The Legendary 100 Club
I am standing on the iron fire escape at the back of the 100 club, the rain gentley drizzling onto the neatly stacked pile of equipment I have made by the doors at the top. "I am so efficient" I somehow fail to think with any real conviction. The David Devant and His Spirit Wife Last Ever New Year's Eve concert has been a triumph but not in the tidily packaged way I had almost envisaged prior to performing. "We tore up the script" as they sometimes say in showbiz. Earlier that evening (sometime last year) I had booked a cab and told them to pick me up around the back at the end of Berner’s Place. A legendary load out. Somehow the 100 club feels like a visitor’s centre constructed over the scene of many a glorious battle. As the concert skittered towards pandemonium the black and white image of one Johnny Rotten on his knees by an alarmingly exposed pair of jugs of water on the very same stage popped into my head. It becalmed me and said yes this path to cha...