Three hours. THREE. HOURS. Three hours I won’t be getting back anytime soon.
Kerrang! is a poplar UK based ‘alternative’ magazine, aimed a twats & wankers between the ages of 13-16. Suitably, the crowd that filled the Academy on this January evening looked suitably slappable. Checkered wristbands, cargo shorts and black tee-shirts were their uniform & shouting FUCKIN’ YES was their hobby. Three hours in a small confinement with these people was not fun. Especially tonight.
Usually as concerts in the Academy, the photographer gets a cushie seat upstairs with all the VIPs, but not tonight. So standing downstairs on me Todd surrounded by people yet to discover deodorant, listening to bands singing about interesting themes such as “why don’t you love me” (popular one, that), “you’re all the same!” and “stickin’ it to the man” was a new and horrid experience. Thankfully, it was a bit of a wee festival of bands – four in total performing on the night, giving me ample time in the photo pit.
I was chuffed with some of the pictures, particularly number 2 and 3 here. Gotta love the eye contact in 3, eh?
But Christ I worked for them. The last act was 40 minutes late taking to the stage, due to some wiring difficulties, which meant I had to converse with whatever was passing for human in the front-row. They were so “random”, apparantly. They kept telling me as much anyway. As soon as I was booted from All Time Low’s (current kings of Kerrang/winners of worst haircut ever awards) photo-pit I was off home. Not worth hanging around for (baby!, oh, baby. Yeah. Good baby… etc., etc) I was off. I realised I was humming a Middle-Eight I had heard earlier in the night, which went something like “fuck you, mom – who are you?! fuck you dad, you never listen”.
As I left the Academy, I couldn’t help but notice the queue of cars parked outside the venue. “Will de be long in dere, do ye reckon?” I was asked by an older man sat in a Ford listening to Q102.
“I’d give it a while.” Nothing good lasts forever – I’m surprised it ended at all.