There have been certain times in the past when I have delved into the populist bollocks that some call mainstream music to accommodate my kids wanting to see a band, but never like this.
In Demand live is a total immersion experience.
All the latest and greatest (sic) acts in the UK being trundled on and off a stage for a crowd of ten thousand to scream and blow whistles at.
Lets do that Scooby Doo thing where everything warps into the past now.
It all started when my daughter asked for tickets as her favourites JLS were playing, and in a rather cavalier manner I said sure and procured a couple.
The day they arrived I'll admit to having a bit of a sinking feeling about it all.
When I found it it was a six hour extravaganza the first thought that sprung to mind was "by fuck this is above and beyond the call of duty as a parent. What have I done?"
Dante had nine circles of hell to work through, but I had eighteen of the latest pop pickers to endure.
Personally I think that wipes the floor clean with anything Dante had to put up with.
Fast forward to the day now.
Alanna woke up pretty excited and I slipped a mask on and smiled a lot.
Once we got to Glasgow we ran around a few shops and then went for the underground out to the SECC and this was when the reality kicked in.
I was in a sea of kids.
It seemed like millions of them.
If there was a stampede I would have been trampled to death under a wave of high tops and Primarks latest dayglo range.
Yep. I was terrified.
More scary was the amount of middle aged women dragging screaming kids along.
Kids that obviously had no interest in going.
Without exception they were done up to the nines in fashions that are normally seen on hormonal teenagers. You really have to question their motives, and at the same time their sanity.
I said this once before about a McFly show, but do these women honestly think they are going to bag themselves a teenage pop star who is riding high in the charts?
It's sheer lunacy, but if there was ever a day for suspending reality then this would appear to be it.
Packed like sardines in the prepubescent express we rolled along to the SECC and then spilled out onto the platform in a gaggle.
There is no other words to describe it. I was surfing on a gaggle.
Then the nightmare really began in earnest.
Hats off to the SECC who manage to take a somewhat problematic task and make it ten times worse.
They have ten thousand people attending an event, and seem to consider it fine to only have two doors open to the hall, and no signs to tell anyone where to go.
I asked three security people where I should line up and got conflicting answers from them all.
I even asked why there were only two doors open and a cheeky cow snapped that that's all they ever open.
This was a blatant bare faced lie that an SECC virgin would swallow, but as a veteran gig goer I knew it to be untrue.
I could have challenged her on it, but if I did I have no doubt that security would have escorted us out.
So instead I wrote her number down, but I'm still in two minds whether to complain, as from experience I'm aware that the SECC don't really give a toss and there's probably a shredding machine lying in wait under their bottomless complaints box.
When we finally took out seats at the very back they weren't too bad as we had a clear view of the stage and Alanna would have an unobstructed view of it all.
Once the show began a pattern emerged rather quickly.
Some Scottish DJ would come on and ramble away uncomfortably about his friends backstage who were going to wow us all and then ask everyone to make some noise.
Then he would introduce another local DJ who was eager to get out in public and show people that he didn't just have the face for radio, and was in fact willing to publicly humiliate himself for anything up to and including 15 seconds of fame.
He would then say about how pleased he was to be there and that they were just backstage talking to their friends and everyone should make some more noise, and then, but only then, the act would come on.
It's a long drawn out process and without it a six hour show could probably be crammed into a couple of hours.
First band of the afternoon to try desperately to entertain us was a combo called Beatbullyz.
They're a rap duo who I've never heard of and have no inclination to find out any more about.
The sort of rap band who have a silent c tagged on before the leading r.
They reminded me of those inner city documentaries where they take a trip to the heavily subsidized studio where a couple of local lads show off their rapping skills and claim their dream is to make it big and get out of da hood.
That's right. They were that bad.
They only had ten minutes though so they managed to finish about two minutes before I started contemplating ritual suicide.
Then after zoning out while the local DJs asked everyone to make some noise again and again and again, a woman called Carrie Mac came on.
