An Actual Blog Post

I was listening to some music, and I began to wonder: if I were asked what my top five live music experiences were, what would I answer? So I asked myself, aloud, 'Hey, you in the scruffy haircut, if you were asked what your top five live music experiences were, what would you answer?!'

And I decided I would answer:

#5 Young Knives, Manchester Academy with Little Sarah - "She's Attracted To"

There are some good reasons for choosing this song. First, Sarah, who is tiny and delicate and fragrant, is also typical of all the bad things about women. She knows when to be pretty, when to be dismissive, and when to be cruel. Precocious, and evil. She also knows how to look after herself.

Yet when she said, just prior to stepping over drunks and broken glass and large men, 'this is the first concert I've been too since my Mum took me to see Blue!' I felt a bit sick in both a good way and a bad way. I was taking her to her first proper concert. And I was responsible for getting her out alive.

She commented frequently on the amount of 'weirdos' and 'freaks' at the show. I pointed out that the proportion of weirdos and freaks was well within acceptable limits. She didn't seem happy, but trusted me to look after her as we forged, beers in hand to the front.

Then the men came on stage and picked up their instruments. Sarah screeched with what I can only assume was relief. Then, the relief was gone, and pure screaming enthusiasm was her only tone. Hysteria crept in ... I watched her eyes, they got red and then purple and her tiny childlike face seemed fit to burst.

The roadies soon walked off.

And then the band came out. I kicked her skinny leg, and cheered them on myself. Sarah got the idea and started to scream and clap herself. A fat bloke, a cheery bloke and a drummer took their positions. The fat bloke, in Joe 90 specs, started to play a fat chugging bass line. I went crazy. The other 1498 people in the crowd went mental. Sarah turned to me a bit confused. I can only imagine it's the look a child gives their parents upon catching them mid-coitus.

And then she started to bounce too. Screaming, wrongly, "She's a tractor too! She's a tractor too!"

I leaned toward her ear and tried to tell her the proper lyric. Not that it mattered. Or that it could be heard. Henry Dartnell had chosen this moment to dive into our sweaty ranks - first song, best song, stage dive.

It's nothing special, nowadays to stage dive, nor is it special to stage dive on the first song. But this did engender a spin of limbs and sweat and beer, something one ought to protect an innocent teen from. Dartnell was flung back upon the stage, and was followed by a half-dozen fans.

Sarah pulled closer to me, feared of the flying limbs. Then, and this made me so proud, she said, "I'm doing that!" and ran toward the ball of muscle flicking sweaty fans up on to the stage. That she turned around and ran back just before they flung her on to the stage doesn't matter to me. Young Knives played their best song first, and Sarah was willing to stage dive her first gig.

"She's a tractor too!" she shouted at me, repeatedly. It was all the best bits of hearing live music, and having kids, and still managing to get the last train back.