Filmed over six months, the usual unexpected problems combined with continuity headaches. This is the story of just one day’s hard graft in a six months slog,…

7.00am Home. Tonight’s gig is in London, which means another  early start., but at least I’m travelling with the roadies - an added bonus of this shoot They’re leaving Nottingham at 9.00 am but make time for breakfast at the local café. By the time I’ve arrived at Nottingham to met with Steve (Lighting and Staging Crew) and collect the others, we’re on the heading south with time on our side.

12.30 London. Arrive at the theatre ahead of time and face a thirty-minute wait until we’re allowed to begin the load in. Time for cuppa in the green room and exchange stories with the theatre crew.

1.00pm. Doors open. Three tons of the bands gear and my stuff to get in and set up by 5.00pm. I dob in and lend a hand rolling in all the flight-cases and equipment. The roadies wire it all up but always appreciate help with the humping stage of the day. Off the back of the truck, down a ramp, across the pavement, through the doors, down another ramp and onto the stage. By 2.00pm it’s all onstage and ready to set-up. My gear is sitting at the front of the stage waiting for me to decide angles and positions. It’s not part of my job, but certainly makes the shoot go smoother with the roadies on my side. Everyone mucks in.

Banter is the order of   the day, and I mercilessly take the pee out of Ryan, the newest and youngest member of the crew. He’s a good lad, and obliges by fetching and carrying tea, coffee and sustenance. Although I’ve already filmed the roadies doing this part, I keep a camera close to catch those unexpected gems. , Lo and behold I’m rewarded when Paul (Sound Engineer and Coronation Street Extra) treats us to some typical roadie clowning around.

I decide to film a time-lapse sequence and set up a camera in the auditorium, Paul stands on a large flight case as it’s pulled across very slowly the stage while everyone else continues as normal. The result is hilarious. The scene will make it into the final edit, I’m sure.

4.00pm. Countless fag breaks later, the gear is all set on the stage, the wiring done, and the band members arrive for sound-check. There’s three cameras on stage tonight: Two static on stage and one on a the crane. Tonight I’m fortunate to have a pit in front of the stage to stand in. The crane is mounted on a dolly and tripod, so I can glide up and down along the stage front following all of the action. The two on stage are positioned to capture wide shots from each side, but the Theatres stage manager has warned me about the iron (safety curtain). It comes down at halftime and will squish my tripods flat if they are in the way. I reposition slightly and he’s satisfied. As the band goes about rehearsing and sound checking, Steve is setting the lights. I try to set the cameras up for such intense light but am somewhat thwarted by the endless moving and testing of each lamp. I do manage to capture a few funny moments when Chris (Lead Guitar) starts playing Bohemian Rhapsody in 4/4 time with his Les Paul set up to sound like a banjo and doing the vocals in the style of  George Formby . The end of check comes and I have to be satisfied with `best guess` as far as proper settings are concerned. Off to the pub then.

5.30pm. Two hours to curtain up. We are in the local boozer, having a bite to eat and a pint or two. There is nothing to do now but wait.

7.00pm. Back in the theatre. The band are in the dressing rooms, tuning up, getting changed and preparing for the show. I go out front to double check cameras, angles, tripods, power, and then make my way down some very dark corridors and steps into the pit to check the crane. As I go about firing up my monitor, camera and pan unit a couple of women in the front row of the audience lean over the rail and start a conversation. Oh, the stardom! Turns out they come to virtually every gig these lads do and have seen me before. They want to know when the DVD will be out and can they be on it? I haul the crane around and pretend to film them. They try to look nonchalant.

7.25pm. Cameras are running. The lights go down, the audience quietens to a hush. The intro tape starts and everyone involved with the show takes a deep breath.

7.30pm. As the band hit the first note I belatedly realise that where I am standing is directly in front of the first few rows of the audience. All they can see is my head. Ooops. I try to keep moving along the front to minimise any one person being behind me. The angles look good, the tracking works well, the crane performs faultlessly but…..

8.10pm. The front of house manager pulls my sleeve. He informs me (in the middle of a song) that he has had a complaint about my head and can I duck down? I reassure him that I will try, but really there is not a great deal I can do.

8.30pm. End of the first half. Mad rush now. In the next twenty minutes I have to change the tapes in the cameras, double check all the settings, review some video of the previous hour and then get back in position for the beginning of part two. I get this done easily and even have time to sneak a ciggy in the green room. I hear the five minute bell and return to the stage to start the cameras there and then descend back into the pit.

8.50pm. The audience settle down for the second half and I hit `Record`. The band do their stuff and I know the show so well (around ten gigs with these under my belt now) I manage to get into position for those special moments I have made a note to capture. Nothing physical as they are all getting on now, just special moments that will be interesting to edit.

9.50pm. The end of the gig. The lads have done well. Standing ovation, sold out house, lots of applause, lots of energy from the audience that has transferred itself to stage. Gigs like that are the ones I love. When the crowd reacts well the artist always gives a better performance. Sweet!

10pm. Out to the foyer to capture the autograph signings. The lads are busy and completely unaware of me, but the punters are. Some do their best to get in shot, others shy away and others simply start showing off. They are the ones who will get cut out.

10.15pm. As the folk disperse, we make our way back to the dressing rooms and chat about the night. I am very satisfied with my results and so are they. The auditorium lights are up, it’s empty and the place seems cold. Litter is scattered around the floor. The theatre’s stage crew have already started breaking down the gear, but there is still a couple of hours hard slog ahead to finish up.

00.15am. The shutter comes down on the truck, the padlock clicks shut and we head home. We look for a chippy but they are all shut, so it’s over-priced rubbish from a petrol station to keep us going. I drop the bunk down in the cab and settle down for a kip.

03.35am. Back in Nottingham. Pouring with rain, I get soaked as I transfer my equipment back into my car. It steams up as I start it up and head off. I am extremely careful of the speed cameras on the Nottingham ring road and then floor it as I head back into the countryside.

04.15am. I arrive home. The cat is sitting there watching me intently as I put everything back into the studio. I finally manage to get indoors at 4.30am and head off to bed. I can’t even be bothered to make a cup of tea, as I have to be up for my day job at seven.

Another day another dollar.

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