Wrote this the other day, forgot to post:
Prised myself away from the Net to brave the cold and misery that is Mancunian weather to traipse into town to meet Rebecca, Ruairi and Matt, and see Nick play down in the Northern Quarter.
Gave in and wore my recently acquired pink trousers that I had been saving for my trip to Atlanta. Convinced myself that this was okay because they are lovely and padded and therefore probably too warm to wear in Atlanta anyway, whereas in the icy gloom that is Manchester they are a godsend, and very cool to boot. However, my opinion soon changed when I went to jump onto a bus, the driver stared at my legs, reached forward and felt my thighs! He then apologised and explained he wanted to see what fabric they were made from because he thought I was wearing waders!! ARGH! Not at all happy.
Managed to make it into town and went to get some money out of the cashpoint only to discover that I am really stupid and had left my cards at home. I had a tenner on me, that was all. Pants! Luckily I’d got Nick to stick my name on the door and managed to get in without paying the entrance fiver.
Went to get myself a drink. The girl who served me stared at me for a little while then asked if I was Kay. Apparently we had met at Costa Coffee some years back when Mary worked there with her. She enquired as to how Mary was as she had lost contact, and I found myself having to explain that I’d also lost touch with her after her boyfriend died taking a short cut home from the pub via a railway line (He tripped and fell onto the live track) and Mary withdrew and refused to talk to anyone. Felt very awkward.
were up first and to be honest I was only aware of them as a bland, dull, monotonous drone in the background. There was no passion, no life and if the music couldn’t be bothered well I certainly couldn’t be either.
Did good, it wasn’t the best gig I have seen them play but even going through the motions they weren’t terrible. Nick was noticeably not his usual self, I mean, shock! – he kept his top on! (Though some would say that that is a good thing.)
Not a band but a stupid altercation with Matt.
British Sea Power
Hyped up as rising stars with a supposed promising future ahead British Sea Power headed the bill. The band certainly looked individual as they meaningfully stepped out onto a stage seemingly disguised as a small forest with stuffed owls perched atop amps. Wearing quasi-military uniforms reminiscent of 2nd World War Naval Officers, the drummer played from behind a tree, the bassist was adorned with branches on his head and the keyboard-player wore a tin hat and second world war radio microphone. I half expected live seagulls to swoop in. All had glazed acid-fried expressions that reminded me very much of Pengie’s Halloween photos, except less goofy. But that’s as about as entertaining as it got. Still, they have a cool name.
Ruairi accused me of turning into an indie something. Now what was it? chick? nope, too cute for Ruairi and not rude enough, whore? tart? letch? Anyhow, fended him off by summoning the Gawds of RAWK and he ran off screaming. yay!
Had exactly one pound left so took the bus home, ended up almost having to carry silly drunk boy home and put him to bed. Ate noodles, set the alarm for an ungodly hour and jumped into bed.
Nick said he’d get me on the guestlist for Thursday night too, (Radio One event, invite only apparently) so will do it all again then.