Why: When I was at school, all My Bloody Valentine meant to me was a name on the back of a denim jacket owned by a guy called Glenn in the year above me. I bumped into him at university a couple of years afterwards and told him I’d just discovered Loveless and he was deeply unimpressed.
Anyway, like the rest of trendy gig-going London it was inevitable I’d be going to the reunion shows. For the record, I didn’t avail myself of the earplugs on offer.
High: Soon
Drinking: With a friend’s wife in the bar to take breaks from the wall of sound.
Thinking: Yeah, it’s great – but the noise is really just a gimmick, isn’t it, and this is an event not a show. Somehow not very rock & roll. Maybe that was the point all along?
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