greetings from a dead man

hello there

sorry for the somewhat (if not rather) dramatic title. likely the best, or most apt, phrase i could have used for this was a lyric i elected to use late last year (2024), which if you wish you can consider by clicking here, look you see. apologies also to those of you who recognise the literary quote used instead, and no, the quality of writing is unlikely to be anywhere as close. but, still. 

please note i neither profess nor claim to be "expert" in any of what you will read, if indeed you opt to continue reading. i am also very mindful of not wishing to preach to anyone, i am not going to get all holier than thou, evangelical (or even esoteric) about it all. just my account, for writing here would seem to be my catharsis in this world. take from all of this what you will, be it information, something to read on one of the few ad free websites left (unless they are sneaking them on and not giving me a cut) or what have you. 

where to begin is a question which normally (quite naturally) suggests at the beginning as an answer. it is, in this instance, not clear where it all commences. let me start at what feels the "business end" of it. for a change i am only going to add pictures later, so excuse me if the images that eventually get added don't quite match the text. as if they do usually. here we go.......

tuesday

a quite normal day, from what i can remember. things at verk were (without checking my diary) all pretty straightforward, nothing out of the ordinary. early evening, though, things went if not totes or completely f****d then a bit to shit. i had quite a dizzy spell. really strange one. was just sat watching the tele, and the whole world started tilting on its side, from left to right (if that is relevant). except not entirely, it got a few degrees, then seemed to repeat, again and again, all at a speed of many hundreds of miles per hour (or what have you). try to imagine (since DVDs and Blu Rays just pause) a visual thing of where a CD "sticks" and you just have a split second of the disc stuttering. 

the sensation passed after, well, i don't know how long. didn't feel like it was particularly long, perhaps just under a minute or so. in each instance. as in yes, this happened to me once or twice. once when i elected to step outside for a cigarette (sorry), which was in my mind likely to fix everything, and i sort of had to put a hand out and lean (or what have you) on a pillar or wall. ultimately i elected for a reasonably early night, took an anadin and went to bed. 

wednesday - sunday afternoon/early evening

on waking the morning after (the night before) i felt fine, and continued to do so as i went about al usual things of stuff. yes, when i was in control of a vehicle not long after morning rituals, including of course breakfast, i did wonder about the wisdom of doing so if another dizzy spell (for that is all i can think of to call it) hit. but everything felt fine. at this stage i must declare that i did indeed tell a good friend about what happened and they did urge me to consult medical advice as soon as possible. since it had all gone away, no, i did not. but i did (vaguely) promise them i would if it happened again. 

remaining time in this particular sub-headed section was fairly routine. i did verk stuff, which included a lovely day in Newcastle (why aye man), strolled around the market on saturday, listened to some quality music, took the train to see the boys and what not. a perfectly reasonable thing to say was as the days progressed the memory of the incident (or episode) soon ebbed away, fading from memory like it had never actually even happened. yes, an "ignore it and it will go away" thing. 

sunday evening

ha ha, no. this was when it all went right proper f****d, to be honest. once again i was just sat watching television (i do not believe anything more exciting than snooker) and it all kicked off again. except rather, or if you will very, different. the dizziness as i described it was back, but seemingly faster, and far more prolonged. like it was not ever going to stop spinning. 

i was getting to the kind of stage that could be compared to Sir Roger Moore in Moonraker, or if you prefer James Bond In Space, where he is in the "g-force" machine. my feeling was that i was going to go unconscious in a matter of moments, or otherwise pass out, or maybe (just maybe) since i am not sure what it is going to feel like, pass away, as in be demised. Monty Python parrot time. with all this considered and my mind not being able to grasp or focus on a single thing, i had a really, really good idea that standing up would mend this and make it all better.

as it happens, no. well, yes, i did (somehow) stand up, but was soon down again. with speed. did manage to knock over one of my ludicrous piles of tapes (discs, what have you) on the way down, but with mercy did not collide with any glass cabinets or anything either sharp or going to deliver a knock out blow. kind of laid there for a bit, then when it was clear i was going to be ill (nausea, or what have you) i somehow found the resolve to get to the bathroom to do so. i have no memory at all of how i did that, i just did. once there it was (brace yourself) an experience like i have not had before, for it was violent, relentless and like all within my body would soon be out. managed to get some water on my face, in particular my ridiculous (at least presently) beard, to make sure any of that last bit remained on me, and then made my way to bed. no, not entirely certain (forgive the theatrics or dramatics) that once i closed my eye that they would open again. cannot ever recall being quite so scared, yet my prevailing sense was calm, to be accepting of it. 

monday morning

yes it was indeed that eyes opened again. i woke up fairly early, pretty sure that i had slept throughout the night with no incident. the world was not all dizzy and spinning, but it most decidedly was not seeming all stable. i laid for a bit, wondering just what the f*** was going on. memories of the night before came to mind. i could somehow recall doing two key tests during it all, namely raising my arms straight above my head and placing my chin (or, yes, chins, if you don't like me and are of a disposition to be mean) on my chest. presumably this told me no, it was not a heart attack, it was not a stroke, and i can only guess that was why i elected "not to cause a fuss", not to call any medical professional and not to try and draw the attention of anyone to my plight. 

with the above in mind, and a vague memory of a vague promise, i decided that yes, i was going to need some sort of medical attention here. since i was reasonably functional, and what i at least hoped was the worst of it had passed, no i did not call the emergency number (999 here in the UK) straight away. recalling there was such, i managed to log in to the NHS "app" on my phone, discovering there are quite a few security layers on it. i did their "test" or questionnaire thing, describing my symptoms (or if you will plight) as best i could, so as to let the machine determine if i needed immediate medical assistance or if i could pop down to a doctor when i felt up to it. the big red letters at the end of this test informed me that i was to call 999 for an ambulance now. 

hopefully this is not too boring so far, for there is a while to go. but also yes, there was at least one cigarette (sorry) between that test answer and me actually calling. 

on calling 999 i got asked some more questions off of the operator. this was fine, i was not in panic mode. as is famously known our health service really has gone to sh!t, but i would not want them rushing an ambulance to me if others were in a worse state. wouldn't call this anything noble on my behalf, more the fear of guilt if something really bad happened to someone when the people who could assist were p!ssing about with me. i explained the tests i gone done, they had me look in the mirror to check i had not changed colour, or my face had collapsed. also had me check for marks on my body which are associated with meningitis. they asked if any part of my skin was unusually cold, and the answer was yes, my back was absolutely freezing. i was told an ambulance was on the way. 

