The Homestead

The Homestead in Southampton is awesome. I figured I would just get straight to the point today, I don’t feel like beating around any sort of bush and building up to anything. I’m just not in that “lets get some tension in my writing” sort of mood today.

Anyway, The Homestead has seen some amazing shows in the last few years, all of which have kicked off in the conservatory at the back of the house. When we started playing shows we did a lot of acoustic shows because, for some reason, we struggled getting shows where we could drum, but people putting on acoustic stuff seemed to like us. I never liked those acoustic shows, generally, but we did it because a gig at that point was better than sitting about talking about playing a gig. I’m glad no-one ever went to those shows. I think I have covered this dark period in our history before, right? Anyway, I heard about the Homestead and wanted to play there – photos I found on the infoweb made it look like the funnest place in the world and I wanted to be there, a part of it. We actually wrote them a real letter and sent them a CD and it never happened. Turns out the people who live there actually have real lives, jobs and serious drinking to do and putting on bands they have never met in their own house might not be their highest priority.

It took Sam Russo to get us in. He played there on a tour with Itch from the Kizzle Bizzles and a bunch of other dudes a few months before and he managed to wangle us a show there with him and Mike Scott and Kelly Kemp and someone else and it kicked off. I mean, it literally kicked off with pyramids, crowd surfing and big-old-sing-alongs before turning into a full on drunk party led by Kelly Kemp after Sam Russo got crowd-surfed out of the conservatory into the kitchen to finish off his set. It was one of my favourite gigs/parties I have been to in a long time. The next morning I remember waking on a mattress by the front door and slowly making my way to the kitchen to get some water. My feet were sticking to the floor, my head was pounding. My voice was long gone and I had to create a trench to the sink between bottles and cans. I felt bad that the house had taken such a battering before remembering that it was mostly the housemates who had encouraged half the antics, including one game of “spin till you fall over with a broomstick on your chin whilst wearing a wolf mask”. I thought someone might die playing that game.

We play there again on Saturday with Russo and the Mega Games 2, probably our oldest friends from playing shows and I could not be more excited. I’m not expecting a party like last time – that might be too much to hope for, but the overwhelming thing about the Homestead is how friendly and awesome everyone who lives there is and how welcoming they are to people coming into their home and I just love it there. House shows can be hit and miss, and for me, acoustic shows are the same, but the Homestead is the exception to every rule.

Long live the Homestead!