It’s probably just full on exhaustion, coupled with the disbelief of what actually occurred last night, but I’m not really able to function today. That said, we did take the opportunity to enjoy a childless meander back from Rocking the Daisies. And I’m back home in one piece, so it can’t be that bad.
Suffice to say, Skunk Anansie’s performance last night comprehensively knocked the Manic Street Preachers’ 2003 Glastonbury set from its comfortable spot on the throne of Best Gig I’ve Been To Land.
Being right down at the front is always a bonus, and I was ready to be impressed after dreary Alt-J and the zany warm-up from The Hives. But Skin and the boys made it extra special, with a breathtakingly energetic and interactive performance, including her standing on my shoulders and holding my hand – this one here, goddammit! [holds up left hand] – while she belted out Weak.
I went back 15 years in an instant.
There was stage diving (some organised, most not so much), there was power and presence, and there was even some classic rock’n’roll violence as Skin ended the band’s one year tour by putting her microphone stand through the drum kit after their final song.
The gaggle of disbelieving road crew gathered round the damaged kit pointing and taking cellphone pictures afterwards suggested that it was a wholly impromptu and unexpected act.
This morning, I woke up with this in the room:
A piece of memorabilia that I will certainly cherish and quite possibly frame.
If you look carefully, you can even make out the print of Skin’s studded silver boot. Sadly, having checked, there’s no such print on my jacket, but I’ve still got the memories.
I Hope You Get To Meet Your Hero they sang; last night, I kinda think I did.