Last night I went to see one of my favourite bands, Stornoway, in concert. Stornoway are a perfect example of the 'folky geography teacher music no-one else likes' phrase I entered on my profile, but I don't care. I love them, beige clothes and trumpets, awkwardly introspective lyrics and all.
It's always a struggle, trying to find someone to come with me to see all these mad bands I like (I love live music and would go and see bands far more often if only I knew anyone who was as enthusiastic as me about said band and/or live music in general. Trust me, enthusiasm counts. I've taken (read: dragged) people along with me to gigs over the years, but if they don't genuinely like the music then I start feeling as though I've dragged them there, which makes me feel a bit uncomfortable and bully-ish (and when I say "live music" I don't mean impersonal concerts like U2 playing at Wembley Stadium, I'm talking about intimate little acoustic gigs at Hammersmith or Shepherd's Bush, or even better somewhere like Dingwalls or the Troubadour).
But anyway...
I'm not sure quite where I'm going with all this rambly rubbish, except to say that I went, a friend came with me and we both enjoyed it (in particular the acoustic set when practically the whole audience sang along to 'End of the Movie', giving me goosebumps....'End of the Movie' is a song which for some reason always makes me well up a bit anyway). The only dampener on the evening originated from standing next to a large man with cheese-and-onion-Pringles breath who spent most of the time burping. But you can't have it all, especially when you check in to the dodgy B&B you're staying in for the night and you find you're in the basement with a rickety, verging-on-unlockable door and the owner looks like a combination of Brian Blessed and The Notorious B.I.G. But hey, it's all part of the fun!
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