Thinking

Bit more story.

 
Things became very fluid. Events were organised and cancelled at short notice as civil disobedience, strikes and constant foment made any kind of planned concert impossible. Frustrated, the band nevertheless went with the flow, enjoying the camaraderie and the respect and solicitude afforded them, there was very little choice. Finally on the 17th of November the Socialist Youth Union (the youth wing of the communist party) celebrating the 50th anniversary of the end of Nazi oppression arranged a march which against all the odds was allowed to proceed. Vratislav decided that this would provide enough cover for a gig to take place without the authorities noticing. He added that Vaclav Havel might attend and it would also be recorded and transmitted on Radio Free Europe.
The gig was advertised solely by word of mouth and only at the very last minute did the band carry equipment to the venue, separately and hidden in bags and rucksacks so as not to make it obvious what was going on. Their own amps weren’t required but the replacement equipment seemed rather small.
“I’m no Lemmy” complained Steve
“but this ain’t gonna shake the house down” he moaned carrying a small bass compo that he was able to put under his arm wrapped in a coat.
“and what about my toms and cymbals? Said Brooksie looking at his severely depleted drum kit easily divided between him and Vratislav in rucksacks.
“You understand soon, what we have is enough” Vratislav replied, looking uneasily around him at the swirling crowds of people all heading to the centre of town. There seemed to be a lot of police, heavily armoured and bristling with aggression despite the buoyant but generally peaceful atmosphere around them. Little legs further back and carrying a bag with cables and mikes felt conflicted. Half of him was nervous, though far from a criminal mastermind he nevertheless had a long record of minor misdemeanours. He did not relish a spell in an Eastern European police cell or even worse prison. On the other hand he felt exhilarated as seemingly after a lifetime on the periphery of nothing he seemed for the first time to be at the centre of something, history unfolding in front of his eyes. Jer a few streets away was subdued. For all his arrogance and aggressive bluster he was at heart conservative. He liked a bit of fraying at the edges but when it felt, as it did now, that the whole fabric of a situation was unravelling he felt ill at ease. Mo on the other hand was in his element. Tidal wave, earthquake, hurricane, forest fire, call it what you will Mo liked to be amongst the chaos pushing the new broom, cleaning the slate. 
As the band arrived at staggered times to the “venue” all became evident. The gig was to take place in what was once a house with the adjoining walls taken out to produce an open space. It was the smallest venue, by a long way, that they had ever played in. One end of the rectangle had a tiny PA with mic stand and the other a table stacked with beers and a tin money box. People entered and left by the back door. The front door and windows were no different to any other in the street. The neighbours were tolerant and supportive.
“Cozy” muttered Brooksie
“If we can’t fill this place then we really need to look at our marketing” moaned Steve
But Jer and Mo immediately got it. They recognised the power of this tiny place as a platform for defiance, protest, subversion and change.  
“Many bands play here, no one suspect”
“In future this place will be historic” Vratislav announced grandly.
By 9 o’clock the place was rammed, it was difficult to tell where the band ended and the audience began. They played 4 sets throughout the evening to accommodate the amount of people who wanted to be there though still many were disappointed. They were the greatest sets they had ever performed. It was less a gig, more a happening, it was everything Mo had dreamed about, the band and audience merging into one triumphant choir of art, noise and action. During the last set a rumour spread around that a student Martin Smid had been killed during the clashes on the street. Radio Free Europe who had been recording the gigs live transmitted this news also as a news flash at the end of the final recording. Rather than extinguishing it seemed to fan the flames of protest. There was a determination and will to finish what had been started and the band variously informed and committed joined the crowds in the street who gathered and partied under the baleful looks of the police long into the night.    
The tumult spread and, by the 21st, people were confident and brave enough to call for the abolishment of the communist order. The police sensing the turn in the mood started to melt away. They knew any future order would not forget those who were too zealous in the protection of the old. By now the band were at the centre of things, a musical figurehead and physical manifestation of the turbulent atmosphere of change around them. As each day threw up new protests, new resignations (Milos Jakes and his leadership group on the 24th) the crowds on the streets grew from thousands to hundreds of thousands until it seemed that no one was at home. Despite new more moderate leadership (Karel Urbanek) and a more conciliatory stance the poster campaigns, strikes, marches, demands continued. Czechoslovakia’s neighbours were also throwing off their Warsaw pact shackles and this was widely reported and witnessed on TV. Eventually on the 28th an unsupported, exhausted and enfeebled government fell.
It was political change instigated not by politicians but by cultural action and The Y were part of it. It was like a fairy tale. Forty one years of political repression, totalitarianism, economic stagnation and artistic censorship over in 11 days. A future beckoned of democracy, free elections, civil rights and economic reform.
“Yeah but we have all that and it’s still shit” moaned Brooksie  
“ Yes but its democratic shit” explained Jer
“What’s the difference”
“Well you can get someone else in to be less shit hopefully”
“and saying things are shit is not a crime” added Mo
A month later Vaclav Havel, with a more optimistic and nuanced view of Czechoslovakia’s future was elected president.