School Reunion

I went to see Kula Shaker last night.

I last saw Kula Shaker at Glastonbury in 1999.  It was a sunny Glastonbury.  Everyone went to see REM at the main stage and I went on my own to the other stage to watch Kula Shaker.  I've never been a fan of REM - I know they'd hate this description but to me they've always just seemed like boring whiney old corporate misery merchants who have made their fortunes by playing to the tastes of teenagers who don't have enough real stuff to worry about.  (Mind you, this is also true of the Cure, and I loved them, so whatever, I am entitled to be a hypocrite in my own head.  And in my blog too for that matter.)

So I went on my own at Glastonbury and wigged out to Kula Shaker and watched the sunset and all my friends went to the main stage and probably got bored but couldn't admit it because the hegemony was that they were in the presence of greatness.  That was also the Glastonbury of Orbital and I'm sure some other great dance acts of the 1990s, where I danced in my wellies and got fabulous blisters all around my calfs.  I went to a lot of those alone because my friends were fond of their geetar rock.  Embrace and shite like that.

Anyway.

So.  Kula Shaker last night at the QMU.  It was really fun.  They were dressed like extras from 'If...'  I thought Crispian Mills may have been wearing make-up.  I wondered how old he was.  I always thought he was quite old but actually he was born in 1973 (accoring to Wikipedia) and is only 4 years older than me.  This fact makes me feel old.  And young.  I am dichotomous today.

The crowd were mostly my age.  It was like a school reunion.  Oh, you've gone bald.  And you have a beer gut.  You've lost your baby weight, very good.  I like how you've dyed your hair.  We all still hold on to elements of our former Britpop uniform but our clothes are more expensive and our jeans fit more snugly. 

And most of the crowd were huge fans - they even knew the words to the new songs.  I was standing next to Crispian's greatest fan in the whole world, and he was really Weegie.  He had a fine singing voice, as clear as a bell.  The upshot of which was I only heard Kula Shaker songs sung in a Scottish accent.  Which, I'm sure you will agree, gave their songs a new dimension because Mr Mills likes to sing in a kind of Raj-mystical way.

So.  The band was good and I was happy to see so many thirty-somethings out and about.

But I have some major complaints.  I must say that in the last six or seven years I have been to very few gigs indeed and a lot has changed since I was a regular gig-goer.  I have spent all of my gig money going to the ballet.  Indeed, I had to check myself at the bar and not ask if they did champagne by the glass.  I had a bottle of Corona which was decanted into a plastic pint glass.  I bought a round of 4 lagers and it cost £8.80, which was not bad at all.

But this is not what I want to complain about.  I want to complain about:

1.  Security.  Security seems to have gone crazy, although maybe it's a Glasgow thing.  The last gig I went to before this was part of the bloody Celtic Connections festival - hardly a rough crowd.  My friend dropped her plastic pint glass there and suddenly she was surrounded by people in fluorescent vests asking her if she had had too much to drink and should she perhaps go home.  They put one of those yellow hazard don't slip signs down. The glass had about 2 gulps left in it when she dropped it.  I thought that this was a one-off but no.  At Kula Shaker we had to get frisked and ID'd and given wristbands which meant we'd been cleared to drink alcohol.  In the crowd, dotted around, were more of the yellow t-shirt brigade who kicked people out for being rowdy.

It's shite, it's hardly rock and roll to feel so scrutinised.  Do we really need this sort of supervision?  Are the youth of today so awful that they need policing like this?

I was overjoyed when I got a whiff of weed and realised that some people still flout the rules.  Yeah, keep going my babies, we shall overcome, etc.

2.  The smell.  I've not been in such a crowd since the smoking ban.  Oh my God, people smell.  Alright, blokes smell.  Beer.  Fag breath.  Garlic burps.  B.O.  It's like going on the Underground but louder and lasts way longer.  Argh.  I think I would rather risk lung cancer and have to wash all my clothes after a gig than have to smell blokes who don't have girlfriends.  I don't know if non-smokers agree with this.  But.  Yuk.

Anyway.  I did have fun, and I will be going to more gigs as I had forgotten how nice they are.  And there's not so much ballet up here, and besides, it is way cheaper.

So, oh, I didn't talk about my holiday on the Island of Cats.  It was ace.  I am freckled and still quite relaxed, and very motivated to get on.  The Guide Dogs interview was cancelled but I have some other things going on so watch this space...