Ok, so we probably had the BEST night out EVER recently. It started with this email I got from my husband:
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buzzcocks live next saturday
Thailand
Date: 28th November 2009 (Saturday)
Venue: Club Culture, Bangkok, Thailand
Doors: 9pm, show starts at 10pm
Prices: 650 Baht (advance/pre-sale), 800 Baht (at the door) – inclusive of 1 drink
Tickets: Available at Club Culture on Sri Ayudhaya Road, DJ Siam at Siam Square Soi 4 and The Tube on Coco Walk Ratchetewi BTS
Come saturday, (I think I had forgotten about it all together by then) I get a phone call, "we're going to the Buzzcock's tonight, so can you find out where they are playing" (always a fun chore in Bangkok I have to say, mainly a wife's job - things are delegated into blue jobs and pink jobs here; domestic servants, speaking the language and directions fall into the pink category), cue google maps. I think it is on the Sukhumvit BTS line, but if we go a bit later than peak hour traffic, but before saturday night traffic, I guess we can cab down Petchburi. Again, not something you want to be doing on a saturday evening, if you want to arrive anywhere on time. It's completely unpredictable.
Before we leave the house though, we all get a quick education on who The Buzzcocks are, and by we, mainly I mean Cara and myself. Why yes, I do recognize their songs, but not sung by them, I am sure that was covered by Belinda Carlisle, no …wait while I google, It was the Fine Young Cannibals (a musical obsession of my parents for a couple of months as a child) - I thought I recognized it. My ignorance is scoffed at, because not only are they a seminal punk band, but they opened for the sex pistols, and some other really famous people who went to some really famous gigs, a long long time ago in Manchester.
Ok, I get it, they were young, you were young. You all came from a poor place, at a time when there was no jobs, so everyone played an instrument, and got good at it, because there was fuck all else to do. Some of them became famous, and their music forms the sound track of your lives. For me, when I got depressed at 15, I listened to Micheal Jackson's Off The Wall. Before the kiddy fiddling, and plastic surgery.
Of course we leave the house early - I never feel good getting into a cab in Bangkok with a map, and not quite enough Thai to get me to the exact place I want to go, it's just feels so… tawdry and unprepared. When we arrive the doors to the venue CLUB CULTURE *shudders* aren't even open yet. But the crowd is milling around, and includes everything between new wave punks with super hair sprayed mohawks and weird ass clothing to wrinkly old bald guys in jeans and t-shirts. I went as far as jeans and a studded belt. I know, you don't have to tell me, I have become incredibly conservative in my old age *insert snore*.
After ensuring our night of destiny by purchasing our tickets, Mike and Luke were insistent on drinking beer, and I was insistent on food. So Cara and I find a divey joint around the corner, where we go eat… surprisingly, the food is not as bad as I thought it would be. Midway through our meal: phone call, what else - accusatory "you took the tickets" - well duh. You wouldn't eat, so I took the tickets. Ensuring them we would trudge the whole 50 meters returning to the venue in the next 5 minutes. The doors still not open.
What I didn't realize was the absolute punk protocol which goes into these events. Apparently, as soon as you walk in the door, you claim your table, for Mike and Luke, it was right up the front. For us, it was way down the back with chairs. Time goes by, Mike comes over and says, "Hey, why don't you bring your chairs up the front, you guys will be the only chicks in the crowd on seats" - ok, good idea I guess… for now.
The DJ is playing some ambient shit, then some support bands come on. I sigh. Waiting for the moment when it all starts. Another support band comes on. This one the lead singer is French. I lost my voice because Luke and I we're screaming some weird Simpon's reference at him "Say Chowder, Frenchie" in a poofy accent. It amused us, what can I say.
As per usual, along the way, Mike befriends strangers, chatting up some French female journalist, who hasn't been spoken to by a white guy in at least 3 weeks. He tells her she can't come near his speaker, something about a base speaker and a guitar speaker. She is super disappointed when she finds out he is married. I think I am beginning to understand how slightly demented in the head these punk people are. Another cover band… Eugh, will it never start/end.
Mike brings over some Guy with an Oilers Tshirt on. Obviously Canadian, I say hi Alberta, Edmonton, and whatever else passes for conversation, kind of hard yelling over music. He tells me he thinks his friend is gay, married with kids and all, because his friend is shlepping around the dance floor feeling up mens asses. "not that there is anything wrong that", I reply. Sure enough, I lean over to look, and there he is feeling up my sons butt. Edmonton Oilers jerks his thumb over, and says, I think that kids gay. I have to laugh, "Nah, that's my son, he isn't gay, He gets more pussy than you ever will, he is just friendly". Canadian dude is suitably embarrassed, and I have to laugh.
I turn around, and at some point, randomly, Fuck Me, Barnaby is standing behind me, out of nowhere. I didn't even know he was coming. Already he had missed the Friday nights rendezvous due to work, so I was somewhat taken aback. It made the night all the better. Mike and Luke had abandoned the table and were now all about protecting their territory right up the front, so having Barnaby stand by us, in what was becoming a crazily packed venue, and a little fervid for my liking was reassuring. I don't like wide cramped spaces, crowds, loud music or "The Others".
