In the aftermath of Manchester

So many thoughts about last night's attack on the Ariana Grande concert at Manchester Arena, mostly outrage at the fact that it was very specifically an attack on women, young women and children, presumably for daring to enjoy themselves.  I may well add to this as things unfold, I mean it's a long time since I blogged anyway.  Mostly I want this to be a placeholder for my friend's words, from this morning on Facebook:

"After the shocking news broke late last night, my thoughts immediately turned to my second son, who is in that neck of the woods. I called him at just past midnight, to find him just waking up for work (he works a night shift).

After I had informed him of unfolding events, and we shared our mutual horror,  he paused and then said 'Ariana Grande? Really, mum? Me?'

It was then I realised my 31 year old, well-built, tattooed, pierced, heavy metal-loving son was possibly not in the immediate demographic for her fans. It made us both briefly and simultaneously laugh; the sweetest and very unexpected sound in a night of growing disbelief and despair.

I guess it proves that at times of deep shock and horror, a mother's love and concern is not only boundless, but defies both logic and common sense as well.  My heart hurts for those who are caught up in this; there are no words that will take their pain away. And so many thanks to the emergency services, security staff and medical staff without whom the grim, dark, and heartbreaking numbers of the dead and injured would be so much higher. We salute and cherish you."

Perfectly said, Rodders.

Happy early birthday to me

Long time no blog. Might do a catch-up, probably not.  But this arrived in the post today, and I forgot I'd ordered it, so that was a nice surprise...

Out of the woods

Can't sleep.  It's a combination of things, alcohol and chocolate among them, and a sore throat that I'm assuming is gig-lurgy from Sunday, but mostly it's because I'm churning thoughts about Walk The Moon's cancellation of their European tour.  So seeing as it's about a tour, here seems as good a place as any to brain-dump, and then maybe I'll be able to sleep.

It's been a long day (ridiculously so, at this point, it's 3.45am!)  A maximum of 5 hours sleep before the day when long-awaited domestic appliance delivery was due, with no fixed time allotted so I was awake from before my alarm went off, and the alarm had been set in case they rocked up at 8am.  From then there was dozing until we got the phone-call saying they'd be here in 25 minutes. There was scrambling around emptying the old fridge, making sure space for delivery etc.  They were done shortly before 12 noon, and then we went present shopping, pleasant enough but still tiring with a gammy hip.

Did I mention my gammy hip?  Seeing as I haven't blogged in forever, that seems unlikely.  So anyway, I have a gammy hip.  It's stopping me from running, which is my usual, easy source of cardio other than dancing around the kitchen or actually being at gigs.  So I'm not as gig-fit as I'd like, because everyone knows that as well as being the first rule of Zombieland, cardio fitness is a damn good idea for bouncy gigs!

Present shopping over, we came home and I had a brief break before a drive through rush-hour traffic, with diversions and emergency vehicles, to visit a relative in hospital, he's been there for a few months now, and isn't really getting better.  Not a pleasant duty, at all.  Quite wearing, in fact.  So when I'd got home and eaten dinner, and caught up on internettery and half-watched some rugby, I welcomed the Blokeface's suggestion of wine.  And then I found out that a gig that I've been looking forward to for some time, which happens to fall on my birthday next week, has been cancelled because of the Paris attacks on 13th November.

At this point, dear reader, I lost my shit.  I wept.  I ranted.  I wept some more.  I blurted in various places online, and to the Blokeface, who was surprised, but totally gets it.  I am beyond disappointed.  Yes, there's the 'oh fuck, my plans, my PLANS!!' reaction, but it's more than this, so much more.  There's my love of music, of going to gigs, of this band in particular and not getting to see them now, and knowing that I can't get to their next tour in February either, and it's still more than that.  There's the stress of life that's made me look forward so, so much to this gig, that I get a night away from everything, but yeah.  Yes it's my birthday and now I don't know what I'm doing on my birthday and it's less than a week away and still...  and still...

