British Air Guitar Championships 2003...

venue:   Concorde 2 review date:   Sunday, 3 August 2003 photos & words by:   Bec Chalkley [ intro | page 1 | page 2 ]

review

The air is filled with promise, and something altogether more noxious, for I am squatting with camera directly in front of the smoke machine which gives out acrid belches every few minutes in an admittedly appropriate Spinal Tap-stylee. It's been a scorcher today and though Concorde 2 is sweltering, the audience's enthusiasm doesn't wane. I am almost grateful for the constant spray of lager which cools me, sandwiched as I am between the crowd and the thrusting, strutting, windmilling bewigged ones on stage, ducking under a barrage of flying cans and plastic glasses of lager. "Watch out, we've got 3000 volts up here!" warns the compere nervously as more lager is hurtled on to the stage, as the contestants incite further random acts of alcohol-wastage by acting like they're dancing in the Steine fountain in a heatwave.

What fresh horror drew me to this event? - sheer mischief and the promise of golden photo opportunities, a jaded 'scene' malaise (must be time for my annual sabbatical from Gayville), plus slim summer gig-pickings down old Brighton way. Perhaps it was a spontaneous performance mashing up that Level 42 frontman's thumb-slapping technique with vintage metallers Kiss's lizard-tonguedom at a recent party which had chums cringing and running for cover that alerted my senses to the perverse delights of public air guitaring. Consider it also a warm-up for snapping people who move around way too fast over the Pride weekend (all natural highs of course), though I knew I didn't have the patience to wait until Pride and the mashed-in-the-park homosexualists in all their carcrash glory.

And so to the moves, what we'd all come here for - if you expected people to just stand on stage playing an imaginary guitar you'd be mistaken, for when one has a stage and a rapt(urous) audience, one is inspired to dizzy new heights of showmanship. In a tradition supposedly harking back to Greek times when people played air-lute, these fellows played with immense gusto, their lack of shame and extrovert moves working the crowd up into a good-natured moshing beer-lobbing mob. Like every conscientious drama student they know how to'use the space', often vaulting onto the speakers and sometimes flinging themselves into the crowd to be petted and mobbed. This is the nearest these people will get to rock stardom and they will have their moment, in all its gurning finger-twiddling glory.

Several contestants aren't playing it for laffs, and though there is a healthy smattering of ironic Darkness-style antics, many here they have donned the denim jacket cut-offs and be damned. My particular favourites were the dreamy effeminate geezer in 70s german porn-star wig, headband and glitzy top, the pink spandex man, and the asian geezer (possibly called Gaz) who lapped up every minute of his stage-time, delightedly throwing windmills with a big cheeky grin on his face, playing the guitar a la Jimi Hendrix behind his head, then perching on a speaker and brazenly surveying the palpating crowd. A man in full Kiss face-paint glides on like the perfect rock moment - it's Spinal Tap on tap. I lift my head above the parapet briefly and see that he is being tugged along on a skateboard by his mates, all in equally dandy rock-god costumes. There are probably more naked men with their tops off here than Coco Latte, some of them quite beautiful. There's something rather homo-erotic about these chaps' joyful mutual frottage, causing eminent social anthropologist Professor Rich to exclaim: "It's a Heavy Metal Hard-on!". The winners are show-stoppers Triple Slash, three chaps in long black rawk wigs, top hats, and lots of leather; they will go on to the final at London's Electric Ballroom. Our thoughts go with you, fellows!

It was kinda ramshackle at times - there were numerous technical hitches and there was rarely less than 6 people on stage at one time (including some whippet-thin rock chicks goading on the crowd), all gatecrashing each other's moments of glory and throwing perpetual horned salutes - but that was the evening's charm. In-between acts the DJs put on a fine show, keeping the crowd at baying fever-pitch with such delights as Run DMC, Sex Pistols, Peaches''Rock Star' and Electric Six's Gay Bar'(Prof. Rich demanding to know when we are actually going to hear this song in a Gay Bar - it's so wrong, and yet so right) - oh alright, and lots of nasty Bon Jovi. To round off the evening Piss, the 'world's first air guitar tribute band' (like Kiss but no instruments - oh, except for that rum chap there playing a giant phallus) treat us to a rocking air 'Crazy Horses' and similar fiery classics.

Despite bearing witness to fashion violations that would have Trinny and Susannah rupturing their carefully-dressed spleens (and will keep me in nightmares for months), the Concorde tonight is filled with a sense of fun so infectious I'll have to attend the Jollity Clinic tomorrow. So join me in a toast: To the end of irony! And raising your rock fingers, join me unabashed in song, my dearie-dudes: "love in an elevator, living it up when I'm going down..."

For Concorde 2 listings check the Concorde page on this site or go to www.concorde2.co.uk. For more details of the British Air Guitar Championships go to www.ukairguitar.com.

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about Concorde 2

Okay, so you may have to walk a bit to reach it... but that just makes it that little bit more exclusive doesn't it! Located along Madeira Drive, the Concorde 2 is a sizeable venue with a huge variety of clubnights and bands on each month. Some top names, some great festivals, World Music... you name it. If you can't find something to pique your interest then you might as well pack your bags and head for Eastbourne... Click for more info and complete listings for Concorde 2