Sunday, 8 September 2013

Arctic Monkeys - AM (Domino Records - released 09.09.13)

And so it begins! The torrent of praise for another beautifully sculpted record by the Arctic Monkeys. This title might be no more than an acronym of their name, but one listen overtly proffers the fact that these songs are made for the small hours of the morning, when you've not been to sleep and have no intention of trying. Its a little schizophrenic, but its central theme seems concerned wholly with that internal struggle. To fuck or not to fuck. Or can I fuck? A lady is laced throughout its shady rooms like LSD on a hobnob. Maybe she's real, maybe she is a fantastic figment of this man's mind. In any case, she is all things to all people, encompassing great passion and complete confusion. Turner's impressive turn of phrase, and the beautiful descriptive qualities he employs throughout are unrelenting and cosmic. A true poet of our time, some moments will send shivers running down your spine, repeating lines to those who haven't heard them yet. Having an affinity with John Lennon among others, he takes runs with this link, but never relies on it. 

By now there are some tracks you know already. 'Do I Wanna Know?', tempo and growling undertones making you want to dry hump everything in sight, the ecstatic shredded guitar sitting atop the chunky base-lines of 'R U Mine?', and 'Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?' (a little lower on the dry-hump scale, but still up there) with cosmic guitar riff swirling around you, coming to a halt to reveal the sturdy beat underneath at intervals. And aside from these, here are some other die-hard lovelies, some hardcore bad-assery, and a whole lot of chemistry between you and the Monkeys. The slightly kitsch psychedelia peppering the record is interesting.  'Arabella' is a marvel, sultry and smooth, gliding through Turner's mind with this chick. Lyrics "Arabella's got some interstellargator skin boots, and a helter skelter 'round her little finger and I ride it endlessly" set up such an amazing image of this woman that when he quietly suggests "She's made of outer space. And her lips are like the galaxy's edge, and a kiss the colour of a constellation falling into place", the the Led Zepplin guitars swell, catching your breath as you feel that desire well up in your chest. This one's got a cheshire cat smile, and devours your attention whole.

Written and recorded on Americas west coast, at the Rancho De La Luna in Joshua Tree and Sage & Sound Recording in LA, the overwhelming raunchy atmosphere in tracks like 'One For The Road' truly sets this scene. Josh Homme guesting his vocals on this one truly clinches it. The undeniable cool is oddly complimented as they croon over the opening bars "One for the rooooaaaad!", almost sounding oddly like a boy-band. As the track progresses, the high and low tones of Homme and Turner respectively guild the sense of yearning and fear nicely. Undulations of base and drums, culminating in a pause to allow the parenthesis of plucked strings to frame the chorus. The slick dulcet tones of 'Mad Sounds' also has this Californian shimmer, indicative of a Velvet Underground tune, sweet and silky. The heart-breaking beauty of 'I Wanna Be Yours' falls within the realms of R&B in its 'sexual healing' quality, and compacts this ability the Monkeys have of slipping effortlessly between swaggering riffs and gentle cajoling calm. 

Its notable by this point I'm sure that sex is a heavy feature with this record. It creeps into every corner, sweeping you off your feet to carry you into the filthiest daydreams you've ever had. The dirty quality of Jamie Cook's rhythm turbo boosts this notion for 'Knee Socks'. There's this gorgeous little funk pace set against driving
beats that set your heart racing. Lyrics "never stopping me getting hold of your sweet spot by the scruff of your knee socks" are a possible contender for the sexiest ever written. Bravo Alex, bravo. It's understated swagger bleeds into 'No. 1 Party Anthem', Turner strolling through a crowded party "leather jacket, collar popped like antenna, never knowing when to stop." The title suggests preconceptions of a relentless blinder, but its slow twirling pace calls to mine Turner's solo collection of 'Submarine' fame, eking into ballad territory. 

And then there is 'Fireside'. Its a slow burner (pardon the pun) but you will find yourself subconsciously singing it in your head, body-popping to the staccato rhythmic machine gun that is tempered by the crooning Turner's yearning. Spangled guitar riffs coupled with a shimmery, stretched out solo create an ethereal air and sense of the unbearable lightness of being as we hear "Theres this image of you and I, and it goes dancing by, in the morning and the nighttime… I'm not sure i should show you what I found. Is it gone for good or is it coming back around?". It makes you want to dance almost as much as 'R U Mine'. Whilst we have already discussed this one, but its worth repeating just how fucking good it is! Probably the most like a track you'd find on their first album, yet more mature in its precision beats, and mid 90's elegant licks. 

