Adorned with poundland battery operated christmas lights, some tinsel, and a Santa hat that has SEXY embroidered around the white faux fur trim, they would be drunkenly shouting for SLADE or WIZZARD songs between trips to the toilet to take a drink from the bottle of vodka Sandra smuggled in.
Around the middle of this year my passion for gig going went from what always felt like an eternal roaring flame to a dwindling spark that was close to being extinguished.
I just wasn't feeling it anymore.
The rise of excitement pre gig had vanished, the losing myself in the moment of a good show had went awol, and post gig I wasn't feeling much of anything at all.
I missed live music pulling me out of the trials and tribulations of my life, of getting dragged away from the mundane, and being thrust into the midst of something that felt special. I missed the rush of the communal camaraderie that exists in a crowd at a good show, the symbiotic moment when the band and audience join together to create a small world that only exists for us all in that time and space.