mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

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brit boy squee #3

So last night I watched Hustle. I really did. But before that, I did something else. I was tired and grumpy but this particular brand of magic never fails to work.

And I'm so glad I did. They were fekkin brilliant. I still can't believe how good they were. Nor could I believe my luck. Not only did I stumble into a prime viewing spot, I was like this close, which amuses me, because it's not often, I suspect, one would see the number one band in the UK in such an intimate venue, shall we say (ie, tiny, wee, small, cramped, packed to rafters).

In fact it's not often, actually never, that I ever get to see a band at the height of their powers. Usually it's all over bar the shouting when they decide to tour down here and they breakup up on the plane. So that was exciting and new. Very.

And what were they thinking? They must have decided to flee the traditional drubbing in the press and decided to hide out down here when the album was released. Or something. So, there they were, one of the most popular bands in the UK, playing a tiny pub gig on a Wednesday.

Strange, but brilliant.

Thanks to my special phone camera for taking fuzzy out of focus pictures and making stuff that was only 2m away seem like 20, you can't tell, not even if you squint and tilt your head just so, but trust me, last night I beheld the wonder that was...


Insert fangirl squee here (and that's the first and only time you'll ever see me use the marquee tag, promise). Sorry lads, but Ricky is my one true love, above all others. I just wuv him to bits.

Ahem. Anyhoo, as I said, for a calamitous day it suddenly started falling into place: one easy bus ride there (ignoring evil manager on the same bus, nae doubt going back to their posh inner city digs), queued up quite calmly, discovered to my eternal relief that it was a good crowd and two thirds of the punters were of my vintage so I didn't feel like a barren old spinster stuck in a Chucky Cheese creche. No, it was just like going to a pub, like normal, like old times. Only all by myself, naturally.

Stumbling up the stairs in the dark I ended up pressed against the balcony hanging over the stage. Brilliant! It was such a good spot that all thoughts of getting a drink or going to the loo were forbidden. It was a really, really good spot. Best ever.

And the support band came on early and were actually quite excellent. Will this night of wonders never cease, I asked myself. I was actually startled by how early the show started and ended, as when I were lass no band worth its vodka would have thought of dragging themselves on stage before 2am, but not on a schoolnight I suppose these days and there's no drinking or smoking or taking sickies so I can see there being little point in it dragging out. To be honest, I was very happy/relieved with this whole home before pumpkin time thing.

So, the surprisingly good support band went off. I was sad as I'd developed quite a crush on one of the guitarists during their set - he had this whole Toby Stephens/Mr Rochester thing going on.

Thus the roadies scrurried on. This did get dull, but I endured. You know when I was in Rome I saw that they had the big, big cathedrals all wired up for sound but I never noticed any of the little monks that scurried about carrying gaffer tape or stepping up to the mic to chant that old favourite: "Check one two, two, two" etc, because if they had, I would have laughed myself silly.

But I digress, sorry. When they whipped off the bedsheet to reveal the drumkit bearing the legend "Kaiser Chiefs" I got all excited. Really excited. Fangirl squee.

Then the lights went out, the band bounded on stage and it just...went off. I can't really describe it, I was just in the moment, bouncing up and down, singing out loud like a complete dork, loving every minute of it (I did try and record one song but it is sadly so not YouTube worthy but if you're curious I can post it, but they've got nothing to worry about re bootlegging on my behalf). They played all my faves, which is pretty easy because just about every song was a fave so there was hardly a moment when I wasn't bouncing about.

And Ricky? Just amazing. He threw himself around so much that the poor wee lad just staggered off at the end (aww), but I was so impressed. He has all the classic rock moves down pat (which is what first amused me about the band anyway - the first time I saw Riot I nearly died with laughter) and he just threw himself around in ways local bands just don't (mind you, that could be either cultural or climatic as the extreme heat and humidity seemed to drag on the lads, just a bit, especially in the latter half of the set).

I love British bands, they're just so lively and unashamedly twee, always jumping about and being silly. It's really quite adorable. They're like puppies. I want to hug them and pet them and call them George.

But at the time, it was just SQUEE! Lots and lots of squee.

