Saturday 17 September 2011

Ahh the beauty of  not wanting to write a blog is if no-one is gonna read ’em I’m not gonna write ’em. I’m not spitting my dummy, it’s fine. I can’t be arsed writing, you can’t be arsed reading. It’s the perfect crime.

Let’s never mention this again.

If I had done a blog, a proper one – which I’m not – it would have just been one about going to the Ramsbottom Music Festival. I would have talked about the bands I saw:

Travelling Band, ok – pedestrian indie tramping.

Kid British – fucking brilliant, as always.

Cherry Ghost – I can’t even remember one moment of anything they emitted.

Young Knives – standout set, alongside Kid British – but as I know and love Kid British’s stuff it was always going to be easy for me to enjoy them.

Badly Drawn Boy – decent enough set from the young male sketched in a far from ‘good’ way. He kind of ruined it by being a whiny little bitch at the end, saying – and I’m not making this up – “I should be headlining this; I am the most local; I’ve been going the longest; I’ve had the most hits”. Bless him, that fall from grace really isn’t fun. And while his petty rant seemed to amuse the crowd, I thought it was a bit disrespectful to..

The Guillemots – at times heartbreakingly beautiful, at times brilliantly bold, at times a bit too weird. Decent headlining set, though.

You see what I did there…I set out like I wasn’t going to write anything and then wrote something. I was, in fact, not going to write one and then thought I would as I (a) felt guilty ????? and (b) thought I would be deliciously post-modern and talk about not doing it while doing it. I am like a young Ben Elton.

But now I can’t be fucked again..I was going to go on about having a sore back at the festival and being an old man etc. It would have been really interesting AND funny. As would my vicious description of some women bucking the queues for the toilet. Ah well. The world is a poorer place for me ending here.

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