Tales from a Ticket Stub - Give it a Name 2009

I’m incredibly awful at sticking to anything, so it’s no surprise that I haven’t updated this in about six weeks – so much for weekly updates. Unfortunately the real world (This is the true story... of seven strangers...) got in the way. So work, the plague, general laziness and a subscription to Marvel Unlimited took precedence. However this is the official return of Tales from a Ticket Stub.

 This one was a bit of a mystery to me. In fact I don’t remember the gig at all…or even who I went with. So strike that one up to too much booze I guess. And I assume a less than memorable performance from a band that seem to have died after having that hit that got stuck in your head. You remember? Gives You Hell? Nope? Now you do…and you’re welcome. Could be worse I could have mentioned Dirty Little Secret…

I figure that this doesn’t really count as a proper blog update so I went back to my magic sack and picked out another ticket stub and this time I managed to draw one that felt a little more familiar.

After the success of Give it a Name in 2005 the festival grew – first to two days, then to three, then back to two by the time 2009 rolled around.  And it was in 2009 that me and my friend Steve (I haven’t introduced you to Steve yet but he’ll feature heavily in this blog) were on our way to Brixton on a bright and sunny Sunday afternoon. The new stripped down format of the festival meant that much like its inaugural year there was just a single stage. There wasn’t much to be interested in lower down the bill but the final three bands were well worth the price of admission alone – Thursday, Underoath and Taking Back Sunday. All highly influential bands that helped shape the genre, all bands that meant a hell of a lot to me. These bands had all played a huge role in my life, providing the soundtrack to a state of suspended adolescence (which is debatably still a thing).

2003 was a great time for the burgeoning scene (call it post-hardcore, call it emo, call it whatever you like) as it encroached into the mainstream. And it was the year that I started work at Pizza Hut. A job where I met some of the best friends I’d ever have, enjoyed some of the best times I ever had and introduced me to the ‘scene’. By 2005 I was fully indoctrinated (or Ben-doctrinated as it became known) - commence skinny jeans, a ridiculous fringe, dyed black hair, guy-liner and MySpace. By 2009 I had mostly grown out of this, although the jeans were (and probably are) still a little too tight and MySpace had just been replaced with Facebook.  

And it’s back to 2009 (eventually I’ll stop going off on tangents when writing these) where me and Steve were sat in a Nandos enjoying some chicken and nostalgia (still two of my favourite things). I was off to university in a few months and leaving Basingstoke was weighing heavily on my mind. Yeah it was exciting and I couldn’t wait but nonetheless I was leaving my comfort zone behind – no more Pizza Hut, no more Basingstoke and no more Steve. We drank beers (Brahma I think) and got caught up in days spent at work, nights spent in dingy venues and weekends spent in fields. Across the restaurant I noticed a large table of terribly scruffy looking fellows and after taking a second look I realised that we were sat just a few tables away from members of the three bands that had bought us to Brixton. I can’t recall many occasions that I’ve been ‘star-stuck’ (I did once met Jonah Mantranga when I was off my tits and told him that he taught me how to feel) but this was one of them. Eventually I plucked up the courage to go say hello and unsurprisingly they weren’t as excited to meet me - although I did get to look Geoff Rickly in his beautiful blue eyes and tell him that I loved him.

We swiftly moved across the road to the venue and to be honest I was thoroughly underwhelmed by the gig. The first few acts were terrible and even the bands I loved didn’t do a lot to stir my soul - we even decided to leave before Taking Back Sunday got half-way through their set to make sure we didn’t miss the last train. It wasn’t that any of the bands were terrible. They just weren’t there to play songs that were nearly a decade old. With new albums to promote we were robbed of the chance to indulge in the familiarity of their back catalogue.

Incidentally I’m probably going back to Brixton tomorrow (to that very same Nandos). I’ll drink beers (probably Brahma) and reminisce with an old friend (Steph) before heading across the road to the same venue to see another band who I loved back in the day (Fightstar).  I’ve checked out the set-list in advance and thankfully it features more or less every song from their first EP and album. Which is nice as I’ll be able to slip back into the past a little – which is a lot less scary than the future.