Showing posts with label De do do do de da da da you're bollocks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label De do do do de da da da you're bollocks. Show all posts

Sunday, September 09, 2007

The definitive carcoat rock experience


We went to see the Police at Twickenham yesterday. I told my mum this and she went into shock, before I told her they were a band. Anyway, I'd not been to one of these reformed 80s band gigs before, and I'm not sure if I'd do it again.

They were - alright. Nice to see and hear them sing the hits, which is what they did, but there were far too many guitar solos, though Andy Summers is an excellent axeman and the reverb and delay transported me right back to 1979. And there's the rub. More or less everyone there was on a nostalgia trip and it showed. Even Sting, usually so well preserved, looked like a transvestite Max Branning.

I've not witnessed such inappropriate, out of time dancing since my Auntie Kathleen and Uncle Tony took to the dancefloor at our wedding to She Sells Sanctuary. It was truly work Xmas party stuff - Janine from accounts bopping drunkenly with Keith from planning. Or people in suits self consciously swaying with their hands in their pockets. Luckily, the people all the way in front of us wanted to remain seated. I had no intention of getting up and whooping and jabbing the air, but all around that's what they were doing, and it was a sorry sight indeed. Mrs F-C said it was like Shaun Of The Dead. A lot of middle managers had been looking forward to that night for a very long time, and executive developments in Maidenhead have been ringing out with Synchronicity II and the Sting oeuvre for months before.

Which made me wonder what I was actually doing there. I liked the Police for about two years between 78-80, then they became seriously uncool. I mean I hate Every Breath You Take with a passion. I think a lot of these fans were Sting fans, and that solo career has had many more troughs than peaks. So while I'm a fan of I Can't Stand Losing You, So Lonely and Walking On The Moon, etc., you can keep the rest.

Thankfully at two hours, it was short. We skipped the supports: Maximo Park, Mr Hudson and The Library and Sting's son. Not remotely interested, thank you. The doors opened at 4.30 - not for this crowd it didn't.

So one to remember, but let's hope The Jam never reform. Middle management may meltdown.

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