Mick Farren
Live in Koenji UFO Club (25-11-2004)

Sadness.
It's the first time a concert has left me with such a feeling. And it's not a good feeling, believe me, especially when you've been looking forward to it for a while.
After witnessing a monstrous reunion like that of the Stooges, I was definitely curious to see another old guy from the fabulous 60's perform live at the ripe age of 50-something. Founder and singer of the Deviants, a garage band from London's late '60s underground scene, Mick had actively engaged in politics after the group disbanded, sporadically releasing a few solo albums. Hopeful to witness another musical miracle, I decided to take an extra day off (which here in Tokyo is equivalent to one less meal). Feeling sad alone, I tricked my roommate Matteo (who couldn't care less) and my friend Tsuru into coming with me to the U.F.O Club in Koenji (which, for the record, is named after the London club where Pink Floyd and the Deviants used to play). I'm still apologizing to them.

After no less than three opening bands (of which I only remember the first, Muddy Frankenstein, basically a cover band of the Stooges but good), good old Mick takes the stage, and I immediately realize, looking into his eyes, my mistake. Mick is not there, and hasn't been for quite some time. Overweight, sweaty, blatantly drunk, and lacking any semblance of stage presence or even voice. A (de)relict.
The only noteworthy moments (positive and negative) were a good version, mainly thanks to the band accompanying him, of "I'm Coming Home," a terrible and predictable "Waiting For My Man" (as if we were at karaoke), and an attempt to emulate the MC5, which instead of sparking a revolution, made me feel even more like I was at a zoo. A zoo where everyone comes to admire the endangered animal, the survivor from the prehistoric era of rock music, passed off as a still fierce beast, but in reality, goes around with dentures.
Poor Mick, he's not the jerk, I am. I'm the one who fell into the trap of the music business, whether mainstream or underground (as in this case), that exploits the gerontophilia inherent in many '60s enthusiasts.

In conclusion, this concert taught me a couple of things:
1) In Japan, you can buy beers at the supermarket, bring them into the venue, and shamelessly down them in front of the staff without anyone feeling offended.
2) Sometimes age is not just a number on a document.