The Wonder Stuff - a view from the mosh pit

For most people, Christmas begins when the decorations are up and the first glass of mulled wine has been sunk. For some of us however, Christmas only really begins at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire with our now traditional festive fix of The Wonder Stuff.

Despite being on the calendar for several months, I get the same reaction from my kids every year. “Why are you going to watch them again? They just sing the same songs and you’ve seen them a hundred times already!”It hasn’t helped this year as my long-time Stuffie comrade Mat and I went to see Miles Hunt a few weeks earlier for an excellent Q&A and acoustic set hosted by the legendary Gary Crowley at the Exchange, Twickenham. I explained, again, that was a cultural evening as opposed to the sweaty paradise of the mosh pit.

Earlier in the week I’d started preparing by digging out my old T-shirts and trying them on praying that at least one of them fits after a year of celebrating my 50th. I was in luck.And so, on Friday 19 December, I set off in my Never Loved Elvis T-shirt to join Mat for our annual pilgrimage. WhatsApp messages had been exchanged throughout the day. What train are you getting? coat or no coat? are you taking your reading glasses?

We met on the train on the way to join my cousin Erica and her partner Jon in the Wetherspoons opposite Shepherd’s Bush Station. Erica is my cool older cousin who bought me my first Stuffies T-shirt for my 18th birthday – I definitely can’t fit into that one now! Jon used to come to gigs for moral support and to look after the coats (coats weren’t needed this time due to global warming) but is now a convert even donning his own band T-shirt.The ‘Spoons’ was buzzing with anticipation and it wasn’t hard to spot fellow Stuffies of a certain age – unless you are Mat who failed to recognise our old school mate Jamie. To be fair we worked out that the last time we saw each other at a gig was Cabot Hall, Canary Wharf in 2003. Erica and Jon got talking to another lovely couple. Like Jon, the partner was returning after being converted by his beloved last year.

Unlike a lot of gigs we were all keen to leave the '90s prices of ‘Spoons’ and get into the venue early for the support act. It was none other than the Miles Hunt led Vent 414 – I didn’t explain that to the kids before I left as it would have sent them over the edge!

I’ve never known the Shepherd's Bush Empire so busy that early, but it was worth it with an excellent set of old and new, building high expectations for the long- awaited new album in 2026. As Vent 414 exited stage left, it was time to start planning tactics. Mat and I would be leaving Erica and Jon to take up our usual starting position in the mosh pit in between Malc (Treece) and Erica (Nockalls, not cousin). The dilemma we had, as always, was timing when to have our final piss before heading on down. Readers of my previous blog ‘32 Minutes’ will be aware of my very weak bladder, a condition I share with Mat.

When the Shepherd’s Bush Empire was converted into a music venue, the needs of a middle-aged audience obviously weren’t considered with the loos situated at the back. In the old days you could slip from the mosh pit through the crowds for a tactical piss during "a couple of songs from our latest album" and be back in time without any questions asked. Looking at the wall of people ahead of us there was no chance of turning back this time.

Mat was pacing as the minutes ticked before the Stuffies were due on stage. He was out of sync with his piss-to-pint ratio. I however was smugly confident that my tactic of drinking Guiness had worked. Mat settled his nerves and we began our descent down the stairs towards our destination. The plan was simple. Make our way past the right-hand side bar, ignore the tuts of those we were passing, and then latch onto a pint carrier who would carve a path to our usual spot.

As one gig regular commented, while we were waiting for a gap to appear, it was absolutely heaving and twice as busy as the Inspiral Carpets the previous week.

Miles and co. opened with Red Berry Joy Town. Eventually we spotted a pint carrier in a festive hat and started to make our merry way. His path was blocked however and the tuts grew. I then spotted another route and beckoned Mat. It took me into another dead end and a telling off for ruining the gig for people I was now blocking. Luckily, my apologies created a space and eventually we found our spot.

I’ve never known an opening set like it. The vibe and energy on and off stage was electric. What was particularly noticeable was a youth policy is developing in the mosh pit. The rest of us old timers however were literally On The Ropes and starting to flag.

Luckily, Miles is a master at playing to an ageing crowd and his strumming accompanied by the mesmeric fiddle playing of Erica (Nockalls, not cousin) on a gentler run of songs which included Sing the Absurd and Full of Life (Happy Now) gave us the respite we needed.

He then told us it was “going to get messy.”

From the outside the mosh pit looks like a battle scene but when you’re in the middle of it, I imagine it’s like being in the eye of a storm. There is no denying that it is a contact sport, resulting in bruising the next day, but amongst the limbs, sweat and beer there’s a real sense of community. If anyone falls or loses their glasses, jumper (me) or a shoe - We Hold Each Other Up. In a time of despair and negativity, there is a sense of escapism, togetherness and unbridled joy.

Poison followed by the usual closer Ten Trenches Deep signalled the end for another year. An embrace with Mat “the best gig ever mate!” and we were on our way.Erica (cousin, not Nockalls) and Jon had left slightly early to catch a direct train from Shepherd’s Bush to Watford Junction (lucky bastards) but as we gingerly made our way to the Underground platform towards our long journey home to the suburbs we heard a yell of “there they are”. It was the other couple from the ‘Spoons’ who were absolutely buzzing.

“Happy Christmas. See you next year!”

“God bless you. God bless the fuckin’ lot of us!”