presuming, or imagining, that the ambulance would not be there any time soon i did a couple of things. first off was to call my direct (verk) boss, intending to advise there was an issue and i would not be in today, or likely the week. got voicemail, and can half recall leaving a mostly incoherent message. not long after that i could remember that i had made an appointment with someone in respect of a verk related matter, which obviously i would not be able to honour. but of course, under the rules of the English way of doing things this seemed to be the very worst thing for me right then, so i sent a text message to three (3) colleagues, asking if one of them couldn't at all pick it up on my behalf, mentioning in passing that there had been a "bit of an incident" and the ambulance was on the way. 

merrily the ambulance arrived a good deal quicker (or faster) than i had anticipated, and soon there were three (3) lady paramedics in my bedroom as my (verk) phone went ballistic with concerned people wishing to have speaks with me and see what was going on. i did manage to have speaks with one or two, but it seemed more appropriate to let the paramedics do their thing. 

i have absolutely no concept of how long the paramedics were with me. certainly felt a while, but then time was distorted if not displaced. lots of questions, lots of tests is what i recall. they were quickly satisfied that no, it was neither stroke nor heart attack. presumably that particular bill due for smoking waits for another time. surprisingly the majority of the tests (taking as a given that they did not have a chest x-ray machine with them) were fine, although i do remember them saying (and me being a bit baffled by what the relevance was) that i had an "unusually high" blood sugar level. indeed, anyone still reading this will then now know the ending. 

they did all them heart and blood pressure and pulse (apparently i have one) tests. some of them, and i would think the heart ones, involved numerous white discs with blue tags being attached. quite a few, actually. every time i thought i had found and removed them all, no, a little while later i found another one. kindly the one paramedic warned me that they can be a bit painful to remove, and yes they did smart a bit (unless, in the words of my sister, it was just me being a usual big fanny). mindful of finding them over the course of the day and how they did indeed sting a bit when removed i was rather reluctant about searching for stray ones south of the belt, so to speak. 

ultimately the considered and learned opinion of the paramedics was that i was, in some way, f****d, with that being my choice of phrase, but they could not say in what precise way. this is quite fair, they are there to immediately save lives, and whatever was going on was not (alas, for some) immediately likely to be fatal. so, they arranged a reasonably (fairly) urgent doctor appointment. 

off i went to the doctor, then. a few questions, some tests (and a comment about needing to address a build up of ear wax) and the conclusion, or diagnosis, that it was vertigo. indeed i have had the rather splendid U2 song of same name in my head ever since, and oddly no, i do not believe i have seen the famous Hitchcock film which also has the same name. pills were duly prescribed, but an appointment was made for the day after the next day (or if you like wednesday) for some blood tests. 

did i, or have i, had any further dizzy spells? or incidents of vertigo, as the current thinking (which i do not question) is that is what it is (perhaps was)? yes. on that monday afternoon, as i attempted to make toast, and then later on tuesday evening. since then, nothing, and long may it stay so. 

blimey that's a fair chunk what i gone done wrote and we are not even at the business end yet. well, we on the presumption of you, the people, still reading. perhaps i should have broken this all up into two posts, but then paragraphs exist for a reason. 

so, blood tests on the wednesday. i don't actually have too much to say on this one, as it was a fairly brief appointment. with all the will in the world there are only so many things which can be revealed instantly once blood has been drawn and "tested", however (i know not) that happens. so sure enough a nice nurse took some of my blood (possibly very nearly an armful) and wished me well for the remainder of the day, saying that the test results would likely be two or three days. 

quite a surprise, then, when i got a call (not unreasonably so but still) from my local medical practitioner place, advising me that i needed to be seen as a matter of urgency and i was due there at such and such a time that day. oh. right. proper f****d, then. my logic here would be that thing where Tom Hagen needed a drink before seeing Vito Corleone to tell him the tragic news of Sonny. if they were not going to tell me on the phone it must be rather serious. 

the first, and rather abrupt, question i got off of the (perfectly lovely) nurse was of why, exactly, i had not been treating my diabetes at all. after that sank in, i said because so far as i was aware i did not have diabetes (or was not diabetic), and that i had not been tested or checked for it. which led to a silence. people i have told this to get quite cross, but it would seem a doctor appointment i went to, that i cannot recall at all, a very Nigel Tufnell number of years ago indicated that i was indeed diabetic. no one mentioned this. i mean, i would certainly like to think i would have taken note. well, what's done is done, forward not backward, as the saying goes. doesn't it? 

little margin was given to absorb this as i was presented with the course of action required. the most immediate concern, the first battle which must be won, is to dramatically reduce my blood sugar level. it is, or was (hopefully past tense is correct) somewhat slightly yet noticeably over 100. yes i asked if that was bad and i was told it was bad, very bad. i am, then, on some hardcore pills to get that down. also my diet has changed somewhat to help this out. 

it turned out that this was not the only thing what the blood tests found was an issue, or was busted, or to continue a trend quite f****d. whereas i have always been of a view that anyone wishing to impersonate me has my hopes that they shall do a (considerably) better job, perhaps it would be ill advised to give the details of other diagnosis. but, as things stand, for now i am on medication for in excess of the two (2) matters already mentioned here. fair bit more. 

one thing i have always been aware of is that people who are on extensive, long term medication really do not like being so. when i speak to them, or have spoken, that's the part of whatever is wrong that gets them down, or plays on their mind. up to now (and yes this is early days, i appreciate) this hasn't really bothered me so much. i mean, sure, i am making all sorts of charts, notes and stickers for boxes so i know what to take when and if i have taken what i needed to when. the only bit kind of getting me down is the constant blood testing. 

for now (and i really hope this is short term) i am needing to do one of them blood test things, which i believe measure glucose, about 8 (eight) times a day. it's not really the pin prick and blood thing that's the issue, i think it's forever being on my mind that's the problem. remembering to do one before i eat breakfast, needing to do one two (2) hours after food and then also before meals, and before bedtime. appreciating in the grand scheme (etc) it's not all that much of an ask, still, it remains the one thing that i find rather troublesome. 

having thought about it, and me thinking prior to writing is another indicator of this new world, i suspect it is the recording of numbers. your blood sugar / glucose level is not supposed to be an absolute or constant, but i now keep thinking it is. so whilst getting it usually (mostly) within the range i am supposed to, i fret when it seems on the low or the high end of the range. this, too, shall pass. 

