Came the call from the cat who got the (Bryl)cream & a squeal of schoolgirl excitement echoed across N4 & beyond (sorry, residents) from the knee-socked audience, their ‘Alexa Chung for Eyeko’ feline flicked eyeliner & bouncing curls perfectly in place – snap, flash, another ‘Selfie’. You see, this swaggering Tom projected high above & over the hairspray’d heads was none other than Alex Turner.
Sneaking in at the Finsbury Park gig after the support acts, my Mr & I had jumped on the train from suburbia with a couple of un-hip flasks of whiskey, clutching last-minute-snagged-via-Twitter tickets. As the sun set over the park & the threatening rain clouds dispersed, we bobbed away (read: avoided the mosh surges) miming along with the masses. Whilst taking in the splendour of the late night lust letter that is AM, we couldn’t help but notice the lost lyrical irony on this girlish gaggle or its’ alpha contingent in their Classic Reeboks & tracky bottoms tucked in socks.
The problem is, they all looked a bit TOO good on the dance floor – wishing it had rained after all; missing the grime but equally adoring that polished performance.