Things started pretty inauspiciously. We were stapled in by about four couples slurping away to themselves and looking foggy-eyed, and there was this smell, and the only supper had been a pack of Sweet Chili Chicken McCoys.
But Wild Beasts are, of course, magnificent. On this point I approve of her taste. The singer is called Hayden, which is enough in itself, who has a voice which will make your stomach collapse. (In fact in Josh's case this actually happened, resulting in an embarrassing incident in the smokers' area. Yes Josh, I read your texts too, over her shoulder. Frequently reprimanded for nosiness.)
So the Beasts are neither wild nor beastly, but they most certainly can growl. A growl which inspires behaviour of the most base and inappropriate kind, sparked up at random when performing the simplest of human/imaginary activities. Ordering a drink, for example, I almost stroked the barman's friendly imagination. His cheeks looked like the ripest peaches. So cute. And likewise, elbow those fucking couples in the groin.
A brilliant gig. They all dress in Beat clothing and are perpetually charming in their humble thank yous, breathy and a bit confused. Another reason to like them - those trousers are awfully tight and their words awfully funny.
Onwards now, the idiot needs the computer for early morning work. Most bizarre,
Consette x
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