bearing in mind it is early days i am surprised how easily i have taken to the other dynamics of this new world (or life) i am in. the diet changes have actually been enjoyable. no way, i would have said, if someone told me that tea (dinner, posh) would be a chicken stir fry with a pear as pudding. never really took to apples, and bananas are a bit iffy. also the packet of pears i saw in the shop had a koala on it, so i figured they must be quite class. already i have got myself down to zero sugar in tea (!!) although one half of a teaspoon of sugar is certainly still going in coffee. for now. 

cigarettes? cigarettes. i had  been clutching to the notion that not one of the 5 (five) medical professionals what i saw during this week of interest had said, you know, quit. the sixth, however, did indeed advise me that this would (very much) be a conversation at my next appointment. oh. being fair my family and friends most enthusiastic about putting forward the idea of me quitting as a very good idea have, momentarily, said no, do not stop. well, cut down a lot, but not cease. one battle at a time, as mentioned. i think if i "just quit" (cold turkey) right now, with all this, well, physically and, perhaps of greater relevance psychologically, there would be a bit of resistance. yet i am aware that this is coming. 

now where do i go with all this? well, not all this, but this bit, writing it up in what i suppose is my quasi or de facto diary. if not dairy. a pause for this particular story, then, for i still have about a month or so (give or take) to fight the battle of blood sugar. once again i am not here to preach or what have you, take entirely from this what you will. some shall be happy i am here to write this, others will understandably be disappointed with the same. long have i known it so, long have i accepted that one really cannot please all. 

more shall follow as and when it happens, for what else would i write of. ultimately, i suppose, as i go ahead and meander to a conclusion here, i am on reflection glad to be here, and yes have been, on an emotional level at the sheer volume of care and concern spread my way. i feel it, i appreciate it and only now do i realise just how much i need it. perhaps i am not the cold, heartless soul i have been conditioned to accept as moi is. or something like that. 

just hope there's enough pictures and what have you (one bad video clip) for those of you who only really come here for that sort of thing.

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

money

welcome

this, improbably, is the third post what i have gone done on the coming together of the realms of money and David "Derek" Bowie. at least i think it's just the third, look you see. yes, i did a quick check but really the emphasis there is quick. in this instance, though, it's not actual, real money one can use. not unless, at the least, you find someone really, really thick.

some context then, so as if to pretend that i do proper writing or even think about structuring these all proper. every now and then (likely as often as you think) i shall while away a few moments searching on that great virtual car boot sale of the internet, looking for things not really random. certainly i shall always search Split Enz, on the off chance an item turns up, but usually it will be for Bowie. heaven forbid a reasonably priced item from (or of) him passes me by. this would very much include items that i do not have and, say, tapes (or discs) that i have several copies of but hey, who's counting. 

in a quite recent search (oddly not the most recent, but the last one at time of writing to result in a purchase) the above were presented to me. no, not in the classy VHS mode image you see, that's one i took. for purposes of clarification that's a set of two (2) USA bank notes, ostensibly to the value of (does best Dr Evil voice) one million dollars each. but not "legal tender" as such, for as you can see the notes are resplendent with images and text pertaining to David Bowie. 

how much does it cost to get two million (ahem) cash with Bowie on it? north of £2, but yet south of £2.50. yes, as in no, i cannot recall the precise (or exact) cost, but enough of a "throwaway" value to go sure, why would i not order these. turned up quite quickly too, and overall i would say i got the novelty factor value out of them, whatever it was i paid. 

of course i was going to upload an image of each side of the notes in thermal mode for you, and there it is above. beyond appearance, a bit of information (or if you like advertising) on the website said that these would have a "real money feel". quite interestingly (maybe) they do indeed. whereas i am not an expert it does happen to be so that i'd bought some "fun" bank notes before (i believe Darth Vader ones) and they were little more than colour photocopy things. 

my other posts on Bowie related money? as in not how much i have spent on his stuff, but money what has his image on? entirely possible more interesting than this post, they are. the first one was just, at time of writing, north of ten years ago, and concerned the Brixton Bowie Bank Note. click on the coloured text and off you go. no, have no idea if that remains valid or "legal tender" in the place, and believe you me i am in no rush to return there to find out. after that came some Bowie £5 Coin (click the text), which caused disproportionate hysteria when it came out. oh so many rushed to declare that it was a "worthless investment", i suspect anyone else who(m) bought it did so because, like me, they just thought it was a nice thing to have in the collection. 

generally no, i am not that keen on Labyrinth, outside of fond memories of seeing it at the cinema with my brother and a good friend. that said it is quite the iconic look, even for the loftier standards what Bowie has for such, so i get why it is on the note. absolutely no issues with the other images used. 

just what is it that i plan to do with these two (2) notes? there's every chance that i might one day bump into someone who is selling something i want that costs US$2,000,000 and for some reason they would happily accept these. until then, i think they shall just reside on the tape (CD) stand i have reserved mostly for Bowie recordings, with (perhaps) the occasional glance. 

let it be said that i shall be really, really surprised if there's another (4th) instance of Bowie related money things turning up on here. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

lobot

greetings

and so it is, once more (as happens every year, look you see) Star Wars day. this of course stems from the rather peculiar way in which Americans state the date, meaning "May 4th" gets spoken as "may the fourth be with you", which  sounds a bit like a phrase popular in the Darth Vader film series. so far as i am aware that line is uttered at least once in each of the good Star Wars films and in Last Jedi too. probably not, now i think, Solo, as that was predominantly jedi and space religion free. also wasn't much good. 

well, with it being what it is (the day) i figured, mostly with nothing else particularly better to write of right now, i might as well pay homage to the best, greatest and most important character in all of the films and what have you of Star Wars. and that, of course, is Lobot. 

granted, no, Lobot is not the first name what would come to mind if someone asked you to name a character from Star Wars. unless it was someone asking me, and i would probably say him. it is not all that often people engage in conversation with me, though, and when they do it's normally considerably less ("fewer") things like "who was in Star Wars", more "why are you still here". but still, he is the best, greatest and most important character in Star Wars, for i read this to be true on the internet, so it must be true. reading it in the previous paragraph here, i feel, counts. 

it is of course very much so that Star Wars has been hugely influential on culture, society and what have you for the last, what 48 years (at time of writing) or so. yes, there are those (called "fanboys") who by certain standards may take it all a little too seriously, but still, overall, how truly amazing that a fairly simple (yet visually dazzling) swashbuckling tale of good vs evil captured the minds of so many. it is at heart brilliant escapism, and little wonder it means so much to so many. the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, some might say. 