'Snap Out Of It' holds a rarity. It is almost Vaudevillian, full of character and cartoon-like, with balls by the bucket load. Remonstrating a person who's fallen in love with "it sounds like settling down, or giving up, but it don't sound much like you, girl." Perhaps cajoling a lady-figure into leaving her current love for the singer. Its got a charming underlay of piano keys that inform the pace of the track, colouring a big theatrical sound, inspiring big dance moves. 

As a complete entity, it feels a little more disparate than anything that has come before. Never to be ones to stay in their safe zone (I'm not even sure they have one), the Arctic Monkeys are no stranger to experimentation. Whilst heavily stylised, it encompasses a broad range of influences, connected by the thematic exchange of lust, sex, frustrating indifference, and self-medicated confidence. The relentlessly shifting tempo and Turner's truly genius writing style hold your attention in a vice like grip for the duration of the record. It is a billboard for a band who still have so much more to give. And will continue to give it to us as long as we ask for it and they can draw breath enough to make it happen. And for that we wholeheartedly thank them! 

Thursday, 10 January 2013

Howl For The Cash

Children and animals, the age-old curses of the cinema, and those you should never work with. Having said that, cinematic history proves that no one has ever heeded this advice, or steered clear of concepts involving such beings. Still, it has to be a tough field to navigate! Anyone who has children or pets in their employ is a brave soul indeed.

With this in mind, allow me to introduce you to Howl. The brain-baby of 14 Film Production students at UCA Farnham, this short film employs not one or two, but a bevy of child actors to wrangle with. Forming the central class of students within the village school, the story unfolds around devoted Teacher Miss Crawshaw, the apparently troubled new pupil Eleanor Stagg, and the mysterious man stalking the young girl. This is bound up with hints of a hellish animal within the village, framing the narrative in an otherworldly terror.

Ok, so perhaps animal is not so apt a word, seeing as the supernatural element of this tale is bound up in this beast, and the horror that lies within. The ambiguous ‘Howl’ that titles the film beautifully frames the bestial figure, and its darkness within. Miss Crawshaw’s seemingly futile endeavors to protect her students in the face of school politics hurl her down a rabbit hole of sorts, which will test her fraying nerves.

And all of this, the horror, the darkness, the beautiful imagery, would not be possible without your help. Yeah, that’s right, I’ve got your interest now, and you want to get into the meat of the tale? They need your money! Do a bit of good for our burgeoning student film market, and log on to;  Help push this project into fruition, and onto our screens. The funding will go towards production of the set, costumes etc, but most importantly, the realisation of the beast into flesh and fur form! Delicious.

Maestro’s of the mayhem; Allan MacLeod (writer),  Nina Kรคstner (Producer), Jamie Sims (Director), Adam Baldock (Production Manager) Ben Cowan (1st AD and Marketing), Samuel Hooper (Director of Photography), Jason Bourke Velji (Camera Operator), Zavinta Karsokaite (Lighting), Sophie Newton (Production Designer), Louis Grant (Art Director), Emily Britton (Costume), James Wright (Sound Design), Jasper Marriott-Tuft (Location Sound Recording/Mixing) and Ross Cameron (Editor/Marketing Team) are working hard, bringing you behind the scenes videos, outtakes and beautifully rendered concept art for your delectation on their website, so the payback for your donation is instant (Allan MacLeod’s pledge video outtakes are compulsive viewing).

This ain’t just another supernatural flick, this film has the backbone of narrative mesmerism and consciousness, with a substance of flesh, fur and fear, but needs your money to feed the beast. Howl needs you! 

Saturday, 21 July 2012

Laura Marling - Being Is Marvellous

Laura Marling should have her own word for what she does. For the moment I cannot think what it is, because she is too many things rolled into one. It would have to be prosaic, historic, encompassing the kind of tales that traditional story tellers hand down through generations. Women turning into wolves, singing over the bones, giving life, taking life, suffering and becoming whole though the rich, unfurling tapestry of experience. For now, I strongly offer up her last name as a shortened form of ‘Marvellous’, perhaps an amalgam of marvellous and darling? “That is Marling!” they will say.

