Even Hitler never used profanities...

Courtesy of Leo Robinson, Rick Dobbing

Whether it was his arrogance and selfishness that led him to slam his acoustic guitar down and storm off, or his ignorance towards a rowdy audience member, the man who likened himself to Hitler did not end his set too pleased.

Dressed Like Wolves had gathered much anticipation ahead of their headline set in Stoke-on-Trent. I, for one, was looking forward to the dark, sultry sounds of Rick Dobbing's captivating voice and lo-fi indie compositions at the The Old Brown Jug pub.

Sat near the front with our pint glasses in hand, we were prepared to indulge in a night of chilled acoustic entertainment.

After little time, two upfront and talkative brothers had joined our table. Although apprehensive at first, we grew to love their company and soon bonded to form a pleasant companionship for the evening.

It seemed like the elder brother in particular had been drinking for longer in the day, and was in his own little world. Whereas the younger brother was very sure of himself and was quite vocal towards the performing acts; gathering many embarrassing looks from the other audience members.

Although louder than the musicians at times, the pair were never offensive and no malice was intended upon the performers. One musician, unfortunately, was not so sympathetic to their enjoyment being expressed so freely and vocally.

"I was just getting angry with that wanker to be honest."
Said Rick Dobbing.

A clearly talented young man, with a unique voice and chilling style, he also managed to create some sing-alongs with the two men. Unfortunately for him, the loud-mouthed brother was satirically singing the lyrics to songs he felt were being ripped off. As a Radiohead and Blink 182 fan, he was not impressed with such similar sounding songs, and wanted the band to know.

Throughout the set, questions were thrown at him and the strings on his guitar were tightening as the tension rose. To finish off a somewhat dramatic close to the set, the wannabe rock star stepped up from his stool, threw his acoustic on the ground and left for the smoking area, leaving a disjointed applause behind him.

Speaking to him after the show, I felt sympathetic towards his two band members who were left to clear up the mess. He didn't seem to mind though, as he knew his place:

“Well it is just me; everything about it. They're just there. They are my songs. To be honest, they don't really contribute anything in the way of that. I look at my songs and think, I want electric guitar and stuff because they're better instruments. It's not a collaborative thing.”

A modest man with a heart of gold.

It's all OK though, because “we have good banter and that; it's a good laugh,”

Asked, hypothetically, if he was in the Third Reich, and his band members were Goebbels and Goering, would he be Hitler, he responded with a likeness towards the dictator:

“Yeah, man. It's like when Leo (of support act Cult Party) had his friend play; it's his stuff and that's the way it is for me. They're sort of helping to fill the gaps, but it's your thing. I don't class it as being a proper band.”

I can't speak for Leo, but, at the time, these words brought an uncomfortably fidgety response from the Cult Party lead. The support act's spellbinding set was by far the musical highlight of the night and he was a true pleasure to talk to; far from having a likeness to a man comparable to Hitler.

Despite this egotistical frontman creating so much havoc, it was the beautiful words of the boisterous audience member's brother towards the end of the performance: “I know he's like this, but, you know, he's my brother and I love him.”

This lovable rogue's comforting drunken slur, heard from across the pub, was gratifying and welcomed. He was eccentric and opinionated, and perhaps the last person you would want in your audience – especially if you enjoy creating unoriginal music – but his brother didn't care, and he wouldn't have been anywhere else, with anyone else. And we agreed. Our shared hours spent talking and laughing afterwards were not wasted.