exactly how is Lobot the best, greatest and most important character out of Star Wars? well, on a practical level it is so that quite a few of the main characters - the fake orphan, the bin, the gay robot, the entitled adopted princess, the criminal people smuggler and his dog would all be dead if it were not for his intervention. had he not gone done what he gone done (granted, prompted by Lando, but still) then we never would have got the third film with that massive slug and them cute cannibalistic teddy bear sex cases. 

more than this, though, is the influence of Lobot on the "real word". people went to go and see The Empire Strikes Back and people liked what they saw this Lobot dude was doing. it's probably going to far to say that Lobot made the world of business administration sexy, but he certainly made it sexier. 

the image above is probably my all time favourite one off of Star Wars as it has the four best characters out of all of it in it. yes, sure, Lobot is the best, but still, Lando is quite class, as are Vader and Boba. what would have been class is a film (or two) of the four of them, just hanging around discussing the trials and tribulations of administration, as well as the odd bit of choking people to death and blowing stuff up. disintegrations, even. 

how did Lobot make business administration seem quite sexy affect the world? within a year or so of the film Empire Strikes Back getting released applications to study things like an MBA and Public Administration degrees shot up by over one thousand percent, probably. many people were inspired to set up quite class business ventures that they could be administrators of, like how Lobot was the administrator for Cloud City, or Bespin, or whatever it was actually called. with particular emphasis on his really, really smart flared trousers. 

yes, there are some that would suggest Lando is slightly more important, as his decision to all of a sudden not f*** over his friend Han was kind of essential to all them characters surviving. however, he only had the idea not to f*** over the people smuggler. it took Lobot to make sure what got done got undone, which is basically what an administrator is there for. also that headset thing is class. 

hope you are all enjoying whatever it is you do to celebrate Star Wars day, if you do indeed celebrate it. i would expect a lot of it is just saying "may the fourth be with you" to people. maybe even watch a film or two. well, presumably just the one what has Lobot in it. 

live long and prosper!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

primal scream

howdy pop pickers

ok, let's start with the "blimey is it May already, where does the time go" comments. no, i am not entirely sure, look you see, if it is that the days, weeks, months, years all drift away so very quickly as you get older, or it just feels so on the basis of what you do with that time. 

but, anyway, Primal Scream. plus support. 

indeed this was the third gig of the year (2025) for me, and to be honest it's set a very high benchmark for being the "best". which is f*****g saying something when one considers, all factors considered, just what an amazing night KillerStar at the 100 Club was. rather than worry too much about what's the best of any particular thing, though, i'd rather be thankful for so many spectacular life incidents. 

this was, perhaps surprisingly, the first time i had got the chance to see the band. not sure why i missed out on them over the years, probably just a timing thing. for anyone of a certain age, as in you were there when "one generation under the same groove" was very much a thing (late 80s to early 90s) it would be so that this band, and the Screamadelica album in particular were likely present in the soundtrack to those far more relaxed days and times. there i go with time again. 

mostly this tour was in support of the recent, if you like "comeback" album off of the band, Come Ahead. i did indeed get it when it came out, especially as it granted me access to "pre sale" tickets for this tour. and, at the time, i was not too keen on what i heard. in (glorious) retrospect i was somewhat unduly harsh on the album, if not plain wrong. having played it a few times in the days leading up to the gig i was surprised to find it a damned lot (more) better than i had taken it as being. maybe i was not in the right state, or frame, of mind for it when it landed. still, being honest, my main hope was that the gig would feature more of their classic tunes, less ("fewer") of things all new. 

usually at gigs these days i don't spend all that much time checking out the support act. an obvious exception would be the last gig i went to, Ocean Colour Scene, when the superb Kula Shaker were on first, delivering a quite brilliant set. i have come to see support act time as being time to wait outside having a cigarette or two (sorry), or maybe do business at the bar. mostly the former, really, since - and this is no bad thing - smoking inside gig venues is now a no-no. 

go on then, i thought (or thought i), let me have a bit of a listen to Dylan John Thomas. he was, after all, off of Bobby Gillespie's home town, so i took it as a given that he had rather been picked by the band to be the support act, rather than the record label / tour booking agents shoving them on, or as is the case with the imminent Oasis thing, the absolute cheapest acts that are vaguely recognisable being picked. 

rather glad i did check him (or them, for it was a band) out. yes, certainly that is a bit of really poor quality video for you, the shoddy nature of it telling you all you need to know how bad this Samsung A14 thing is. i do feel a bit bad not recording any of his own stuff (a rock sound with a distinct influence of reggae / ska, to my ears), but i was so taken by the audacious nature of this cover of Big Love from Fleetwood Mac i elected to try and record some of it. 

were there any hitches or glitches with me and this gig? oh goodness me yes. sadly, too. as would be normal (or the new normal) for me and gigs in Newcastle, my dear friend, the legendary g-man, was to go with me. alas, his employers elected to f*** him right over at the last minute, so verk obligations meant he couldn't get there. a great shame, and yes of course as you do for a mate i have lied a great deal to him, telling him it was sh!t and he was better off missing it. 

by chance, or fate, a good use for his ticket happened. about ten (or so) minutes before Primal Scream were due on stage three lads turned up. of them two had tickets, one claimed to have but their phone had died (again, like many others, i miss the days of having a proper ticket) and the ticket office couldn't do much for him. i immediately offered the extra ticket i (very regrettably) had to them, which they took up. yes, they offered to pay for it, offered drinks, something from the merch (none of the t-shirts are my size, ever) but i declined, saying rather someone have a top night than the ticket go to waste. 

quite a lot of the opening number, which i believe was Don't Fight It, Feel It (when based on some reviews i had expected Ready To Go Home, the finest moment of the new tape), saw me just kind of stood there, staring at the majestic figure of Bobby Gillespie, thinking (and perhaps saying) "f***, that's actual f*****g Bobby Gillespie i am f*****g seeing". even after a couple of pints (perhaps 4 or so but who here is counting) it did take a bit for reality to sink in. 

knowing full well that my phone is utterly useless for video, and truly just wanting to enjoy the gig because who knows when (or if) i will get the chance to see Primal Scream again, no, i did not record all that much. what i did record did (of course) come out quite bad. but for those of you who insist, or for some reason really, really like poor quality video, here's some of Movin On Up for you. 

yeah, just maybe rather pick up a copy of Screamadelica if (for some strange reason) you don't already have it and play it proper. for those of you who have a provenance thing, by the way, this was all at Newcastle City Hall (or O2 academy, i think they refer to it as now) on 19 April (2025). the last show of the tour, no less, and the place is one of the best venues what i have ever been to. 