Roving through the corridors of light and dark that frame her three studio albums from 2008 to 2011, Marling’s maturity grows with a confidence in her voice and an ability to shape a tale. It is stunning to hear it play out, forming the words then setting them running across your open mind. She has been hailed as the modern day Joni Mitchell in her latest offering, A Creature I Don’t Know, and I can think of few who are so deserving of the prestigious title. Mitchell is known for her compelling lyricism and sultry vocal arrangements which beg innocence, yet gilded with slightly tarnished vignettes of life maturity. Laura excels in these areas, wielding her dual sword of mildness and strength, weaving it into each magical chapter. Her tunes can be read as fairy tales, walking in the footsteps of the Brothers Grimm perhaps? Yet in removing the theatrical facade of these tales, you can also see the very real situations which have shaped a past and carried her through to the present.

Throughout the pages of her latest record there is a candid tone. Marling is sometimes cloaked by resigned acceptance of life’s suffering, at other times revealing a rage that has been fatigued by the marching of time. This statement seems to infer she has become dull. On the contrary, pure rage is fresh and furious. It screeches to be heard and claims victims until all energy has been sacrificed to its cause. Maturity seeks alternative routes to quell anger, views different sides of the same coin, and expends this energy in a more worthwhile pursuit. Her maturity is in taking a different route. ‘All My Rage’, the final track on album speaks volumes in its upbeat tempo alive with banjo riffs and sturdy base notes, choral arms lifting her; a crystal clear voice cutting through to the fore, repeating “I leave my rage to the sea and the sun”. Both are elemental, fierce and raw; both necessary for our survival. With this final line Laura is recognising the patchwork of emotions we contend with every day is part and parcel of our world, and is nothing to fear.

Looking back to her debut, Alas I Cannot Swim, the title alone epitomises a deep sense of fear that comes with the territory of being a teenager. Hitting the gig scene at 17, having already been a devoted fan of folk from a young age, Marling experienced discomfort at not being able to “slot [her]self into the age appropriate genre”. Her schooling at the private Quaker School in Leighton Park, she has said, gave her a feeling of unease when around others, along with a fear of death. Tracks like ‘Night Terror’, with its dark overtures and confusion, drags our protagonist down into the depths as she muses “I woke up on a bench on Shepherds Bush green, a candle at my chest, and my head on his knee. I got up, it was dark, there’s no one in the park at this hour how do I keep finding myself here?”. However, ‘Cross Your Fingers’ earns Laura the ability to laugh in the face of the inevitable and uncontrollable. “Cross your fingers, hold your toes, we’re all gonna die when the building blows. And the house that you were born in, is crumbling at the corners, sagging skin and feet of crows”. Alluding to the very real spectre of death, Marling’s saving grace is her ability to view our collective demise as poetic, and almost welcoming; “and you’ll be reborn bigger and stronger”. 

Regardless, there is also a very real sense of fear, tinged with regret and perhaps the odd peek of mild depression, Marling’s arrangements often speak of lightness, perhaps aiming to combat these fears. She becomes ethereal; waiflike she floats through the lyrical scenery using her voice like wings. Singing with a grace and smoothness that refuses to be brought down by the real and imagined “hollow thing” that lies in wait, a song like ‘Shine’ gathers strength which expels any corruptive force “step away from my light I need shine”. But it is not mere existential angst which brings down our heroine. ‘Ghosts’ offers an insight into emotional baggage carried from past relationships into new connections. Lyrics “Lover please do not fall to your knees, it’s not like I believe in ever-lasting love” are both comforting and terrible, hemmed with a carousing arrangement of strings and skins that illuminates fear in the heart of joy. The record in its entirety flits between real and imagined terrors, teenage rebellion, confusion and enlightened perspectives. It shimmers with all the energy of a soul both corrupted and exalted by life’s contradictions.

Second studio album is graceful still, but with more fire, like the silver lining of all her soul searching. Again, the title of the Record, I Speak Because I Can, is full of meaning. Opener ‘The Devil’s Spoke’ is sharp and biting. It owns a rage that is yet to be harnessed, with lyrics “eye to eye, nose to nose, ripping off each others’ clothes in a most peculiar way” decrying a latent sexuality that moves with age. She is cautious of romantic feeling, and of relying on another, as she bitingly remarks “What of which you wish to speak, have you come here to rescue me?” She can also be possessive of this person “I am your keeper, and I hold your face away from light”. The track speaks of destruction in the want of another. There is, however, a depth maturity in her tracing of romantic love. ‘What He Wrote’, penned after reading war time love letters, toys with the idea of longing and loss. It also softens Marling’s inferences of independence that colour the record. ”forgive me Hera I cannot stay, he cut out my tongue there is nothing to say.” Calling to the Goddess of Women and Marriage, it is as if she offers apology for not being stronger, as she calls “I miss his smell” in her half broken  voice.

