I missed the
Sleaford Mods last night – but bought a
ticket for Stereolab today – but it’s not like seeing the Sleaford Mods.
I just
listened to Kebab Spiders- I love that pure honesty of what the fuck and this
and that – but it’s the craft of Fearn that’s getting me – there’s the scowl
and undertow and all that rah rah rah – but the tunes become more sublime
everytime – hit hit hit – penny shove gone crazy and paying out non stop for
the masses. Making la la sounds and bringing you in. I haven’t heard the rest
of Eton Lives – but this is good.
This makes
it even more fucking gutting that I missed it.
But I’ve
been missing lots
I got put
out my job sometime back – making it large over December days – you know
smiling and all that whilst walking through some fucking shit mire not knowing.
So back to
the Mods. We are the mods. Always.
I’ve been
clean living in dirty times all my life.
I haven’t
written a thing for a while. The last
time I saw the Sleaford Mods was at the The Roundhouse in Camden.
I nearly bit
someone’s throat out.
Well I
didn’t bite it out. I wanted to. Not sure if that was a Sleafords Mods reaction or down to the medication I was on at the time - it can get you like that at times - send you off kilter. It was for my chest by the way - antibiotics. But it was a worry. Mods shows and all that weren’t
punctuated with violence – everytime I had seen them there was an air of beauty
– people getting along - listening and
grinning.
At the
Roundhouse – I had experienced something different. Now I am a middle aged man
– I’m 47. Can you say I was too close to the front. I paid the money –
it was free standing - I made my way
down to the first couple of rows – I
didn’t push nor shove I was close – maybe not a close as I wanted but I was near the stage.
I enjoyed
the set – there was an element that felt removed and the audience weren’t as
into it as they were at Brixton before. Some movement happened – people got
lively. Ok by me. I felt water on my
head. Liveliness. Yet it felt calculated. Looked around and this person was ready
to try it again. I think it he mst have got caught up in the heady nature of the event.
I am a 47
year old man.
I mean you
no harm.
I meant no
one any harm.
I carried on
my evening – it was close to the end. The Mods had been good. Not quite
connecting. Wetness on the head - again. Clearly it was intended. Yes I had shuffled around a little. I had caused no harm.
I ventured
to leave.
I was
kicked.
I was kicked
again. On purpose.
Looked around. Same members of the audience who had spilt a pint on my head. Older than me by my reckoning. What kind of fun is all that?
I came to do
no harm.
But I was ready for a rumble. I told him. I told
him I would wait outside.
He did not
wait outside.
I would have
been a 47 year old man rolling in the Camden gutter.
It didn’t
happen. I was waylaid by my friend who bought a t-shirt. A cautionary move to calm the whole thing down. This is the friend who
offered to get tickets for the 100 Club last night.
He didn’t
get tickets.
I thank him. If the crowd is turning into a freak show of wannabe fighters and scrappers then I can leave it for a while. Best to. Let them drift away on the next 'difficult album'.
We will go
again to see Sleaford Mods.
I will be friendly. As I always am. My friend knows this.
I will be friendly. As I always am. My friend knows this.
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