She's a singer/songwriter from Edinburgh and was pretty good even though she was at odds with everyone else playing.
She plays sort of ballsy, if somewhat lightweight, rock chick stuff.
A bit like the Wilson sisters from Heart, or then again maybe not.
That actually makes her sound better than she was.
Bit of a surprise though.
MAKE SOME NOISE GLASGOW. Yeah, that's right the radio djs are back before introducing some kid called Fugative.
Obviously a dyslexic runaway.
This was one of the acts my daughter wanted to see and what a disappointment he was for her.
He looked like one of the hoodies that Cameron wants us all to hug, but we wouldn't because fuck knows where the wee bastard has been.
He shouted a lot in the mic and I suppose some people would call it rap, but it really isn't.
Easy E had Aids. This lad gets thousands of screaming girls.
There's no justice.
I haven't a clue at all about what he was saying except when he urged everyone to buy his new single on i-tunes.
This was something he did rather frequently.
As he was on for ten minutes about seven of them must have been taken up with aggressive self promotion.
I kept waiting for a hook to materialize from the side of the stage and yank him off, but no such luck.
A complete and utter fanny.
The DJs that came on after him and at least had the honesty to look sheepish when they said "wasn't Fugative great?"
No he fuckin' wasn't.
He aspired to be shite and didn't even manage that.
It was the turn of Eliza Doolitle next and by Christ can she sing.
Nice fat double bass sound, bit of calypso and summer sun with zero miming or backing tracks.
She skipped about seemingly a tad oblivious to the crowd and made a solid impression on me.
I don't know who booked her, but at least someone seems to actually have a bit of musical appreciation.
Then just as I started to think that things might pick up the radio (Make some noise) DJs ruined it all and introduced someone called Example.
He's Calvin Harris for the kiddies.
I barely fell asleep.
It only got worse when Diana Vickers, the x factor girl who does the impression of her out of the Cranberries, followed him.
She was simply awful.
Am I the only one that thinks her parents must have been hippies who smoked a bit too much and brain damaged the poor girl.
She doesn't appear to be on this planet half the time and then when she is feels the need to torture us with some seriously off key warbling.
By now the radio DJs are really earning their money.
Well that's if they are being paid to lie through their teeth, because everything is fantastic according to them.
A young guy called Professor Green takes to the stage and rattles through some Eminems sound-alike rapping and he aint half bad to be honest.
He's got a single out just now that features Lilly Allen, but by the end of his set I'll not hold it against him.
Alanna enjoyed him and is keen to go and see him again, but I'm not so sure.
I reckon a Prof Green gig in Glasgow would attract a rather rough element and she would be out of her depth at it.
I though that the next band, The Hoosiers, would have offered me some welcome respite from the proceedings as I find them bouncingly inoffensive, but while they were good they mainly played material from their forthcoming, as yet to be released album, and that left the vast majority of the crowd wondering who the fuck they were.
They did play Mr A.
The Wanted seemed to be a major draw going by the home made banners proclaiming that a lot of seven year old wants to marry them.
They're a boy band in the worst sense of the word.
Miming, lip syncing, whatever you want to call it, while weaving in and out of each other in a poorly choreographed way.
Utter bollocks. They will be huge.
Big surprise time.
Alesha Dixon can sing.
Who would have thought it? I didn't, but she can. She can dance to.
In fact she can even do them both at the same time.
That puts her streets ahead of her peers in my opinion.
In fact it's a bit of a shame that while crap like Girls Aloud and their ilk fill stadiums in the UK basically miming to the same sort of thing Alesha Dixon hasn't got that level of fame.
Now I'm not saying I'm a fan.
All I am saying is that if you have one person that can do it for real, and another group who can't, then you would think that the plaudits and fame would go to the genuine article.
So it's a shame that it doesn't.
The real big shock of the evening was next.
He of celeb big brother slayed the place.
The guy is genuinely pretty funny and enthusiastic.
