I’ll be honest, if Zach De La Rocha, Tom Morello or any of the other two members of Rage who’s names no one really knows asked me to jump, I would indeed say ‘how high?’ In fact, after watching them last night in Finsbury Park, I would happily jump most heights and places if they wanted me too like an annoying Rage groupie as they rocked the sheer hell out of the gig. If hell was based somewhere around Finsbury Park, and sometimes I think it possibly could be the way the loony evangelical church at the Rainbow Theatre go on about it, then it would have been rocked seriously far away by the events last night. I am still buzzing a bit from it all and have already spent this morning telling the people on the news, all my emails, various household objects and my parents cat, that I absolutely will not do what they tell me. So far they have all seemed fairly non-plussed about this and I can’t help but feel maybe my voice doesn’t have quite as much impact as that of Zach De La Rocha. It must be great to have his voice. He can probably tell a lot of people that he won’t do what they tell him, or that they have a bullet in their muthafucking head or that this is a bombtrack and they will all respond accordingly. Whereas if I go round shouting that its all about the People Of The Sun, I will probably be accused of being mental, a fan of a terrible right wing newspaper, or worse, a mental fan of a terrible right wing newspaper.
Here are some of yesterday’s low points:
– I somehow lost £50 at the gig. Or before the gig. Or somewhere in the journey between my brother’s house and the gig. Fact is, its lost and therefore I don’t know where it went. That’s the definition of lost. When you lose something and someone says ‘when did you last have it?’ you don’t usually know, because it is lost. That is what that word means. Idiots. Why did I have that much money on me? Well I really wanted a tshirt, and I knew beer would be expensive. Fairly sensible planning methinks. So instead I arrived at the gig, got through the hugely uncaring security staff that wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if I had a bazooka in my trousers – not a euphemism, they were that lazy – and checked my pocket to find a complete lack of dosh. This then meant that my first 30 minutes of being at the Rage Factor involved standing in the longest queue for a cash machine ever, and unfortunately next to a hugely boring man who insisted on giving me stories about his rail journey there. There are a number of conversations I would have enjoyed standing there. Music based chat is always good, perhaps as we were at a Rage gig, some sort of political commentary on current events, or even just anything said by someone who was pretty. Sadly the pretty girl was standing two people in front of me and everytime she tried to get into our conversation, boring ugly dude would talk about trains or the logistics of banking machine queues. There aren’t any banking machines queue logistics. That’s how boring he was. I felt like he shouldn’t have been allowed at the Rage gig. I bet he did everything everyone told them and then insisted on telling everyone all about what it was he did, despite them adamantly telling him to drop dead. Eventually I got to the machine only for it to tell me it wouldn’t do what I told it and it rejected my card. I got properly angry at the machine. Three different cards and an angry queue of people behind me later, it gave in. I was now insanely furious, but at the same time realised that was a perfect state of mind for the gig. Well done boring twat, stupid machine and AWOL dosh.
– Rage didn’t play Revolver. I really wanted them to play Revolver.
– After the gig the police cordoned off the whole of Finsbury Park station and its surrounding area and seemed to be guiding people in circles around it, without ever really helping them to get anywhere. I’m not sure what the point of this was, but it resulted in lots of non-local people being hugely stuck without means to get home, and some drunk twats who climbed on top of a passing bus. I assume the latter are now dead as the bus promptly turned a corner and headed off at reasonable speeds. I hope they aren’t but instead have not been able to get down and have been stuck on the bus route for all of today as well. This police cordon also meant I couldn’t get to the Silver Bullet bar where my brother and his friends were going and instead was dragged around the wave of people till I just ended up near home and decided to give in. I totally did what they told me to do. Rubbish.
And now the high points:
– For a free gig it was very well organised I thought and the crowd were really really good. After last year’s Blur issues (THE POST-BLUR BLOG) I was very worried about how mental this crowd might be. All the signs were there: its a Rage gig, its was a hot day, there was booze. If scientists were to take those elements, put them in a test tube and mix it together it would probably explode in their face with some aggressive pushing and bottle throwing before taking a piss against a fence and kicking over a bin. Against all odds though, and there were some real odds there, everyone was really really lovely. A great vibe from a bunch of people that were getting to see one of their favourite bands for absolutely nada. Even after the gig, the wave of people being pushed around by the cops were very placid and I had a lovely chat with some nice people who I directed towards Manor House. Perhaps there was no anger left after jumping up and down that much?
– Donuts at gigs are the best thing ever.
– RATM dedicated War Within A Breath to the people in Gaza.
– I got my tshirt. I will now wear it everywhere with a smug pride.
– Despite there being 40,000 people and no phone reception, I found Martyne and Tommy just before RATM went onstage as they just happened to be standing in front of me. My brother then found some of his mates too. It felt like how people must have hung out in the olden days.
– Gogol Bordello were amazing and the lead singer’s moustache was so good it should have its own band.
It was, overall, truly truly excellent. So ta to the Rage Factor people for sorting it all out and ta to Rage for still being as excellent as they ever have been. In fact, none of the band looked like they’d ever aged which was a tad creepy. Maybe jumping up and down and shouting swears and political statements is really good for you? I will start today and see what happens.