Crewe lyceum

This was a completely new theatre to us, I've never been here with any show. It was nice, it looked like a Matcham theatre, but I didn't verify this. 

(Just did, it's not a Matcham theatre) 

After working out how to place speaker stacks, whether to use any speaker stack at all even, we loaded stuff in and set about building the show. 

They had a cat 5 cable run in that they said it would okay to use. I'm sceptical of using other cat5 cables as I've NEVER got it working in the past, but my experience with digital snakes is limited to this, or similar, Behringer desk. 

And it didn't work here either. So after a lot of fucking about, we ran out cat5 cable and the desk and stagebox synced up. 

That was the START of the hassle. 

After putting all monitors where they're meant to go, powering up the band, last but not least, setting up my fucking drums! It was time to look at routing matrixes to their PA system. 

This is when it all turned to shit in my hands. 

A bloke, with shit in his hand. Sort of like me in Crewe Lyceum! 

The desk appeared to be fucked. Effects were no responding, faders no working, routing not functioning. Etc Etc. I persevered with it trying to assess WHAT THE FUCK for about 3 hours, rubbing my head and generally swearing a lot thinking how the fuck are we gonna get through the show. This is the only desk we have! 

I tried re initialised the settings, which only made it worse.  

Haze was notified on return from lunch and was not pleased. But no amount of "should haves" and "could haves" would have made any difference to the shit cake we found ourselves the icing on. 

Clayton suggested turning it off and then on again. I thought, "oh Jesus... What a stupid fucking suggestion... Pah!!" 

It only fucking worked didn't it?!? I felt an absolute twat for not thinking of that before. 

It was now 4:30

So with the desk now working it was time to sound check the show. First up, let's get mics working. I hunted about for the mic box every-fucking-where. After a call to Glen in the Lyric....

Yeah all the mics were left in fucking London weren't they?

This suddenly made it serious. We has no mics. No mics, no show. 

Fortunately the theatre did have some radio systems complete with mics and weren't dodgy about us using them. 

Thank The Lord of fuck for that. A fast sound check, the fastest I've ever done from behind the kit with and iPad controlling the deck on my lap, over. It was show time. 

We go through with no issues (save some crackle on haze's mic) packed down and got the hell out of dodge. 

On the journey home, I destroyed a couple of beers. It went down like cum to a whore and no messing. 

 A whore drinking cum... Sorta like me with that beer after the show.