overall, or on the whole, this was (and my friend g-man, or anyone else that planned to go but did not may well wish to stop reading now) one of the best gigs i have been to. yes, i know in the grand scheme of things i may not have been to all that many (i have good friends, for instance, who have seen the Manics over ten times more than the four times what i gone done), but still. 

here you had (and i believe this is the right term) a perfect storm. there was the band, in particular of course the iconic singer, in absolute bang on form, an audience emotionally invested in the music what they were there for (no "i am here and i only know Wonderwall" types), a brilliant venue (the sound inside is exceptional) and a considered, excellent and if you will "balanced" set. i didn't even notice that i didn't have a cigarette for the two hour duration. 

main highlights? honestly there was no "down" time. as fluent and fluid a set as you could wish for, with the "classics" easily blending in with the new. sure, one or two people elected to head to the bar on hearing a more recent song start, but that sort of thing happens at virtually every gig. flawless, i think, is the best way to describe the songs selected and the running (or batting) order. sure, what's likely my favourite of all time Primal Scream song, Burning Wheel, didn't get played, and no they didn't decided to go and play all 11 (or so minutes) of Trainspotting, but i kind of assumed they would not. 

certainly i read some reviews before going. most were decidedly honest, if in part brutal. there were suggestions of Bobby Gillespie "mumbling rather than singing", and a high level of apathy, if not outright boredom, in the audience with the Come Ahead songs. neither of these things were true of the gig i was at. as point of fact, at the end, random strangers approached me (and several others) expressing what an incredible gig it was. far be it from me to suggest they had taken any sort of self prescribed medication to take themselves back to the early 90s. 

go on then, one more bit if (poor quality) video. here you go with Rocks, which was the final number of a three song encore. at the time the song got a bit slated for being a "Stones rip off", but my how us fans have ignored that and it's well established as a rock classic. you might have thought they would consider opening gigs with this one, but undoubtedly it was determined to do so would be "a bit naff" and far too an obvious thing. careful now, for Bobby unleashes a few swear words. ones that you can make out reasonably clearly even with the limitations of this phone of mine.

easily the biggest surprise of the night for me (since i can write only of my experience) was the crowd reaction to Country Girl. difficult competition and impossible to gauge accurately, but to my eyes and ears it was so this one that really got the crowd all pumped up. pumped up even more than the rest of the set, which (believe me) is saying something. make no mistake, it's a fairly good song, but i always classed it as a sort of whimsical, throwaway thing, likely produced to ensure some radio play and grab attention for the band and album (Riot City Blues) at the time. going purely on the crowd reaction on the night you would believe it to be their best, greatest and most important song, ever. 

perhaps the moment which shall live in my mind the longest was Loaded. i am taking it as something of a given they haven't played it all that often on tour, going on how Bobby Gillespie elected to introduce it with the words "surprise mother f*****s". what followed when the song kicked in was extraordinary. take the idea, if you will, of the end of the (actually not bad) film adaptation of Perfume, where the scentless apprentice (spoiler warning here) wafts his ultimate scent and a massive orgy spontaneously commences. in that moment at the gig when Bobby raised his hand with customary defiance everyone in the gig was immediately transported to a huge warehouse rave, say 91 or 92, absolutely ripped to the t!ts on ecstasy or similar for the next six to ten minutes. weaving such magic is what makes Bobby Gillespie who he is, and blessed be us for being able to experience it. 

let me be fair here - the band, this current incarnation of Primal Scream, are also excellent. they, as we, though surely know that the focus will always be on Bobby. it is true that the musicians flourish and strive on songs like Loaded and of course Come Together, and Movin On Up is constructed on a perfect, frantic gospel fuelled sound, but everyone there - in audience and on stage - is in a "wow" state of awe and admiration of this audacious force of nature. 

blimey, it's almost as if i am doing an actual, proper review here. moving on, then, and i was thrilled that they did another favourite of mine (which i shall slightly censor here) in $wast!ka Eyes. i didn't really think  a live rendition of the song could match up to the polished perfection of the studio take, and to be fair it perhaps didn't, but still. also, unexpectedly, Medication got a play, which was most brilliant to hear. 

i would suggest that i have made it (reasonably) clear that this was one excellent gig. so, rather than saying that again, my favourite Bobby Gillespie stories. first, and best, was that time the band pulled out of appearing on Top Of The Pops at the (more or less) last minute. why? it turned out they were going to be flown in to Luton airport, and they (as in Bobby) decided that Luton airport "wasn't rock n roll enough". from memory they got a quasi "ban" off the BBC for a couple of years for that one. then there was that time (early 90s) that Dave Gahan was going slightly off the rails during a tour in America. legend has it that they opted to rush in Primal Scream to join them on the tour, for some reason assuming, or outright believing, that Bobby Gillespie would have a "calming influence". oh. 

right, that's that. for this post, not gigs. unless something dramatic happens. just a further 2 (two) gigs are lined up as things stand, with both (oddly) also going to be in (why aye man) Newcastle. this is particularly pleasing, for it is an excellent city with a focus mostly on having a good time all the time. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

on the lamberts

greetings

i feel it has been a reasonable amount of time since i gone done a post on the subject of cigarettes so, with little else to write of, time for another. for those of you who(m) pay the slightest bit of interest to anything i write, let me remind you that smoking is (very) bad for you, look you see, and you should either never take up the habit (or hobby) or cease (quit) immediately. help is available, apparently, only just not so much as if you were doing heroin, or some other thing which society deems rather more acceptable. 

with that out of the way, yes, another foray into the world of the more modest (as in sensibly) priced cigarettes procured from independent importers and distributors. yes, quite probably all within the realms (if not remit) of "not legal", but if i ask no questions i get to keep a nice, quiet life in which i can continue to smoke. probably should stop (as in quit), yet no. 

how the world changes. once it was so (say late 80s, more plausibly early 90s) that lambert and butler, which are the ones (cigarettes) i am currently "on" (smoking) were seen as a sort of cheap and cheerful brand, a sub-par smoking experience. back then it was the likes of embassy, regal, of course marlboro, benson and hedges and what not which were "proper". if you had the misfortune to be in that there London (innit) then of course you smoked silk cut, unless you were royalty (or nobility) and then it was pure john player specials, carrying as they did the royal seal (or warrant if that is the right term). of course now the re-branded "players" are cheap, whereas lambert and butler have a strange resonance of a posher brand than they ever were. 

