhist bust in reception (I guess their owner’s touch) and a few more photos of winners. Don’t rub it in! They also have a memorial garden for departed fans. A lovely touch being able to call in on those you’ve lost before watching the match. Possibly the last evening in Bruce’s house is spent watching a very poor Wales vs Ireland game and a far more exciting documentary on Chinese non tropical rain forests.
Tuesday back at the conference at a very civilised time of the morning. Early finish and after cycling back to Churchill Street barely getting up a slight incline on my heavyweight Hero I say a last fond farewell to the place before catching a train back home. Ah, much as I love a weekend with Bruce it's nice to be back in the smoke.
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| Great support - cool drumsticks but apologies to the drummer |
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| Ruts DC - not aged a bit |
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| and the guitarist |
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| Leicester City FC memorial garden |
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