I was FUCKING TERRIBLE when I supported the lovely The Lovely Eggs in Brighton a few months back. So terrible*, I haven’t actually left the house since. (Seriously) And they were so good…
I lasted 12 songs into their set even though I hated the entire world and its dog. My dog.
I kept telling myself “When they play a bad song that’s when I will leave” but they fucking didn’t. In the end, the Black Dog wrested control back from the band and I stomped out of there friendless and bereft, but it was a fierce tussle for quite a while, the Force for Good helped by the lovely The Lovely Eggs’ magic grunge, their magic wit and their magic vibes. They played this song, and… well.
The crowd all threw their heads back and their lagers in the air and roared lustily along, and for a split second it was like I was back at the front of the Rock Garden watching Serious Drinking instead of the front of whatever the fuck this nightclub near the beach front in Brioghton is called watching the lovely The Lovely Eggs. The drums pounded and the guitar crunched and the preposterous tales lasted as long as we wanted them to, except me with my Black Dog roaring defiance in a can’t-be-bothered sullen manner.
*It was me who was terrible by the way, not my band. My band were ace, though I would’ve liked to have heard Maria cos… well, I always like to hear Maria. It was lovely to play on stage with Danya and for her be in charge once more, but the Black Dog was roaring so loud I could not make it feed into my performance no matter what. (Soz, can’t remember who took the next picture.)
Also, I should have considered the audience. (I usually do)
Afterwards, I spoke to a random array of unsettling people and I am fairly sure that did not help my mood, and I was given pause to regret this review once more.
And I know whole continents and nations have risen and fell since this show happened, but I have not been able to go out since.