The Wave Machines - Day Two

We're in Southampton tonight. It's 6.40pm, an hour before doors and there's already a huge queue stretching down the street outside the venue. It's got shit all to do with us though. In a bizarre twist Peter Doherty has been added to the bill, relegating us to support and bumping the ticket price up to £17. Interesting. Actually we're thinking this could work out pretty nice for us. Within hours of the announcement the gig sold out so we're guaranteed a full house to play to. The other support bands have been booted off too so it's just us and P.D.

Curiously enough we met him earlier in the year at the Storaas Festival in Norway. He was headlining the Saturday night and ended up back stage in the dressing room next to us, popped his head over the dividing curtain, said hello and offered us some of his pizza. We
declined the food but engaged him in some polite conversation. We were a little nervy because he's so famous and has been in Heat Magazine loads so the conversation was a bit stilted. Then he gave us a load of his beer and some moon shine and disappeared...

I realise that's not the most interesting story ever told, but the point is we were looking forward to saying hello again as he was undoubtedly a charming fellow, and cheeky and roguish and all that stuff you're led to believe in the press. So the night's shaping up to be pretty entertaining.

We get on stage at 8.30pm and play as tight and loud a we can. By the time we play I Go I Go I Go we're thinking there's more people in here that know the album than we first thought and we've got some dancing and singing happening in the audience. It's all up hill from here on in and there's lots of lovely compliments and handshakes afters. Someone tells me I look like the bass player from Spinal Tap and asks if our album is called Smell The Glove.
We clear a space on the stage before heading up to the dressing room for a drink and catch up with some friends.

It's about another hour later that Carl hears the promoter in his office making the kind of sounds you might make if you just found out you had to let a lot of people down. There's still no sign of P.D. and we're starting to think he's not going to show. He doesn't.

If you've never had the thrill of spending £17 on a ticket for a gig with a high chance of a no show, we've captured the moment of disappointment for you (you'll have to imagine the standing around for an hour and a bit beforehand):