Flew down to Manchester on Saturday, on a nice wee de Havilland Dash 8, no less - thankfully the weather was nice, those ickle prop planes don't half move around when a wind gets up. Anyhoo, I was going down to see G*n*s*s at Old Trafford so wasn't all that worried about the prospect of hitting the ground at 500mph and meeting a fiery death. After all, I had the Drum Duet to "look forward" to. Yes, I was trying not to look forward at all - mucho "what the f*** were you thinking, ya big fud" moments ever since I bought the tix. Oh dear...
However, things got much better once I got down there. The weather was scorching hot, the hotel was a little beauty and the folk I met down there were all pretty damn top notch - those folk from oop north are the salt of the earth, they really are. Plenty of Scots around as per usual, adding to the healthy bonhomie you find amongst groups of balding old fart proggers of all persuasions. What a magnificent stadium, I have to say. Enormous. I was up in the gods back in the east stand facing the stage and had a good, if somewhat distant, view of the proceedings. Heck, as a theatre of dreams it maybe even trumps the mighty Douglas Park but, hey, let's not get too carried away here...
Well, what about the band then ? Er, um, they were pretty damn good, actually. Not enough old stuff for the big man's liking, of course, but it was all rather pleasant, mucho well played light prog goodness abounding. Old Phil really is a talented little fella and should be highly praised for the services he's done for the standing of baldy auld bawbags all across the world. Not a great deal of Peter-era stuff, sadly, or even much old Phil stuff - although they played Ripples and Los Endos from my favourite album (which at least gave me a cheap thrill) most of the set was Duke onwards as wearily expected. Ho hum. I did find my mind wandering during the longueurs to visions of the stadium filled to the brim on a normal business day to watch ManYoo stuffing seven past Roma or going toe to toe with the real Reds. Now that would have been something to savour. But, ultimately, the Genesis lads did all right in the end (there, I can even bring myself to type their name!). I know what I like (in their back catalogue). And at least they didn't play anything off Abacab, right ???
Made with the help of -
Justice "†" - I'm still down with the kids, I tell ya. Anyways, how could I not like a band that plays in front of a giant, illuminated cross ???
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
LOL, did someone buy you a Richard Whitely punmaster when you were a wee boy? Those titles you come up with are priceless :)
Jeezo, imagine being a Phil Collins fan, you should be feckin' ashamed in this day and age :P
I was originally going to go for "...And then they were pee" but it seemed a bit severe given that they actually turned out to be no' too bad...
"A fuck of the Tall"? or is that reaching?
You've definitely overstretched just a tad there, old bean :-)
BTW, is it too much of a Freudian slip from the big man here that I initially read that as "A Fuck of the Tail" ??? Reminds me of another one I was thinking of, "Bint and Buggering"... ahem :-$
Post a Comment