The Good, The Bad And The Queen
Live @ Roundhouse, Londra

THE REVIEW

I was the first to arrive.
I didn't want to leave without them, so I waited. I don't remember exactly who I was supposed to wait for, but I did, period. The smell of tobacco was slowly taking over my black coat, and that bottle of whiskey in my hand was getting lighter and lighter. In the meantime, they arrived...

"Let's go to the Roundhouse before it gets cold", I said, but it was pointless because it was already cold. It was the grayest night London had ever seen, and let's pretend it was a coincidence. Paul Simonon is imposing, those wrinkles (since small) in 52 years must have seen it all, and that cigarette tucked behind his ear must be the spare one... He never lights it...

Speaking of Paul Simonon, I dare you, damn it, I dare you to try not humming at the 4:51 mark of "Kingdom of Doom" the bass of that famous song from his former band... For about 10/20 seconds, it's at a sustained rhythm on E minor, and the A minor could blow everyone away, the ex-Clash, but it doesn't. He doesn't need to respond to the call of London. Because it's already at his feet.

Fundamentally, Tony Allen stays there, perfectly doing his own thing. I try to call him, but he probably doesn't hear me. Simon Tong, on the other hand, turns around at every little shout, but I assure you, no one gives a damn about him... Sometimes it feels like listening to the Broken Social Scene in some ways, sometimes Gino Paoli instead (listen to "80s Life" which is an exaggerated plagiarism of "Sapore di Sale"), but the general impression is that it's pointless to sit there and categorize... They are lucky men, musicians playing for the first time in front of an audience, so... let them be...

On Debaser, it doesn't exist, but as a genre, I would label it "London music"... Yeah, I think I'll do that... Every now and then Paul Simonon glances at the audience, but damn it, he's such a mythological figure that when you know you're being watched, you avert your gaze, look elsewhere... you can't hold his stare!!! It's like if your favorite porn star (say Selen, alright?) scrutinized your naked thingy... at the very least, you'd cover it; you can't live up to her expectations, damn...

Simonon's eyes freeze you, make you feel cold, and make you think that you could/should be out there screwing that friend who flirts so much with you, getting back at her (coming inside and then running away), or maybe you should be with some friend of yours explaining that Nottingham Forest can't and shouldn't play with 3 forwards... What are you doing there... I understand it all, I nod to my friends, and we go.
They want to stay there... I leave to see if that bottle of whiskey I left halfway through is still out there...

I find it, sit down, and wait for them. My first year on Debaser, today.