Reposted from the blog of Colum Regan, talented singer-songwriter, old friend and all-round dude, whose new album I’ll be mastering next week.
We were late. The rest of the band was already waiting at the Uplands Tavern. They had done their sound check, so Donal, (trusty sax-player and co-conspirator), Zoe, (friend and music fan) and I were making good time travelling at speed downhill (the exact speed need not be specified, suffice to say that we were not in danger of being overtaken) along the A48 when there was a grumbling and a metallic moan, and the rear right hand wheel came off.
I was in the back seat. Donal was driving. The sound of the metal gouging the road was ear-splitting. I turned around and saw the wheel bounce its way across the road and sparks fly out from behind the car. I saw Donal try to brake but the car was not responding. The car was shaking. It was very loud, very shaky and very fast. The road veered right at the end of the hill, and straight in front of us there was a slip road, so without having to turn we came to the end of the hill, the momentum of the car slowed and we were safely on a slip road. When we stopped, Donal and I jumped out and saw that the where the wheel should have been there was a black circular piece of metal which was on fire.”That’s fire” said Donal. Right next to the diesel tank.
My first thought was “My guitar is in there” and was just about to make a rescue attempt when Donal with one deep breath and powerful exhalition extinguished the flames. Just like Superman would have done. Superman could play a mean sax if he wanted. I said “Your fucking wheel came off” … Donal said “My fucking wheel came off” … Zoe said “I’ll go and get the wheel”, which she immediately did. We then laughed and shook our heads, and shook, and laughed and proceeded to instigate a plan of action which would get us to the Uplands for the gig. There is no need for me to go in to what that plan was, or how many times it changed, or which cast of friends, strangers, mechanics, and police became involved, just as there is no need for me to outline the other mishaps, flat batteries or electrical storms which were all entwined in the circumstances of our rescue, car salvage and eventual arrival at the Uplands Tavern, but suffice to say that when we got there and played, we kicked ass.
We were alive and safe and playing music, which sound like simple undemanding things, but when it came together on Friday night, the simplicity of the truth of those three things – not only those three things but the fact that the wheel came off on a straight stretch of road instead of the twisty country lanes from which we had just emerged, or the busy motorway which ten minutes later we would have been speeding along: the fact that there was no other traffic for the moment the wheel came off on a usually very busy stretch of road … the world had conspired to shake us up just a little bit but enough to make us remember that we were alive and doing what we love doing with our lives … the music last night was alive and we were living it. What a gig.
I remember that gig as if it were yesterday. I was truly alive, vividly present and absolutely in the moment. It remains as one of the best gigs I’ve ever played.
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