Mike demands I go buy him beer, because he is not leaving his speaker, Luke either. He points to some dude with a bad haircut, and demands I buy him one too. I trudge off to the bar, that had previously run out of beer before the real band had even started, to acquire some luke warm Heinekens for them. I return, and the Buzzcock's have appeared, and have started playing. I sit with 4 beers I don't want in front of me. I take some photos of the mosh pit. It looks somewhat crazy.
For some insane reason I decide to take mike and Luke'e beer into THE MOSH PIT for them, mainly because the beer I just bought for them would go warm and be wasted, I hate that shit, wasted money and all. Not a sane decision, by any means - 49 kilo girl up against big fat white old dudes trying to hit each other in the head??? I cannot understand people who do moshpits. It's like some weird hive mind that likes beating the shit out of each other for fun. As a little person, I get carried around a bit, but their beers are delivered, eventually. Assholes. Of course I can't find the random guy with the bad haircut, but thats ok, because the band is playing the one song out of the three I know.
It was when I found Bad haircut guy that the night went south for about an hour and a half. I will gloss over this bit, because he kind of killed at least an hour and a half of my time. First in complete shock horror, that someone you buy a beer for, would back hand you, give you a fat lip, then deliberately pour the beer you just bought him, all over you (can I just mention here I have an OCD about food and drink fluids being spilt on my clothing). Response: where is the fucking humanity people? Mike wouldn't let me punch him the face though because he said it wasn't fair to punch someone so non compos mentis out. Believe me, I really wanted to.
I decided to sit the rest of the concert out downstairs. Fuck being around morons who like bashing each other up for fun. About 30 minutes later, it's all over and people are streaming down the stairs (apparently they only had a few big hits). Thank god.
There is some socializing, some bitching, meeting people, hearing them talk about the good old days, yadda yadda. Then Mike and Luke disappear, and this when it started to get interesting.
What followed was a completely spontaneous, totally unorganized boisterous night had by all. Mike and Luke had wrangled themselves upstairs into the band's after party. Mike had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face as he was sitting there drinking the Buzzcocks' rider. Nothing like a bit of Moet on top of ten thai beers. I talk some boring shit to Pete Shelley, who is the most gracious person while listening to some random woman talk absolute crap about living in Bangkok to fill in an awkward silence (as I know butt fuck about their music).
After some time, the "Club Culture" - ooh lala, kicked us out because it really had closed. We go downstairs, and decide to go out, you know, out out. For some reason Pete Shelley is totally into being highjacked, kidnapped and shown the sites of after-hours bangkok by us. I was somewhat surprised, but I think he has done this before, many many times before.
Armed with some bad thai, we search for some open venues. I thought he might like a trip down to Pat Pong, where the fruity bars are. We get there - closed (whats new, apparently there is a new sheriff in town). Another cab, Spicey? ugh Spicey, horrid club, but not much choice, arrive - closed. You, there, Driver, take us to an open establishment. Minutes later we fall out of the Taxi and get ushered into some seedy little bar, where the drinks are 200 baht for everything, including water. Kind of pricey, but at least open. I had absolutely no idea where we were, yet everyone seemed happy. We were now a group of 6, I think.
Pete Shelley was incredibly fun and affable, and awesome to be around. I was ecstatic because for the first time in I don't know how long, I got to see Mike really FUCKING happy. He had his son by his side, while he got to jabber with one of his punk idols. It was so awesome to watch. My son (all of 7 and a bit years younger than me) and myself made the proprietors of the establishment feel uncomfortable while we got our sexy dance on in front of the renta girls. They didn't seem to like that too much. We laughed when we got chucked off stage. The girls weren't hot, we would have made heaps more money.
From there, we decided that our usual spot of Sukhimvit Soi 11 would be good. Well actually, it's more like Soi 7, where ever the Subway "restaurant" is, because the Subway food factory has the best toilet around, only 10 baht to use it. Perfect, particularly for the ladies.
There were some 'Twats' around - whats new?, (mainly white expat Dickheads playing Beatles covers) but we take our usual table with our usual waitress, and I paid some Thai guy 200 baht (he just made a days wages in half an hour) for the use of his guitar, so my son could entertain us with cover songs. At one point we had two guitars, and we got our very own rendition of Orgasm Addict sung by Pete Shelley and Luke Parsons.
I knew it was kind of getting bad, when the sun was fully up, and the garbage trucks where coming to collect the trash. Our little street cafe had packed up all their tables , and we were the last cliental. I don't think many people have been kicked off the side walk of Sukhimvit at 9 o'clock in the morning, but they did have to pack up so the market stalls selling their crip crap could set up.
It was possibly the best night I have had in a very long time. Mostly because my husband and son had one of the best times of their lives. Pete Shelley was one of the most good natured, liveliest people I have ever met. I asked Mike what other night was his favorite night ever, he could't remember, however I do know it wasn't our wedding night.
This is a very late dated post and long blog, I don't really expect anyone to read it. But it was an experience that none of us will ever will ever forget.
Bangkok rocks.
Oh, and these picture are of Pete Shelley taking footage of me and Cara making out, we are laughing because we expect the footage to end up on you tube at some point. We did't even know he had a video camera on him until he stealthily pulled it out of his bag when we started making out.
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