NOTES FROM IAN "MOET" MOSS OF THE HAMSTERS:
Ian "Moet" Moss, singer for The Hamsters
The Fall were my favourite group and my friends also which placed me in the position of being able to travel with them to gigs occasionally, they played in unusual venues which I liked , I recall watching them perform a gut wrenching brilliant set in a Bolton Gymnasium, but the show at St Helens would prove to be the most memorable, it was a college show and the performance space was a small theatre used for students dramatic productions of ' Waiting for Godot' or ' Hamlet ', There was a nice sized stage facing tilted seating for around 250 people , perhaps half the seats were taken when the lights dimmed and The Fall at their mightiest stepped out onto the stage and produced an exhilarating racket and anti showbiz performance that was a privilege to witness, this was par for the course, the wider world wasn't fully aware but this band were alchemists and they distilled their influences into something precious and rare, I was stood with manager Kay Carrol , the gig had been good and she was content but she was definitely not a person to offend , her anger was a frightening thing to face, At this point the college ' social secretary' and de facto promoter appeared in chunky jumper , jumbo cord trousers and hush puppy shoes and through wispy facial hair attempted to explain to Kay that because the attendance hadn't matched expectations The Fall would have to settle for a reduced fee, the poor innocent had no idea who he was addressing or the trouble he was in , Kay set her eyes on him and then struck , ' who the fuck do you think your talking to cock ? " she hissed " I'm not discussing this , go and get me the money we agreed now" and with that gave him a mighty push sending him tumbling backwards over the seats , he picked himself up , collected what was left of his pride and scurried away to find the cash , The band appeared and we lingered for drinks before loading the van and setting off for home down the motorway , Having proceded only a few miles we found ourselves pulled over onto the hard shoulder by the Police , our driver ' Duncan ' was breathalised and found to be over the legal limit , he was taken away and we were transported to a motorway service station , stranded driverless , we nursed overpriced cups of coffee and blinked in the harsh neon glare of the cafeteria through tired eyes waiting to see if Duncan would duly be returned to us , impatience and Ill humour characterised our mood over the next few hours not helped by the arrival of a buoyant and bouncy ' Gene October 'and " Chelsea ' in transit from a fabulous gig in Liverpool we were informed, ' do please fuck off ' I remember thinking , it was the final straw , Mark and Kay had had enough of waiting , Taxis were summoned wiping out the takings from the gig and we headed homeward , weary , bleary eyed and hung over, As an east Manchester resident it was prudent for me to lodge the night on the sofa of the Hanley families south Manchester residence , a few hours later after a very welcome hearty breakfast and an hour's Saturday morning TV I was off to seek out further weekend fun.