No More Twist

This was my first gig at the NIA so I didn’t know what to expect. In the unfamiliarity I was almost grateful for the familiar ritual humiliation of carrying J’s handbag back to the parked car, after meeting in the queue… The first twenty or so to arrive had a privileged place – actually under cover. Luckily it wasn’t raining, but if it was, the early birds would start the concert dry.

I parked in the Brindley Place car park which seemed easier to find than the NIA itself. The ‘Olympian entrance’ to the NIA is a short walk down the side of the Sea-Life Centre and across the canal away. The other people in the queue seemed a broad mix including stereotypical fans clad in band merch, couples, parents and children, and generic youths.

The doors were opened in a bit of a pantomime by the stewards. They did a sort of two steps forward, one step back, check the locks, twirl round, primp the litter bags dance. I honestly think they were building their part. Then waving the queue to one side, they opened the doors and let people in. There was a mad rush to the front of stage area which was already pretty much covered by people sitting on the floor – some people had priority access I think! The stewards were in front of the barrier and encouraging people to remain seated. No-one was allowed within a metre of the barriers. Eventually the stewards left and there was a humungous surge towards the barrier – a taste of what was to come later! We ended up not on the barrier but one person behind. I would have preferred something to lean on (I was far too polite to lean on the waif-like girls in front of us), but I’d still get a great view of the gig.

The support were Polysics, a noisy bunch of nutters from Tokyo. I’d never heard anything like it, but after the shock of the first few songs I could sort of see where they were going. Think of a punk metal band with added synths and japanese pop influences, styled by Gerry Anderson, then twice as fast as you first imagined… The crowd reaction was better than I would have expected given the unusual style.

Second up was Graham Coxon, sounding old fashioned and conventional by comparison. It was a good set and the crowd reacted well (with only the odd narrow minded Chiefette heckling annoyingly). They didn’t play the new unofficial world cup song – or maybe they did at the sound check – the day after I heard the Kaisers interviewed on the radio saying they had heard Graham’s Hurry Up England!

The red curtains were drawn across the stage revealing the ‘KC’. After what seemed like an age, the lights dimmed, and the crowd went wild for the Kaiser Chiefs. The curtains opened. Ricky appeared in the usual blazer, waistcoat and tight jeans. They played a good set but didn’t talk much apart from typical small talk ‘Hello Birmingham’ and ‘We are the Kaiser Chiefs!!’. Ricky appeared on a podium in the middle of the crowd for one song, then back to the main stage.

There was some quality singing from the crowd, because the songs were so familiar, and we danced as well as we could (with movement essentially restricted to upwards and downwards). The lighting was good even if we were perhaps too close to take in the spectacle. On the occasions we turned around we were reminded that this was a large venue – I wonder what the people sitting in tiered seats round the edge thought. I don’t think there were any large screens, so I’m not sure how much they would have taken in from so far away. The crowd was excitable but not too wild – there was just one time when I turned to see J clutching her nose in pain, and another woman had her arm outstretched and hand around the throat of a guy about a foot taller than her. This guy had clearly overdone something. He legged it and wasn’t seen again.

I got a few pictures, as usual marred by stage smoke and excessive movement – what could I do, without the barrier to lean on? An honourable mention to the two spotlight monkeys who kept Ricky well illuminated. If it were not for them, I would have hardly any pictures. They also entertained the crowd by encouraging a mexican wave in between sets.

The size of the place was rammed home again as we left. We had to wait ages to stream through a handful of double doors. The NEC has better exits, and the Carling Academy isn’t so huge. Even though we used a nearby car park instead of the NIA one, we had to queue for what seemed like ages. My ears were ringing from the gig, unfortunately not enough to blank out the cretinous conversations nearby… by now, exhausted, J and I just wanted to be home.