We’re fairly close to the front and the venue is full without being uncomfortably packed. Massive Attack are in the middle of a mesmerising set. It’s the first time I’ve seen them play live and they’re doing Safe From Harm. I’m all but lost in the song.
“Excuse me…”
I instinctively step back to let her pass. She does not pass.
“Excuse me…”
She pulls at my shirt sleeve to get my attention and my concentration is broken. I bend down to hear what she’s trying to say to me. This had better be good.
“Excuse me, but why aren’t you DARN-cing?”
Because I didn’t read the Prescribed Methods For Enjoying Oneself At A Massive Attack Gig on the back of the ticket, obviously.
Because I’m not convinced that the most appropriate response to a thought-provoking, radical collective of artists is to look at the people on my left and my right and then to do EXACTLY THE SAME as them.
Because, reading the statistics on the dot-matrix board behind the band, my natural response to the quite obscene amounts of money spent on military hardware throughout the world is not – of course – to shake my ass.
Or, more simply: “Why the fuck should I?”
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Bloody good, aren’t thwy?
Hope you managed to get some decent photos of the gig too – I only got three, because the venue was banging on about cameras being confiscated if found etc. etc.
All the same, up here in Manchester was a stunning concert by them.
Also, I’m not sure that Massive Attack songs are always made for dancing. In my time, I have actually tried dancing to some of their stuff (no, don’t laugh), but it always ended up looking like I was just wading through particularly sticky mud.
Of course, that could have just been my dancing, granted . . .
Fucking Essex girls. Y’know how sometimes, when you think of a person talking, you automatically add in a comedy slap (at least, you do in your head) at the end of what they’re saying? I just had that there.
Hmm. Maybe this only happens to me.
Bastards took my camera off me. There wasn’t even any film in it. “I’m a tourist!” I said. “It’s my birthday!” I said.
“Sorry, to ruin your birthday, darling,” they said.
“I’m not your FAACKING darling,” I thought and ranted to myself for a while.
Sounds like a good gig spoiled for the want of a quick slap. I’ve had a similar experience but was just drunk enough to get away with grabbing the offending person by the shoulders and turn them back round to face the band (Stereo MCs)
More to the point, why wasn’t she dancing instead of asking complete strangers stupid questions?
Massive Attack – London, Brixton Academy 04.19.2003
Interesting stuff, really; some highlights and some disappointments…
… thought about this some more. Nothing to with dancing. She obviously fancied you.
I think the correct response here was “Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me… why aren’t you MINDING YOUR OWN BUSINESS?”
Caroline – if you were right, that would make me a rather horrible person who would now be somewhat ashamed of his cynicism. However, I can relax, confident in the knowledge of my total unfanciability. (Mrs Hg has to be fed a daily cocktail of drugs to keep her delusional.)
Lyle – no photos, sadly. I managed to keep hold of my camera (small enough to fit in the inside pocket of my jacket), but to be honest I found the show so absorbing that I didn’t even think about using it.
Oh the plonkers!
totally unfanciable…. yeah, that’s not what that bloke on the train thought…..