Archive for the ‘midlake’ Category



It was all about Roscoe.

Everyone loved Roscoe. It had a Fleetwood Mac thing. It was propulsive.

It was obscure, but it connected immediately.

It seemed like their sound had come out of nowhere.

And as well as Roscoe I loved the yearning way they sang “She reads Leviathan…” on Head Home.

I’ve never read Leviathan, and I don’t think the girl I would have been projecting that yearning onto at the time would have ever read it either.

But still.

“She never mentions a word to me, she reads Leviathan…. I think I’ll head home.”

Still hits me now.

I don’t remember who I went to see this show with.

What I remember is an incredibly crowded room and a lot of bass.

And it all felt terribly important. Sombre as well as celebratory.

High: The opening of Roscoe and the cheer that goes with it.

Drinking: very much so. And beer was cheap at ULU.

Thinking: She never mentions a word to me. Think I’ll head home.