My first time seeing Kula Shaker, that most ridiculed of bands, and it turned out that they were, in fact, ridiculously brilliant.
“All I can say is, “All we love are lonely RECORDS!!!!” Oh yes.”
My last gig of 1998. An overwhelmingly emotional and perfect way to draw the first chapter of my life in London to a close.
“Oh my screaming sainted leopardskin soul, what an almighty gig that was!”
1998 was ending with two gigs from my favourite band in the world. It’s safe to say, the year went out on a high.
A powerful and utterly uplifting gig from Placebo.
One year on from my last Mansun gig, and I had a deep-seated need to be crushed against a barrier once again, screaming at the brilliance of My Boys. And they sure as hell did not disappoint.
My first ever Kylie gig was a night of thoughtful yet joyous pop. And a surprising amount of moshing.
My first gig of 1998 should have actually taken place in 1997. If it had, I might actually have some memories of it.
My last gig of 1997, in which two wonderful bands stirred me out of my doldrums for a few hours.
My Life Story at the Astoria at Christmastime should have been a joyous festive occasion. But all was not well in the world of Scruffy.
My one and only chance to see the band who introduced me to indie.