As the years go by it appears that there are fewer and fewer solid gold, 100% foolproof demands that can be made of your average gig audience. How many times have you been to see a band and an over enthusiastic performer has attempted to initiate a hands-above-your-head drum-and-vocal whole-crowd-united-as-one clap-along to their would be crowd pleasing anthem only to be greeted with a sea of cross arms and steely gazes upon upturned faces? If the answer is “not that many” than it’s only because the times they are a-changing. Didn’t there used to be a time when every support band would name-check the headliner by way of thanking them for the slot only to vicariously bask in the glory of an eruption of cheering from the crowd? “We’d like to thank [insert better/more popular band] for letting us play/tour with them.” The crowd go wild, the support band kick into ‘the single’ riding on the crest of a wave that they’ve zero right to ride. So with that it mind we present the rules of the support slot…

DON’T!
1. …namecheck the band and expect a reaction. We’re too cool for that jive.

2. …expect the audience to indulge your ‘headline-only’ antics. Why do band’s assume, in the same way that drunken fans who wander/surf onto the stage often do, that we’re all here to see them. Yes, British Sea Power, I’m talking to you. Your ‘fans’ may tolerate 20 minutes of your psychedelic wig out. Your ‘fans’ may love to see the member of your outfit who occupies that spacious region between Wilfred Owen and Bob Nastanovitch march all over the venue with a beat up bass drum. But not when those 20 minutes take up the lion’s share of your 35-minute showcase.

3. …thank the audience as the final chord of the song is still resounding. It’s only support bands that do this. Also, whatever your name is from Reuben, racecar may be racecar backwards but no one can tell if you speak so fucking fast. They’re called acoustics. Work with them.

4. …sound too much like the band you’re supporting. Q and not U at Fugazi, anyone?

5. …sound too little like the band. Tindersticks tribute act Cousteau supports… They Might Be Giants!

6. …join the crowd after you’ve played under the flimsy pretence that you’re one of us and all you want to do is rock out to the headliner. You’ve got a backstage pass; use it. Yes, we all saw you on stage. No, we don’t want to talk to you.

7. …show up to every gig I go to. This is a difficult one to negotiate. But Marion managed to support almost every fucking band I saw in 1994/5. We’ve all the got that band that seem to follows us around like How did they do that? If you’re a shitty support band, like Seachange, stop going to the same gigs as me. You know the bands I like. Stop supporting them.

8. …hold the band in unnecessarily high esteem. This fits in with tip number 1. Unless this esteem manifests itself in a cover version of the band’s hit. Hey, you’re a support band! Your sole purpose is to turn the room against you; you may as well have the band hate you too.

9. …tell us that ‘this one’s the single’ just before you play it. Don’t tell us when it’s coming out. Don’t tell us it’s been played on Xfm. We’ll know which one is the single and that it’s been played on Xfm because the two 15-year-old girls in tiaras, and nightdresses will scream at each other and do their best impersonation of Ted Bundy’s last moments.

10. …play. As Greg Behrendt teaches us on his incredible live album ‘Uncool’, we “don’t want to see you struggle through your career” we’d sooner the gig started at 7 with no support so we’re back by 9 to watch Alias. Sure we’re boring, but have you heard [insert name of last support band you saw]?