make no mistake, these ones what i have are 100% counterfeit. there are telling (or if you will warning) signs, all fairly easy to spot. for a start, or to commence, the boxes are not sturdy at all, made of a cardboard so thin it would pass as paper. the font use is ever so slightly off, and the "foil" paper in the packets is either silver or a somewhat dull gold. as in not the same across all packets. you can't really make it out in the above (VHS mode) image, but on the cigarettes themselves that's not the generic, plain text font what is supposed to be used. 

certainly more effort has been put into the appearance of these than, say, the hit and miss Manchester ones i took a shine to, but at least them ones had a pretty solid, or if you will "proper", box. these cost me the same as those Manchester ones, which is a flat £5 per packet. i do believe in some parts of our land they can cost more, but then again also i have heard tales of the Manchester ones being sold for even less ("fewer") that the agreeably cheap price i have paid for them. 

this pricing tells you all of the absurdity of the pricing for "real" cigarettes, and why independent distributors here are both in proliferation and quite successful. for those not in the know, the price for these is south of one third of the cost of "real" ones down the shops. yes, that is how much us smokers get f****d over. and when they have destroyed entire the market for "legal" cigarettes in this country, know that they will be coming for you, be it your drink, food or whatever they believe they can punish you for with little beyond a murmur of disappointment. 

quite peculiar (or somewhat strange) that all "warnings", it seems, on the cigarettes i procure pertain to how it may affect my private parts, or winkie, or whatever you may wish to call male bits. here is a link to the most recent packs cautioning the same. one would assume this means as much to a lady smoker as the warnings about smoking whilst pregnant mean to me. nice that even the bootleggers are concerned for us in this regard, and indeed the "duty free" thing is a lovely touch. 

fairly recently there was a lovely "puff piece" (so to speak) in the news, concerning a "nationwide raid" on shops what sell things like vapes not meeting "standards", and cigarettes. with a straight face some spokesperson said that these independent cigarettes were "not as safe" as "legitimate ones". i believe that they meant "not as profitable for the government". realistically they likely hit all of "fewer" than 1% of such independent businesses, and even then ones thrown to them. it's like drug mules on a plane, those packing people with narcotics tip off the authorities about one of them so the others they have placed on the same flight waltz straight through customs. just the illusion of a victory on "the war on" whatever they don't like at the moment. 

do i feel at all upset about how purchasing "independent" cigarettes (such as these) is in some way funding criminals, terrorists, most probably the Russian war effort? well, i am not happy about it, but needs must. i could be flippant and say "look how government squanders the money from taxes". after all, official smoking figures are at their lowest ("fewest") and the NHS is more totes f****d than ever, when in the 80s and 90s all we heard was how once smoking was reducing how brilliant the NHS, free of treating smokers, would be. 

should it really be so that those absolute pr!cks, w@nker$ and freeloaders in government really, really wish to stop people purchasing "independent" cigarettes, there's an easy way to do it. right now, and yes i am including travel costs, if you fly to somewhere like Spain, Greece or some Eastern European nation, purchase a carton (10 packs of 20 cigarettes each) of Marlboro - not duty free, but from a shop - and fly back you would have saved £100 cost on buying the same quantity in the UK. no, of course they won't reduce the price here. that filthy lucre, all that lovely money, is too addictive for them. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

books

now then

so yes i have, since the last post on a similar (as in exactly the same) subject, i have read two (2) further novels, look you see. books, if you will, but i do like to say "novels" (i think) as it would be rather rare for me to read non-fiction. i take it as something of a given that i am reasonably far from being alone, in an unusual change of how it normally is, in wishing to avoid the realities of life as much as possible. 

for those of you have not ever (never) read one of my posts on books and are, for some reason, still reading this after the rather convoluted opening paragraph, a pretty standard pattern shall follow. just now there should be a pic of the books what i read, and then a bit of a "good or bad" comment for anyone in a rush or, importantly, wanting to avoid 'spoilers'. the likelihood of someone opting to read a book on my say so is rather limited, but here we are. 

going left to right, since that is the order in what i gone done read them, Close To Death off of Anthony Horowitz is outstandingly, absurdly funny and a sheer joy. next is The Blue Hour off of Paula Hawkins, and this was one truly exceptional novel. judging or ranking things of subjective, artistic nature is quite the folly, but i would suggest this is the equal of her (up to now) masterpiece, The Girl On The Train. 

right, then. i shall try and limit such of this as much as i can, but do be warned, for safety i shall go ahead and put a *** SPOILER WARNING *** in place for the remainder of this post. 

commencing, to say it again, where i did with these novels is to have a bit of a gander at Close To Death off of Anthony Horowitz. for those of you who only read this to discover (or learn) the provenance of my choice in books, yes, i do believe this was off of Tesco, likely when it first came out and was at "book of the week" price. well, i think that's the provenance. either this one or the one before it was bought for me by a good friend off of WH Smith (don't look for it, it's not there any more). should it be Tesco, then with that "club card" thing i would believe it was £4.50. 

plot? it's another episode featuring a (hopefully) fictionalised version of the author working with detective Hawthorne, writing the story of another investigation to the delight of the publisher if not the author himself. a bit different in this instance, for with no current case being investigated and a demanding publisher's deadline looming the writer has little choice but to delve into a case from long before the two of them met. Hawthorne does not want him to write it, the author does not want to write it, but onwards they go......

it truly is comedy gold, this one. the funniest part (or parts) is (are) when we get breaks in the the decidedly half hearted attempt Horowitz is making to write the novel to get criticism from those who have read it to tell him how awful and wrong it all is. somehow being told just how bad the book you are reading it makes it all the more enjoyable. bonus points for pulling off the remarkable act of "breaking the 4th wall" in a novel, when ostensibly all of a novel should do such. from memory, and i am not checking, the only time i can think of an author directly "speaking" (or writing, i suppose) to the reader outside of the context of the novel (in the midst of it) was The French Lieutenant's Woman. likely it has been done before and since, and sorry if it was not in that novel. risks come with my memory. 

doing comparisons is always a bit dodgy, but all the same these Hawthorne novels by Anthony Horowitz are of the same quintessentially English comedy genius of the likes of Monty Python, Douglas Adams and Peter Cook. the mixture of a really good, compelling "whodunnit" detective story with frequently self-depreciating humour is just jolly well splendid. i strongly recommend reading all of these books, preferably in the order they were published. 

