•
Rating: A sweet sensation, a simple chord, a new religion.
Then, relentlessly, "Whatever Happened To My Rock & Roll" kicks in.
“You are the deepest groove of the heart,” wrote an Indian poetess. Rock & roll is the deepest groove of my heart.
"The Forum club", May 15, 2004. More than the story of a concert, prepare yourself for the story of one of the many cherished dreams.
I dreamed.
I dreamed of having 20 pounds, I dreamed of walking along Tottenham Court Road, I dreamed of the best way to spend them. I dreamed of a shop, a yellow "free gig list", a hundred concerts in just under 5 days.
For a rural outsider like me, paradise behind the clouds.
I dreamed of sitting in Piccadilly, with a heart racing, I dreamed of having to decide. A Richmont 100’s between my lips, here a cigarette is liquid gold, you either eat or smoke: decide, buddy. I smoke the long ones, so they last me longer.
I dreamed for 3 long hours among the yellow lines of the free gig list, I dreamed of a pen struggling in its long knockout stripes. I dreamed of the verdict: “The Vines,” “The Streets,” “Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.”
I’ll go to the last of these, lucky choice from my pockets poor in pennies but rich in enthusiasm.
“The Streets” are booming in Albion, there's talk of a fresh masterpiece released. It seems there's nothing else anyone talks about.
“The Vines” attract hordes of naive and scantily-clad young girls, but age weighs on me like a boulder.
I enter 5 hours early, stroll, watch, feed on the souls surrounding me, trying to understand how akin these people are to me. I speak little, smoke my Richmont, think about how wonderful it would have been if she were here, but she is not here. And in the end, none of this matters anymore. I think this, and time stops slowing down, and I realize it was only waiting for the end of my thoughts. It's time. They take the stage, dressed like glam dandies, sensual and dark, beautiful like the heroes of our childhood comics, black as the cloudy and tense sky of the City.
It's suffocating: "Love Burns" starts, a powerful bass line, he contorts, twists, his voice detaches, unmistakable among millions. I loved the first album so much, but this song never seemed so powerful and beautiful to me. Three songs from the second work follow, which I never loved nor assimilated; surely the second of these is the much-played single. "As Sure As The Sun" starts slow, then gains strength, "Red Eyes And Tears" seems to have lasted over 10 minutes. The dark crowd seems to appreciate it, all coming from Camden Road, I suppose, where they spend time maintaining large advertising billboards competing with Norwegian punks.
"Spread Your Love" is a punch in the gut, I awaited it like parched land longs for rain. The wall of sound is enormous, everyone moves agitatedly, it's hard to breathe, I move away as the guitar hits the solo that always splits me in two. "U.S. Government" is fiercer than ever: pure and dynamic raw, filthy punk, with the bass pulsing like a heart in agony.
A moment of peace, now.
A sweet sensation, a simple chord, a new religion.
Then, "Whatever Happened To My Rock & Roll" kicks in. I jump, I squirm, this is punk & roll, folks, the deepest groove of my heart.
I exit, outside it keeps raining. It always rains in this damn city. And I never have an umbrella. Tomorrow is another day, and it will rain again, I'm sure of it.
Loading comments slowly
