|
 The
whole
room
was
dark,
save
for
the
bluish
purple
of
the
patchwork
quilt
used
for
the
monstrous
stage
curtain;
people
were
slowly
filtering
into
the
venue,
many
without
faces
I
could
recognize
many
dressed
in
black,
fishnet,
vinyl,
facial
piercings.
Industrial
dance
music
played
over
the
p.a.
system
as
I
swayed
to
the
tune
of
the
samples
&
drum
beats
tearing
the
aging
calm
of
the
air
from
the
rafters.
I
looked
about
my
surroundings
with
the
rapt
admiration
that
I
was
one
of
the
chosen
few
privileged
enough
to
be
there
that
night.
The
sound
dimmed,
the
lights
fell,
a
cry
rose
from
the
crowd,
the
curtain
draws
open
to
reveal
him,
Gary
Numan,
standing
before
us
in
a
black
cassock
and
eyeliner.
Drums
begin
crashing
to
life,
the
growl
of
the
bass
synth
jars
my
heart
loose
from
the
depths
of
my
chest.
He
glides
from
the
front
of
the
programmers
rig
to
the
microphone,
spreading
his
arms,
embracing
the
darkness,
calling
whatever
tormented
spirits
may
be
hounding
him
that
evening
into
the
twisted
gnarls
of
his
being
.
Ade
soothes
the
keyboard
through
the
angelic
opening
strains
of
“Magic”,
Steve
dances
about,
does
a
humbled
groove
with
his
guitar
before
getting
down
to
business
with
the
chords,
searing
the
audience
with
chilling
gain
of
blessed
almighty
distortion.
Screams
all
around
me
bring
my
eyes
back
to
Numan,
he
watches
us
from
above,
returning
a
glare
not
half
inspired
from
the
dead
itself,
but
we
know
how
he
feels…we
understand…
Gary
stalks
around
before
stopping
dead
center
of
the
stage,
He
sways,
passionately
holding
himself,
head
tilted
and
eyes
closed
contentedly.
screams
bringing
him
into
conscienceness,
his
hand
clutches
the
Microphone;
“When…
I…
Sleep…”
…
And
then
I
woke
up.
I
had
never
been
so
possessed
as
before
when
I
bought
the
tickets
to
see
the
final
show
of
Gary
Numan’s
North
American
show
at
The
House
of
Blues
in
Anaheim,
California.
I
had
to
see
the
man
who’s
music
inspired
such
beautiful
dreams
of
mine;
When
I
was
in
school
and
the
teacher
wouldn’t
let
up
for
being
so
hard
on
me,
he
was
there;
When
I
was
working
after
such
a
difficult
night,
he
was
there;
When
I
was
experiencing
the
only
love
I’ve
ever
felt
in
my
whole
life,
he
was
there
with
me,
easing
me
through
the
difficult
times,
soothing
my
cries
at
night
with
words
I
could
never
hear
from
anybody
ive
ever
known.
He
sung
songs
that
filled
a
void
in
me
a
way
nothing
else
ever
has:
He
gave
me
a
chart
to
follow
and
study,
a
path
to
walk,
a
new
life
blooming
full
of
things
I
could
never
have
imagined
for
the
life
of
me.
so,
with
every
ounce
of
confidence
I
could
muster,
aided
with
a
handful
of
inlay
slips,
a
camera
and
a
hand-held
CD
player
equipt
with
dynamic
bass
output
loaded
with
all
my
favorite
Numan
CD’s,
I
boarded
a
greyhound
for
California.
I
arrived
at
the
site
of
the
venue
two
days
later
early
in
the
afternoon,
bemused
with
the
mass
of
buildings
that
lay
before
me
enclosing
the
House
of
Blues:
I
was
expecting
a
huge
wooden
building
set
in
a
dusty
parking
lot,
broken
neon
lights,
broken
palm
trees
with,
say,
Elwood
Blues
standing
around
in
his
skinny
tie
&
suit
smoking
a
cigarette,
but,
Was
I
dreaming?
