March 2009

[Sweder]

. . . when your fake tan is a-peelin' . . .

Who'da thunk it?
I'm in Aberdeen, the ole Granite City, for an exhibitor briefing at the AECC. I know the folks here fairly well - we've handled events together at the venue for 20 years or so. It's great to meet up with old friends and swap war stories over a glass or two. I noticed a number of Edwin Shirley Trucking vehicles lined up outside the arena, my aged but not-quite-dead roadie senses tingling at the thought of a rock band setting up for tonight's gig. I asked our hosts who was on and if perhaps there might be some complimentary access action on offer. To my surprise there is . . . and I am now the proud bearer of comp tickets for . . .

. . . Lionel Ritchie.

All Night Long, Dancing On The Ceiling, hello . . . Is It Me You're Looking For?
Metallica it's not (they're at the SECC this weekend) but I'm excited in a most curious way. A while ago I took the Mighty Plodder to the set-up and soundcheck for Motorhead, very much out of his usual spehere of musical entertainment. The shoe, as they say, is most assuredly on the other foot. Should I survive the heaving mass of middle-aged Aberdonian woman-hood I'll let you know how it went