Heavens above I feel rough.
I've come down with the traditional post-marathon bug and haven't helped matters by throwing myself back into drink and gigs. Monday night I went to see the ever majestic Low at the Trinity in Bristol. The support came from Harvey Eggface who was nowhere near as talented as his affected posing suggested he thought he was, but three quarters of Low on backing helped to elevate his efforts to mediocre. Low themselves were the best I've ever seen them. I'm still not entirely sold on the new album "The Invisible Way" but live the songs really soared and I can forgive Alan Sparhawk's gimlet eyed gurning when the music is as ethereal and epic as it was on Monday night.
The first time I ever saw Low live was at the "All Tomorrow's Parties" festival and it was with a great deal of sadness that I heard the festival was coming to an end. Don't get me wrong they did put on a fair amount of bollocks. I can't count the number of times I'd walked into a dark room smelling of hotdogs and found someone on stage in a hoody occasionally pressing a button on a laptop seemingly unaware that there was an audience in front of them, but the good far out ways the bad. Boredoms last year were amazing, as were Low (and having the opportunity to go running with them) and I had the opportunity to shake Kim Deal's hand and not be weird about it. There are too many great bands who I've seen at ATP to mention, and I'll miss the regular crew who I go with. We're going to the pen-ultimate ATP in Camber Sands to wish it I final twee Hipster goodbye, and I'm already missing it.