Blue Rose Code, at the Vic in Saltburn in the always splendid company of Ruthie otp. Unfortunately her mate who was going to go (and give us a lift) had to bail due to injury, so we needed to resort to train tactics. Doors at 8 and when we got there just before 8:30 the support was in full swing. Nice venue - looks like a decent pub, and the upstairs room (once you find it, having gone through a door with a 'no entry' sign on!) has good sightlines and splendid fairy lights. Support, 2 beardy blokes with guitars, sounded OK - only caught a couple of numbers and didn't catch the name. Then the MC announced there would be a break until 9:00 when the next support - his band - would play. Oh shit.
I asked the nice lady on the door what the running times were and they were expecting Ross on stage around 10. Or maybe 10:15. And we would have to leave at 10:25ish for the last train. Bah. Ah well, we figured that we'd get either a couple of songs or a song and a really long story.
Second support - somebody and The Murder. Musically, they made a pretty decent noise. Lead singer was an 80s goth clearly refusing to grow up... I wondered if I might have known him at school. :Lyrically, it was music to slit your wrists to. It got increasingly painful. I couldn't even bring myself to politely clap the one aboutr dying Syrian refugee children - which left me feeling distinctly UnBritish. And the bastards ran over. They stoppped, the MC extracted himself from his corner behind the drummer and said that he couldn't ask for a round of applause for his own band, so we cheered the fairy lights instead before he announced another break before Blue Rose Code would play at 10:05 'but as late as they like'. After hours is no sodding use to us, matey! The nice lady next to us offered a lift back to 'boro (I think) but Darlo would have been a touch too far. We moved to the standing space at the back so as to avoid creating a kerfuffle when we left and pointed out our now free seats to a couple standing there. The other chap standing told me that the bloke I'd given my seat to was 'quite famous actually' but I haven't got a scooby who it was.
BRC on stage exactly when the MC said, 10:05, and managed to fit 4 songs and a story and the HollyOaks joke into the 22 minutes we had available before we had to skedaddle downstairs, past the rowdy hen party and to the station where there was a pair of gigantic hounds to spoffle before the train back to Darlo for hot chocolate and gossip (not the dancing sort) and a sofa to crash on before my half 7ish train home the next morning.
The Vic gets a thumbs up - although I might look for a B&B another time. Promoters who schedule doors at eight, start the music at 8:15 and then don't get the headliner on 'til after 10 in a venue at the arse end of a tiny train line get a double thumbs down, even if it is their birthday.
And Ruthie gets a big fat
