So I went to see The Killers at Hyde Park on Friday night, having been wowed by them at the NEC back in February. It was fair to say I was a touch excited to see them again but I’m afraid this post is going to turn into a self-indulgent rant. In summary: on rude, judgemental people. But before that… It was wonderful to see The Killers again and I really enjoyed their performance but to be totally honest it was no-where near as good as their NEC performance. If memory is working it was the same setlist and a good solid set on the whole but a large swathe of the crowd (whom I shall massacre with words later) didn’t make it easy for them. Knowing Brandon can be a nervous performer at the best of times, he did at moments come across uneasy and as if he’d had one Dutch courage too many. He certainly wasn’t the duracell bunny, easy-going Brandon from February. And from a hormonal and shallow point of view – David still turns my mind to x-rated mush. So musically, good, not great. Now for the bitchy rant. The event attracted a large number of knobs. I can’t be bothered to give them a flowery description when knob covers it so well. But there again before I got into the arena I was reminded of the wonderfully unfriendly and snotty nature that a certain London set breeds. To paint a picture, I went to a rather minor public school. I have fond memories of my school days, where I did very well, and as I went to enter the arena I spotted a face I hadn’t seen in 20 years. Now being jolly and nice I called across to this old classmate and went to say hello and reminded her who I was and the fact we’d been at school together. You see I envisage when you run into such people it goes like this ‘hello, you look well (even if they don’t), nice to see you, I hope life is treating you well, hope you enjoy your day, goodbye’. She looked at me as if I was something she’d stood in as the hooray Henriettas with her starred at me as if I’d just escaped from Holloway and was carrying an axe. Obviously I looked like I was going to mug them for their alice bands. So the immediate atmosphere is that I’m a pork chop at a Jewish wedding. Still, because I’ve been brought up nicely I still smile and say she hasn’t changed a bit (to which she grunts ‘well I don’t know if that’s a good thing’) and we walk through the turnstiles. ‘We’re thinking of reunion at the end of the year’ I cherrily chirp, which gets the sharp reply ‘I won’t be here’. I stand at the other side of the entrance putting my things in my bag and happily ready to do the ‘well it was nice seeing you (sic) goodbye’. She walks through, totally blanks me and walks off with her sloane rejects from 1986 without so much as a by your leave! Isn’t it nice to know that some things never change and those in a certain set, there by accident of birth, continue to look down at the rest of us like shit in the certain knowledge (in)breeding will always count for more than manners?! I hate such rudeness, so this did not sweeten my mood. I look at my friends and they cover every social spectrum and whatever system they have today for judging ‘class’. My Christmas card list covers addresses from council house to literally a castle and I love everyone of them and happily introduce them to one another as I can confidently say they are all open minded, loving and non-judgemental people and for this fact I am extremely grateful.. Yes I am a snob – a manner’s snob! And sadly I found the crowd was made up of a bunch of clones, none of whom seemed to be able to get dressed without Sienna Miller’s permission coupled with Peaches Geldof style pouting. I missed the memo that said ‘though shalt only wear pumps or gladiator sandals as worn by Kate Moss’. They sat round in their little groups, squealing, but not interacting with the other squealing groups. It just all felt tso unfriendly and rude. ‘Hard Rock Calling’ and I didn’t see one other person with coloured hair which was quite amusing especially when seemingly the only black guy in the entire crowd came and sat next to us so we could be minorities together!! I just hope there was a good band of proper music lovers and real fans of the groups up front as on the outer reaches it was Pimms swillers constantly on their phones, screeching that they were ‘oh wow, like at a festival’. I felt it was extremely hard for Brandon and the group to really get a decent interaction with the whole crowd. I should have heeded the signs as I walked over to Hyde Park when I was followed in by Mr & Mrs Okay Yah whose conversation included the gem Mrs Okay Yah: 'I don't think I know them'
Mr Okay Yah: 'Yes you do, they sing the song about the man looking like Jesus’
When that was said, somewhere an angel had its wings ripped off. And so for the evening I was surrounded by drunk London types who wittered all through the set, off their tits on Pimms and got excited during the 3 songs they actually knew. I’d made my escape to the second tent for Echo & the Bunnymen earlier on, which seemed to act as some sort of ‘knob filter’. There were very few of us in there. A lovely couple stood by me and I sensed a kindred spirit! My faith was restored and when we clicked we’d both been at Download it was like finding a soulmate in a sea of bland! She was a London person and said it was always like this but being local she could nip in and out, blinkered to those only there because it was part of some social calendar, but she was saying this was also the same brand of new festival goer that had overtaken Glastonbury hence she no longer bothered going there. And breathe…..rant over! The weather was nice ;)
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