In mundane news, I just scratched my eye and came away with three eyelashes. Does this symbolise anything?

Dont know if I'll have much time to write (for fun) today so here's a very old review (previously unpublished) of one of my absolute favourite bands of all time:


Streetlight Manifesto at The Camden Underworld

Stumbling in from a rain-soaked Saturday night to the illustrious dive, the Camden Underworld, the support acts of the evening (and a pint) soon loosened me up. Dan Potthast, a quirky Californian, provided caustic wit with an enthusiastic and infectiously happy demeanour (t-shirts bore the phrase “Dan sang to me”). At one point he actively encouraged audience members to heckle, so that he could sing the song he had prepared to respond to those who might question the presence of a man-with-acoustic-guitar act at a punk/ska/rock/metal gig. A hilarious start to the evening.
Next were Random Hand, pounding out ska ballads in a style only four Yorkshiremen really can. Lead Robin Leitch threw himself across the stage, physically dragging the music with him, and alternating between his vocals and the trombone with an energy which encouraged a surprising amount of crowd-surfers.
Then, the Manifesto themselves. There was less of the tension and showmanship required of a bigger venue gig, and the band casually strolled on and off stage preparing their instruments and doing sound checks, to the whoops of the audience members. As far as I’m aware, they haven’t played in England for three years, and the anticipation was tangible. As the group finally took the stage (seven in all) and stormed into ‘Would You Be Impressed?’, a vicious deluge on mortality in our pass-the-blame capitalist world, the Underworld erupted.
The synchronicity between each band member, knowing every word, every note, every drop in pace, was mirrored in the crowd, who when not pogo-ing as if their lives depended on it were roaring lead singer and guitarist Tomas Kalnoky’s acerbic song lyrics back at him. Kalnoky should win a prize for the lightning delivery of his vocals, perfectly juxtaposed with raucous backing from the others, from whom even a shouted ‘Hey!’ in the right place seemed unbearably poignant. You knew that not one of the band members would miss a note.
I have never before been to a gig where the audience not only sang along, fervently, to every single word that they possibly could, but shouted along to the melody, the harmonies of trombone, trumpet, baritone, alto and tenor sax, and physically jolted to every movement of the drum and throb of bass.
This was music at its most pure and purely felt, and you could see the band’s gratification as we roared their own songs back at them. Streetlight Manifesto are undeniably one of the most close-knit acts I have ever seen, combining impressive technical ability with camaraderie, a thrilling physical presence (yup, all seven of them), and some of the most carefully crafted, fantastically diverse song-writing possible. This is all conveyed with stunningly good humour and not a hint of ego, especially in the relatively tiny venues they frequent – I was surprised that they all fit onto the stage. Their appeal is universal, their songs intelligent, and their live shows reveal their dedication to the music they create and the message they carry. The only disappointment for me was that their set lasted one hour instead of two. All this only served to concrete an impression of a band I was already in love with.