I just wanted to share this, because it's important to me
Friday this week, I get to see Faith No More live. There aren't really words to encompass how excited I am about this, but apparently I'm going to try anyway.
I'm so excited I didn't even notice Taking Back Sunday was also playing the same festival until last week, despite the fact that I adore Ashes' Adam Lazzara and am moderately excited about seeing him in person too. But I just could not see past the ginormous stars in my eyes at the mere mention of Faith No More.
When it comes to music, I was a late bloomer. I danced around the house to the ABBA records my sister left in the house, and I watched Video Hits every now and then, which probably explains why I didn't bother listening to music much. At the age of 15 I got my first stereo and the first album I bought was the best of Queen, because I'd been reading Good Omens and I was impressionable like that.
I hit college and college hit back and the rest is history, but before that, in the summer of 1997, after school and before university, I was lounging around partaking of Video Hits, and this guitar riff lurched out at me and this man started growling and holy shit, what the hell had just happened? It was Ashes to Ashes, and sure, it helped that Patton is fucking gorgeous in that clip, but I was so bowled over that I didn't even know what to do with myself.
Four months later, Faith No More split up. Before I'd even been to a rock concert (if you don't count the Seekers, and NEEDLESS TO SAY I DON'T), the option was removed.
Like I said, I hit college and college hit back and I gorged myself on the entire back catalogues of Radiohead, Soundgarden, the Eels, Tool, Veruca Salt, Garbage, Marilyn Manson. I saw the Cure and Rammstein, and Augie March and Something for Kate more times than I can count. I learned the rest of what Faith No More can do, and I wallowed in it. I earned respect from my yob neighbour as we cleaned together to Gentle Art of Making Enemies, both of us shrieking along.
I learned just what breed of lunatic Mike Patton was, and loved him regardless.
And all the while, I lamented my appallingly poor timing, because as I crossed one band after another off my "I desperately want to see live" list, there was clearly one that was never, ever going to happen. I didn't even go to see any of Patton's other projects, because it's just not the same and in this, it seemed, I was prepared to wrap myself up in an ivory tower of emo.
Except IT'S HAPPENING. On Friday, after a long day of delicious rock, Faith No More will take the stage in front of me and I will be the happiest girl on skates.
Except without the skates part.
Probably.
Am I going to be front-and-centre in the crowd? Probably not, because I'm too old for that sort of insanity these days (not so much the being there, though I fully expect the mosh to be brutal, but the problem is the staking it out 856 days in advance and then staying there in defiance of thirst, sun and bodily functions). But will I beat the bejesus out of any arrogant yob who thinks a little girl couldn't possibly appreciate FNM enough to need whatever viewing spot I have managed to grab? OH YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT. And will I scream my fucking lungs out when they launch into Gentle Art?
Goddamn right I will.
I'm so excited I didn't even notice Taking Back Sunday was also playing the same festival until last week, despite the fact that I adore Ashes' Adam Lazzara and am moderately excited about seeing him in person too. But I just could not see past the ginormous stars in my eyes at the mere mention of Faith No More.
When it comes to music, I was a late bloomer. I danced around the house to the ABBA records my sister left in the house, and I watched Video Hits every now and then, which probably explains why I didn't bother listening to music much. At the age of 15 I got my first stereo and the first album I bought was the best of Queen, because I'd been reading Good Omens and I was impressionable like that.
I hit college and college hit back and the rest is history, but before that, in the summer of 1997, after school and before university, I was lounging around partaking of Video Hits, and this guitar riff lurched out at me and this man started growling and holy shit, what the hell had just happened? It was Ashes to Ashes, and sure, it helped that Patton is fucking gorgeous in that clip, but I was so bowled over that I didn't even know what to do with myself.
Four months later, Faith No More split up. Before I'd even been to a rock concert (if you don't count the Seekers, and NEEDLESS TO SAY I DON'T), the option was removed.
Like I said, I hit college and college hit back and I gorged myself on the entire back catalogues of Radiohead, Soundgarden, the Eels, Tool, Veruca Salt, Garbage, Marilyn Manson. I saw the Cure and Rammstein, and Augie March and Something for Kate more times than I can count. I learned the rest of what Faith No More can do, and I wallowed in it. I earned respect from my yob neighbour as we cleaned together to Gentle Art of Making Enemies, both of us shrieking along.
I learned just what breed of lunatic Mike Patton was, and loved him regardless.
And all the while, I lamented my appallingly poor timing, because as I crossed one band after another off my "I desperately want to see live" list, there was clearly one that was never, ever going to happen. I didn't even go to see any of Patton's other projects, because it's just not the same and in this, it seemed, I was prepared to wrap myself up in an ivory tower of emo.
Except IT'S HAPPENING. On Friday, after a long day of delicious rock, Faith No More will take the stage in front of me and I will be the happiest girl on skates.
Except without the skates part.
Probably.
Am I going to be front-and-centre in the crowd? Probably not, because I'm too old for that sort of insanity these days (not so much the being there, though I fully expect the mosh to be brutal, but the problem is the staking it out 856 days in advance and then staying there in defiance of thirst, sun and bodily functions). But will I beat the bejesus out of any arrogant yob who thinks a little girl couldn't possibly appreciate FNM enough to need whatever viewing spot I have managed to grab? OH YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT. And will I scream my fucking lungs out when they launch into Gentle Art?
Goddamn right I will.