The place is buzzing by the time we get there. The throng have arrived to check out these transatlantic pond hoppers. As soon as the lights go out, Paul and Reb come running onto the stage, guitars blazing, and go straight into "Madeleine." Kip's entrance is greeted by a big roar and, of course, a big scream from the girlies. They hammer through a rockin' version of "Loosen Up." By now, the dance floor has been transformed into a mass of heaving bodies, rippling like a storm-battered sea. they love it and Winger are definitely out to blow the cobwebs from the eyes of their critics. "You Are The Saint, I Am the Sinner" and "Headed for a Heartbreak" lead us into the first of Reb Beach's solo stints. Solos are okay, but when you've seen one...
As it turned out, this particular mucho twango session didn't last too long, so I refrained from visiting the bog.
"Baptised by Fire" started to warp the floorboards, then it happened - the drum solo. Er, where are the toilets in this place?
Skins soundly thrashed, Kip arrives back for a bit of 'Singa Longa Winga'. You know the routine, side against side. Ahh, I wasn't doing anything anyway. The limitations of the smaller stage only imposes on them when they start to climb around the PA to tease the crowd. A lighting rig in the head can really fuck you up.
Paul Taylor bings and bongs around on his banjo for a bit before the Hendrix classic "Purple Haze" is offered to us. I personally don't like this version, but it was met with the same fervour that has been apparent all night. With Kippo Wippo donning an acoustic guitar, the pace slows once again (a bit like me on a bad night, and a good night, come to think of it) and it's time to get those lighters out and set fire to the person standing next to you.
"Without the Night" plucks at the old heartstrings and segues into "Miles Away," a song with a hook, big enough to catch a whale. Reb once again takes to the solo spot after "Poison Angel" took us on an upward curve. Toilet...bar.
We reached the penultimate part of the evening after everyone has nutted themselves stupid to crackers such as "Easy Come, Easy Go."
We don't have to wait too long before the encores of "Hungry" and "Seventeen." Once it was all over, Clarky and I retired to the bar and between us sank enough alcohol to kill a rhino.
Peter Grant
Pic: Dave Clark
Riff Raff
August 1991
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