In a last-gasp and desperate attempt to save my flagging blog I've relocated to the conservatory. I'm hoping that such a serious geographical change will pay dividends. Every blog-related egg (Blegg) that I have in my possession has been placed into the basket, so to speak. Ka-pow! In all seriousness I've been meaning to write something for ages, all too aware that the longer I leave it the harder it will be to slip back into the flow of things. It's weird how writing a few words & stringing a handful of sentences together can sometimes just become so difficult. Anyway, fuck all that, I feel that I'm making good progress now. The conservatory may well have paid off.
So I went to see Spoon on Tuesday night. It was a truly great show. I find it pretty hard to rank things like this because it's just a one-time experience... something that you live only for a short while and then it leaves you, but it certainly felt like the best show I've seen, although I have a sneaky feeling I've said something very similar after every show I've seen. Heh. No, it was just a great, great set with no nonsense. Pretty much what I'd expected really. You know... they came, they saw, they played a shitload of tunes and then fucked off into the night. So simple & concise. Amazing band.
On a slightly different note, I always feel a little sorry for those people who pay to see a show and then spend 95% of it looking at the back of their phone. Why did you come here? Heh... and these are often the people you'll find on forums complaining that "when I looked around I only saw a few people who knew what the words were." I hate all that bollocks. It's complete crap. You know, I think that, when you find yourself more concerned with the performance of the audience than the band, then maybe you should be questioning why you're there in the first place. The reason I'm mentioning this is that the same thing happened on their forum the day after. Some guy criticising the audience for the above reason, and also because "90% of the audience clapped the fake ending" to one song. People like that really get my goat. I posted a reply to his message saying that I'm sure he meant that he only saw a few people who were mouthing along to the words and that I thought there was a difference. I mean, I know that, for me personally, when I pay to go and see a band I love, I want to hear the band and not some utter chump next to me forcing his indie credibility down my throat. As for the fake ending thing, who gives a fuck?... and if it's really that much of a problem for you, just be a closet snob like me and bottle it all up inside.
Earlier on in the evening I'd fallen victim to an absolute drenching at the hands (& wheels) of a boy racer. I'd let my guard down as I was walking to the train station. At the time I was a little concerned that I might've left it a bit late in leaving the house, so I was strolling along the footpath briskly and not really thinking about my surroundings. Usually I'd have clocked that a significant part of the road beside me had turned into something closer resembling a lake, but I failed to notice it until it was far too late this time. However, in the distance I had noticed a white Subaru Impreza - you know the one... yeah, that's it, driven exclusively by twats - speeding up but didn't think anything of it. After all, it's the kind of thing that they do. I think it's something to do with the size of an appendage of some sort, or something like that. So, yeah, the car sped past me, leaving quite a considerable wall of water in its wake. It was pretty unpleasant, and it felt surprisingly heavy too, but I just carried on walking. Ploughed through it. Didn't even break stride. It pains me to write this, but the bastard played it well. Heh, it was so obvious to anybody else what had happened though... I caught sight of what I thought was a smirk from a lady walking in the opposite direction. She'd seen the tell-tale splatter on what was a dry afternoon. She understood it all.
It was a damp train journey.