My first ever concert was a turgid affair that only remains in the memory bank due to it being the first, and how crap it was. It was September 1988 and there was a girl I fancied who I knew liked Siouxsie and The Banshees so I bought tickets with the intention of coaxing her into a date. I didn't end up on the date with her but it is lost in the annals of time if she declined or I just didn't muster the courage to ask her. Anyway, I ended up going with my mate Pooley and neither of us were fans.
I was on crutches after snapping my femur which happened when I jumped out of a second floor window whilst sleepwalking on an adventure holiday in the Herz Mountains near the old East German border (honestly). In those days the Manchester Apollo, where the gig was taking place, didn't have a standing area. As I was on crutches this was a personal relief but it made for a terrible atmosphere. The Banshees barely elicited a round of applause and the bassist gesticulated the wanker' sign at the audience for our lack of enthusiasm. It takes two to tango. When Pooley and I walked out of the venue there was a woman crouched down urinating, which would probably work on some level as a metaphor if I could be bothered to think about it.
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