A Captains Tale…. Me and The Godfather of Soul.

I could hardly believe my eyes when I read that James Brown was playing at the Chichester Beer Festival.   James Brown? What THE James Brown?! Come off it! Still, one of my favourite 80’s bands The Christians were due to appear so I thought what the hell, at least it’s a chance to see them if nothing else. My cynicism wasn’t unfounded. Many of these “real” stars turned out to be fake, a dim distant relation at best in most cases, and £30-odd quid was a bit steep to see a tribute act.  In for a penny in for a pound though.

Not knowing Chichester we parked up and followed the throng, not always the best way if they’re off somewhere else but it's the risk you take anyway. And then, in the distance, we see it… A tent! Albeit  a big one, but a tent never the less. To recap, JAMES BROWN-THE GODFATHER OF SOUL-in a tent!!! 

Being out in the country  lager ran a poor sixth or seventh to a myriad of colourfully named beers like ‘Grandad’s  Dentures’ or’ Old Maids Hip bone’ but lager eventually procured we headed towards the stage. Quite a big stage it has to be said, big enough for a BIG band anyway. It gave us hope.. It was at this point that faint music started to drift through the p.a. system. Quietly at first, then slightly  louder  but not at all obtrusively. I recognised it off one of my “Chill out” albums, hastily purchased one weekend to act as background to having friends over for dinner (how very grown-up!).It was “Down by the sea” by Morcheeba. The young lady’s vocal is like warm syrup running down your ears, very soothing, but not at all “Soully” if you know what I mean. Still, it was just background so it was fine and it drifted to an end and was over.

Until…it started again. Now you know what its like. When a tunes played twice in a row everyone does that ”They’ve just played this “look don’t they? .We gave each other eyes raised smiles and supped our lager. The tune faded. Then started again. And the same thing happened again, and again, and again! It was like water torture! We couldn’t believe our ears, they only seemed to have one tune to play! If The Christians hadn’t ‘saved’ me that day I swear I’d have swung for someone!  The Liverpudlians sounded great to us, but they met with scant approval and they finished their set to faint applause. I nipped to the gents and on my way back spotted them backstage(should that be back-tent?).I called out and they came over. To be honest  I think they were glad anyone showed an interest at all. I enthused about how great they’ed been and one of them said I’d looked like I’d enjoyed it which meant that he’d spotted me from the stage, how cool! I apoligised for the lack of appreciation, stating that this was country bumpkin turf so they didn’t have the refined palette of us city types. They seemed happy with that, and told me that James would give us a good show later. That was good news to me and I bid them farewell. I regaled the others with my brush with the stars and we eagerly awaited the main attraction. And then it comes. First, the  brass section file on, resplendent in matching fox-hunt style jackets. Then lead guitar, bass guitar,  rhythm guitar. The drummer takes his seat behind a massive kit. Three stunning girls take up position behind  mics and the brass kicks in. Every fibre in my body stands to attention.  It is an unbelievably crisp sound, so precise in their unison. The band kicks in, throbbing almost, under-pinning the introduction.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the moment you’ve been waiting for, the magnificent etc, etc, etc…Soul Colonel!!!!” They had me. Right up ‘til the end they had me. And then “…Soul Colonel?” Never heard James Brown called that before? Then on he comes. The hair was right. The suit was right, in a High School Prom light blue kinda way. But the guy was partially hidden…by the mic stand!!! That ‘aint JAMES BROWN!!!  You could see the same bewilderment on everyone’s faces, then an enlightenment. ”We’ve been had!”  I was crestfallen, and embarrassed. This had been my idea and now this. But wait, what’s this. The Colonel is speaking, ”blah,blah,blah…..and put your hands together for Soul brother number one, Mr JAMES ..BROWWWNNN!”  And then he’s there. And he’s every bit as James Brown as you imagined. The band are amazing and they react to every thing he does. Spins & kicks are accented with horns and drums. The girls croon, and swoon theatrically  to his gyrations. He is truly the master and we worship at his alter. With a click of his fingers the band stop, another click and they start up again. He sends the mic toppling towards us only to catch the lead and pull it back like an over excited dog on a leash. Absolutely brilliant!.  There’s no other words for it. We were about four deep back , so close you could see the beads of sweat on his brow. They played all the  classic’s  of course and then did the gimmick that I was looking forward to most where the (now we know his name) soul colonel drapes a cloak over his shoulders and helps him away from the mic, so overcome is he with the loving lyrics. But then he shrugs off the cloak and colonel alike and grabs for the mic to scream his angst. The colonel hastily puts the cloak back on and helps him away, only for the same thing to happen again. And again! Its wonderful, and I’m so glad I’m here to see it. The show ends and we file out, very happy to have had the faith to go and not let our reservations win us over. I headed round(back- tent we call in the biz!) to where I met the Christians and guess what?….. I WISH!!! Would of made a great ending though wouldn’t it!!!!!                                                                                                                                                                                  