Hera, Sophia, and God are just three of the guiding forces that are called upon within the records. Being a religious lady, her faith can be called in to question, but often is fiercely clung to. In ‘Hope In The Air’ she asks “pick up your rope Lord, sling it to me if we are to battle I must not be weak...for I am your saviour your last serving daughter.”  However, it is the assistance of Hera in I Speak Because I Can and Sophia “Goddess of power” in A Creature I Don’t Know that is in sharp relief. The presence of these ethereal totems buoys resolve, creates a strength through which the musical arrangements soar, but also causes moments of chaos in which female rage rises through the restraints.

Appearing in the final Reord A Creature I Don’t Know, Sophia has her own song, but appears throughout the narrative. Her strength lifts the spirit of ‘The Beast’, in which the thunderous drums and soft strummed riffs convey loss, lyrics “where did our love go, you will never know” telling of a love gone sour. The addition of the beast in the tale, and lyrics “tonight I choose the beast, and tonight he lies with me” as the riff reaches full throttle attacks the memories of the past in favour of destruction of body and mind. Connotations of savagery have this unbridled rage bubbling to the top for the moment. Recurring lyrics in ‘Sophia’, “Oh I have been wandering, where I have been pondering. Where I’ve been lately is no concern of yours” retains this taint of soured love. Yet it is the arrangement again which refuses to fall under the weight of loss. Sophia is invoked, as she admits; “Sometimes I sit stare, sometimes you look and sometimes I don’t care. Rarely I weep sometimes I must. I’m wounded by dust”. As she kicks the bridge, the track tumbles through to an up-tempo country number, backing vocals heralding her Goddesses’ entrance. Its astoundingly beautiful, almost as all encompassing as ‘My Firends’. This track epitomises her signature dichotomy between lightness and heaviness in arrangements and lyrics. Lightly strung acoustics hang over her open vocals as lyrics concede “You’re very tall, you’re very handsome, you have it all, your skin smells like man and, you’ll never know how I ached.” Reaching a tempo crescendo alive with banjo strings, guitars and drums, with the lyrics “a few good mothers go for what they ought not, what they ought not teach” heralds a joie de vivre in following your own path, for good or ill.
This is the very bed of her beauty. The paths that are explored are many and varied. They offer little judgement save for the raw emotions that spring from each new experience. It is because Marling is so elemental and thoughtful in arrangements and lyrics that she is so compelling. The differing conclusions you can draw on each song each time you hear them makes for an ever changing canvass upon which she has put her mark, and so can you. Her albums offer a catharsis, expel rage, soften fear, prop you up, allow you space and time to breathe and focus. It can offer a sadness that becomes a short term dwelling to revel in, but offers an escape route into the joy and light which is rightfully yours, when you want to grab it. There are no excuses, no apologies, just the elemental emotions we all are capable of, and a sense that there is no shame in these experiences. We are all, and all have, a creature we don’t know, we fear drowning but yet speak, because we can.

Wednesday, 20 June 2012

'Toothbrush' - By Jamie Sims: Teaser Trailer

Im breaking back into this blog, after a long sojourn. But that’s another story.

I’ve started again inspired by my friend Jamie, who has an unfailing sense of drive, a view of where he wants to be, and the talent to take him far. He has just finished a short film, which is beautiful.

Many people have loved and lost in their brief history as a human. Some let the current of sadness that guilds the memories take them under, some bury the past deep and refuse to dig it up, regardless of the cost to their future happiness. Others learn and live, safe in the knowledge they tried, were loved, and can love again.

