Saturday 6th December 2003, The Foresters Arms, Forest Row, East Sussex

Much has changed since the last performance at The Foresters Arms.

The scene of the inaugural gig so many years ago and regular haunt for the Badgered Boys is now under new management.

As if linked in some kind of live music symbiosis, even the line-up of the band has changed.

Gone are the smooth, crooner-style vocals of Grace.

Gone are the free-form jazz, exploratory rhythms of Bri.

This could so easily be a recipe for disaster! :o)

Fortunately, some things never change and with nary a moment of indecision, the comedy PA system is dragged from it's dungeon abode, fettled and cabled, and caressed into a luscious loudness of life. It's almost as if someone knows what they're doing...

As the fantastic foursome take the stage, absolute silence reigns.

Nobody moves.

Nobody breathes.

Even the traffic passing by on the A22 outside rolls to a silent standstill in anticipation...

Standing, heads bowed, like a brotherhood of rock monks, the minstrels of mayhem prepare their psyches for the pandemonium that must surely follow.

As strumming and drumming arms are raised, band and audience alike inhale sharply in anticipation of what is to come.

And there it is.

Solid. Doughy, with a crusty edge.

Lightly crumpled.

Duffed up, but ruggedly handsome.

The opening strokes of 'Turn Around'.

And with that, the immortal words:

"Good evening! We're Badgered!"

And as if they've never been away, the new-look, slim-line Badgered explode into a glorious, golden waterfall of sound.

The rhythm is simpler somehow, yet more direct and insistent.

The interplay between rhythm section and guitars strangely telepathic.

The vocals gigantic, raw and packed so full of emotion, you can almost taste the salty, blood-tinged tears of a wretched, sobbing heart.

Weaving an intricate tapestry of tones, the soaring guitar solo blends seamlessly back into the closing chorus and almost too soon, it ends.

Silence.

Gradually, the crowd returns to its senses, wrenched back to reality from a heavenly mind-boudoir of satin, chiffon and silk mindscapes by the deafening silence. And erupts.

Standing ovations across the globe bow their heads in shame at the rapturous appreciation and tumultuous applause.

Badgered Are Back.

And so it continues, 'They Don't Know You' delivered more sedately yet more intimately emotional than ever before.

'Sixteen days' making Ryan's original seem like an over-protected school child trying desperatley to imagine what it's like to be deeply in love.

The comfortably familiar bass line of 'Dancin' in the Moonlight' delivered with an agressive indolence redolent of the aggrieved rage that must have been felt at the conception of the song itself. And that solo...

Lifting the audience above their heads and dashing them on the jagged emotional rocks of '3AM' and 'Black Magic Woman', Badgered deftly avoid cliche and lace every note with a heady blend of chaos and herculean power.

Pirhouetting ever onwards across the lurid stage of rock gigantism, 'Brown Eyed Girl', 'Why Should He' and 'Survive' transport the steaming crowd back to the paisley patterned days of yesteryear; in fact, if this stuff was sold in eighths, you'd only really need a couple of tokes!

Which would set you up nicely for the rocked up, mental, sett-ending mayhem of 'When My Baby She Left Me' - paying tribute to a great guitar guy yet maintaining the inherent diversity of the eclectic Badgered style, whipping the crowd up into a gyrating, pulsating, maybe even ovulating frenzy of flesh and flailing limbs.

And so, to the bar.

Love Rock? Get Badgered!