All The Forefathers' trade marks were firmly in place. Alan had his shirt off, Dave, as the owner of the only discernible hair in the group, was shaking it around with abandon, Andy was wearing his glasses particularly proudly, and Steve climbed on the back of someone's chair. There was no stage to jump off, so he had to make do. During their second set I timed it for the sake of accuracy, and it was 11.37pm exactly when Steve made the first reference to his genitals. Fact!
Top songs like Medication Time and Shitty Record proved that if your stuff is good enough, people will warm to original material. Anaesthesia featured Dave wringing feedback from the innards of his amp whilst Alan pounded away on his kit like a demon. A demon that fits carpets and has his own van.
I remember when Alan was the only drummer in Whitby. There are loads now, but he was the original. He was in all the local bands, such as Sludge Ghaut, The Stormdrains, Logfeast, Cyanide Hipflask, Friends of Dorothy, The Mandy Flecks and Sons of Gods Mate.
I was sat rather too close to the band to look consistently in their direction without it appearing slightly pervy, so instead I took to people watching. It was very pleasing to observe the audience, who did look quite scared and very apprehensive at the outset, be thoroughly charmed and converted by the Forefather's great tunes and infectiously charismatic presence. If we could have The Forefathers regularly on 'no Carl' thursdays, sulking would be banished to distant memory! Reviewed by The Invisible Mice and Chris
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