It’s safe to assume, then, everyone has felt a multitude of positive and negative feelings towards an ex at any given point of an irreconcilable break-up. Written and Directed by Mr Sims, ‘Toothbrush’ takes a journey into the very personal and singular feelings one can feel when this occurs. Opening with the ceremonial packing up of the others belongings, the narrative soon takes a surreal visitation into the collective experiences that keep you hanging on. What paths can you take to exorcise these painful and yet beautiful memories? Is it really enough to capitulate and banish? Both uniquely singular in its treatment of one side of a split, and yet fiercely protective of the experiences that prove catalytic to heartbreak, this short film tugs at your heartstrings. It burns with recognition of what we all have felt. Im not going to give too much away, but watch the trailer. The full film will be out soon enough.

Toothbrush TEASER from Jonny Ruff on Vimeo.

Tuesday, 5 April 2011

Bombay Bicycle Club - I Had The Blues But I Shook Them Loose

Having been a mass advocator of these guys since they appeared a few years back, in my peripherals possibly around the time that I was leaving University. I definitely remember seeing them at Glastonbury in 2009, and being blown away by them, as I sheltered from the white hot sun in a hollowed out and halved wooden track casing. Leaning against the cushions with the customary pint of cold, cold cider, I was taking it all in. even my techno-head buddy was all about them within two tracks. But listening to their album ‘I had the Blues but I shook them loose’ was another story. I bought it, but did I listen? Hell no. Irregular downloads and pre-polished beauties kept me going when I got my Bombay phases and needed a fix.

It’s the divide between an established artists cut-glass chimes and vocals and the old grit that gets me. Why would you want to lose that. The same way vinyl has way more character; there is no beating the flaws that are held within an early rendition. But alas, I broke at last and put the album in the CD drawer and explored the entrails. In a stunned tale of difference, it is mature. Perhaps this is what held me back all that time ago? Their innocence and subtle anger, heard in the voice and lyrics throughout even the quietest moments, has morphed into calm austerity that lurks above the feelings reigned in, an atmosphere of armor. Spanning the tracks, more intense feeling spreads across like spilled ink. So when I listen to ‘Magnet’, the lyrics have been hacked and divided between this and ‘Cancel on me’, severing the distraught distaste and a complex love affair, and rooting it in a more sober approach.

His distinct vocals still itch with that unbridled passion, stretching into forlorn disinterest, despair and then back into positive calm, an understanding of fact and fiction. Moments of energy and anger are met with an affected shaking in his voice. Shuddering on the brink of a relapse into the old ways of the Club. It is interesting, like watching someone breakdown, whilst trying to hold it together. This willful edge is met with clashes of snarling snare and pulsing drums in ‘Cancel on me’ as the end is in sight. It highlights that even under this presence of mind there is tumult. Breaks and beats in moments of ‘Autumn’ with pure mixes of indie from the true heyday, latterly forgotten in the haze of noughties ‘Indie’ efforts.

Golden oldie ‘What If’ in its re-dubbed state trips off skillfully spangled riffs and gently hissing high-hats, gliding through the air and meeting head on moments of crescendo where the lament becomes all too much. ‘Giantess’ in its more acoustic state still harnesses the drum machine in a break that is satisfying in the combination of old and new. Soporific and lilting, it differs almost entirely from every other track, but as a foray is beautifully engineered to wind you down after a hard and mostly fast jaunt into this little world. Difficult to pigeonhole as Bombay Bicycle Club are, the feeling of being in a warm bath when you hear them is difficult to escape. It is the one thing you can truly say about them, and its not a genre bound description. They hold you with their odd angled views and intone safety. It feels like purity, though how that is conveyed I don’t know, like magic, or charisma. Some people just have it I guess.

Wednesday, 19 January 2011

Iron & Wine - 'Kiss Each Other Clean' Review

Released 24.01.11 - Warner Brothers

With a little over three years since the release of The Shepherds Dog in 2007, Samuel Beam brings us the fourth studio album under the name he found on a dietary supplement in a store whilst shopping, ‘Beef Iron & Wine’. Nice. Well, if his 2007 release repined from the elemental folk of Our Endless Numbered Days, this offering entwines both, sweetening the deal with a little tribal timbre which bounds in and out of focus.

The repetitive and resounding quality within ‘Walking Far From Home’ drops you in through a hole filled with feedback, waning as Beam vocalizes over his observations in crowds, setting himself apart from the casual lives that pass. Crunchier qualities are lifted through choired choruses and the strains of a didgeridoo, lightening the mood in moments of clarity.

