Tuesday, 6 October 2009

Leeds Cockpit

By Samantha Nicholson of DMU

The place I am about to describe to you is not exactly perfect. In fact if I am honest it is a dump. The floor is sticky, the toilets stink, and the beer is crap.

However, some of the best times of my life were spent here. I'm sure everyone has that place: their gig venue. This is mine. My first small gig near enough.

I don't remember the first gig I saw here. I can remember one of the most memorable though. It was The Army Of Freshman with my best friend at the time Elly.

That's me and Elly right there. We're sitting outside the venue against a wall thats rather wet. You can see the tell tale sign of music and it's rather funny. We're listening to The Rasmus on my Ipod. Funnily enough nearly exactly 12 months later, we'll be in the same position, listening to the same song, about to see another band.

Outside the venues not as nice as inside. The drains run close, and make the ground wet. You can't tell from my face, but my backside is wet and I'm not happy.

We were still in college, and it was one of the first gigs I saw without my Dad. Very odd really, that that place underneath a railway line can hold such a memory. Getting in and not being IDed, crushing our bodies against a stage that is reminiscent of a few old beer crates. The room is airey, and sound will echo everywhere, even in this room, the smaller one. We're squeezed down beside a little bit of the stage that extends into the audience, right infront of some speakers. You'd think our ears would blow.

We survived just.

On the left you can see part of the wall behind me, and a rather fetching man on my arm. He is the guitarist in Army Of Freshman, and both myself and Elly got to meet him, stood infront of the promo material for pringles and Jack Daniels. It makes me smile that we directly managed to block the huge Slam Dunk Poster. Apologies for the bad quality of the photograph, however it is the only photograph.

Still, when you have memories of one particular place, you don't care how bad the photograph is. Eventually, your memories will fade to even worse than any photograph. All you will have of each place, is the photograph.

In a sticky floored, urine smelling, dump like The Cockpit, all you can do is smile, as you know you are you and no one else. It will always be just you, the bar, your friends and the music.

1 comment:

Remembering Places said...

Dear Sam - thanks for posting this. I really like the interplay of photos, memories, prose. Perhaps you could expand it further by focussing in on one particular memory?
Thanks again, Jonathan