Here's their statement.  https://www.facebook.com/walkthemoon/posts/10153761807017558

A few people have said it's lame.  As a fan I find it derisory.  And paternalistic, actually, and kind-of infantilising.  Like they've had to make the choice for us, to keep us safe, like we're not grown adults (well I know a few will be 14 or so but even so.)  We're clearly not capable of assessing a situation and deciding if it's too risky for us.  And the employees, colleagues, crew that they would be bringing with them, do they not get the option either?  Do they not get the chance to say 'I believe in the work that I'm doing and I will not allow this particular risk factor, which is statistically lower than flying across the Atlantic Ocean and travelling between gigs is just anyway, to stop me from doing that work?'  Other bands are still touring.  Other bands who are friends with people who died, who were injured, both physically and mentally.  They've made the choice to not succumb to fear, to honour the memory of those lost by carrying on, by living well.

And then, if this isn't the band's decision, I'm pissed that they haven't the capability to put their foot down about it.  Or if, as has been suggested in some quarters, it's about increased costs, that their current success isn't enough for them to suck it up and come and do the jobs, and support the people who've supported them over the years to help them get where they are now.

Whatever the reason, I'm sad.  Super, super sad.  And I don't know if the disappointment in the band will go away enough for me to ever see them live again.  And that makes me sad some more.

OH!  I forgot to work in, somehow, the title of this post.  I've had this earworm for a couple of hours, it's a Taylor Swift song, about looking back on simpler, easier times.  It seems kind-of apt, somehow.  I wish we were out of the woods.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xoPMwvAECVA

Sunburn (actual), setlists and spoons, aka Muse at Manchester Academy

Yesterday I went to see Muse in the 2,600 capacity Manchester Academy.  I joined the queue at 10am-ish, and was about 50th in line.  Today, I'm lying in bed nursing a migraine, and I don't even have the post-gig euphoria/comedown that I've always associated with Muse.

Well...  I wrote that a few weeks ago!  And I've not had the headspace for blogging since, either because of me or because I've had a houseful of people, or both.  But.  With a bit of hindsight, that was actually a belting gig, it's just that I made a discovery, which was that I do, in fact, enjoy myself a lot more when I can actually see the performance, as well as hear it and be in a sweaty crowd of people jumping around.  I've had that argument a few times about the point of queueing 'all day' (the need for this varies by band and venue) but that has, once and for all, hammered it home to me.

Anyway.  I knew a few people were camping overnight for this one, making the little patch of grass outside Academy 1 into a small corner of a festival site for a few hours.  And a few more people were arriving early in the morning, including the notorious French fans.  (They're almost always right at the front of the queue, they have a reputation for being unfriendly and entitled.  There was a rumour that a couple of them had left Manchester to head early to the next venue so they could be sure to be at the front of queue there.  Turned out not to be the case, but it was plausible enough.  Very sad, really, that they don't get the benefit of the camaraderie of queueing.)  I arrived around 10, had a decent bunch of people around me and we passed the day with banter, regular food and toilet runs and playing Dobble, which is the perfect passing-time game.  Oh and there was a bit of laughter at the touts who came around asking if people had tickets for sale, as they usually do, only to discover the paperless ticket system and the fact that there wouldn't be any tickets to sell except the very rare plus-ones.  They went away pretty disheartened, I think.

I thought 10am would be OK to get a decent spot on the barrier or second row.  After a fairly painless entry, my first time with a 'paperless' ticketing system (FYI it's not paperless if the instructions say to print out the confirmation email!) which was efficiently run, though I'd got behind someone whose card didn't go through first time so I was slightly held up, I headed to my usual choice of the right-hand side of the stage.  I had a decent second-row spot, but then I heard my name being called from the other side, and went to join my queue-mates.  By that point, though, I was in the third row.  This was mostly fine for Marmozets, it was a bit bouncy and wavey but nothing intolerable.  Muse, though, was a whole other ball game, and I quickly found myself squeezed back a row, and then behind a couple of tall and sweaty backs, and by the third or fourth song I had decided to try to bounce my way around in an arc back to the right.  I ended up going in a diagonal from where I was to the bar!  The nearly-a-pint of water I got there was very welcome!

