Covid has a lot to answer for. Before lockdown the Chilli Crockers were a group of five aspiring young musicians, with the potential to move from the pub circuit to the big stage and maybe even offers of record deals lingering just around the corner.

Oh hang on, that was before the turn of the century, not lockdown.

Nevertheless, lockdown has taken its own peculiar toll – not just on the Chilli Crockers but of course on thousands of bands and artists across the world who've been left unable to perform live, whether they do it for fun or cash or beer, or as in this case, a bit of all three.

And after the intervening months away from the stage, the beer is very much needed for the Chilli Crockers...except for drummer Roger, who's given it up in lockdown and started writing a book about RAF fighter planes, proving the rule once again that drummers are weird contrary creatures.

But the bottom line is, as we set up in the gear in the garden of The Scared Crow in West Malling, we're almost as scared as the aforementioned crow.

The last time we'd played a gig had been the August bank holiday 2020, and there'd been a lockdown in the months before then, meaning the band has only performed once in the space of a year and a half.

"I think we should scrap the new ones," says one worried message in the group chat before the gig. "We aren't gonna be practised enough, they'll go down like a lead balloon."

"You mean like Led Zeppelin?" replied no one, because everyone was too worried for the usual stupid jokes.

"Let's practice them to death next week," was the conclusion; because that's the cruel double whammy for a band in lockdown – not only are there no gigs, but you also can't get together to rehearse in the same room.

Not that you'd really want to. Being in a small warm room with five sweaty shouting people, dodging globules of perspiration from the drummer and phlegm from the singers, is never pleasant at the best of times.

Add in the prospect of flying globules of Covid and it makes a lot more sense to just stay at home and start writing a book about RAF fighter planes.

In my case it meant staying at home and writing songs about walking aimlessly around the Kent countryside, until I ran out of countryside to walk aimlessly around and began such inadvisable projects as setting Percy Shelley's poem Ozymandius to a 1980s style rock tune, then veered into writing depressing songs about former bands.

The end of lockdown couldn't come soon enough. And of course there were even more serious concerns than that for other band members during the darker months of lockdown, with day jobs connected to the travel industry and hospitality trade, and genuine fears for their livelihoods.

All in all, this first gig after the easing of restriction measures should be a big day of celebration, and it is. But the nerves linger, as do concerns over uncertain amended Covid rules which hang over the event like the troublesome digital rain clouds that have plagued the forecast for the last week.

The rule of six to a table is easy enough to follow, but other government guidance is less clear.

Do we have to wear masks while singing? Surely not. If you step into the crowd while playing a guitar solo, do you have to follow the one-way system out of the gate and back through the pub in order to return to the stage? Are you allowed to plug microphone cables from two singers into the same mixing desk?

And are members of the crowd allowed to throw underwear at performers?

Some questions are best left unasked and unanswered, but we were never likely to be troubled by the latter.

In any case it's best to concentrate on the basics; like trying to remember how all the songs go, remembering which guitar strings make which note, and how to turn the amps on, and remembering not to give Roger a mic so he can tell his Johnny Cash joke or start plugging his book about fighter planes.

Usually setting up and playing a quick soundcheck an hour before a gig goes some way to quelling pre gig fears; especially if the soundcheck is met with a generous ripple of applause from any early arrivals.

In this case, the first practice run-through is met with a mildly suspicious expression on the face of the one solitary man at the far end of the beer garden.

"How did that sound?" I ask, after what seemed like a half decent go at Knocking on Heaven's Door.

The man looks thoughtful for a moment, then ventures "I can't hear the bass..."

We have another go after a bit of tinkering with the sound levels, and the man adopts a more pained expression. "I can't hear the guitars," he says.

Another go at the levels brings the inevitable "I can't hear the vocals", and it starts to beg the question whether he can hear anything at all.

But eventually we're met with a smile and "yeah that sounds spot on", and some other new arrivals agree. Finally things are looking up, and soon enough, nerves or no nerves, it's time to play the gig.

Somehow, despite the fretting of the past few weeks, the first song goes OK with minimal mistakes and without any equipment catching fire or anyone dropping dead from anxiety.

Video: The Chilli Crockers live at The Scared Crow, West Malling

So does the next, and after a few songs, people are actually tapping their feet and singing along, and at one point almost dancing on a table, which apparently is allowed under Covid restrictions, but not under health and safety rules.

Are we that good? Well we're alright, and the undeniable truth is that people are clearly enjoying themselves, even if it is simply due to the drinks or the fact they've been locked up for months with no live entertainment.

And the band actually enjoys it too; Sam plays like man possessed on keyboards and guitar, Alex nails his bass lines with a slightly unnerving confidence, and singer Kev belts out Summer of 69 better than Bryan Adams, almost, while Roger doesn't even mention his book about fighter planes once – and plays in perfect time.

There are inevitably mistakes of course. At one point I forget the lyrics to the second verse of Primal Scream's Rocks – one of the new ones we'd worried about – and there's a brief moment of concern that we might have to just play the same riff for the rest of the gig, with no words to lead us to the chorus.

But somehow we find a way out, and the song goes down less like a lead balloon, and more like a partially deflated plastic balloon being batted around at a birthday party.

Certain songs even seem to take on new energy from the post-lockdown circumstances – The Undertones' Teenage Kicks has Kev pogoing like a teenager, and crowd seem to want to follow suit, while the chorus of Neil Young's Rockin' in the Free World also hits home, especially after the first verse "there's a warning sign on the road ahead, there's a lot of people saying we'd be better off dead..."

Well we're not dead yet, and for the moment still rockin', when we get the chance, in a free-ish world.

"It's felt like a bit of my personality's been missing all the while we've not been able to rehearse," says Sam after the gig. "It was so great to perform again." And while Kev admitted to pre-gig nerves, he added "Once we started I absolutely loved it. I'm also glad Roger didn’t have a mic."

Landlady and birthday girl Tina also said she'd had a great day, adding: "It was great to see everyone smiling and enjoying themselves once again after such an awful year for so many. The Chilli Crockers provided a much-needed boost for moral to everyone who came in support to hear live music again at The Scared Crow.

"Many thanks to our fantastic regulars for their unfailing support throughout the pandemic and to my amazing team for their hard work and loyalty. Keep a note in your diary for the August bank holiday when the Chilli Crockers will be playing all your favourites once again in our garden."

Well cheers. As they say, we've been the Chilli Crockers, thank you and good night.

Follow the Chilli Crockers and the Scared Crow on Facebook.

For further news about Roger's forthcoming book about fighter planes, please do not enquire at the Scared Crow.

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