we’re not here because we want to be entertained;
Sleater-Kinney? Are they not estate agents? You’ll be disappointed if you show up and they try to sell you a flat.
I reckon I should take every Thursday off from here on in; I came into mammoth amounts of work today – but that’s a good thing. “I seriously think you’re going to end up like one of THOSE important people who get invited to industry conferences to PRESIDE over them. While maintaining your journalistic intergrity of course,” says the bezzer. But that’s why I love her more than I love you.
It’s a sunny day in Glasgow and apparently there isn’t a hotel room left in the city because Bon Jovi are playing. Life is good. Well, apart from the migraine. And the birthday party dress arrived – I know this because when I was waiting on a train to David’s yesterday I got a picture message, and it was the Cha and she was wearing it.
Oh, and I’m halfway decent at Guitar Hero. Well, until I start attempting to play Queen.
There’s rarely a point in attempting to review one of your favourite bands. I’m sure you’ve noticed it before – I begin, safely under my impartial reviewer hat before descending into a clutter of omgSQUEEs. It is for this reason that there’s probably little I can say, musically, about seeing Sleater-Kinney on Wednesday night. I can’t even tell you much about the support band, Flying Matchstick Men. I think they were good. I think I tried to dance. But to be honest, my legs were still shaking and I was still too busy trembling from this:
Yes, folks – that is indeed Corin Tucker.
I suppose I may as well be honest with you here. Far from the unflappable picture of indie cool I like to present myself as (oh go on, laugh), I am really the sort of giggling dork who will hover in wait outside of the ladies’ loos after seeing her musical hero disappear therein, and who will then get said musical hero to sign her ticket in eyeliner because she couldn’t find a pen.
The performance itself was amazing. Last year’s The Woods album (THE album of 2005) was a winding punch to the stomach, and album that couldn’t have screamed RAWK any louder if it tried and the main set showcased that perfectly. It was the encore that slayed me though. THEY PLAYED TURN IT ON.
As if my night wasn’t ace enough, I also got to meet Sharon – the first friend I made after I quit LiveJournal. And she’s absolutely lovely, even if she wasn’t too impressed by my serenading her with Robbie Williams in the taxi.
And Jackie? You – me – T in the Park. IF NOT BEFORE.
Public service announcement: The Friday Thing goes free from this week. So you should all go and sign up and save me a heck of a lot of email forwarding because it is nine million times more ace than the rest of that crap you get in your inbox on a Friday *cough* popbitch *cough*.
I have, incidentally, just purchased one of these for when the inevitable backlash begins.*
Tonight – Jeremy Clarkson is guest presenter on Have I Got News For You. It’s like televisual crack, so it is. No Doctor Who spoilers please, I’ll be spending my weekend in Wiltshire. TTYL, dudes.
*Aye, my absolute favourite webcomic is celebrating 1,500 issues by offering fifteen classic t-shirts for $15. Even with international shipping charges, that’s not very much at all. Hurrah!