Well what a great night - Wilson were absolutely awesome, better even than last time they played Oxford. The aural equivalent of being mugged, beaten up and having your phone nicked, in the nicest possible way... sound was nice and LOUD, though in hindsight the bass, had it been just a touch louder would have crushed my head perfectly.
I was the support bloke, lonely strummer in the face of supreme apathy, from which I was happily protected by some good friends. Thankfully I got some strange looks when I kicked off with Walz Of The New Moon (by the 'String Band)and went off one slightly during Terry's Camera. Couple of names on the clipboard of Doom - Result!
Tinderbox were so young I felt compelled to pat their heads and give them 50p... but quite charming - at their best they sounded a little like the Beach Boys' more psyche stuff and had enough substance to them to show promise beyond the strong Radiohead/Jeff Buckley influence.
For me, though, Wilson were the point of the evening. There can't be many natural frontmen in the league of MC Bot - megaphone wielding crazyman who manages to coolly and calmly fly over the monitor and roll onto the floor for the climax of the set. Watching drums and percussion in synch proves marvellously hypnotic - in fact for me, my only regret is Mr DAT never seemed to allow for Agent Wilson to do his solo... Sylvan Misery Wilson runs her long fingers over the bass and produces a deep rumble totally at odds with her appearance, while Headstone provides the solid delicious cake of guitar so Stevie G (who is playing as if his life depended on it) can apply his beautifully loud icing... the crowd by this time (mums and dads having come and picked up many of the younger members) is small but bloody enthusiastic.
It seemed just too short a time before the blue Wilson van was flying up St Giles headed back to the Omphalos. My ears are still ringing, I've got a bastard behind the eyes, but I can't help hoping, even if we don't deserve them, that they'll be back soon...