You can see he just thinks its all a piss laugh and I found myself smiling away at his performance.
He knows it's cheesy and he doesn't care.
It was a shame when he retired from the stage and left it to yet another reality talent show contestant.
What can I say?
She was like a watered down Alesha Dixon.
They do about the same thing although this woman wants to be Beyonce a bit too much.
Not too bad, but relies a fair bit on the backing tracks.
Okay. She was shite. Total utter shite with a big capital SSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHut the fuck up.
Who is Alex Gardner?
He appears to have supported everyone everyone who is anyone even though I have never heard of him.
Strangely enough I think for one moment I fitted right into the crowd, because no one else seemed to know who he was either.
Bland as fuck he is to.
I wouldn't even know where to start with him. White boy soul on a downer maybe.
Then things went from bad to worse when the Saturdays came on.
The crowd went mental and that just goes to show that you can actually fool all of the people all of the time.
They can't sing, they can't dance and they can't even walk from the back of the stage to the front in a straight line.
They are a talent free zone.
Jesus. They can't even mime.
If Doctor Frankenstein made Girls Aloud and Pussycat Dolls, then it was Igor who managed to make The Saturdays out of the aborted shit that was left over in a bucket by the door.
Tinchy Stryder was supposed to follow them, but for some reason that no one told us it was McFly instead.
Now I've seen them with the kids about three times I think.
Each time they impressed as they can actually play.
Something has went wrong though.
To hang onto some popularity they've decided that they should emulate the bands who are at the top of the charts so we get some abortion of a song called Party Girl, and then a medley of their hits with the small amount of balls that they had removed.
In hindsight they will come to realize that this moment was the first nail in the coffin of their career.
If they thought they were slipping before then they just set course for obscurity at warp factor six.
I think it was The Script next.
By this point I was feeling like someone had just set off a cattle prod on the side of my head and I was a bit disorientated so maybe it wasn't.
As a band they are exceptionally good at what they do, but it does nothing for me.
I seen them supporting the Zutons once and I didn't really get them then, and even though they are a different band now, I still don't.
Tinchy Stryder is crap.
That's a fact that you can take to the bank. That's all I'm going to say about him.
After him we got a Karaoke winner.
An eleven year old boy who sang "Don't stop believeing".
He was crap to.
While everyone swooned at his confidence he fumbled the words, sang badly, tried to body pop, rolled his belly and played air guitar.
Open up Bedlam again.
We are officially paying to see people make an arse of themselves.
Does it matter that he is eleven?
Am I being cruel?
His dream is probably to be on x-factor or Britians got talent.
He could win it as he is every chancer on every episode rolled into one.
What a lot of pish. His parents will be suitably proud of him though.
Fast forward a decade and he will be sitting on a pish stained couch with a bottle of Buckfast in his hand slurring that he once played in front of ten thousand people in the SECC and he could have been a contender.
JLS who were the main draw of the whole event were to finish the show and when they were introduced the place went nuts.
A bit like Beatlemania.
My girl was so exited that she started to cry.
This made it all worthwhile.
Not that I like to see her cry, but because right then she was lost in the moment.
All the crap from recent months that we have had to deal with vanished. Even if it was just for half an hour.
In that time she was swept away with the performance.
They were good to. I can't fault them really.
They are the singing and dancing phenomenon that they are touted as. Pretty much faultless in the execution of what they do, and it is all live.
I really do have to take my hat off to them.
So at the end of the day I have to ask myself was it worth it and simply because of that last half hour I have to say yes.
As a parent I couldn't put a price of hat JLS gave my daughter, and I'm not sure that at this moment in time anyone else could have given her that respite from life that she needed.
I guess I'll be in their debt for a long time now and if she wants to go and see them again then I'll move heaven and earth to make it happen.
What a day though.
Just be thankful that I lived through it and arrived here safe and sound to forewarn everyone else about what they can expect from In Demand.