So I then spent the rest of the gig just bopping around in my little bit of space, even at the bar there wasn't much room to jump around, watching the two quite drunk guys in front of me and trying to catch the occasional glimpse of Muse themselves.  I leaned my arm against the wall for a couple of videos, so they're fairly steady at least!  The setlists for this tour have all had something quite special and rare on them, mostly songs from Showbiz or B-sides from later albums, as well as a couple of songs from the new album and a good selection of the usual suspects.  http://www.setlist.fm/setlist/muse/2015/manchester-academy-manchester-england-43cb1343.html

I hung around at the back with a crowd of folk, got chatting to a 17yo guy called Dan who is in a band called Sunburn Asylum, and we waited until Dom appeared.  It's awkward at the Academy because they put building-site-type fencing up around the tour buses and building, hard to take photos and ask for things signing and generally chat, and it was all a bit squeal-y and pushy even at 12.15am.  I decided to wait 'til 12.45 for the other two.  Obviously, they came out about 5 minutes after I left, boo!

All in all, not my best Muse gig, but still, it was a Muse gig, in a small-for-them venue, with an amazing setlist and I didn't get molested.  Can't call that a bad day out, and it was definitely a worthwhile use of my spoons.  (If you don't know about spoon theory, do look it up!  I haven't ever been diagnosed with anything other than post-natal depression, back in the day, but I do have a limited number of spoons at my disposal.)  As for the actual sunburn, my spot in the queue was between buildings, so was in the sun for most of the day.  When I got home, I got a 'what have you done to your face?!' screech from the other half.  Sunburn in March, thanks Muse at least I got some vitamin D!

About those reviews...

So I know I said that I'd listen to some of the acts that have spammed me by following me on Twitter, but some things happened after the Royal Blood gig. Firstly I am still addicted to Walk The Moon's latest album, Talking Is Hard, plus there's Young Kato's new track, and Broken Hands' download, obviously.  And then on Wednesday last week, Muse dropped the bombshell of a tour, presale starting that instant, general sale the next morning, tour starting yesterday!

A frustrating time being unable to access my presale code, and a scramble in the general sale later, I have one (somewhat overpriced) ticket to see them at Manchester Academy on Sunday. So this week will now be spent listening to Muse, especially the stuff I don't own, and Marmozets, who are supporting.  And phew, I now have a gig in March!

I will also have a gig in May, as WTM have announced a small tour to promote the UK launch of Talking Is Hard. And then Download in June. Not too shabby!

Royal Blood at Costa del Brid, 28th Feb

Another weekend, another road trip!  This time it was just a couple of hours eastwards to the coast, and the place where I had most of my childhood seaside holidays.  Despite having gone for a week every year for 5 or 6 years, I can't remember if we ever went into the Spa, maybe once for a puppet show or something?!  So this was a trip down memory lane with a tweak, for me.

It's interesting, seeing bands at different sized venues, at different stages in their life-cycle, as it were, and of course different genres have different attitudes to queueing, I think.  A few years ago, the secondborn and I went to Leeds to see Friendly Fires, touring their second album, at the O2 Academy.  We'd been to a few pop-punk gigs at the Academy, where queueing had started at lunchtime or earlier, and I'd been to see Muse at Wembley, where the queue had started the night before, they were big enough to warrant televised main-stage sets at Glasto and Reading, and it was a Saturday, so we'd expected a few people there at least in the afternoon, but we arrived at 12.30-ish, and no-one else rocked up until nearly 5pm.  It was similar for Royal Blood, we got into Bridlington about 3, parked up, found the queue by half past.  The queue consisted of 5 people before we got there, and stayed that way until we went for coffee about 20 to 5, until 5pm when my friend messaged from the queue saying 'I'm here, where are you?!'  But Royal Blood are doing their second full tour of their first album, and yes they've blown up massively over the last few months, winning awards from NME and the Brits...

We wanted to be at the front for this one, either right at the front or at the back, because for those who aren't familiar with them, Royal Blood are heavy rock and there's always going to be moshing and crushing.  Stringent ID checks were in place, with names on tickets and valid, up to date, official photo ID required for the lead ticket-holder in each group, as an effort to combat the ridiculous touting that happened on RB's last tour, which sold out in milliseconds and tickets on resale websites at massively inflated prices within minutes, seemed to work but it leaves people who buy tickets fully planning to go to a gig, who then find out they can't go for some reason, stuck with tickets they can't use or sell on.  It's not perfect, but it's a start.  We got in quickly enough though, and got our spots, and waited for the opener...

