A couple of weeks ago, I got a call out of the blue from my old mate Murray Mitchell, asking if I was free to cover a show at the BBC with The Damned.

As it happened, I was.

There wasn’t going to be much time for preparation. Just turn up, plug in and get on with it. Not always the ideal way to approach a gig, but this was for the BBC’s hugely popular television programme ████████████████████.

[REDACTED – BBC EYES ONLY]

It was only one number, with a few little bits and inserts. What could possibly go wrong?

The chap I was covering for, Sean, was away on holiday and, understandably, didn’t carry his show notes around with him on the Costa del Packet. However, he’d managed to send me a video and some information about the rig, which gave me a reasonable idea of what to expect.

Or so I thought.

Come the day of the show, and just as I’m walking into reception at the Beeb, I get a text.

“Oh, by the way, we won’t be using any of the gear in the video I sent you.”

Balls!

I must admit, that sent my dyslexic head into a bit of a tailspin. Still, after a few hurried phone calls to Sean, I managed to get everything connected and up and running.

There was, however, one small problem.

The rig sounded bloody awful.

Captain Sensible had arrived early to try out his gear and introduce himself.

“I hear you’ve got a few problems,” said the Captain.

“Yeah, but I’m working through them,” I replied, trying to sound considerably more confident than I felt.

“Well, we haven’t got much time after soundcheck, and the TV guys won’t let you make any noise while they’re rehearsing the show.”

He had a point.

So, following the time-honoured teachings of the Ol’ Roadie Bible, I started working my way through the system, one step at a time, grabbing whatever opportunities I could during the breaks in soundcheck.

We were making progress, of sorts, but things still weren’t looking particularly promising.

Eventually, we got as far as the power amp. With time rapidly running out, I decided to switch over to the spare.

We fired it up, gave the valves just enough time to warm through, and the Captain hit his first power chord.

BAM!

There it was. That glorious, filthy guitar sound, back in all its splendour.

A quick “Well done, mate” from the Captain, and suddenly the world was a much nicer place.

We could all relax.

Well, for a while anyway.

There was barely time to grab some dinner and give the guitars a final tune before we were straight back into the show proper.

Thankfully, everything went without a hitch. The band were great, although they were kept onstage throughout the entire two-hour recording, which I thought was a bit rough, particularly as it turned out they weren’t actually needed for the first hour, after they’d done their 30-second intro.

Even Jos, legendary roadie and infamous for, among many other things, writing the infamous and outrageous  Iggy Pop’s touring rider  (along with Slouch BSA, an equally infamous roadie from sunny South London), was feeling the strain.

“The studio was a bit cold, lovey. I should have worn a jumper.”

As an added bonus, my old mate Billy Duffy was also appearing on the show.

We managed a quick chinwag during the break, and I got an invitation from Bill to come along to a future Cult show when they hit the road on their next tour.

I’d originally worked with Billy when he was playing with Theatre of Hate, many moons ago, back in the early ’80s.

We hadn’t seen each other for decades until, towards the end of 2024, we unexpectedly bumped into one another in Perth, Australia. I was over there with The The towards the end of their world tour. He was there with The Cult, who were playing the next night, but we were on our way back to Blighty after four months on the road.

It’s a funny old game.

So, with the show finished and the gear safely loaded into the van, I took a stroll back to my hotel in Shepherd’s Bush.

On checking in, I discovered that every guest was presented with two complimentary drinks vouchers for the bar.

After the day’s events, I felt I’d earned them.

Result!

And thus ended another glamorous day in the wonderful world of rock ‘n’ roll.

Sometimes it’s the little things.

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OVER TO YOU…

Got a backstage story of your own, or maybe a gig that went awry, some equipment that didn’t want to play ball.

Share your questions, stories and anecdotes in the comments below.