Thursday, December 14, 2006
Station Approach
This evening me and Girlfriend met up with Charlie, Juggling Protégé, Leanne and Fairly Famous Actor at a swish-ish Manchester restaurant.
We had a nice meal, chatting about this and that, not much of which I can remember now. I know I told them about my thrilling new life as a barbershop singer, and how, at the tender age of forty I’m the baby of the group - the one hot chicks, or more probably, pensioners will be throwing their pants at just as soon I’m allowed to do concerts.
For their part, there was talk of the farcical organisation restructuring they’re currently in the throes of - it’s been in the pipeline for ages and a five year old playing pin the tail on the donkey wouldn’t have made a worse job of it.
And a mutual friend of ours is going to made King of Liverpool, which is odd because I always thought that was Ringo.
We counted more than a few ‘Rod Stewart’s mum-a-likes’ as Christmas office parties stumbled in and out.
Then we went to see Elbow - “dirge” according to Leanne, but fair play to her for trying; she pulled a face like the one I do when I think about sprouts - and Snow Patrol at GMEX.
Me and Girlfriend like Elbow a great deal, a band whose Mancunophilia is probably second only to that of Mancubist. They were, yunno, OK, considering it was the support slot they were filling, but there was none of that warmth you feel when they’re in a smaller venue playing their own show.
Guy Garvey told me I was beautiful and smelled of burgers, and in return I wish him all the success in the world but hope his band sticks to proper sized venues.
Likewise, Snow Patrol. They played well and I like them and everything, but it all seemed so impersonal, lacking in intimacy. Good light show, mind, but that’s not really the point, is it?
We had a nice meal, chatting about this and that, not much of which I can remember now. I know I told them about my thrilling new life as a barbershop singer, and how, at the tender age of forty I’m the baby of the group - the one hot chicks, or more probably, pensioners will be throwing their pants at just as soon I’m allowed to do concerts.
For their part, there was talk of the farcical organisation restructuring they’re currently in the throes of - it’s been in the pipeline for ages and a five year old playing pin the tail on the donkey wouldn’t have made a worse job of it.
And a mutual friend of ours is going to made King of Liverpool, which is odd because I always thought that was Ringo.
We counted more than a few ‘Rod Stewart’s mum-a-likes’ as Christmas office parties stumbled in and out.
Then we went to see Elbow - “dirge” according to Leanne, but fair play to her for trying; she pulled a face like the one I do when I think about sprouts - and Snow Patrol at GMEX.
Me and Girlfriend like Elbow a great deal, a band whose Mancunophilia is probably second only to that of Mancubist. They were, yunno, OK, considering it was the support slot they were filling, but there was none of that warmth you feel when they’re in a smaller venue playing their own show.
Guy Garvey told me I was beautiful and smelled of burgers, and in return I wish him all the success in the world but hope his band sticks to proper sized venues.
Likewise, Snow Patrol. They played well and I like them and everything, but it all seemed so impersonal, lacking in intimacy. Good light show, mind, but that’s not really the point, is it?

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