So it is finally at the age of 27 years 2 months and 12 days, or to use the more common parlance - 9,936 days, that I have finally decided to form a band, to validate my own vacuous existence. No other reason. Now don't get me wrong bloggites, I have been in a band before, but not a band like this WILL be. See this 'un will feature words written by your intrepid blog-leader here. Topics covered will vary, but each song will shot from the hip, even b-sides (if there ever are any), 'cos Johnny Marr said I should give it my all at all times. I will. I'll do it for Johnny.
The band will use the same moniker as this blog and will feature many splendid delights, primarily MAGIC MOJO aka MOJROTICA as keyboardist, trumpeteer, block player, triangle player and shaolin kazoo master. I have keenly admired MOJROTICA's talents from a safe distance (in the bushes of his garden, with binoculars, careful NEVER to make a noise) and he passes the test. He's a man who looks like he has many a wonderous tale to tell, so he has been press-ganged into participation. He was not hurt by this visceral beating (much).
The wheels are in motion, it will be ace, and you can follow it all here, baby.
The other day I went to see Adam Green. To be precise, it was the third time in two weeks, taking in the cataclysmic cities of Dublin, Belfast and Manchester. He is a magnificent performer, quite the showman, with lovely lyrics and sexy dance moves. Anyhoo, I'd like to focus on AG sighting # 2 - Belfast. Now, I'd hot-footed it up from (N)Dubz in time for act 2, so began my prep with a delectable half-bottle of Glen's Vodka (RRP £5.99) - dubbed 'Glen's the exciting vodka'. They are somewhat cruel/sadistic to splash that bonanza slogan over their classy product, but hey, its a competitive marketplace out there and share don't win itself. So me and my pal Spotify whiled the 2 hours prior to doors opening acquainting ourselves with this 'exciting' product.
Due to my inability to correctly calculate time against distance, I arrive prior to opening and am FORCED (ahem) to go to the nearest watering hole to the venue, gleefully advising customers against over-priced bottles of vice. I did that for free. The time came, 8 hours after midday, for the doors to open. I ran with the energy of 1000 bison to concert venue. After some lovely chit-chat with the merch girl, who gave me a comic, it was time to reacquaint myself with the turps Glen makes. After a few double house and chasers of this moonshine, AG is about to hit t'stage. And there he is !! Effortlessly, he glides through each hit, the next more exhuberant than the last, magnifico.
This is the problem though. Your intrepid Bloggggist gets whipped into such a state of frenzy, that when AG bounds into the crowd, all I can think to do is go over, give him a really big hug and say 'thank you, I love you'. AG appreciates this, alas the goons in tight-fitting yellow polos don't, and SHOCK HORROR - expel yours truly from the auditorium! Gadzooks!
Fresh air does not mix with whatever-the-hell-that-liquid-Glen-makes-is, and this is when it happens - I enter the place that only exists in your drunken mind. You know the place, Chuck. It hides in the deepest, darkest recess, and only surfaces after you've consumed more than 1.5 litres of vodka. It was terrrifying. The world took on a new complexion. For instance, I believed I was in a medium sized town down South, such as Leitrim - patently, this would have been impossible. I vaguely remember entering a bar, velvet curtains, going upstairs, chatting to phantoms, dancing peculiarly, blackouts, shots, confusion. This lasted at least 2-3 hours.
Finally when I came round I was in the safe bosom of Lav's, though this too shocked - imagine waking from sleep, but you find yourself mid-sentence in a bar standing up and 'holding court' with many other people - despite the fact you can't remember how you got there, others tell you you've been there for HOURS. How very 'Shining' - "But you've always been here, Mr Kryst".
FIN
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