I Miss Gigs

Gigs are one of my favourite things. Another of my favourite things is spelling “favourite” with a “u” - also known as, “the right way.” In month of February I found myself in a position where i had left one job (manager of a UV, Glow-in-the-Dark, Dinosaur-Themes, 18-hole Mini Golf Course) and was about to start another (faceless office droid). This left me with a lot of free time, which I put to very good use - drinking pints, hanging out with friends, and going to loads of gigs.

My favourite type of gig is the one where you have full license to go completely mental. You know the ones. Let me set the scene:

You’re there, ideally, an hour early. This gives you time to drink two or three pints, and it’s good for the artists as well - nothing reassures you more than seeing people arrive early. You pay your entry - always pay your artists - and you go right up to the front. You have a double whiskey in your hand (a technique developed, after many hours of field research, by me and my good friend and business partner, Stu). The artist(s) get up on stage. Potential crackles in the air like static electricity. The music starts. It becomes clear after the first few bars that the artist, in the immortal words of Julia Louise Knifefist, is about to put “your insides on the outside.”

Gigs like this came thick and fast in Limerick in February. We had Craic Boi Mental, a mental gig from the PX Music Line up, and, pictured below, Traash Boo, and the aforementioned Julia Louise Knifefist.

That show will be with me for a long time to come. If you’ve never been to the upstairs of Pharmacia, you’re missing out. It’s an unadorned, no-frills room. If I was being generous, I would say that the decor is minimalist, a choice I’m sure was made in order to better facilitate the appreciation of the music. There were only around twelve people at the gig, so TBoo forwent the formality of the stage. We formed a circle around him, and he started the music. He put the mic on the floor, got down o his hands and knees, and launched himself into a handstand. In this position, he rapped his entire song in German. Rapping in German, in fairness, isn’t much of a challenge for him, it being his native language and all, but it was nevertheless impressive to see. Tboo’s energy is explorative. I’ve seen him climb rafters, stagedive, and crowd surf on a metal fence, like a grimy Alladin on a rusty magic carpet. This time, he rapped half a song perched daintily on my shoulders. He finished his set by leaving the mic in the centre of our dance-circle, open to anyone who wanted to spit a few bars. I regret not availing myself of that opportunity.

Julia Louise Knifefist introduced his set with a hail of gun shots. By this time I was already wrecked, having danced and carried an Austrian lunatic on my shoulders, but Julia tapped into a well of energy I thought successive weeks of binge-drinking had thoroughly wiped out. Julia is a tsunami of insanity and noise.. His music made me want to dislocate all my limbs (in a good way).

Some gigs, you go and you sit down and you really listen, and pay attention to the music, the singers words, and if they’re good, they transport you to an emotional place. Those gigs are special, and I love them, too.

But the gigs where you come out of the mosh pit afterwards feeling more alive than when you went in, those are the ones I live for.

I want to go to gigs again. I want to lose my mind. I want to go mental. I’m looking forward to the day that I can.

Stu, Traash Boo, and me.