In my mersey paradise...

I went to see the Stone Roses on Sunday at Heaton Park. I remember the first time I ever heard them....my brother was playing them, over and over, in his room, that I wasn't welcome in, and his spotty mates used to regularly visit, listen to the roses and other shit, like the prodigy, and drink 'special red' a budget cider that was around at the time.  I did not like the stone roses one bit; I was nine though, and thankfully, not long after deciding that I didn't like them because, what the fuck is a garage flower? (critical of lyrics even then) I realised that 'this is the one' was a great song and that I did like them, slowly I began to appreciate the rest of the catalogue; propelling The Stone Roses to be one of my favourite bands. So, I'd been waiting 19 years or so. I don't really do "music" any more. I don't like to talk about it with anyone, because it infuriates me, on so many levels, and I most certainly don't do gigs. In the weeks prior, I was making very sweeping assumptions in my head about the calibre of ball bags that I would be submersed amongst, and categorised them, as follows

Middle aged acid casualties 
The mother load of the audience, at least from where I was standing. Terrible oral hygiene as well- Colgate representatives, if you're reading this, your marketing over the past 20 years has failed to reach Stone Roses fans.  Get along to the next stone roses gig with some free samples.

The 'everything is cool man' indie crowd
You are not Liam Gallagher. You look abysmal putting that walk on. Stop it. Cut your shitty hair, take yourself down to the job centre, and get it sorted. Quite a few of these spotted.

Festival Slags
Massive sunglasses that makes them look like flies...usually packing timber, big hair, loads of makeup.  You little knobheads enter the arena thinking that you're on the front of Chat magazine or something. It's boss seeing you at the end, covered in jizz, piss and blood, crying your eyes out. Die.

People who read the NME
....and use it as some sort of melodic mammary gland. Perhaps the worst people on the list...possibly the planet.  Fleeting interest in bands. No real sincerity. More about the image, and getting laid than the music.

General Dickheads
Like, people who just listen to the radio all day in work. You can see them, when bands play their singles, and they go mad.

They were all spotted, and noted.

When we entered the arena, the first thing I seen was a little knob head in a north face tracksuit, sporting birkenhead-esque pencil moustache throw a glass vodka bottle, as he waited in line, at someone just going through the security, right in front of the 'security' who actually let him in after witnessing him throw it! Actually, rewind; the first thing that infuriated me was seeing loads of 'literally blantantlies' (generic middle class students) - I forgot to add them to my list, sorry. Anyway, I seen loads of them drinking, and throwing their cans into a rather picturesque lake, which was full of Canada Geese, Moorhens, and Coots. Is it that hard to have a little bit of respect for your surrounding, and bag your shit? Then I seen droves more doing the same. What is wrong with people? I feel like I am alone sometimes.

We arrived in the Arena as The Wailers were playing; there didn't seem to be that many people interested in them. They were very tight- it was essentially them playing the best of Bob Marley, and audience appreciation depended on the song, and if had been played on an advert recently.... I told my brother and his mate, that the flight case to the left of the bass player, actually had a ouija board on it, and that Bob was there, logged on via the supernatural highway.  Plan B, I knew would infuriate me to new heights, and they didn't fail to deliver. Well done dick heads.  I heard 30 seconds of their 'music' a few weeks prior to the gig. It was a bit surreal really. Like a mixture of everything that is bad about music, all combined into one performance. It was like a wedding cover band had been hired by someone who had a soft spot for modern day 'RnB' - Lots of references to 'da street' and 'my crew' mid set outfit changes (why?) and shite rapping. "Why are they even playing here?" My brother asked. "Well Carl, it's because they are signed to Mercury records, which is one of the  subsidiaries of UNIVERSAL, who the stone roses are signed by. I highly doubt the Stone Roses wanted them, or Professor Green, who played yesterday. They're on the bill because the record company says so. It's all about sales, and brand awareness." Fuck the music industry.

I think, for me to enjoy gigs in future, I'm going to have to get myself some horse tranquillizers. Or just stay at home. I felt, for the money I paid for the ticket, like I was bent over, and fucked with a very long scaffolding pipe. Ian Brown can't sing good. Musically, the Roses were awesome. I particularly loved 'where angels play'. I'm amazed that they managed to get him to sing in key in the 80's when they recorded. I know they didn't have auto tune then. I hope they record  a new record; I really do. 



I started my new job last Monday ....well...I'm not really sure what my official title is, as I've not been officially told. I never had an interview, I just got given a number from a friend- a mobile number at that; "Sound, fuckin' sound, we'll get you on the phones, and if you're onto it then fuckin' sound". So far, it's been "fuckin' sound"- I work on an outbound dialler; and I ring people, regarding motoring accidents from nearly three years ago. The bad news, is that most people think you're scamming them, tell you to fuck off or just hang up, the good news is that there's a small percentage of people out there; who didn't claim at the time of their accidents, didn't know that they could, and are willing for me to take their details, and pass over to our "legal team" and I get ten round pounds for each of these that go through. I've been doing pretty well, I've managed to get 10 in my first week; meaning a cool £100 for me...although I am highly dubious about ever actually getting this money....I love getting these smart arsed pricks accusing me personally of being responsible for everyone's car insurance being so high. I had one guy asking me if I drove (after telling me he'd been left immobilised as a result of his accident) - I knew right away he was lying and about to blame me for his premiums being high, so I politely told him "No, I don't have a car, I personally think they are too expensive to run, harm the environment, are dangerous, and I can sleep at night knowing that I have got to where I've needed to be using sustainable transport!" The line went dead.   I don't really care about motorists and their fucking premiums. The more you cycle (I am someone who regularly exceeds 100 miles per week), the more you despise people in cars. They're all just part of the monster; the big sweating monster that makes the green grass, grey concrete, and clear blue seas murky and polluted. 

My European Health Card Arrived, which is something that I need to finalize all my paper work for starting my merchant navy training in September. My Dad passed comment: "Wow, look at that, another card for your wallet...for you to lose! Welcome to the real world, you tosser" Some of this shit my Dad comes out with is solid gold.  I have 62 days until Fleetwood. 7 of those will be spent on the Island of Kos, the rest will be spent chasing ambulances over the phone, and cycling and sighing at idiocy.

Over and out until September.