Aberystwyth: The Night 4Q Took the University

 

Aberystwyth University. Five bands, 550 students, and a PA that cost £180 but sounded like it had been salvaged from a skip. We were on the bill with U Thant, Mavis Riley Experience, the Mistecs, and Jon Busker, and while the night promised plenty, it quickly descended into the kind of glorious wreckage only 4Q could deliver.

The Mistecs opened — a gaggle of Blaenau schoolboys thrashing out a tupenny-ha’penny Metallica imitation. Everyone has to start somewhere, but honestly, they should’ve stayed at home with their homework. Then Jon Busker followed with his anti-fox-hunting song, which was so dreary it made you want to pick up a shotgun and go after the nearest fox just to spite him.

Then came the Mavis Riley Experience, and they were wonderful. Even Matt liked them, which was a miracle in itself. By the time we were up, the place was primed for carnage.

We didn’t get a soundcheck thanks to U Thant turning up late, and it showed. With two lead guitarists battling for supremacy, the mix was shite, and to the poor sound engineer it must’ve sounded like a car crash. Within minutes of plugging in, Gumpsh pulled a “Neil Crud special” — breaking a string by looking at it. While he wrestled with his guitar, the rest of us jammed Stand By Me to fill the gap. The crowd lapped it up.

And then it was on.

“Thank you, c’mon!” Cumi bellowed.

“There’s not enough room for them to come up onstage, Cumi,” I shouted back.

We launched into Mental Asylum — or as I renamed it mid-song, Mental Shed. It was so loud we couldn’t hear a bloody thing we were playing, but the crowd didn’t care.

“This one’s for everyone who watches Coronation Street,” I quipped.

“Is everyone enjoying themselves?” Cumi yelled.

“Yeah!” came the reply.

“What about you lot at the back? You’re all boring.”

On we went, chaos and noise. I Hate TV ran two verses short because Cumi lost track. I demanded more guitar in the monitors. We barrelled into Bat Gooch, where we bullied the crowd into joining in with a chorus of “Oi!”

We tore through Twisted Tabloids, which I introduced with a story about getting lost in a field near Blaenau Ffestiniog on the way to the gig. We Want You followed, then Cumi tried to big us up: “We’ve almost secured a record deal, this one will almost definitely be the single. It’s called Burn in Hell.”

“Single what?” I chipped in. “Single cream?”

People danced! Fuck me! Next was Poo on My Shoe it hit like a hammer, “fucking spot on.” Imagine descended into comedy, with Gumpsh starting it out of tune to our delight, and the audience split down the middle on whether John Lennon was genius or tosser. We wrapped it with 4Q Blues, Robin hammering out a ridiculously over-the-top metal solo just to put the cherry on the cake. And Cumi doing a walking handstand.

“Cheers,” I said. “I thought we were bloody marvellous.”

And we were. For all the feedback, the string breaks, the insults, and the nonsense, we’d owned the night. So much so that when U Thant came on after us, they had to work twice as hard just to keep the crowd. I even stayed to watch three songs — which for me was a compliment.

We pocketed the cash, packed up, and headed home. Robin, true to form, managed to upset Cumi’s Jane by climbing on her car and vomiting everywhere. A perfect 4Q ending: noise, chaos, laughter, and a trail of mess in our wake.