A Silver Mount Zion: a slightly compromised review of a disapointing performance

I’m not a mean drunk. I get slightly more temperamental and my already largely opinionated statements become even more so, but I’m not a vicious bastard after a few, or even in this case, ten or so.

Please bear with me.

We took a train up to London, as per the usual running of things. It went too quickly, mainly because we were drinking and joking about. The ‘we’ I am referring to is my friend Edd and I. We often digress in long, complicated and often irrelevant conversations regarding the arts; however this is merely our second trip up to the capital. (I say this because no good band ever travels to Portsmouth, why the fuck should they?). Alas, when we hit the tube it is about half six. I hate London usually, but I’m quite socially lubricated so it all seems like one distant neon haze in my eyes. After squabbling and laughing through the underground, we get to Kings Cross and immediately walk in the wrong direction. After being instructed otherwise we turn and mercilessly scare the living daylights out of a newspaper hander-outer by screaming “SLAYER” in both of his ears. He doesn’t look impressed. We get to the venue with about half an hour and we need a piss. So we take a walk along to this posh business area and urinate and drink like anti-social louts. We also swear and say rude things like were homeless. I think this might be why we don’t get asked to move on. So after more drink and a brief but needed relationship counsel, we move onto the venue. Once we get inside, we are frisked and the remainder of our beer is confiscated. By the time the supporting act (a dire medieval act named the Owl Service) are finished, I have a hangover and my eyes hurt. I go for another piss and when I get back, I find Edd chatting to a dreadlocked hippie-type person. They are deep in conversation about Godspeed You! Black Emperor and I try and return the attention over to myself by hollering and screaming about nonsense. They ignore me. Then the Silver Mount Zion Memorial Orchestra and Tra La La Band come on stage. And suddenly I get a sharp jolt in the back. Edd informs me of the audience and refers to it as a ‘sausage fest’. I’m not worried but he does look like he wants to pass out with frustration. The band does not help my hangover. Without having to write too much about it, the songs are exactly how Edd wanted them; however I find them dull and boring. The added kick in the crotch was being singled out as a ‘pisshead’, being ridiculed by the lead singer (I don’t mind though, he is Canadian after all) and in turn subjected to the stares of the passive, scenesters in the crowd. (I hate London audiences for the sole reason that they are drones. They did get better though, if only when they announced their last song. Somehow I don’t understand how anyone can enjoy a 6 song set that lasts just under two hours.

I suppose one good thing about the night was that we didn’t have to get a coach back from Petersfield again. Oh well.