Senses Working Overtime

It's them - but then it's not them!

Went to see the Gang of Four last Friday night and what a great gig it was. Why I have I not posted a comment up til now? Well, I came to my keyboard and came to my computer a few times up til now to write something about it, but I just couldn't. Not cos it was so totally mindblowing or that I went into some sort of weird psychotic episode about this being the "gig of my life" or anything like that. But, rather, I just didn't know what to write.
After thinking about it a bit, I've came up with one theory and that is: I used to be a journalist (and hated it so much at the end that it done my brain in big time) and I no longer wish my words - other than blog rubbish - to stand up to critical analysis. Before I go on, I must admit to the fact that my writing, which was subsidiary to my main job as a sub-editor, was crap, by the way. But, nevertheless, I did dabble in things like music and book reviews. But, I must reiterate, my writing was rubbish.
And why it was rubbish? I would always have to refer to the thesaurus and dictionary to come up with alternatives to "the gig was great," "this single is great" or "this books is great."
In fact, I used to hate looking up alternatives to the word great when things were actually great!!!!!
So.....
the Gang of Four were great...oh no they weren't, they were actually superb, brilliant, excellent wonderful, etc etc etc.
No, seriously, they were amazing. Of course, they were only going to come on by playing one of two songs: the first song on Entertainment (Ether) or the opening to Solid Gold (Paralysed), weren't they? No! It was What We All Want and it was what we all wanted. A stunning bass opening from Dave Allen and then it was pounding drums from Hugo Burnham and we all thought: "Perfect first song."
Paralysed came not too long after, as did Ether, the gig was on, the Gang of Four were playing, this was fucking stunning.
No let up - The Republic, In The Ditch, Natural's Not In It, Not Great Men, Contract, If I Could Keep It For Myself, Outside the Trains Don't Run On Time - they came thick and fast.
And so did the classics - At Home He's A Tourist, Damaged Goods, I Found That Essence Rare (I think the last encore - simply stunning), To Hell With Poverty.
Jon King was running around like a whirling dervish at times, with a running spider on drugs look at other times, while Andy Gill and Dave Allen made full use of the Shepherds Bush Empire stage.
And a mention to the young woman whooping and hollering behind me. She was annoying me just a tiny wee bit early on. Then, at the opening to He'd Send In The Army...
...some of us will remember Gang of Four appearing on The Old Grey Whistle Test when we realised what THAT sound was on the album track. There we saw King battering - and I mean battering - what looked like an aluminium box with an iron bar. Ah, that's the sound it makes, we realised.
So, Friday night, here comes the battering of said box with said bar. "What's he doing," young person behind me say. "Introducing a classic," Reidski says. "Oh, I didn't mean to be rude, but that's my dad," young woman says.
Turns out that this young 17-year-old is King's daughter and she has never had the opportunity to see pater in action previously.
She was nice, but her dad and his chums are more than that. It's not just a case of bringing back great memories, but aren't songs about military misadventures, poverty, domestic violence and abuse and the disgusting aspects of consumerism relevant to our own times?
There, that's my shite words about this great gig.