If you build it, they might come....
Bangor, North Wales 1991. I had pretty much missed most of the alternative scene that had been happening in the local students' union up to this point, working on getting a head start on my alcoholism. So when the idea of doing a gig was bandied around one booze-soaked afternoon between Vaffan Coulo and myself, we had no idea where to start. Vaffan Coulo were a punk band, not just any punk band; they were good friends and drinking buddies. But to me, and still to this day, I firmly believe they were one of the best bands to come out of the area. I saw them countless times, and they never disappointed and always entertained. Full of naivety, cider, and young man's bravado, we secured our local drinking hole, 'The Friddoed Bar' in Bangor. We hired a PA, supplied doormen, and roped in another band—the far-too-talented-for-their-age 'Nausea'—and then set about with buckets of paste and posters and covered that town in both. With a 50p admission fee, we might even br...