“Hey, don’t you be going off anywhere else you. Blacklisters
are on upstairs” the friendly record vendor tells you.
So you go back through the venue, and up the stairs to a
still crowded room. If there’s anyone in there still not quite awake, still
acclimatising to this day full of musical light and shade, then these guys will
fix em pretty sharp.
It’s a brutal, vicious sound that you feel may leave permanent
scars upon your cerebral cortex. A brave photographer is down by the front of
the stage, clearly with little care for his hearing or personal safety. You see
the bright silver hair upon his head pop up and down sporadically as he
clamours to find the best angle.
You feel slightly violated. Part of you enjoyed it though. It’s time to get out of The Hop and see this beautiful and odd city called Wakefield. The question is, what do you need now; a nice sit down, or to take it up a level?
Do you
