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If you went to an arena filled with 20.000 people and a giant spider walked on stage, what would you do? Would you stare or record it on your camera phone, or would you dance to the tunes it played on its guitar, it's white eyes captivating you on the big screens provided? I chose the later at The Cure's gig Thursday night, which now completes my dream of seeing my four favourite teenage bands live (the other three being Morrissey, Siouxsie and the Banshees and Suede).
The 02 is a very odd venue: a sort of culmination of everything that's anti-rock in its suburban shopping mall design, yet a perfect host for bands the size of The Cure, who need all the air they can suck out of you with their psychedelic guitars and nostalgic pop. Their set had a lot of tracks from the new album, 4:13 Dream, which is in my opinion a revisit to their Wish period, mixed with more famous tracks - culminating in an encore devoted to their first singles. They were supported by White Lies (which we sadly missed, thanks to meeting friends beforehand for a pint and good conversation), Crystal Castles (ragdoll dance manchine extraordinaire) and Franz Ferdinand ("Walk Away" and "Michael" are their pop masterpieces - everything else is a bit middle-of-the-road). We danced all the way through the Cure's set and got the people behind us shuffling on their feet; sadly, the majority of the audience chose to sit through the night. We ate overpriced chips and hot dogs. We exchanged many txts with friends sitting far away. We left in an orderly fashion and forgot to buy a Cure T-shirt to replace the battered one used as a pyjama sometimes.
My brasilian friend Vini suggested we go to a bar near Canary Wharf, owned by an eccentric ex-cop from Chicago. It was a proper lock down, with the owner dancing on the bar counter, in a judge wig, to ABBA, the Weather Girls and Bye Bye Miss American Pie (and I don't even think he was gay). Umbrellas were passed around for "It's Raining Men" because the owner used the bar's water hose on us. He then maniacally scribbled a lesbian fantasy dialogue, turned off the music and made two girls (whom he introduced as professional actresses) act them out. Some customers were smoking indoors with not a care in the world, and some wore glittery cowboy hats. I drank a delicious glass of cold water to satiate my dehydrated body.
I'm considering seeing the Pet Shop Boys at the O2 this summer.
The 02 is a very odd venue: a sort of culmination of everything that's anti-rock in its suburban shopping mall design, yet a perfect host for bands the size of The Cure, who need all the air they can suck out of you with their psychedelic guitars and nostalgic pop. Their set had a lot of tracks from the new album, 4:13 Dream, which is in my opinion a revisit to their Wish period, mixed with more famous tracks - culminating in an encore devoted to their first singles. They were supported by White Lies (which we sadly missed, thanks to meeting friends beforehand for a pint and good conversation), Crystal Castles (ragdoll dance manchine extraordinaire) and Franz Ferdinand ("Walk Away" and "Michael" are their pop masterpieces - everything else is a bit middle-of-the-road). We danced all the way through the Cure's set and got the people behind us shuffling on their feet; sadly, the majority of the audience chose to sit through the night. We ate overpriced chips and hot dogs. We exchanged many txts with friends sitting far away. We left in an orderly fashion and forgot to buy a Cure T-shirt to replace the battered one used as a pyjama sometimes.
My brasilian friend Vini suggested we go to a bar near Canary Wharf, owned by an eccentric ex-cop from Chicago. It was a proper lock down, with the owner dancing on the bar counter, in a judge wig, to ABBA, the Weather Girls and Bye Bye Miss American Pie (and I don't even think he was gay). Umbrellas were passed around for "It's Raining Men" because the owner used the bar's water hose on us. He then maniacally scribbled a lesbian fantasy dialogue, turned off the music and made two girls (whom he introduced as professional actresses) act them out. Some customers were smoking indoors with not a care in the world, and some wore glittery cowboy hats. I drank a delicious glass of cold water to satiate my dehydrated body.
I'm considering seeing the Pet Shop Boys at the O2 this summer.