Mini Mansions are a three-piece, the side-project of the bassist from Queens of the Stone Age, Michael Schuman.  There's something a bit Supertramp about their sound, and the on-stage set-up is interesting, with keyboards and drummer (the aforementioned Mikey Shoes) both standing with microphones, and the bassist free-rangeing about the place.  Usually I listen to supports at least a little bit before going to a gig, I hadn't got round to it with these guys, I wish I had because I might have got more into them.  But I found them not all that engaging, they seemed to be 3 very competent musicians playing the same music at the same time, but not *together* as a band, not connecting with each other or the audience all that much, perhaps because of the static nature of the two vocalists' instruments?  I don't know.  It definitely took half the set before they seemed to even acknowledge each other.  I'm listening to their music now, though, and I can see why it didn't grab me live.

On to Royal Blood then.  Chest-rattling, headbang-inducing, melodic but heavy rawk.  Done very, very well, by one bloke on drums and another with a bass and a fearsome array of pedals.  They were brilliant; energetic and connected-seeming despite being half a stage away from each other most of the time.  They opened with a B-side, which had a low reaction from people who've only heard the album, so it didn't really kick off until the second song in, but then it was clear that it was going off, as the phrase goes.  The singing along with guitar lines was really cool to hear, and seemed to make Mike smile.  I love watching people playing instruments, specially as I'm trying to get better at bass myself, and this was no exception, as bass and melody came from the same instrument it was a real treat to see, if somewhat intimidating!  Come the end of the set, Mike and Ben both gave their own style of audience appreciation, which was warmly received.

The crowd were as energetic as expected, but sadly the people just behind me and the daughter and practically-son-in-law were, there's no other way to put it, dicks.  I have zero, and I mean zero problem with the usual squashing and pushing you get in the pit at rock/punk/pop-punk gigs, but I object heavily to actual intentional harm.  The woman behind Jev was running her elbow, hard enough to hurt, up and down his spine, the only reason must have been to get him to move off his barrier spot.  You know, if you want that spot, you just have to be in the queue at the right time.  He was also struggling with being crushed as he couldn't brace himself in the same way as I could, because he's very tall.  Aby, who is a seasoned barrier-hanger, felt like she couldn't enjoy the band because she was too busy protecting herself.  About 4 songs in, they gave way to the abuse and headed to the side.

I stayed put, but was also struggling to enjoy myself because the guy behind me was, it seemed, deliberately rubbing his penis against my arse in the guise of jumping along with the songs.  I've been to gigs before, I've been on the barrier, and just behind it, I've jumped around along with the rest, I've had that thing of having to jump because the crowd were squashed against me.  I love all of that.  I've never had a boner pressed against my bum, until Saturday night.  I don't know about anyone else, but there's nothing at all in the terms and conditions of buying a ticket that says that I relinquish my right to not be sexually assaulted.  Not only that but the feeling of casual ownership and entitlement to my personal space was exacerbated by having two arms practically resting on my shoulders for an awful lot of the gig, in fact that was just as discomfiting as the other thing.  As well as just being inappropriate in any situation, it stopped me from jumping up and down and enjoying myself because I sensed that when I did jump, it was increasing the enjoyment behind me.  I've talked about this on a Facebook group for fans of the band, and I'm now encouraged that if I mention it to staff I will be taken seriously, I wasn't sure before if the attitude of 'you're in the pit, get over yourself' might prevail but hopefully not.  Though attracting the attention of the stewards when I just wanted some water didn't go so well anyway!

I did enjoy the gig, but I could have enjoyed it that much more.  I could have seen more of the actual performance and not been so uncomfortable, but someone chose to make it their mission to act in ways that made it hard for me to do so.  It's not right, it's not acceptable, your sense of entitlement is way out of line.  I hope next time you do it, you're reported and nicked.

A trip to Cardiff...

I made a note to jog my memory about this gig trip.  Nice place, shame about the queue and entry.  I'll come back to that in chronological order, in a bit.