Oh, and they totally rocked. I really do love them. It was a perfect, perfect show.

Also, it was Peanut's birthday and we all had to sing Happy Birthday and they brought out a cake and he blew out the candles. Bless.

Did I mention I just love them to bits? I think I love them even more. I'm so happy I got tickets and I went. It was just...brilliant. Fekkin marvellous.

Getting home was brilliant, too. Far from being stranded in the middle of nowhere as I'd feared (as is SOP) they had chaps with yellow vests and batons all herding us down the footpath and into taxis - an actual rank of taxis. I was very impressed. How well organised! I was home by 11:30! Unheard of.

Which meant I could watch Hustle anyway on UKTV2 as I had a cuppa like the old biddy I'm rapidly morphing into (I actually quite love UKTV2, it means I can watch stuff I might otherwise miss, not that I even gave a thought to Hustle, I was just bemused over the whole going out and getting back before I usually go to bed anyway thing).

So, yes, now we turn to the Marc Warren love and the Robert Vaughn love and the silly Hustle in general love. It's just so smug, yet so cheeky and likeable (much like the Kaisers). And it's so damn good. I remember TPTB saying how they wanted to make London look glossy and lovely rather than gritty, which I note was easily achieved by filiming across rooftops and paning up buildings instead of filming down alleys and panning down into the gutter as per The Sweeney.

But yes, Hustle, perfect nightcap to a fantastic evening, though that song and dance number was well dodgy. Marc should stick to what he does best: wearing small furry animals.

Meanwhile, I promise not to pick on Jonas so much, since I belatedly discovered he's a Cap. Yes, frightfully unobservant of me I know but these days I try to avoid reading the birth dates of my pretty boys lest I require smelling salts. Poor thing, no wonder he's such a miserable bastard. Right in The Zone, too. I wonder if he's ever had a birthday cake that said "Merry Xmas". I have. My poor, poor baby.

And he sounds really unhappy in those January interviews which are just starting to surface in the US, too. We probably will get to see that Diana Dors inspired pose after all. Somebody needs to feed that boy chocolate (and I'll volunteer for the filthy job, if I must).

But maybe it was just January. It's like that, especially if you're a Cap.

Btw, I popped onto the Troughton forum this morning and it's awash with Ricky icons, which amuses me no end, because the thought "Poor Sam, chucked again" did scuttle through my head while I was squeeing over Ricky. But it looks like like minds, etc. Heh. (It's okay to two-time, then).

Oh, and the other weekend I was watching those old Countdowns while scanning (and the Peanut Gallery, after suffering through a Marilyn clip declared it the worst the 80s could offer, which immediately summoned up Bucks Fizz and Laura Branigan - arrrgh) and they played an old Mentals song which has been stuck in my head all week, but the more I hum it, the more I'm convinced it's the perfect Much song. Poor, emotionally abused sychophantic little Much (and, to be even handed, the perfect Robin song would have to be one of my fave Kaiser tunes).

Btw, for those of you who are interested, Reg Mombassa went on to a very successful career as an artist and I once damn nearly covered him in custard.

And finally, because I've counted to 10,000 and I still have to...

Hex caps
Hex caps
Kaiser Chiefs - I Predict A Riot
Kaiser Chiefs - Every Day I Love You Less And Less
Kaiser Chiefs
Kaiser Chiefs
Kaiser Chiefs take over UK charts
All hail the Kaiser Chiefs
Kaiser Chiefs Ricky Wilson: 'I Don't Care About Boring Tasks'
Thrills for All
Team Troughton
(We're) Living in the 70s
Mental As Anything - If You Leave Me Can I Come Too?
Even superheroes can die in gun-crazy Gotham
Case of the CSI LG TV freeze cracked
Earth Hour
Dinosaur den diggers discovered
Sexy Back -- Patrick Troughton style
The boy, the bongs, and the banner that went to the Supreme Court
Show me the Monet
Premiere Magazine - The 25 Best Movie Posters Ever
Darkness visible: David Fincher's Zodiac
Brit Actors
Chasing down the powerful
D'oh! Family Guy is my fancy lady
Tags: hex, hustle, robin hood, sam troughton

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