Stroy's Story
Richard looks back at Stroy's first ever gig and realises that things went better than planned.
Here we were in a shabby old Social Club in a valleys town, set to play our first ever gig. Sitting around was making us nervous. With only fifteen minutes to go, there were less than fifteen people in the crowd. Was this it? All those hours of practising, was it going to be for nothing?
We'd been through the bad times and we'd been through the good. We'd had our laughs too. We'd certainly got to know each other pretty well. Moany Mahoney - he's not called that for nothing. Everson's always right... or he thinks he is. Ollie's easy and me, well... I'm perfect!
Out we went, brave face on. As we hit the stage I caught a glimpse of the crowd. It was going to be okay then: Ollie's sister with a big gang of friends from school, two aunties, a few cousins, some old guys at the back and I'm still not too sure where the dog came from.
Then the lights went down. Now could I forget about the stained chairs, the ripped upholstery and the sight of the three pasties under the perspex cover in the corner. I could almost forget the sticky floor and the stale smell of smoke and beer, or was that Everson's armpits again?
We gave it all we had... four songs and an encore to be precise. Before we knew it we were back in the dressing rooms - well the toilets really - and felly pretty chuffed.
Okay, so it was only the local club, but everyone starts somewhere.
Richard Dyas