The secondborn, her bloke and myself had a decent drive down through some tedious roadworks, past a nasty-looking accident on the other side of the M42 and into some countryside which I'm sure was lovely but couldn't see it for the sun in my eyes.  Followed the sat-nav into Cardiff, to the hotel which was actually right across the road from the arena entrance, with a car park, very convenient.  Also convenient was the shopping centre, with restaurants all clustered at the end nearest the arena, so once we'd checked in we went to find food.  We ended up in Ruby Tuesday, where I had ribs and they had burgers and a selection from the impressive though slightly pretentiously-named 'garden bar.'  And then I had a night in a hotel room all to myself.  Luxury!  Except I had raging toothache, argh, so I did my best to cope until dosing myself up enough to sleep.

And so to the queue...  I rocked up about half 9, with a fairly substantial queue already for that time of day.  The guy by himself at the end of the line said hello, and did I mind that there would be 5 more people joining him later.  How much later?  Oh, one of them about 10, and the rest about 1.  OK that's not so bad, I think, and settled down to spending the day attempting to keep warm.  A group of 3 girls arrived not long afterwards, and the queue was gradually growing steadily until my two partners-in-gigging arrived at about quarter to 11, by which time Kamil was getting understandably antsy about his friend not being there yet, or answering her phone...  I left them and went to find a cooked breakfast.  There's a John Lewis looming over the road so I tried there first.  Excellent choice, once I found the restaurant on the 3rd floor, past the wonderful jellyfish display for the haberdashery section.  They even do redbush tea.

The afternoon passed with taking queueing shifts with daughter no. 2, playing Cheat, aka Bullshit, with the other queue-ers, shooting off for a shower to warm up, learning a lesson at Spud-U-Like (only get the chilli con carne if you really, really like kidney beans), and getting increasingly irritated at the teenage girls further up the queue, being drunk and extremely obnoxious, and the entire lack of marshalling.  I get the anticipation, the slight mob culture, but the getting rat-arsed to the point of vomiting?  Er why?!  I just don't see the point.  If I'm paying for gig tickets, it's because I want to watch bands and listen to music.  If I want to get drunk, I can do that anywhere, without wasting that money...  We didn't see any marshalls around the queue until I'd gone to put stuff in the car about 5.20, when everyone moved up, and then one came round with bin-bags at 5.40 saying if all the rubbish wasn't cleared up they weren't opening the doors.  Infuriating.  How about actually doing some stewarding before 20 minutes to doors?  How about checking that people weren't queue-jumping, making yourself familiar with people, coming round with bin-bags, collecting blankets to donate to the homeless and needy (Nottingham Arena please stand up!) and just generally looking after people?  You know, stewarding.

And then...  and then!!  A couple of minutes before doors, they ask people at the front to move back because they can't move the barriers unless they have space.  Argh!  Because obviously people will willingly move back.  NOT!  And why didn't they set the barriers up so they could move them?  Oh and it gets better.  Finally they sort the barriers, the queue starts moving, well after the O2 priority queue*, and then they say "males go this way, girls down that side."  And now I say 'ER WHAT?!'  What they mean is "There is a bag check.  If you don't have a bag, go this way.  If you do, queue here."  But no, they said "males go this way" and actually insist on it.  It's bizarre.  Why assume that none of the men/boys have bags?  Why assume that all the women/girls do?  And then...  AND THEN the actual bag-check queue is ridiculously badly organised!  I can't even describe what a total Charlie Foxtrot the entry procedure was.  And by the time we got in, despite being in the queue from 9.30am-ish, the barrier was completely full.  To say we were a bit pissed off with the management, and the louts in front of us, was an understatement.

*I hadn't realised that there might be an O2 priority queue, as it's not an O2 venue, so I didn't bring my O2 phone, and wouldn't've had the same queueing and entry clusterfuck experience.  But there again, also, we wouldn't have had the sunshine on our queue that helped the day be more pleasant than it might have been.  Swings and roundabouts, but I think I just need to take that phone with me to every single gig ever now.

