It's the end-of-year college ball at the all-girls college (St Marys, FYI). Our band is playing in the cool-and-edgy basement, it's a great, hot, intense, sweaty gig. Crowds of female students dancing away - feeling like proper rock stars we strip to the waist (whoops and cat calls all-round) and finish on a jazz-funk version of Black Sabbath's "Paranoid". The crowd goes wild!

It comes to the guitar solo, and BANG! We suddenly shift gear from slow funk to full-on metal as I hurtle into a hilariously over the top speed-widdly tapping frenzy, the girls go even wilder and I climb the amp stack giving it the full-on rock god treatment. It doesn't *get* any better than this!

Climax of the solo, big drum roll, and I leap like Dave Lee Roth off the amp stack, arm wheeling like Pete Townshend at his finest.
I pull the splits in mid-air.

I remember that we're in a low-ceilinged basement, just *after* I crack my head on the a pipe in the ceiling, spin wildly in mid-air, and land on my hip & elbow from a height of about 8 feet up.

Half-unconscious, flat on the floor and crippled with pain, I've bent my guitar lead's jack plug into a right angle with the impact, there's no sound coming out, and I still have a full minute of the song left to go.

With one hand, I pull myself round to my effects pedals, plug my guitar into a patch cable (about a foot long) and finish the song completely horizontal.

I'm in pain and unable to walk for about 4 days afterwards, and 20 yrs later I *still* have the scar in my forehead from the bolt in the pipe.

Rock 'n' roll, maaaaan, roggenroll
( Young Master Ploppy, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 19:14, Reply)