Archive for the ‘Earl’s Court’ Category

Foo fighters


Foo Fighters? In 2000? On a Saturday night a week before Christmas? What’s not to like?

But I’m drawing a blank.

I don’t think I actually went to this show.

I want to write a note to the people I would have arranged to go with and ask what happened, but I worry about what I might hear back from them.

I can see that they were awful seats, so maybe something better came along.

But I can’t remember a thing about this show.

I’ll tell you what I can remember from December 2005.

I remember finally leaving a job I’d worked for six years. A job I’d once loved, but which for countless reasons I couldn’t love anymore.

I’d convinced myself that I was useless. That I didn’t have any skills that could get me any work anywhere else, so I felt I had to prove myself wrong.

Prove that I wasn’t as broken as I felt I was.

The whole job-seeking process was, frankly, a nightmare.

I don’t interview well, and wasn’t in any state to sell myself.

And when I finally met someone who could look past that, it took me three months of repeat interviews to convince them that I was ‘a good fit.’

Apparently you don’t say “I don’t suffer fools” when asked about your weaknesses.

Apparently you don’t suggest that one of the reasons you’re leaving the current job is the culture of booze and substance abuse you’ve fallen into with some of your management.

So I don’t remember the Foo Fighters at Earl’s Court in December 2005. But I do remember having a bit of a breakdown over the few months before it.

Writing this now, at 44, and diagnosed as autistic just last year (a shock, if not a surprise), I look back on this period and it seems a little more understandable. It makes sense that it didn’t make any sense to me.

Turns out I wasn’t a good fit for that new job either.

I resigned just over a year later.

High: Maybe I did have something better to do on the Saturday before Christmas.

Drinking: To excess.

Thinking: I honestly think I’m losing my mind.

Setlist on


Why: When I was in my final year at junior school, Duran Duran were the band you had to know the specical dance moves for (‘the Reflex’) at the discos that started to replace classmates’ birthday parties. Not that I ever went, but that’s what I was told by Mark who thought he was cooler than us.

Within a year, at grammar school, ‘Durannie’ was an insult.

Fast forward all the way to the proper reunion tour (at a proper reunion shed of a venue) and Duran were cool again – or so I told everyone.

It was good to have something to celebrate, and I’m pleased I still remember this show so clearly.

High: Wild Boys! Wild Boys!

Drinking: Someone fetched a new pint everytime an unfamiliar intro marking a song from the new album started up…

There was some mild embarrassment. My younger sister turned out to be standing just in front of us and she may have seen me fall over once or twice.

Thinking: Please play the Chauffeur, Last Chance on the Stairway or New Religion. Oh, and you guys really aren’t in the best shape are you? (Simon excepted, obviously….)

Gig on Songkick