Kiboshing, Moshing, Noshing.

2010-01-26, 9:29 p.m.
In a futile bid to take over the time space continuum get my kids to tidy away their special edition commemorative action figures, I have imprisoned Ianto Jones in the Demessifying Vase of Mummyia and sealed his glassy dungeon with The Magazine of Handily Lying About. Even Captain Jack cannot release him � he pounds futilely on the glass while Ianto stands motionless within�.

Photobucket

(it hasn�t worked, btw. Both kids came in, looked, laughed their heads off and went away again)


Like I said on Sunday, me and Joojie went to the Kerrang Relentless tour last night � we got some free tickets cos Jooj was reviewing it for the local newspaper teen section. Some of what follows is the stuff I helped her write for the review so if it sounds a bit formal, its cos it was for publication purposes. She hardly used any of it, but seeing as I�d already written it, it seemed a bit silly to then write it all again in a more �me� style, for your delectation, dear readers.

Anyways. Despite the tickets saying that doors would open at 6.30, we stood outside until nearly 7 � a shivering snake of hyped-up teens and here and there a dad or a mum, looking slightly sheepish and resigned to their fate.

Once inside, it was a delight to find that the ladies toilets were already flooded � the floor ankle deep in water and floating bits of tissue. I was glad I was wearing my cowboy boots as we sloshed about in the queue for the pre-gig wee.

By the time we got into the auditorium, Young Guns had already started their set. Its never good to be the first act on but they were doing their best to rise to the occasion and me and Jooj jumped about a bit to spur them on. Jooj was practically apoplectic with glee at being at her �first, like, PROPER gig�. Apparently, seeing her stepdad in action a million times doesn�t count and neither does going to the theatre to see Grease with me and Treacle when she was about six (we dressed up. It was WAY cool. I was Rizzo)

My Passion, the second band, had bags of attitude...unfortunately I feel their music didn�t really live up to their posturing and posing. Actually, that�s a bit kind. They were kind of crap and the swaggering and coordinating outfits were, frankly, laughable. As they did their soundcheck, the lead singer said �Chu � Chu � Chu CHU-ECK-KHUH� like he was reciting some epic piece of poetry. Me and Jooj looked at each other and mouthed �Tuh � Tuh � Tuh � TUH-WATT- TUH�. Oh, and if you�re going to raise your arms for the adulation of the crowd, boys, there really needs to be something in your set to substantiate it. It was also a bit disturbing to see how much their drummer looked like Simon from Misfits. I didn�t notice him turning invisible at all during the set though, which I guess was a good thing.

In their defence, My Passion did do a pretty good job of whipping up the crowd, prompting the first circle pit of the evening. Seeing a golden chance, we waited for the tiniest of breaks in the circle of careening boys (and a few courageous girls) before rushing straight across the eerily still �eye� and out the other side, and so finding ourselves just a couple of rows from the front. We laughed when we saw that two smaller and more timid girls had followed in our wake � we obviously looked like we knew what we were doing (and not like we were taking our lives in our hands, which was much closer to the truth!).

The auditorium had started to get seriously hot by now and the stage security started to pass cups of water over the barrier to those wilting a bit in the first few rows. A spirit of bonhomie prevailed and most people would take a swig before passing the cup to the person next to them � whether stranger or friend didn�t seem to matter, sweaty and hot is sweaty and hot, whoever you are! Nobody seemed to mind too much if the odd cup or two got thrown around, either, as an impromptu and unexpected cold shower was actually quite a pleasant experience by that stage of the proceedings. We�d laughed at the poor girls dressed in shorts and vest tops in the queue outside, as their legs and arms slowly turned blue but now, squashed between sweaty strangers and leaping up and down, we started to wish we�d worn something a bit more skimpy � it was HOT!

