True Radical Miracle at Pony, early 21-04-07
Ok, I won't bullshit you here. I know these kids. In fact, I reckon I've known the bassplayer since I was about 14. He claims to this day that I intimidated him into giving me his lunch money. It seems only right, then, that play a part in creating such a punishing noise. The bullied becomes the bully, as they say.
I somehow manage to stay up until 2am to catch True Radical Miracle. As I walk into the Pony some drunk fuckheads try to charge me fifteen bucks to get in. It's the 2am Pony lateslot; it's been free as long as I've been going there, but I'm not at my best at 2am and they momentarily disorient me. I text Leith Thomas (the aforementioned bassplayer) to ask what's up, but eventually the fuckheads relent and usher me through the door. Where I'm reminded of all the reasons I fucking hate Pony.
There's a lot of good reasons to hate a venue – size, sound, location – but at Pony these are all perfect. No, my hatred for Pony is more about the clientele, and the late hour only serves to exacerbate this. Hipsters smoking cigarettes, a lot of coke done in the toilets, random kids posing on the couches out the back. It doesn't make for a pleasant evening. But then this makes me think about hipsters a bit.
I talk to
Midway through the show I notice Petie Hyde standing over the other side of the stage. Ali McCann is here somewhere too, and I noticed Angela Dufty's bike outside, which means there are five Stawell kids here tonight. Pete looks tired. After the show I invite him to breakfast the next day, but he tells me he'll still be asleep by the time eleven rolls around. Talking to him reminds me how tired I am. I don't even bother to say goodbye to everyone. It's now three. I get on my bike and ride home. Alicia "Fewlz" Saye is asleep on my couch when I get there, so I have to be quiet.