consume a humungous and absurd amount of drugs… name yourself after a pugnacious egyptian god… gurn continually… dance a bit… waft your maraccas over some seminal early 90’s rave music… appear on celebrity big brother …. become a national treasure… a slightly preposterous career trajectory… somewhat bez blessed!
as for monsieur Ryder?… curiously cleaned up, coherent! unshambolic! like a sober shane magowan? is that even possible?
just the sort of kid i would have scuttled away from at school (me being frightfully middle class, southern, somewhat shy)
not one of the tough guys, but funny, with a hint of weasel viciousness
Blooming good music tho!
slightly odd gig, not my usual vibe, i tend to avoid has beens and tribute band… bands that become tribute bands to their younger selves?
one of those things i said yes to months ago, promptly forgot about… and was reminded of on friday!
the audience, painful old ravers… not a look that weathers particularly well… wary of people that look too much like me? stuck in the realms of mid 90’s credit card crusty, with a hint tinge of goan joss stick
i prefer ooh i dunno ecstatic dance at buddhafield, leaping about like a loon, dancing the dawn up at bimble! but yeah, here i was
thought i’d prefer the orb, delicious chill out music… in the early evening light, midst brutal lashing rain… even they found it hard to be bothered
so… a litany of reluctance… but… but
the rain blows over, the band shuffle onto stage… the exhillarating opening zap of kinky afro… instantly i shimmy all the way to the front for a boooooogie! yay!
‘yer twisting my melons man’…. ladies and gentlemen: the happy mondays!!! ha! surfing yesterdays zeitgeist.. yay!
