Blue hair, green hair, scars and the unmistakeable pallor of the zombie. The preacher knew this could mean one of two things – it was Hallowe’en or a Friday night in Glasgow. Or both and so it was that the preacher found himself in King Tuts in search of souls to save.
The first souls in search of salvation were The Rivers. Hailing from Busby would give anybody the blues and this duo added a certain manic charm to their two up two down eulogy to that which once brought rock music to life.
Next to approach the altar that is the stage of King Tuts was Dixie Fried. Another duo, they were blessed with a synchronicity that was proof that they were true believers and duly they set a four on the floor course along the highway that leads inevitably to the twelve bars that are forever on the path to redemption. As the old saying goes, two rights make a song.
Determined to prove that the Devil has all the best festival friendly songs were My Baby. Their rock solid rhythm powered nothing less than clap to the click extended twelve inch disco remixes of songs that were clearly destined to get a dancefloor moving to the hypnotic beat of their blues influenced drum. To add icing to their depravity, Cato van Dyck’s voice would surely induce many an unsuspecting man to bite the apple of sin.
The preacher knew that this was too big a job for one man to handle and headed off into the night.
A final thought. If God gives you chips then eat them. Otherwise they will get cold.