So now we're inside, the backdrop screen and instruments set up for one of my favourite bands, Walk The Moon, who do brilliant indie pop/rock and are so much fun, so my anticipation started to overcome the annoyance, but I'd forgotten to bring my glow-in-the-dark facepaint, which made me sad, but other people were sharing and sporting it so at least there was some representation for the guys, which was definitely appreciated by them.  Chatted a bit with people around us, including a slightly sleazy-seeming bloke who was making a big thing of 'looking after' a short girl in front of him, but seemed mostly OK and she clearly had the measure of him.  He was wearing a leather jacket.  When the music started, he became really, really annoying, constantly had his phone up for video and pictures, which fair enough I like to take pics and vids too, but when I do it I try to keep my elbows to myself and I only have one hand on my camera or phone most of the time.  This guy, nooooo, this guy had to have both hands on his phone, and he had to stick his elbows out All. The. Time.  Kept worming his slippery-jacketed arm between me and the daughter, who was in front of me, kept sticking his elbows right over her head.  At one point I ended up behind him, and he was leaning backwards into me every time he lifted his phone up.  In the end, partway through You Me At Six' set, I just gave up on trying to stand my ground and actually stay near Aby, and just let myself drift away from the middle a bit until I had a spot with less obnoxious company.

The actual gig?  The bands were all as I expected, having seen them all a few times already.  Walk The Moon were fun and bouncy and cute, Eli on guitar being more showman-ish than I remember from before but it was a couple of years ago when I last saw them.  They played 6 songs, 3 from their eponymous first album, but not "I Can Lift A Car" with its lovely, lovely audience participation, two from the current album Talking Is Hard, including the much-heavier Up 2 U which I expected given that the main acts are both pop-punk and quite a bit more rock-sounding than WTM's usual indie-pop-rock sound, and the single Shut Up And Dance, and a cover of The Killers' All These Things I've Done.  I would have much preferred them to do another of their own tracks, either from the albums or the Tightrope EP.

All Time Low were up to their usual standard of fun pop-punk, running around the stage, and pubescent-boy-level sexual jokes.  There was a marked lack of bras on Jack's mic stand though.  I had taken a pair of pants to throw on stage but then realised that they had England flags plastered all over them and we were in Wales, so I decided against trying to lob them on-stage.

You Me At Six I find musically superior to ATL, and they've come a long way as performers too since my gig-buddy daughter and I saw them supporting Paramore back in 2009.  This time they were a little bit flat compared to last year in Nottingham, but really only because frontman Josh had broken his ankle!  It could also have been because of how irritated I was with the chap in the leather jacket.  I do love a good bit of pyro and confetti-cannon though!

We were disappointed with the merch selection and came away without buying anything, this is very unusual for us.  If I'm buying a t-shirt at a gig, I like to have the dates on the back, and I'm not that into photos of the band on a t-shirt.  There were a couple with decent designs but no mention of it being a tour shirt, and no WTM merch left at all by the time we got to the stand at the end of the gig.  We left by the wrong door to see if Walk The Moon were hanging around in the lobby, so I couldn't see if Kevin remembered me as the slightly crazy bass-obsessive that he spoke to at Shepherd's Bush and Manchester and Leeds...

A late night wander to the 24hr service McDonalds led me to the hatch-service Spar next door, where it took me far too long to get a couple of cans of Lilt.  We have long-since determined that the best post-gig drinks are lemon Fanta and Lilt, the citrus and sugar hit just perfect for recovery purposes.  And then back to the hotel, with its strange pink decor and teddy-bear-fleece curtains in the rooms.  They were decorating the common areas while we were there so it's likely that the rooms aren't pink by now, but wow...  Breakfast at John Lewis again, before collecting the car from the hotel car park and heading down to Mermaid Quay for a Dr Who and Torchwood geek-out and homage.  The shrine to Ianto Jones is astonishingly moving, and regularly maintained and contributed to, and the whole thing added a poignant end to our visit to Cardiff.  I'd like to come again, but when the weather's warmer, as nowhere is at its best when it's freezing cold and grey!  Driving home took us to the Westmorland Farms-owned Gloucester Services (it has a pig on the sign!  How could I not?) where we took an inordinate amount of time to look round the shop and choose food for the rest of the journey, which thankfully was without incident.

To sum up:  Cardiff seems alright, the Motorpoint Arena is very convenient for queueing for gigs, the queue marshalling was rubbish, the bands were as good as expected, there's always someone who has to fuck it up for everyone else, I need to remember to charge my camera and my spare O2 phone before Royal Blood on Saturday.

I really should add some photos and video to this, huh?