Sacrifices?

Okay, it's another one of those we're all friends here and I'm sure you won't hold this against me moments. I've debated with myself before about telling the following tale but I suppose it definitely fits under the category, "I Only Did It Because It Was The Stranglers" so here goes. Please bare in mind that I was young, and it was the early '80's and well, all excuses aside, what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger and other such bullshit. Lets hope finally revealing the following will finally give me, as the yanks are fond of calling it, closure.
Please don't judge me too harshly.

The first time I saw the Stranglers live was only the 2nd gig I had ever been to, the first being Gary Numan on his Teletour '80 at the Glasgow Apollo, who I went to see with my big sister. The next time I went to see a band at the Apollo it was the Stranglers MeninBlack tour in Feb.1981. I was still only 14 and this time I went on my own. I can still recall the army jacket I had on, a bit like the one Travis Bickle sports in Taxi Driver except his didn't have a freshly hand-scrawled Stranglers logo in red felt tip, that ran down the back of it in the rain as I waited excitedly in the long queue outside the Apollo. I was thrilled to be out in the big city at night and ecstatic to be finally getting to see the band that I had loved for a long time. The gig was fucken amazing, I watched from the bouncing balcony, soaking in everything; from the electric buzzing atmosphere of a classic Stranglers gig; the band in full flight below me, as I observed and absorbed every minute detail from my elevated viewpoint.
I raved about it for months afterwards.

By the time the Stranglers next played in Glasgow, about 9 months later, I'd made a pact with my school mate Martin that we'd both go see them together this time, and he agreed to this only under the strict proviso that first I had to go see a band of his choice.

There were 2 bands that Martin raved about, the main one being AC/DC. I remember in the summer of '81 we'd been on our first holiday apart from our families, to a camp-site in St.Andrews, and a lasting memory of that time was of the two of us pissed out of our tiny teenaged minds on Croft Original sherry, jumping around a deserted bandstand near the beach, singing our drunken heids off- him duckwalking and headbanging pretending to be Angus Young and me strutting and leg cocking a la JJ Burnel. Sadly though, the second band that Martin loved, and the one that we'd made our Faustian pact to go see in order for him to see the Stranglers with me was...(deep breath)...The Nolan Sisters.

To cut an embarasing story as short as possible, it was, as you would no doubt imagine, hell on fucken Earth. I've blanked out most of that night except for a few sordid details- I remember the minor mix up I had regarding my ticket prior to the "gig" and one that nearly saved me the embarrassment of actually getting in. Namely- before leaving the house that night I had read my ticket and seeing one side of the perforated line marked "Retain this portion" I had thought, "Well, I'll just chuck this bit away and only bring the bit that says "To Be Given Up". It made perfect sense to me.
The bouncer outside The Pavillion didn't see the logic in my reasoning and resolutely barred me from getting in. Martin went in anyway and it looked like an early but much more preferable night was on the cards for me, but all was lost however when a kindly usherette who'd witnessed my humiliating knockback grabbed me as I was making my happy escape and bundled me into the theatre through an exit. She obviously thought she was doing a poor Nolans fan a big favour and despite my feeble protest that, "Naw, yer alright, I don't mind, it's okay, really..." I had to endure about 90 minutes of the beautiful Irish songburds. Or, as I said, Hell on fucken Earth. (In fact, thinking back, that might even have been the name of the tour- The Nolans Hell On Fucken Earth Tour 1981.)
The only other bit I haven't erased completely from my mind is close to end of the concert when everyone in the theatre was encouraged, Bultins style by the famed hacket sisters, to "Stand up and clap Glasgow!" I was the only one in the building still sitting arms folded, glowering at the stage with a "Fucken come up and make me!" expression on my grim, stony face.

And the ultimate irony was, of course, that by the time the next Stranglers gig finally rolled around (the La Folie tour, 1981) I'd by then hooked up with all the other Stranglers fans in my school and there was about 10 of us that ended up going together anyway.

But as I said, it was a definite I Only Did It Because It Was The Stranglers moment.

So don't talk to me about sacrifices.