Singing in my already well-damaged ears.
The loudest bands I've ever seen (and the aforementioned damage):
But tonight, My Bloody Valentine won the prize.
They handed out ear-plugs at the door for free.
Did I use them? No.
The last song, "You Made Me Realise," which lasted 20 minutes, put my fingers in my ears two knuckles deep.
It felt like the moral equivalent of standing on a runway with a jet in front of me, during an earthquake.
I felt my hair moving, looked down and my shirt was blowing, then noticed that my pants were pasted to my legs.
And it was BEAUTIFUL. The assault was daunting. And Impressive. And worth every penny.
Few "reunion" shows have been worthy in my book: Gang of Four, Mission of Burma, The Pixies, to name a few.
Few and far between...
Add My Bloody Valentine to that list and put them at the top.
Just don't talk to me for a while, 'cause all I'm gonna say is "Hunh?"
It was sorta like this, except at The Roseland in NYC tonight, but you'll get the idea.
It hurt. In the bestest, most cathartic way...
Sometimes I appreciate music more than anything else.
Perhaps it's my downfall...