The games of our lives

I've seen it folks. Nerd heaven. It exists. I've been there. There doesn't even have to be any death involved (except maybe for those last vestiges hipster aspiration, never a problem for Mexton). Yes, last Thursday night, Video Games Live at the Royal Concert Hall. Two and a half hours watching and listening to the wonderful RSNO trawling through the game music back pages all the way from Pong and Space Invaders (yes, they had the violins doing the honours for Pong's minimalist bleeps and the double basses grinding out the marching invader "tune"!) right up to the contemporary full bhuna orchestral scores from those new fangled 3D graphics demos that they are trying to pass off as games to the kids today such as Halo 3, God of War, blah blah [yawn].

In between the two extremes was where the real gold was to be found, a quick trawl through the late eighties arcades, my spiritual home, with Ghosts 'n' Goblins, Rastan Saga and the mighty Out Run, the latter being especially well served by an impromptu solo piano medley later on in the proceedings, a glorious slice of none-more eighties hawaiian shirted heaven! Other highlights for the big man were the Mario medley (especially the piano genius Martin Leung playing my old favourite, the Benny Hill-esque über jolly SNES Super Mario World level two music) and a finishing blast of selections from Castlevania right at the death. A spectacular night's entertainment, so good that I just had to eschew my usual self-imposed five word review limit for one night only (unless Maiden are amazing at Twickers next Saturday, always a possibility).


Had a ticket for Radiohead at Glasgow Green on the Friday but didn't go - any gig was going to be a come down from the bleep worship. It was peeing down with rain and, perhaps more importantly, the third week of the League of Legends darts was on Setanta - gotta get your priorities straight, right? Though I will admit to almost regretting it after seeing blingmeister Bobby George unfastening his right breast pocket after every 180 he hit and flashing his man boob. Eeewwww. Still, another great evenings telly. Been reading Sid Waddell's "Bellies and Bullseyes" for the past couple of weeks so was well up for the darts. Just a shame Sidney isn't providing the tonsils for the tungsten tickling this time... "At the age of 31, Alexander of Macedonia wept salt tears for there were no more worlds to conquer... Eric Bristow is only 27". Yes, there really is only one word for that - magic darts !!!

Made with the help of -

Journey "Revelation" - Aaargh, Davros, we should have feckin' went to see 'em!!! The wee Fillipino chappy on the mic is a vocal Perry doppelgänger! And this new album is a belter to boot. Goddammit !!! The rest of you, stop that sniggering at the back there!