And so....

And so I have gone and been to another gig. The drummer from the first band was great. A throwback to what drummers should be. Tight and in their own world. As if the band they're in is just a figment of their imagination, bizarrely in time with their own bedroom/bedsit/othersideoftheworld thoughts. He only had a guitarist/singer for company as one of the guitarists couldn't turn up. Rock 'n' roll, eh.

The guys I came to see were great. Just garage rock shit of an ilk that kids get but they don't know why, and growed ups get but they forgot they did cos generally they're too busy at home watching shit or being asleep or just can't remember etc, just like I can't in general.
Yeah the bass player wore a dress. But I was usually sexier, my skirt was usually tighter. Actually, I was usually sexier, more pissed, more talented and can sing, for fucks sake.
Yeah, the songs were of a balls-out-go-for-it genre, but really everyone involved knows the old ones were so much more musically, well, musical. Didn't mean anybody came to see us or hear those songs though.

The drummer was on a planet of his own, which means the best guitar player in this city of his type is probably never gonna find a rhythm he can ingratiate without compromise.
In the end, talking to boring boys and girls out on yet another Bristol night out became dull. So here I am, talking to you guys.

Thank fuck all you guys exist. Without you, I would be asleep.