The Blackout came on, to roars from the crowd. Being better known than the first two bands, they clearly had their hardcore of fans in situ and they were out to party! When their lead singer (much better looking in the flesh than he is on posters, girls, but still a bit of a till-mouth) dived into the crowd, scores of fans surged forwards, hands held aloft to receive their God. Unfortunately, the poor boy had reckoned without a fair proportion of his fans being slightly-built teenage girls and there was a sticky moment when it seemed unlikely that the combined forces of their raised arms was going to be sufficient to continue to bear the poor bloke aloft. He half-tumbled, half-scrambled into the seething crowd, right at Jooj�s feet, where a great deal of hugging and hair ruffling and back-slapping commenced before he was able to regain his position on the stage.

The vogue for having one�s mobile phone permanently in reach was very much in evidence. Of course, many people were using their phones to take grainy out-of-focus pictures or snatches of video, but there were several I saw who were just chatting (�Yeah! No! Im at a gig! What? No! A GIG!) or texting despite the noise and the throngs of sweaty fans barging this way and that. At one point, the boy next to me whipped his phone out of his pocket to check a text he�d just received. As we were squished so close together as to be almost requiring a marriage certificate, I was able to read his text. It said, �Its in the wash. It shd be dry by the morning tho. x�

He�s at a gig, punching the air and leaping about with a thousand of his fellow swoopy-haired studenty grunge types, yet he�s getting laundry updates from his mum!! The funny sound, which I am sure could be heard above the din of the bands, was my mind boggling.

The Blackout finished their bit (they were actually pretty good) and there was a bit of a lull while the roadies rebuilt the stage a bit. Bearing in mind I�d never heard of any of these bands until last night, nor heard any of their music, I was starting to feel a bit fish-out-of-water-ish, despite the cheerful and non-judgemental crowd so when the piped �interval music� changed from �something I don�t recognise but that everyone else around me knows� to �Livin� on a Prayer� it was like God had finally spoken to the dozen or so ancient old farts in the audience and we sung along with gusto. Jooj recorded the moment for posterity on her phone so if she puts it on Youtube I�ll be sure to kill her tell you where to find it.

On comes All Time Low and all fucking hell breaks loose. Girls screaming, boys leaping, shoving, moshing, singing along, yelling, stomping, falling over.

All round coolness.

All Time Low are a bit like Busted on acid. They clearly can�t believe their fucking luck that they are still puny schoolboys and yet revered as deities. The only real downside for me was the constant stream of unfunny knob-gags. Don�t get me wrong, I love a good knob-gag, me, but as I said to Jooj afterwards, I think if you�re going to do knob-gags they kind of sound better if its not obviously that you�ve only actually been having sex (with proper real girls) for, like, a really short space of time. Knob-gags that make 14 year olds squeal are never as funny as knob-gags that make grown women smirk and raise an eyebrow. And it takes a man to do that, not a boy with silly hair.

When All Time Low finished their set and had gone backstage to wait for the applause to get to such a level that they could justify an encore, I noticed a couple of kids looking at me. They were around 17 � a lad with the faintest wisp of a beard and a girl with too many bracelets on and the prerequisite panda eye makeup of the gothy-emo-punky rocker-kid. They were grinning, with a slight air of incredulity. The boy said �You�re fucking amazing!� and the girl nodded enthusiastically. The he tried to explain why�.clearly without saying the word �Old�.

�yeh, cos you�re, like��ummm..�you were WELL getting into it and like�.well�.that�s like your DAUGHTER or whatever�..but you still�..and you and her��and moshing and that and��.awww man, all parents should be like you��its just, like, WELL amazing that you can�..Awww man, we love you!� and he high-fived me and gave me a very damp hug. The girl said �Yeh. We totally do.� in the sweet voice that you use when you�re talking to your grandma. And she hugged me, too. She was no less damp.

�You totally rock, mum� said Jooj, and high-fived me too, just for luck.

Moshing, it appears, is seen as a preserve of the young.


In a spirit on Compare and Contrast, tomorrow evening I am the guest speaker at a post-Christmas social for respite carers. There�s skittles and a basket supper. My attendance will reduce the average age of the participants down to a respectable 72ish.

Can�t wait.

Later
S
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