A slightly grumpy post

My word, what a weekend. I'll try to give something of a snapshot in a short pre-work post:

 

Friday night, dinner at Satay in Brixton before Maximo Park, which was a brilliant affair although some cruel prankster had slipped some pieces of orange into an otherwise tasty grilled lamb dish (heathens). The Kiwi had the foresight (not to mention the contacts) to check the stage times beforehand, so unlike Kathryn we arrived at about 2145 with enough time to struggle to the bar, narrowly avoid a fight, purchase four pints (THIRTEEN QUID!!) and shuffle to my favoured Academy spot (three quarters of the way down, on the left-hand side) just as they launched into their set.

Now, although they were superb as always, there was something amiss. I'm going to come across as awfully snobby here, but I've consistently noticed that the more popular a band is, the less enjoyable their gigs are. Up to a point - massive stadium shows have their place. What I'm talking about is this. When the Kiwi and I went to see the Park at ULU in early 2005, before the album release, we paid about £9, got into a packed venue and generally got a bit excitable with the rest of the crowd. The Academy on Friday night was full of proper part-timers: drunk, lairy, pushy and aggressive. Barely paying any attention to what they'd paid £18 to see, acting more like they were in the local Wetherspoon's. Sort of takes the edge off the whole thing, if you catch my drift.

As for the band, predictably ace, with an almighty version of Limassol which built up into a massive, practically Jesus and Mary Chain-like frenzy of feedback and general noise. Graffiti and Our Velocity also stood out, note perfect. My one criticism, and again accuse me of being elitist or whatever, was that they lacked their earlier sense of desperation and mania - hate to use the word but I think 'edginess' is what they lacked here. Paul Smith always seemed on the verge of a complete breakdown whilst performing; on Friday there was more swagger, more comfortable self-assuredness, and that really didn't sit with the Park brand. Even Lukas Wooler's trademark jerky flailing seemed a touch contrived.

I guess it's unavoidable in some ways - if success removes you from the environment that formed part of your original formula, it'll be hard to reproduce with any credibility. Oasis are a case in point here. And maybe I'd been put in a sour mood by paying thirteen quid for four pints of watered down Carling.

Anyway, the rest of the weekend consisted of the two of us driving up to West Yorkshire in a lovely silver Peugeot convertible (much good that did us this weekend...), staying with an old friend who's just moved up there, watching the rugby (hooray!) and coming home again. It's so good to be reminded that there's more to this country than horrid old London, and the north really does have the best bits.