On the November 2001 Mogwai British tour there were rather unusually for them no Manchester dates scheduled, thus plans were hatched to watch them in Wolverhampton and the following week in Liverpool. So, on Friday 09/11/01 we boarded the Northern Ivor the Engine express to Liverpool Lime Street.
John Dewhurst and I deposited our overnights bags at our accommodation and proceeded to have a sally around a few Liverpool bars with Uncle George joining up with us later after he had finished his work shift. When meandering down Matthew Street I unexpectedly heard the hollering of my name, which always throws you when you are out of town. The source of the shouting was a mate from Preston called Pete Lester whose latest band Bridge were playing the famous Cavern that very evening.
We joined him for a bevy in the said venue, whilst perusing the tiny old stage where the young Beatles played, before checking out the back room where a more modern stage had now been erected. In the final pub before the gig, we were subject to some barracking from a group of Everton fans regarding our status as Preston fans. In retrospect, this all seemed highly ironic when six months later they came to poach our young manager, David Moyes!
The venue that night was Liverpool L2, situated on Hotham Street.It latterly changed its name to Carling Academy and then O2 Academy. There are two halls with respective capacities of 1200 and 500 and I am not sure which one we attended, but more likely to be the smaller one at that point of Mogwai’s career. The venue had a decent pedigree as within the couple of years preceding my visit Mercury Rev, Moby, Flaming Lips, Travis and Muse supported by Coldplay graced the stage there.
My brother was also in attendance at the gig whilst visiting friends in Southport and was aiming to surprise me, but we ended up missed it each other!
I have given this some thought and stand by the assertion that this remains my favourite ever Mogwai performance. It wasn’t the noisiest I have seen them as that would be surpassed by Glasgow and Sheffield gigs, but it was the fact that the sound was so crystal even the quiet elements were loud. It was further assisted by an excellent relaxed venue and their choice of set list and as ever at that stage they finished with their twenty minute ‘hymn’, ‘My Father My King’.
Post-gig, we considered going to the cavernous Krazyhouse nightclub, but deferred on that option, subsequently visiting the club for my only appearance a couple of years later. Our preferred alternate was to purloin some supper in China Town.
When walking back to our hotel, a young chap pulled up in a car next to us. It became instantly obvious he was stoned up to the eyeballs and was babbling incoherently to us before driving off. We allowed him a very safe distance before we set off again!
Our digs were the Campanile hotel on the docks, a somewhat dubious establishment, where we got very little sleep due to the noise levels of other residents. So, the morning dawned finding us hungover and dehydrated, a trio of bumbling nodders traversing back to the station.
On arrival, our dilapidated states were not helped by the fire alarm going off and an evangelist punter who approached us and coined phrases such as ‘you can’t be a winner if you are a sinner’. I had no energy to compose a cutting riposte and thankfully my withering look served to keep him at bay!
When we landed back in Preston, we refuelled with a couple of pints and a homemade curry in the Welly pub on Glovers Court before heading home for some much-needed sleep.