Is
this
a
joke
or
something?
Numan’s
playing
DISNEYLAND?
“This
must
be
a
gag,
where’s
my
ticket?
Oh,
wow,
it
ISN’T,
yeesh…
okay,
so
what?
Im
sure
theres
more
freaks
&
weirdoes
walking
around
here
then
in
my
whole
hometown,
lets
give
this
a
shot.”
I
walked
past
an
ESPN
building
with
very
triumphant
sounding
rock
music
playing
outside
of
it,
past
a
tropical
restaurant,
a
talking
parrot
giving
it’s
trainer
some
hard
time,
and
a
few
novelty
shops
with
Hollywood
memorabilia
and
such
stuff
in
it
before
getting
to
the
House
of
Blues,
a
very
new
looking
building
with
a
dining
patio
and
fresh
looking,
well
taken-care
of
trees
outside
of
it.
not
at
all
a
bad
looking
place,
actually.
I
looked
around
the
building
for
a
moment
or
two,
seeing
where
the
doors
are,
if
any
other
fans
were
there,
which
was
surprising
because
there
weren’t.
I
thought
of
checking
the
inside
of
the
building
so
I
footed
it
to
the
entrance
but
made
it
no
further
then
the
front
door
when
out
from
the
darkness
of
the
building
Gary
walked
right
past
me
in
such
a
way
as
I
almost
jumped
in
a
nearby
tree!
Out
in
reflective
shades,
dressed
in
a
black
muscle
shirt,
more
threatening
and
scary
then
any
picture
I’ve
ever
seen
of
him,
there
he
was.
Sure,
it’s
one
thing
to
be
a
celebrity
and
have
a
giddy
enthusiasm
of
being
out
in
public,
trying
to
look
like
a
bad
ass
to
rack
up
the
stares,
screams
and
adoration,
like,
just
about
all
famous
musicians
are,
but
not
Numan.
The
Godfather
of
Electronica
didn’t
look
like
he
was
in
the
happiest
place
on
earth.
He
sure
mustn’t
have
been
feeling
it
either
cause
the
light
was
a
tad
bit
too
bright
today.
Perhaps
the
bus
ride
wasn’t
at
all
the
best
in
the
world
either.
Neither
was
mine;
I
was
stopped
twice
by
boarder
patrol
on
the
way
to
the
gig.
What
sort
of
situation
would
have
sprung
up
if
Numan’s
bus
was
stopped
by
boarder
patrol
somewhere
in
California
on
the
way
to
a
show?
I
can
envision
a
group
of
Boarder
Patrol
officers
in
their
cowboy
hats
&
badges
rap
on
the
door
of
the
bus
and
step
inside
ready
to
make
their
presence
known
with
some
bust-up
declaration
in
Spanish
to
find
this
hoard
of
Englishmen
in
giant
boots
and
eye
make-up
glaring
at
them
with
all
the
pissed
off
intensity
of
a
Rotweiler
kennel
on
a
hot
day,
and
it
WAS
hot,
and
I
wasn’t
about
to
get
plowed
down
so
I
moved
out
of
the
way
FAST
because
right
behind
him
was
the
very
lovely
Gemma
and
the
rest
of
the
band;
Steve,
the
guitarist
with
his
mohawk
and
wife
beater;
Ade
the
programmer
dressed
in
a
fancy
shirt
of
the
gothic
ilk;
Richard
the
skinhead
who
played
live
percussion
and
Dave
the
keys
player
and
part
time
live
bassist,
who
was,
well…just
being
Dave.
Just
as
I
had
imagined
them.
Now
I
knew
where
the
nickname
“Scary
Numan”
came
from,
this
tight
pack
of
Brits
was
the
antithesis
of
any
of
Numan’s
cutsy
mid
eighties
synth
pop
images,
white
hats,
neon
lights,
blue
lip
stick
and
goofy
Mad
Max
costume
that
made
fans
disappear
so
long
ago.
