Independent (1/3) By Katherine Horrex Photos by Darren Rogers

(1/3), (2/3), (3/3).

The room was pulsing with white noise and euphoria. Giles was positioned behind the sound booth, stupefied by the scene on stage: five Burberry clad men thrashing manically at their instruments, their sixties feather cuts flicking through the damp air. A final power chord growled through the Marshall stack, reverberating triumphantly and the lead singer raised his fist at the crowd in a gesture of solidarity and benediction, announcing;

"We've been The Duffal Cotes, you've been awesome- check us out on Myspace - goodnight!" Giles was stood, much like everyone else in the crowd - sweat dripping from his forelock, hands blurred before him in rapturous applause, until the houselights glared down, shedding clarity on five hundred or more people cheering at a vacant stage.

"More!' was the cry "Encore!" The crowd had begun to dissipate into the cold floodlit car park when the band bounded back on stage. They took up their instruments in a flurry of inexhaustible enthusiasm and launched into another number, ensuring the firm rooting of the remaining audience.

"There was a time when ya used to be my bay-beeeeeee...." People surged back inside - a tidal wave of humanity - all thoughts of cigarettes, taxis and al fresco carnality being lost in its swell. "You're all I need, so just please just come and save meeeeee..."

Leaning awkwardly against the bar was a solitary woman, who glanced alternately at the clock and the jostling punters. Having witnessed the band sweep once more into the backstage area, she threw the beer towels down over the pumps. "Time at the bar, please!" She was barely audible over the noise of the exiting throngs. Still, Giles, his throat dry from appreciation, cautiously meandered towards her, an assumptive winning smile spread across his flushed face.

"I don't suppose there's any chance -" "No!" "Well it was worth a try," he said, flinching back diffidently. "I was going to get a pint in earlier only, what with The Duffal Cotes being so awesome, I lost track of the time". The barmaid eyed Giles wearily. "That lot were the biggest crock of shit I've seen in a long time - and believe me, I've seen some shit in here," she said, locking up the till. "Catch you later, Mandy!" came a cry from over Giles' shoulder, addressing the girl behind the bar. She nodded briskly in response, pushing her mousey hair back behind her ears, as though any attempt at engaging in discourse with her impinged severely on her time.

Continued...Next Page (2/3)

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