I have been listening to the Prodigy since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, so when I heard they were coming to Toronto I knew I had to go. Or rather, As soon as Lou heard they were coming to Toronto she bought us tickets and I know we would be firm friends forever.
Turns out I got in for free to review the thing, so the situation was even better than I thought.
Needless to say, it was amazing. The sound system was intense, the crowd was a sweaty mess of crazy dancers, and the set was perfect. There were a couple of pretty bitchin' spanking new tracks and plenty of classics, and they made the new album tracks sound phenomenal, 'The Omen' in particular. Took me right back to the days when my brother first brought 'Fat Of The Land' home and I got hooked.
It's amazing to think they've been going proper since '92, when I was just six measly years old, and they can still kick out a show like that. At an hour and a half it was way too short, but then again they're old so I think we can just about let them off. Don't ever miss them if they play near you.
Last night I went to Circa to see Andy C, the so-called #1 drum and bass DJ in the world. I've been to Circa once before and didn't like the atmosphere or the fact you can easily get lost after a few drinks, and to be honest I wasn't that bothered about seeing Andy C, but it was a birthday event and I don't like to miss out. It was probably the best DJ set I've ever seen, and it was amazing being stream-rollered by some mega bass every couple of minutes. I think at one point I almost kneed myself in the head, so fevered was my dancing.
He's playing this year's WEMF too, which is the World Electronic Music Festival they hold in Ontario (despite last year's being the 'final' one), so it should be an epic event. If I really must miss Leeds, I need a replacement festival to give me the 3 days of bodily harm that my physique has become accustomed to. It'll have to be WEMF. Damn.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Back in the UKizzle
I cut myself off this blog for a while, I was getting way too into it.
In my self-imposed isolation from the blog world, I got a new nephew, went home for a week, got not enough sleep and more than enough partying, and not much else.
So the nephew is a ten-pound cutie pie called Will, who made a mess of his mum on the way out but makes up for it by being gorgeous, having more hair than his dad and already owning a flat cap - a true Yorkshireman.
Going home was crazy. Got shafted by a car hire company (Eurocar - avoid at all costs. Their policies are ridiculous and their staff are disgustingly rude), had a reUNIon in Manchester and got very very drunk, had a boogie with my homies back at home, went to York and indulged in a Betty's (which, for Southerners or foreigners, is the best tea and scone shop in the known universe), went to Wales for some Welsh cakes and a home-cooked Gilbert dinner (where I left my iPod), went to Surrey to drink cocktails with my ex's mum and her amazing friends, and almost missed the flight home. I got 5 hours sleep in the first three days, and had to bring an extra bag back to Canada so I had room for all the biscuits and tea I had bought. If Canada sold PG Tips pyramid bags that weren't 'orange pekoe' shite then this would not have happened.
It was strange going back as I totally fell back into all my wicked friendships as if nothing had changed. The night out in Satan's Hollow - the best rock club in England, and I strongly suspect, the world - could have been any night out in the last three years, and saying bye to people with any conviction is difficult when it feels as if you'll see them next week. It's the same with the homebodies - our dynamic has barely changed over the last few years, and they still take the piss out of me with a vengeance. Yes, I talk with my hands and dress like a tard!
The problem now is that I miss them all the more. I would like to invent a country called the United Canadium where all my friends from both sides of the Atlantic can live together in one big commune and get accused of being a cult by the outside world. Class.
In my self-imposed isolation from the blog world, I got a new nephew, went home for a week, got not enough sleep and more than enough partying, and not much else.
So the nephew is a ten-pound cutie pie called Will, who made a mess of his mum on the way out but makes up for it by being gorgeous, having more hair than his dad and already owning a flat cap - a true Yorkshireman.
Going home was crazy. Got shafted by a car hire company (Eurocar - avoid at all costs. Their policies are ridiculous and their staff are disgustingly rude), had a reUNIon in Manchester and got very very drunk, had a boogie with my homies back at home, went to York and indulged in a Betty's (which, for Southerners or foreigners, is the best tea and scone shop in the known universe), went to Wales for some Welsh cakes and a home-cooked Gilbert dinner (where I left my iPod), went to Surrey to drink cocktails with my ex's mum and her amazing friends, and almost missed the flight home. I got 5 hours sleep in the first three days, and had to bring an extra bag back to Canada so I had room for all the biscuits and tea I had bought. If Canada sold PG Tips pyramid bags that weren't 'orange pekoe' shite then this would not have happened.
It was strange going back as I totally fell back into all my wicked friendships as if nothing had changed. The night out in Satan's Hollow - the best rock club in England, and I strongly suspect, the world - could have been any night out in the last three years, and saying bye to people with any conviction is difficult when it feels as if you'll see them next week. It's the same with the homebodies - our dynamic has barely changed over the last few years, and they still take the piss out of me with a vengeance. Yes, I talk with my hands and dress like a tard!
The problem now is that I miss them all the more. I would like to invent a country called the United Canadium where all my friends from both sides of the Atlantic can live together in one big commune and get accused of being a cult by the outside world. Class.
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