“So how does this affect me?! Emotionally affect me!!?! Too damn right it does.” The seventh of my ten Mansun gigs, and the zenith of my hyperventilating obsession. This post contains inordinate quantities of excitable capitals and exclamation marks. You have been warned.
“Oh the Manics, my Manics, how easy it is for them to become Everything again.” The Manics were back, and in universe-conquering form. As usual.
My one and only headlining gig from Gay Dad. And it was pretty good. But all I can remember is sparkling shoulders.
A storming gig from a transformed My Life Story.
This turned out to be my last Suede gig for three years. A good thing then that it was such an incredible one.
A plastic ticket inviting the painted people to get off our heads to Head Music at the Asylum.
My second Kula Shaker gig was an almighty demonstration of the liberating, life-affirming magic of live music.
Suede at the Astoria on a Saturday night in 1999. It doesn’t get much better than that.
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.
SCRUFFY STORMS 