Hey, you had to be there. Or somewhere else if you weren’t. However, the facts were the facts and the attraction of the glory of Guinness led this, lost to the ways of rock, soul into Rockus in search of darkness in a glass with a side order of loud music. Of course it helped that the barmaid – or whatever the preferred nomenclature is these days for a behind the bar goddess – could inspire a straight guy to write poetry but the music is, as always, where it is at.
Anyway, doing that very loud music thing and living the rock dream in real time were Gordon’s Alive. Being squeezed into a corner might make a more sensitive band coy but Gordon’s Alive were instead driven by a desire to sweat profusely and come out fighting. Jonny Penman lived that dream through his guitar and Paul Murray, whilst positively reeking of the old school machismo that has forever powered the rock machine, nonetheless appreciated that humour is the seasoning that adds life to time honoured recipe of three good old boys having some on stage Friday fun. That, my friends, is the way it should be.
I love the smell of henna in the morning. Honestly I do.