It's only rock n roll..

If you despise sit-down venues like the Sheffield City Hall and the Manchester Apollo then, like me, your heart would have gone out to the people of West Warwick.

Now this is hardly the center of the rock and roll universe. Rhode Island is out on the east coast of the US, somewhere between New York and Boston, just south of Plainville. Some small town. The kind of place nobody you've ever heard of gets to play.

The night Great White played at The Station reminds me of the stir that hit Barnsley when the Two Tone tour hit town. The Specials, The Selecter and Bodysnatchers were not exactly nobodies when they stopped off in Hicksville. They could have stuck to Leeds and Sheffield like everyone else. What a night. I got dumped by some lass called Karen that day and I didn't give a crap.

Who were Great White? Well they were one of those cocky hair bands that Nirvana, Sound Garden and the grunge merchants blew away around 1990. Had a hit single called 'Once Bitten' about ten years back, then disappeared back into the scenery. A damn good fifteen minutes worth of fame.

Who cares. There are a ton of bands like this who touched a popular nerve once and have been trading off of it for years. The sort of band that remind you of the old days. Maybe you bought a single of theirs once...

But if they could be bothered to play your local live venue - the place you've hung about in since you were drinking underage - then, well that's different. A bunch of proper grass roots maniacs like Jack Russell and Co, who can rock the house in a way the town will never forget. Let's get it on!

When an act like this blows into town you drag your mates along. No question. Party time. Excellent. You get wrecked and let loose for the first time in ages. And of course everyone shows up, because one of the things that makes life worth living is a solid rock and roll show. OK, ideally it needs to be a bunch of young rocking bastards like the Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster or The Datsuns. But if even it's some old hairy like Jack Russell and the Great White crew, well, what the fuck, let's get the headbands out!

Whenyou get a big star in a small town then all the cool rules are suspended. If Julian Cope played Henry Boon's then sod it - anyone who ever bought a 45 single would be there.

And if the fireworks set fire to the backdrop, well that's part of the show isn't it?

The Station in West Warwick was packed out because of Jack Russell and his young guns bringing some proper rock and roll to the back of beyond. It could have been anywhere. Malton. Wombwell. Keighley. Bridlington.

The place was packed to the rafters. People were well up for it. The most exciting thing to hit this one-horse no-hope bead beat place since John Wesley and his tambourine terrors showed up in the 18th Century.

And then the pyrotechnics. Boom.

The place went up like a bonfire on November Fifth. A wooden venue that had no sprinkler system and no fireproofing it seems. A place where people where gathering for a night to remember. A night they'd never forget. The night the something unforgettable came to town for a change.

I've seen bands in the skankiest, scariest, most decrepit old dives. Derelict, squatted condemned old shitholes (New Order, Crass, U-2, Jesus and Mary Chain included) with just about every regulation flaunted. Legit gig were no different. London University Union was hardly safety city, and the old Manchester Poly had a floor like a trampoline.

The point is that a decent venue, with a promoter that gives a shit, is as rare as gold dust. I'll watch the likes of Richard Ashcroft in the old Peel Street bogs if that's what gets me way from the Karaoke Creeps that dominate the local bars. Rock and roll is worth the risk in my book. I'll travel the earth to experience the real deal. And I've seen the best in the worst if you know what I mean.

So when I heard about the tragedy over in the States, about a wooden venue called The Station and 97 people losing their lives because of a firework backdrop going wrong, then I felt it deeply. I've been there. Up at the front of the stage letting loose. I'm not sure I'd have gotten out.

If you've moment visit a few websites, thank your lucky stars, and say a little prayer. And play something loud for the folks who din't make it out into the cold night air like they were supposed to.

Jack Russell's Great White

Ty Longley

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