Hard Rock Collective - The Errigle Inn, 6th October 2018
Hard Rock Collective - The Errigle Inn, 6th October 2018
“So the problem here is, some people are getting in for 6 quid and we're having to pay 10!” I sigh as I rest my weight on a bannister painted that off shade of cream that seemed to exists exclusively in 1970’s TV drama living rooms. The line ahead of me is held up by an exasperated patron who had seen fit to share with the room his disagreement with the notion that we were expected to pay in (God love him. I can't imagine how awful it must be). Noting our unanimous uncaring attitude, he turned back to the staff member who manned the door, his indigence supported by a harp fuelled liquid courage, and proceeded to resume his protestations. The stone-faced girl observed him with a patient air that suggested she’d seen such a sight before. Or perhaps she was dead, it was hard to tell from my angle. I sighed, audibly but not so much as to draw the ire of the ‘victim’ a few paces ahead of me, and idle mindedly begin to take in my surroundings.
Less of a hostelry and more of an institution on the iconic Ormeau road, The Errigle was humming with an energy only the weekend provides. As I stalked the ground floor earlier that evening, stories of alcoholic indulgences that began at 3 PM reach my ears, bringing a grin to my face and relating memories to my head. It’ll be a good crowd tonight. Or so I thought until Minnie The Moocher decided that the refusal of the door admission fee was the hill he would die on. Eventually pacified, the line proceeded without issue, and I made my way inside the upper halls of The Errigle. Before me, a large open space populated by punters in various states of conversation and inebriation, performing the cultural rituals required for this evening: a mixture of hugging/dancing, buying rounds and talking about everything and nothing simultaneously. Like a scene from Planet Earth, only with more flamingos. In the corner, the band is setting up. I cautiously carry my pint past the revellers and settle into a table not far from the stage.
The act for tonight, Hard Rock Collective (HRC), are a cover band that perform songs from a wide variety of bands. Unlike the perils some acts face of playing their originals to a crowd that would just as easily enjoy their fall as their flight, Hard Rock Collective make their bread performing fantastic renditions of songs people know and love, like one of your playlists given corporeal form. A quartet of musical veterans took the stage, weapons in hand, and performed some favourites of the crowd, with nary a note out of place. At times, it was almost forgotten that they were covers, bar respectful personal twists thrown in by the band members. Additions were not out of place and matched pace, with embellished solos and stretched vocals only adding to the product. Particularly impressive was the singing of frontman Gary Short, which stayed true to the original product but was given an added slant by impressive riffing.
Equally impressive was the aptitude of the lead guitarist, who more than once I completely lost while looking at his fingers. Like a hummingbirds wings, they barely seemed to stop all night. A lively and energetic set ensued, with notable covers such as Slither (Velvet Revolver), Cold Sweat (Thin Lizzy) and One Step Closer (Linkin Park) having the sizeable crowd out of their seats and dancing. HRC cut an imposing figure on stage thanks to their chemistry. Despite the wide variety between songs, there were little-to-no mistakes made and as each song ended the crowd demand more. They played old school and they killed it, jumping between AC/DC and Alice In Chains numbers as if it was child's play. The loudest cheer that night was one of dismay as the band announced that the next song was to be their last. As the final song played out, the reverb echoed throughout The Errigle, mingling with the cheers and applause. I looked over my shoulder and saw the disgruntled patron from earlier on his feet, cheering for more. A more symbolic gesture, I do not possess the grammar to give. Veni, Vidi, Vici.
“So the problem here is, some people are getting in for 6 quid and we're having to pay 10!” I sigh as I rest my weight on a bannister painted that off shade of cream that seemed to exists exclusively in 1970’s TV drama living rooms. The line ahead of me is held up by an exasperated patron who had seen fit to share with the room his disagreement with the notion that we were expected to pay in (God love him. I can't imagine how awful it must be). Noting our unanimous uncaring attitude, he turned back to the staff member who manned the door, his indigence supported by a harp fuelled liquid courage, and proceeded to resume his protestations. The stone-faced girl observed him with a patient air that suggested she’d seen such a sight before. Or perhaps she was dead, it was hard to tell from my angle. I sighed, audibly but not so much as to draw the ire of the ‘victim’ a few paces ahead of me, and idle mindedly begin to take in my surroundings.
Less of a hostelry and more of an institution on the iconic Ormeau road, The Errigle was humming with an energy only the weekend provides. As I stalked the ground floor earlier that evening, stories of alcoholic indulgences that began at 3 PM reach my ears, bringing a grin to my face and relating memories to my head. It’ll be a good crowd tonight. Or so I thought until Minnie The Moocher decided that the refusal of the door admission fee was the hill he would die on. Eventually pacified, the line proceeded without issue, and I made my way inside the upper halls of The Errigle. Before me, a large open space populated by punters in various states of conversation and inebriation, performing the cultural rituals required for this evening: a mixture of hugging/dancing, buying rounds and talking about everything and nothing simultaneously. Like a scene from Planet Earth, only with more flamingos. In the corner, the band is setting up. I cautiously carry my pint past the revellers and settle into a table not far from the stage.
The act for tonight, Hard Rock Collective (HRC), are a cover band that perform songs from a wide variety of bands. Unlike the perils some acts face of playing their originals to a crowd that would just as easily enjoy their fall as their flight, Hard Rock Collective make their bread performing fantastic renditions of songs people know and love, like one of your playlists given corporeal form. A quartet of musical veterans took the stage, weapons in hand, and performed some favourites of the crowd, with nary a note out of place. At times, it was almost forgotten that they were covers, bar respectful personal twists thrown in by the band members. Additions were not out of place and matched pace, with embellished solos and stretched vocals only adding to the product. Particularly impressive was the singing of frontman Gary Short, which stayed true to the original product but was given an added slant by impressive riffing.
Equally impressive was the aptitude of the lead guitarist, who more than once I completely lost while looking at his fingers. Like a hummingbirds wings, they barely seemed to stop all night. A lively and energetic set ensued, with notable covers such as Slither (Velvet Revolver), Cold Sweat (Thin Lizzy) and One Step Closer (Linkin Park) having the sizeable crowd out of their seats and dancing. HRC cut an imposing figure on stage thanks to their chemistry. Despite the wide variety between songs, there were little-to-no mistakes made and as each song ended the crowd demand more. They played old school and they killed it, jumping between AC/DC and Alice In Chains numbers as if it was child's play. The loudest cheer that night was one of dismay as the band announced that the next song was to be their last. As the final song played out, the reverb echoed throughout The Errigle, mingling with the cheers and applause. I looked over my shoulder and saw the disgruntled patron from earlier on his feet, cheering for more. A more symbolic gesture, I do not possess the grammar to give. Veni, Vidi, Vici.
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