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Thursday 31st July, 2003 - http://turkeyphant.livejournal.com/
i'll suck cock for fame but i'll never swallow
I persuaded Abu to accompany me to Brighton in order to view the mighty Miss Black America once again in this gig supporting Love Music Hate Racism. I wasn't expecting him to want to join me really, but it was pleasant to have some company and I am very grateful. Of course, I wasn't at all surprised when he saw some chixor he knew on the train down and started effortless talking to her for a few minutes. After she went her own separate way, we trotted off to try and find the venue.

We passed alleys familiar from that Mikabomb gig oh so many moons ago. I was delighted to find a bar called The Fubar but forgot about telling userinfoDavid for far too long. We really had an exciting walk - coincidently enough, we saw a shop called Dot Dot Dot which, if my memory serves me well, turned out to be their closing choon (and much cooler than perpetual ellipsises). Not only that but, while traversing the closed-up Lanes, Abu caught sight of some man he claimed to be from the Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster. Naturally, I failed to believe him and mocked him for a short while although, the more we stalked him, the more certain Abu became regarding his identity and I was eventually persuaded.

For some reason, I also have faint recollections about some other coolio dudes. Also, some faerie pr0n lummons Abu had read and claimed to be "really good, actually". He desperately tried to persuade me to borrow his copy. Despite searching for the required tome in several bookshops for several hours, I managed to resist the immense temptation.

Anyway, so there we were waiting outside the pub for an hour or so. I'd downed the dregs of Abu's latest alcopop of choice and we refrained from going up to the bar inside as the penniless cheapskates we are. Soon some girls who claimed to recognise me turned up and also, Seymour and company appeared out of a Tardis-esque van-for-hire. They went in to soundcheck and still we waited all the while watching people come and go from the Sikh fitness club and some little exhibitionist five year old boy be scolded by his hairy father in a terraced window.

When the doors were finally opened, we all ending up being fricking asked for ID to prove we were sixteen. Such humiliation! Although my FID proved its worth once again, Abu only had his National "must not be used as ID" Insurance card and got the customary black cross signifying his inability to purchase alcohol emblazoned upon the back of his hand. There were some ace dude from the ANL there and we both happily purchased their propaganda and merchandise and, even though Abu kept muttering things about killing black people, he got the last "School Kids Against Nazis" badge.

The bands on that night were Diomedes, Antihero and, of course, Quiggers' Miss Black America. The Brighton Free Butt is a rather spiffing venue - upstairs a smart bar and downstairs a smokier pub-cum-bar with a tiny stage round the corner and a capacity of about twenty five. We started with Diomedes and they were fucking ace with an awesomely awesome frontman and a guy in the crowd who looked identical to Jesus dancing like fucking mad to them the whole time. After they'd finished, I sprinted to the front and picked up a copy of their totally excellent (and free) demo. I appreciated it even more because they were all clearly broke but wouldn't take any money for their superb wares. In the break, the singing man from Antihero asked me to hold his pint while he visited the urination station. I don't think it out of my place to assume that this was naturally because I seemed so much HOT DAMN cooler than anyone else there.

When Antihero finally came on, they were rather fantastic too, although this was mainly due to how stoned the bassist was and Mr. Jesus' continued stamina. I looked forward to Miss Black America who would surely surpass all previous conception of aceness. And disappoint they did not. Truly they were gods. I downed my gin (watch me shun the bar), we pushed to the front and I revelled in the music with the new songs now completely ingrained and familiar. It seemed as though Abu was even enjoying himself. Still there were a few negatives: un-fit people hogging the front of the stage and preventing me from unleashing the full brilliance of my dancing talent; Mat's magic pedal braking and cutting out half a song (though Quiggers made up for it by improvising some impromptu sexiness); the fact the stupid Free Butt has a 22:45 curfew that cut off their creative flow.

Nevertheless it was superb. I stayed afterward chatting to Cooper for a few moments and sycophantically complimenting him on his Fear Factory chain and brilliant drumming skills - he told me that his other band, Becky Jago, rule and would rock my face off nine times. I bought the coolio Miss Black America/Cultural Ice Age yellow vinyl EP and got special edition Antihero disc number 000045 before we set off back through the wonderful streets of Brighton and took the last train home again home again quickedy quick.

    mood: thrilled happy
    choon: Miss Black America - Drowning By Numbers