we (or just me if everyone has stopped reading) go on, then, to the second of two novels. that, then, if you have forgotten, is The Blue Hour off of Paula Hawkins. no, you are not mistaken, in quite rare circumstances this is a hardback what i gone done read. usually i wait for the paperback, as generally i find it cumbersome to read the hardback edition. and the paperbacks are cheaper. the reason for the change is very much to do with book provenance. i was in that there London (innit) place, having dinner (lunch, if posh) at a Tesco. with parking being a premium in the city it was so that Tesco had a £5 minimum spend to qualify for free parking. my meal deal cost £3.60, i wasn't in the mood for browsing for something costing precisely £1.40, noticed this on the shelf for £8.50 (or possibly £8.75) and figured yeah, sure, go on, i will take it rather than wait for the paperback.

plot? my thoughts are it is deceptively simple when seeming complex, yet also i am struggling to phrase it all in such a way that i don't give much of anything away. essentially, i suppose, it all revolves around a deceased artist and some of her works of art apparently being missing. which leads to a stand off between the Estate which has inherited them and the impromptu friend / doctor of the artist who has assumed a kind of quasi curatorship over them.......

i really, really liked just about every aspect of this novel. well, ok, yeah, the straying into what one might (or possibly) call Jilly Cooper territory with "relationships of the rich and shameless" felt somewhat unnecessary, yet i suppose critical to one character's particular motivations. again, sorry if that's a clumsy sentence and says little, but i am doing my best to keep thoughts on this magnificent novel spoiler free. 

a favourite aspect of it all was the "art for art's sake" stuff. well, you know what i mean. there's a bit where one work left by the artist might need to be examined by the constabulary, which prompts all sorts of questions (with good or bad intentions) about if this desecrates, demeans or even destroys what the artist left behind. further, the author clearly had fun p!ssing about with the nonsensical, flamboyant and whimsical phrases "art critics" are so prone to use. people what make a living as art critics are just, rather like "wine experts", just really, really good at conjuring up outlandish phrases. 

both of these novels, then, were outstanding. no, i don't think i will go the hardback road again, thanks, whilst reading this one wasn't all that uncomfortable. probably as i am just chilled at lodgings in my place of exile these days, rather than travelling around. if for some reason you want a form of guidance of me, then of course the one from these two to go for immediately is the Paula Hawkins one, for you need not have read any other books to "get" or understand this. the joys of a standalone, not part of an expanded universe thing novel are to be embraced. yet yes, it is most decidedly so that all of the Anthony Horowitz books featuring his fictional self and detective chum (of sorts) are all quite wonderful reads. 

once again, or as usual, absolutely no idea if anything in this sort of post (books) what i gone done is of any interest, but i suppose the same could be said of all posts. no matter, thank you very much indeed for reading. or just looking at the pics.

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

high roller

hello there

of all that is true of our (mostly) perplexing world it is most decidedly so that we live with measure of control which easily meet the criteria of double standards. more levels than that, look you see, but long since has it been that anyone has the patience to count too far. here in the UK we famously have such on offer by the ruling government of the day. ostensibly they (the government) are supposed to be subservient to the people, elected to serve for the safety, security and betterment of we, the people. instead it is so most of us are subject to attempts to kill us all off, with the only exceptions being the protected TfL employees and, recently, Scunthorpe based steel workers. should you doubt this, cast your eyes upon how they are presently trying to kill off the entire population of Birmingham with a plague of rats. 

it should be no surprise, then, that "vices" (or if you will "entertainment" or "leisure activities") are similarly treated in different ways. whenever i feel the need (or compelled) to write of smoking it is so that i get the sense i am obliged to put a disclaimer in, warning of the dangers, so convincing has been the campaign to convince the masses that absolutely everything wrong with the world is all down to cigarettes. betting or gambling, however, appears (somewhat alarmingly) encouraged. you get adverts for it everywhere, various sports teams are happily sponsored by betting companies and bookies, as they are colloquially called, seem to dominate most of what remains of high streets. 

quite strange, this. my smoking really only damages me (moi) in the long term. oh yes, the plausible yet still unproven "second hand smoke" thing, which sees people over the road from you conditioned to do a little "cough" when they spot you smoking, somehow unaffected by the cars, buses and vans passing by. and yet as you are reading this (as in right now) someone is making a betting / gambling decision which will, in seconds, destroy their lives and anyone dependant on them. like families. but hey, advertise away. 

so yes, there's a distinct level of double standards here (if not outright hypocrisy) in that i am writing of a most triumphant gambling success. as in i placed a bet and i, for want of another word, won. 

exactly how much did i win? that you can observe in the (thermal style) picture above. with bourgeois opulence i am indeed showing off that i won 97 large, or 97 big ones. if, of course, you deem "pence" in proper pound sterling money to be either "large" or "big". 

how did i come to amass this fortune? well, by doing what i would usually do, only on a smaller scale. think that "less is more" thing off Jerry Maguire, only different. my normal approach is to put an accumulator ("acca") on 15 - 20 results, placing 25p on it in the hope all (football) results are correct, delivering a hefty pay out. when (invariably) this does not work, i have lost 25p, but had fun all the same keeping an eye on football scores i would not usually have given a flying f*** about. 

perversely it was a really, really late, as in more last second that last minute, goal off of, of all teams, Coventry that secured my famous, if not celebrated, win. this leaves me in a peculiar position of being somewhat thankful that a Coventry exists. before this bet was placed it was so that Coventry was only really known for three (3) things -

* ruining a perfectly good Monty Python joke by winning the FA Cup in 1987

* traditionally it's only Christmas when the tape of Coventry Carol by Chas n Dave is played

* year after year the single most searched for news story on the internet is "have they finally gotten around to demolishing Coventry yet?". 

rather mixed feelings, then, obviously, but obviously yes i claimed the money all the same. 

do i have any immediate (or long term) plans for this filthy lucre? it would be apt to spend it on cigarettes i suppose, but you won't get all that many with this. for now it's just all sat in my coin tin. well, my new coin tin, since a misfortune befell the one i had used for a few years. 

yes, i certainly am still doing these (those) "acca" bets. once you get a taste for the high stakes, big time wins like this you can't just wash it away and pretend it didn't happen. be careful if you follow this path. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

pedantic poetry pottery

greetings

usually, or perhaps generally, i am not all that good at games, look you see. mostly i would only play such for the fun of it, look you see, lacking any ambition, intention or desperation to "win". not all would agree or go along with this approach, but there you go. 

what is infuriating (or annoying), for me at least, is when the game is so heavily stacked against you there's precisely zero (0) chance of "winning". or competing, for that matter. such happened to me (at time of writing) about a month ago with one of them New York Times games. observe, if you will. 

yes, it's that blue one on the "connections" game. as in words "said" to have no exact rhymes. well, off the top of my head, three (3) do. you shall have to either indulge or forgive me here, for, as i have pointed out before, i am an english literature student (two degrees, actually), not a homosexual. poetry is not a strong point then, but......

