Injuries sustained in the pursuit of rock & roll
Posted by itf on 9 April 2008 - 12:52pm.
While I can't boast of one myself, having somehow managed to avoid trenchfoot at Glastonbury, I was reminded last night that the last time I saw the Long Blondes, the crush at the front left my girlfriend with bruised ribs and a couple of days off work in pain.
I figure that among the Word readership there's probably a long and chequered history of injury in pursuit of rock. So how about you?
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Nose and shoulder
Broke my nose at a Carter USM gig having had my face smashed into a monitor by a (ahem) friendly guy behind me.
My brother's shoulder was popped out of its socket at a Pop Will Eat Itself concert after being landed on by an over-enthusiastic crowd surfer.
It's always someone else who causes these injuries isn't it?
Sometimes it's other people but mostly it's the drink
These days my gig related injuries are usually confined to a bad back if forced to stand all the way through the support act.
Back in 1984 however Bob Dylan headlined an outdoor gig at Slane. It was a mixed bag. Santana, UB40, and local band In Tua Nua were on the bill, and both Van Morrison and Bono made brief cameo appearances. (I'm sure Bono would much rather forget his 'How many newspapers must we read before we go to sleep' ad lib during "Blowing In The Wind", sung as it was in a key and to a tune of his own apparently spontaneous devising - Dylan certainly looked surprised). Anyway, festival sanitation being in its infancy, and beer having been consumed, the only option was to jump over, or more accurately through, a hedge in search of a handy tree. But in Slane each hedge comes with its own concealed rusty barbed wire that promptly tore through both the 501's (it was 1984) and my leg. Didn't feel a thing, until the next day when I discovered the blood that had gathered in my shoe, and was informed by my kindly GP that while it was too late for stitches, a tetanus jab would be just the job. It's a scar that, unlike the 501's and espadrille combination, I still wear with pride.
If it happened today I could surely sue the organisers, and retire on the proceeds.
Billy Bragg?
(O, sorry, that sort of left)
I copyright this humourous jest, or will as soon as your sides all stop splitting.
Next blog over
...
Blimey, so it is!
I thought the Frazester had removed it!
Ha! And stolen your joke for his own use ..
If it's any consolation it was pretty good - even out of context!
Too old to mosh!
My best (or worst) injury was when I tried to lead a one man 40-something stage invasion at a Morrissey gig in my home town of Grimsby.
Whilst security were engaged up the other side of the stage,I climbed on the barricade and jumped down very hard into the space between it & the stage with the intention of springing up athletically onto the rather high & distant stage. Sadly I did not see the metal base of the barricade & i jumped heavily onto it. And simply keeled over. Heavily. Like an overweight sack of spuds hitting the ground & almost splitting.
The security man who came over actually took pity on me, I suspect partly becuase I must have been close to the oldest stage invader he'd had to deal with. He still threw me out ,though, once he had me up on one foot. As I hopped out the pain was excruciating. Proud to say it didnt stop me hopping aggressively round to the front of the hall, in through the doors and back to the front of the stage in time for the next song.
By the time the gig was over my foot had swollen up to the size of a football and was a lovely yellowy purple. It was filled with blood and when I moved the foot I could hear the blood swill from side to side like a bucket of water. Turned out I had chipped the heel bone quite nastily. Took months to return to a normal size and colour.
Still it was an injury taken in the cause of st Mozza & was worth it.
as a Scunthonian
I should mock you fopr being a, ahem, cod-head. But we're all friends here!
ps should you be mentioning Mozza ;-) ?
Down with the cod heads
Is it alright if the Scuuny massive pick on the clumsy codhead for a while?
You lot carry on, we'll just fight amongst ourselves.
You're going home in a Humberside Ambulance.
I will acknowledge the grim in grimsby....
if you acknowledge the $%?! in scunthorpe....
sorry (to all); that was a bit rude & i do indeed have scunthorpe credentials myself. my dad & his folks moved to sunny scunny when he was growing up so it was his sort of second home town. In fact he played football for united for a season or two. Grandad worked in the steel works for 20 years.
As kids we used to go see the gandparents in scunny each sunday & it was always a chore. the air smelt funny (ie of steel not fish)& the people all looked miserable all the time.
Still its always the second result i always look for on a saturday.
Bless you for that!
Scunnie types are inherently miserable; I remember a comedian's routine about how he took a rtaxi to the town after arriving for a gig, and asked the driver about places of local interests. Saturnine cabbie said: 'It's a sh&thole pal, I wouldn;t f&ckin' bother'.
At least you have Cleethorpes nearby - the Arnoold Palmer pitch 'n put tocks!
Reminds me of a recent trip to......
Liverpool (yes, that place again). Asked the cabbie where the sites were. Chester, he said.
(And, no, he did not have short steely blue-grey hair, a blackish beard, big nose and earrings)
Why oh why
Did we used to sing 'you're going HOMe'? Surely it should be: "You're going to the hospital in a Humberside ambulance, waiting 5hrs in casualty before being disachrged shortly afyerwards where you'll then return home', Not as snappy, mind
Because
We'd rough up the errant fools who dared tread on our turf, but so much that they need the hospital.
some buffoon
trod on my foot at V Festival, and my big toenail dropped off.....
Damned, Damned, Damned,
Back in '83 The Damned played a pint sized venue near me (Crocs - where Depeche Mode did their debut gig)for a pre tour warm up date.
I've never been to such an oversubscribed gig - where you stood was where you stayed for the duration - I managed to get stage front to take the photos below - but had cans of 'Tennet's Extra' ricocheting off my head, became pebble dashed in phlegm (check to see what Sensible's wiping off of his guitar) and nursed bruised hips for a week. Yes, it was diabolical, disgusting and deafening But when they came back for a Boxing Day date later that year I did it all over again.
Foppish Fire Extinguisher Anguish
I leant on a fire extinguisher at a Japan gig and the Astoria. It came away from the wall, went off and covered my best Bowie pleats in wet foamy muck. A bouncer then pushed me over and manhandled me into the foyer where another bouncer kicked me. I then was chucked out into the street. With dented pride and trousers ruined I hung round and pleaded to be allowed back in again. Eventually they allowed me back in to 'go and see the puffs'.
That's customer service for you.
I predict
not a riot, but a ~Rob Fitzpatrick feature on Casualties of Rock ;N Roll. My toe still 'urts. I tell yer... Japan, Mr Drayton? Still, anything for a, ahem, quiet life