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he O2 Islington Academy hosted a sweaty four-band pile up of hairy hard rockers on the HRH AOR Tour.
Packed to its rafters with leather-clad headbanging bandera wearers and front-row peroxide faux fuckers, it was sure to be a night to remember, even if Dave Renegade did protest too much about the piss-flooded men’s room floor.
Rock was in the air, the beer flowed like water and everyone was out for a good time, a real good time. The Texas Flood, Bonafide and Hardcore Superstar hammered the stage with barely a pause between sets. The lights were bad, the stage was shrouded with dry ice and the sound was a bit suspect. But no one much cared. The crowd was loving it loving it loving it.
Just like watching a bad old television, the tube was taking a while to warm up, but when the main event stepped out it was like the Fonz had whacked the side of the set and the picture turned to crystal clear, super saturated technicolour.
From the once flickering stage, The Quireboys’ Spike embraced the crowd looking like a gypsy Tony Manero and smashed into Troublemaker. The Quireboys never disappoint, in an intimate show or ripping up a larger stage. Tonight was no exception. Spike rocked and bopped and rolled from the opener right through to Sex Party, and what a sex party for some.
Photos: Carl Byron Batson. Not to be reproduced without express prior permission.
Photographer, published poet, former party animal, body builder, grave robber
to the stars and renowned chainsaw juggler, Carl can often be spotted on his
Harley Davidson pretending to be in Terminator 2. He is also frequently seen in
the press pits of old London town, camera in hand, avoiding being hit by bottles
of wee and crippling his opposition with secret Kung Fu moves.