Beam really shows his respect for those musical greats who have gone before, ‘Me And Lazarus’ and ‘Glad Man Singing’ at times echoing Chris Rea, and perhaps jimmy Page, in the studied riffs and bubbling bass that lay under Sam’s rhythmic lyrical delivery and silky intonation. ‘Monkeys Uptown’ layers this feel with the elasticity of tribal drums, resounding throughout, entwining in chimes and the very image of rain. In other golden moments, there is a definite feel of the fields and golden sunshine of a hazy festival, ‘Tree By The River’ evokes this place in spades, infectious choruses and striking imagery masterfully dispelling any other thoughts from your head.

Inded, the pace changes so quickly throughout it could make your head spin, but with a guiding hand that seems to be present at all times, and the intertwining of those slower moments with bigger, more peopled tracks, Kiss Each Other Cleam is both dizzying and reassuring. ‘Your Fake Name Is Good Enough For Me’ speeds through an opening riff, drawing in flutes, trumpets and the odd strain of a saxophone in the style of an eternal jazz band, before slowly extinguishing each instrument, leaving a more peaceful outtro.

Perhaps the finest moments though, come from those stripped-back tracks where Samuels charming vocals and musicianship come to the fore. ‘Godless Brother In Love’ is one such moment, where the piano plays an endless ebbing tune over which the lyrics soar, entwining with simple chords from the mandolin and a sparse backing chorus. It is both achingly beautiful and optimistic.

So Iron and Wine is back, and not a moment too soon. With a track for every moment, from every facet of Samuel Beam’s repertoire, it combines crystal elements of the folkster we love, alongside the more playful elements which dig deeper into the past, making up some of the present. Needless to say Kiss Each Other Clean inspires philosophical thought in the minds of those who are attuned to it!

Monday, 4 October 2010

Pulled Apart By Horses - 16th September 2010

Guildford Boiler Room

With Support from the sans-base duo Phantom Theory, who manage to whip up a storm with tough drums, riffs and vocals, and a stage presence not to be reckoned with, alongside the equally grand Young Legionnaire, members of which have cut their teeth belonging to some well known diamonds such as Yourcodenameis:milo and of course Bloc Party, Pulled Apart By Horses take to the stage with little grandeur and open with I Punched A Lion in The Throat. Reminiscent of a boy-child staking outrageous claims, the title lyrics are repeated with a ferocious tenacity and defiance, all the more appealing since the statement is so damned absurd! From this instance you are drawn from your mind into the swirling vortex of a force you cannot see, but is pulling you gently into an abyss of savage energy and joyous degradation.

The jam-packed crowd twist turn and stagger to the heady riffs and thrashing drumbeat, speakers swinging from the ceiling as we whip back and forth, and in not time at all the gents are reeling off their last few bars, and settling us in with some choice banter, channeling around lead guitarist James Brown being ‘single and riddled’, a catch in essence! Ripping into the fresh and tasty single Back To The Fuck Yeah, Tom Hudson shows off both challenging and charming vocals as the chorus riff demands a long shrieking cry from the pit of his soul, set apart from the latter reverberating guttural cry of “Yeeah-huh”. Its a beaut, and no doubt worthy of the esteem it has collected for the quad.

The most notable, chaos-inspiring tracks follow shortly behind in the shape of E=MC Hammer and Yeah Buddy, the latter of which takes inspiration from a steroid freak, and drips with a sarcastic, menacing strut as they muse “Yeah buddy. Thats Super heavy. Lightweight baby!... Thank God for pure natural strength.” The divide between the stage and the surrounding chaos becomes incomprehensible as Tom drives through the crowd, shrieking and shaking with an unbridled wonder-lust, bassist Robert stands high on his bass-amp, cutting one mean silhouette, James pulls one dumbstruck lady into a one armed hug, and Drummer Lee Vincent hammers out and impressive backdrop for the proceedings. in a whirl of shredding riffs and raw vox from centre stage, we are left reeling and ready for the last, and most bloody of all, not least because those of us privileged to be at the front can see James’ claret dripping from his fingers onto the collection of strings he covets! Den Horn opens as one over-energised bunny hops up and climbs monkey-style over the crowd to hang off the ledge above the stage, supported by the over-fueled arms of all those who cant stop shouting for more. As reality seeps back in, and we are left to stare blinking into dim recollection, there is an unsaid thought we all share. I want to do THAT again! The night has ended on a high, but all to quickly and we are left wanting more. PABH deal in inspirational chaos, and it is a drug we will continue to crave for eternity after this night.