Home (Run) Alone!

Usually sitting in the middle of the pack i was relatively safe in the knowledge that i had one or two mates about, or so i thought..

"Damn (or similar!), i've left my shades in the caravan. I'll be 2 minutes...". No sympathy from my scootering comrades.

"Hurry up (or similar!), typical etc etc." You would have thought that in this bright sunshine they'd have understood my predicament. New open face helmet and all that, but nah...

Anyway, back to the caravan, pick up shades, back to reception and hang on... wasn't there about 30 scooterists there just now?... There remains but one now, a mate, so i guess at least he's waiting for me. He gives a thumbs up, as if to confirm the notion, so i gesture back an affirmation. In i go to drop to drop the keys off and when i return.... "HE'S GONE AS WELL!!"

Ok, did i metion i'm a learner? No?, well i am. Did i mention that i've only ever ridden on my own about 6 miles? No? that's a fact also. So you can imagine the faint fluttering of butterflies i'm feeling as i contemplate the journey i'm about to undertake. About 70 miles!!! It's no trek across the Himilayas but its daunting ebough for me i can tell ya!

Then my brain kicks in , there's about 30 of them and i'm on a T5. It aint gonna be too hard to catch them is it? Little do i know they have turned right at the junction and i've gone left. Let the chase begin!

I've never experienced the isolation of solo distance riding before, as iv'e said, so it's wierd how after the initial panic has gone, the calm inside your helmet starts to become deafening. The constant hum of your engine, the once draughty bits too cold to have any feeling, eating up the motorway.. HANG ON! MOTORWAY!!! I'm not supposed to be on here... how the hell...? True, i've only got the one L plate (dont ask, boys will be boys), but that's enough to alert Mr Plod of my status isnt it. So the never ending sentence starts to play in my mind. You know the one "oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.."

It was about this time i was overtaken by a Ford Focus type car that fell in front of me for a few miles. I was looking for an exit off the motorway, but of course none was forthcoming. The car acted as a bit of a windbreak and i was happy for the shelter. It stayed there and it was then that i noticed the sticker in the rear windscreen. It said "I'd rather be riding my Vespa". I thought to myself, "I'd much rather be in that car"

At last, an exit and as i indicate my intention, i get some waves from said car, they were indeed acting as guardian angels and it reinforced my faith in scooterists being thoughtful types on either 2 wheels or 4. To be honest my phone had buzzed a few times in my pocket so someone was looking for me. I pulled off and into a garage to refuel and rethink. I redialled the numbers but they were riding also so i got no response. Oh well, onwards and upwards. I managed to go massively out of my way at one point but at last i was on track and saw familiar sites. 5 in particular. MY MATES. Up i pull, i can't help but grin now. Many thumbs up and indications of my impending cuppa, so the cafe it is. Let the interrogation begin..

"So at which point exactly did you think it was ok to leave me behind then you bastards!!". Much finger pointing later i extol them with my tales and adventures, made more interesting by the fact that although i went massively out of my way, i caught them up on the outskirts of our hometown. One mate said he couldnt of done it, he would have called out the breakdown services. That's all well and good, but that don't get you any good stories to tell does it.... lol