“So how does this affect me?! Emotionally affect me!!?! Too damn right it does.”
The seventh of my ten Mansun gigs, and the zenith of my hyperventilating obsession. This post contains inordinate quantities of excitable capitals and exclamation marks. You have been warned.
I don’t have a ticket stub or programme, so here’s my train ticket! Continue reading
One year on from my last Mansun gig, and I had a deep-seated need to be crushed against a barrier once again, screaming at the brilliance of My Boys. And they sure as hell did not disappoint.
“All I can say is just over an hour ago I TOUCHED PAUL DRAPER!!! Whilst being drenched in champagne! He was just a metre away!!! Oh christ indeed.”
Buckle up, kids. It’s going to be THAT sort of a gig.
October 1997, and my newest obsession were on tour again! And I literally could not wait to see them in London. So I zoomed up to Manchester one Saturday to see them there first.
My third Mansun gig, and my first ever UK festival. This was a special event indeed.
Exactly 21 years ago today, I went to my very first gig at the Manchester Arena. It was a truly monumental night, with my two favourite bands in the world on the same bill: Manic Street Preachers and Mansun.
They took away our tickets as we entered the arena, and gave us a random one back upon leaving. So this was not the actual ticket that had sat in my drawer for weeks. I would certainly not have let it get so crumpled.
My first ever Mansun gig. If I were pressed to name one gig and one gig only as the greatest of my life, it would be this one.