“If rain is what makes England great then Manchester’s yet greater.” – Paul Hedon
Or something like that. And it’s true: Manchester weather does not let up. On television, we watched the weatherman turn out a veritable thesaurus for “drizzly” as he described the current temperatures and upcoming damp, thunderous, cloudy, light precipitations, heavy rains, and certain showers. It is sure to be grey, wet, trickling, inclement, chilly, bleak, unseasonably wintry, stormy times full of dark clouds and lightning bursts and wind gales with lots of atmospheric pressure and heavy meteorological conditions. “Put your Wellies on, England.” The forecast is not good. You might want to have a spot o’ tea to warm your spirits to boot. As four ourselves, we’d crossed a continent and an ocean from surprisingly sunny Seattle and it was certainly feeling that way by the time we were in Manchester. I was definitely feeling the unfriendly elements as if they were a personal attack. (And why oh why was my jacket disappeared by the wind and waters or a cunning thief during our ferry ride between Canada and America when I would shortly need it most?! My heart was pleading against these cruel new climes.) Luckily Dan knew a secret that would warm me through out: authentic Sichuan food with its delectable ma la spices and prickly ash flower peppercorns and smoky chiles. The meal absolutely saved me. And though the attendance to our “Deaf Institute” gig (the venue being a converted hospitable for the hearing impaired) was not in the multitudes, we kept warm-spirited. Like most shows in Manchester (we’ve been told by many musician colleagues and friends and fans) it certainly felt like the sound technician and promoter were glumly going through the motions of “another show, another night” but we managed to rile the small crowd some. And though the set times were kept very strict in order to preserve the entirely unattended successive Club Night and though Dan’s microphone line was cut off by the surly engineer when he scraped its meshy metal head against his guitar for a wee bit of ya know punk rock effect, we managed to make some of the crowd laugh at our jokes about Manchester’s notorious sweatshop of good bands. Through out history certainly a lot of sad and angry men have made good use of their unhappy upbringings here after all. A lot of angst created a lot of genius songs which certainly helped me bear my most angst-ridden times as well. We’re both enormous fans of the Manchester sounds and we’re happily schooled, while still on stage, on the new ones being created. So, Manchester, despite your unfavourable environs and frequently aloof and crusty technicians and bored rock promoters, we’re happy to have tested the waters, dipped a toe in even. We hope next time it fucking storms, of course. Because you’re important to us. You’ve meant a lot to us actually. Next time I’ll come prepared for an even greater sloshing. I’ll wear my rubber boots if I have to.