I'm converted!

The Rakes at the Islington Bar Academy, 27th June 2006

Ok, so I've caught on at last. I've signed up, bought the t-shirt. Got the angular, spasm-inducing virus that has swept the nation, or at least the Spitalfields-liking, indie-orientated London crowd. I'm liking the Rakes now! Listening to cd and everything. Maybe it's because I was at a manageable, FREE, gig, not unduly bothered by inconsiderate oversized behemoths, not squashed and squeezed like a mouldy banana, or annoyed by throngs of polka-doted teens, AND I was drinking an inadvisable amount of Strongbow and wearing my new converse trainers, but I just got the whole vibe this time around. During previous encounters I've always felt a bit uncomfortable and slightly underwhelmed, but this time the intimacy of the surroundings made me feel just about as excited as I'll ever be at a Rakes gig, I predict. The presence of vodkaslut and cidertramp was also a bonus (God bless all drinking buddies). Converse, who organised the free event, should also be heartly congratulated. And, no, this is not a 'damn with faint praise' type review; I'm really warming to that bloke called Alan and his cohorts.

God bless all gangly-bodied, arm-waving, white-shirted, floppy-haired indie boys with a yearning for the days of scooter bikes, leather jackets and fistfights at seaside resorts. When I watch them I feel a bit of a yearning myself, of a type I'll keep to myself though if you don't mind. They seem old-fashioned somehow; I imagine them spending evenings in grotty pubs playing darts and talking about their 'dollybirds'. Oh and having wrestling matches at summer fayres on Clapham Common and winning a smoked ham as a reward.

Indie boys are good.
GSG.