Being the stereotypical broke Uni student that I am, I’m always on the lookout for cheap gigs. When I heard that Pist Idiots were going to be sweating on the stage at the Cambridge Hotel I knew that it was a night that couldn’t be missed.
With tickets sitting at a pretty thirteen bucks with a dollar from every purchase going to The Mark Hughes Foundation (thanks PLUS 1) – How can one resist?
I assumed that to gain admission to Pist Idiots you’d have to be a pissed Idiot yourself- so half a bottle of vodka later and a few mates and I were hitting the dance floor.
You wouldn’t miss the band’s
My mates and I headed for the outdoor area in desperate need of some fresh air. Soon enough people began to trickle back inside to the sound of Pist Idiots stumbling about the stage.
We skulled our drinks and followed the stream of smokers to grab a spot in the crowd - only to find ourselves in an already formed mosh pit - full of gig-goers pushing each other across the beer-stained floor. There’s nothing like a good mosh when you’re at a band like Pist Idiots. The flying limbs and hot beer that peppers your face occasionally only adds to the excitement of the night and the band loved it.
The crowd was great; if you fell to the ground in the excitement of the pit an abundance of hands would thrust you back to your feet and squeeze your shoulders in support.
At the front of the crowd we were being thrust into the edge of the stage, our shins slowly accumulating a nice pattern of bruises. It was worth it to experience the performance up close and to help hoist a girl onto the stage so she could sing alongside her legend, who willingly shared the mic.
The band continued to throw off incredible energy all through the night and despite our rowdiness they held total control over the crowd.
Their banter only added to the hype with Front man Sniff yelling “Hold on to your drinks, hold on to your bags, hold on to everything you f**king own” before smashing out a heavy banger.
As the night was coming to an end I found myself swaying alone to the albums title track ‘Princes’. I was quickly recruited by a group of people nearby who strung their arms across my shoulders and pulled me along to their slow sway. When the song ended we went our separate ways but I felt touched by the gesture for the rest of the night.
I’m always left feeling warm at the end of a gig – not just from thick layer of air that hangs around the room, or the sticky, sweaty bodies of other gig-goers that ends up soaking through my clothes; but from the unity that comes with music and the Pist Idiots gig was no exception.
We’re all there to get pissed and dance our feelings out to a band that we love and respect, so why not have a few of those many drinks together? Next time your at a gig be sure to flick a few smokes to those without and never leave anyone to sway alone to a sad song.