as the diary turns i exhale in exile a sad harumph

in solitude, still, for yet one more month

my throat scorched, i reach for a lozenge

surprisingly shaded a sandy orange

i stand wistfully, forever outside a circle

gazing at a sky enflamed, all purple 

no, probably not my best efforts. if i did put some effort in (or just gone done a google) i may well have found a rhyme for silver, but still, how can i guess an answer that is incorrect? 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

kula shaker supporting ocean colour scene

howdy pop pickers

so yes indeed, another gig to write of. and what a fair dinkum double bill it was, look you see. the title more or less ("fewer") tells the tale, but indeed it was so that i went and saw Ocean Colour Scene, who(m) had very kindly brought top band Kula Shaker along for the ride as the ostensible support act. 

certainly, as has (alas) become the case, there's a few really, really bad images coming up. and, of course, some even (more) worse video. blimey the Samsung A14 is truly hideous. how i wish that LG would make phones again, theirs were excellent. right, let me get back on track, so to speak. 

this was, neither remarkably nor oddly, the first time i had any practical chance to go see the full tilt variation of Ocean Colour Scene. i had twice (here and here) been to see Simon and Oscar do their acoustic set. both of those (splendid) gigs gave me chance to hear almost all of my top tunes from the band, with particular emphasis on Travellers Tune. when the band entire has been on tour the venues and dates have been "tricky". would have loved to see them at Newcastle City Hall, for instance, as it's a boss venue, but the date for their most recent gig there was 21 December, which i felt rather too close to Christmas and, if we are honest, too close to that celebrated day in Newcastle, "black eye friday". 

anyway, the chance to (very much) see them on an agreeable date, within walking distance of my lodgings in this era of exile and with only a limited chance of getting punched in the face came along. so i did, and as indicated for good measure got to see Kula Shaker too. 

out there somewhere (possibly close to you) is the world's biggest Kula Shaker fan. this, alas, is not me. but, despite what you might think based on news and the dynamics of the way we are now influenced to view things, we are not in a world of extremes. whereas no, i wasn't the hugest fan, i did, like many others (and it is nice and peculiar to be not in a minority), consider them quite class. 

my working knowledge of them was (is) somewhat limited. had i been on Pop Master and had to name three of their songs in 10 (ten) seconds i might have just managed it, remembering Tattva, Hush, Govinda and of course Hey Dude. of those tunes, their recording of Hush remains the second best version of it, with the top one being PM Dawn using it for Downtown Venus, and the original incarnation by Deep Purple, or if you will the Perps, being a respectable third. yes, to celebrate this, some truly dire video footage from my terrible phone. 

i was really, really impressed with the Kula Shaker set. rather solid, excellent pacing to the tunes they took and the whole band full tilt threw themselves into the performance. as in no, this was no "here to make up the numbers" support set or anything like that; they gave me and probably many others a timely reminder that they are a most smart rock band. to my disappointment no, there wasn't, at least as far as i could hear, a dedicated fan screaming "Crispian" throughout the set, and also no so far as i am aware it was not so that Haley popped by to watch. quite a shame, as she would have liked it. 

with respect to the set i can totes remember them doing three (3) of the ones i mentioned. possibly they did indeed do all 4 (four) i knew, but perhaps missed Govinda whilst either listening out for anyone who(m) might be shouting "Crispian" or was at the bar. 

costs of gig and refreshments? well, the "ostensible" cost of the ticket for the gig was £40, plus "fees" and some sort of insurance. for the former it is well documented elsewhere that these "fees" they add on have some vague justification. as to the latter and the "insurance" is if you have to cancel going to the gig for any reason whatsoever, just so long as it is not on their extensive list of reasons which do not count as being valid. quite a waste, but i click it anyway. if we say £50, pretty good value, even if the Globe at Stockton (on Tees) is notorious for having most peculiar attendees. 

yes that is me enjoying a pint. by chance Eddie Baby was in a celebrated city in Ireland (to be sure) and by some stroke of luck he found a pub there, so we exchanged pint for pint pics. cost of a pint of camdens pale ale inside the Globe was £6, or £11 for a two pint pot, which appeared to get drunk as fast as a singular pint did. considering a pint of the same at the 100 Club recently was £6.60, well, i did really think the north-south divide would be more than 60p. some friends have told me off for actually using the bar at the Globe, pointing out the pubs over the road charge south of one half of that cost for the same thing. maybe they have a point, but it just seemed easier to get a couple in whilst there. 

believe it or not that is really an image what i took of Ocean Colour Scene. not the best quality is it, but you just hold on for the video below. 

they, the band (Ocean Colour Scene) did a solid, all right, decent enough set. i do not mean that to sound like a negative. this was never, ever going to be the best gig what i had ever seen, and there was never any realistic danger of it being the worst. mostly the set was same difference as the acoustic shows i had been to. yet it was a sheer delight to hear Travellers Tune full tilt, with it remaining one of the greatest and most beautiful songs what i have ever heard. in respect of the rock songs they don't do acoustic, i have never been bothered by Riverboat Song (too repetitive for me), but my word how excellent it was to hear them let rip with Hundred Mile High City. 

unfortunately no, the excellence of it isn't quite captured in the above clip, but still, if you are desperate for a vague kind of sense of what it is like, there it is. 

often i have heard people say that the biggest problem with the Stockton Globe (if you leave aside beer prices) is the idea that they "over sell" tickets, which is to say dangerously sell more than the capacity should really have. this i doubt. some of the problem is the security is absolutely sh!t, as observed at Adam Ant a while back. i have no doubt people what bought seated tickets just sneaked in to the standing area without getting stopped. also, truly strange behaviour at gigs at the Globe. there's that class bit of tape on the box set 30 Years Of Maximum R&B off of The Who where Pete Townshend shouts at the crowd to "f*****g shut up", telling them it's "supposed to be a f*****g rock and roll concert not a f*****g tea party". it was baffling to see so many people aimlessly wandering backwards and forwards, up and down at the gig, or just gathering and having a conversation through most of the set. being fair they paid for the ticket, good luck, but it's a bit much when it impacts on anyone who bought a ticket for a gig to see the actual gig. 

pretty good night out overall, then. not sure i would go and see either band at the Globe again, but would love to see them at, say, Newcastle City Hall, where the crowds do tend to be there mostly to actually watch (and of course listen to) the band. it just shows how opulent and wealthy Stockton must be if people can afford north of £40 each to just have a bit of a stroll and chat to mates. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!