This
was
an
extension
of
the
Replicas
&
Tubeway
punk
image.
This
was
a
gang
of
true
to
life
English
Rivetheads!
All
I
really
could
do
was
stare,
I
wasn’t
going
to
throw
myself
at
his
feet
because,
aside
from
the
fact
they
were
walking
away
from
where
I
was,
it
was
daylight
and
too
many
normal
people
around.
So
my
mouth
just
hung
open.
I
was
glad
I
also
had
some
reflective
shades
on
because
my
eyes
bugged
out
and
I
didn’t
want
him
to
think
ALL
of
his
new
fans
were
basketcases.
He
turned
to
look
at
me
momentarily
before
ushering
the
group
off
down
the
way
towards
the
tropical
restaurant
called
The
Rain
forest
Café.
I
followed.
At
about
thirty
yards
I
had
a
great
view
of
Numan
leading
his
crew
around,
stopping
for
photographs
and
to
catch
some
scenery
with
the
DV
camcorder
(most
obviously
for
the
tour
diary)
.
I
staked
out
a
place
near
a
sign
with
my
camera,
taking
pictures
and
observing
the
group
as
they
wandered
around
for
a
bit:
somewhere
across
the
street
at
the
ESPN
building
Iggy
Pop’s
“Lust
For
Life”
was
blaring
at
full
volume.
Gary
and
Gemma
were
talking,
taking
pictures
of
the
band
horsing
around
near
a
giant
green
tree
frog;
some
blond
guy
not
in
the
band
bearing
a
crew
pass
ran
off
with
a
bottle
of
water
down
the
way,
Steve
saw
the
talking
parrot
abusing
it’s
trainer
and
watched
with
his
head
tilted
in
deep
thoughtful
interest
for
a
good
long
while,
Ade
walked
off
around
a
building
and
only
Richard
was
left
with
nothing
to
do.
Poor
guy
must
have
been
confused.
Gemma
went
to
look
at
the
gift
shop
with
all
it’s
cute
stuffed
animals
and
Gary
was
left
outside
near
the
baby
strollers
with
his
camera
scanning
the
scene.
Nothing
at
that
point
could
surprise
me
more
then
when
he
stopped
the
camera
and
zeroed
in
on
me!
He
watched
me
watching
him
for
long
time,
he
took
pictures
of
me,
I
took
pictures
of
him.
Very
mutual.
My
eye
backed
away
from
the
shutter
momentarily
and
saw
Steve
was
even
watching
me,
the
parrot
must
have
lost
it’s
hold
of
him.
I
could
see
a
near-empty
bottle
of
water
in
his
hand
and
instantly
I
realized
that
my
vinyl
jacket
was
making
me
very
hot
standing
there
that
whole
time,
so
I
broke
off
contact
and
ran
into
a
coffee
shop
for
an
evian.
Some
water
and
a
break
from
the
sun
really
made
the
day!
They
all
regrouped
and
went
in
for
lunch
after
the
blond
guy
returned,
so
I
thought
of
hanging
out
outside
of
the
movie
theater
with
my
water
to
rest
and
watch
the
scenery
for
awhile.
A
friend
was
supposed
to
meet
me
there
that
afternoon
so
I
kept
an
eye
out
for
him
as
well.
Things
got
dull
after
awhile
and
I
went
browsing
the
shops
for
awhile
and
off
to
the
House
of
Blues
for
door
info.
Bored
even
further
I
returned
to
the
Rain
Forrest
café
to
hang
out
for
awhile
in
the
shade.
I
noticed
an
empty
water
bottle
sitting
on
the
edge
of
the
flower
bed
and
a
cleaning
woman
quickly
approaching
it.
“damn,
that’s
Steve’s
water
bottle
bitch,
don’t
touch
it!”
She
took
it.
After
what
seemed
liked
an
eternity,
the
band
walked
out
again,
ready
to
sort
out
another
45
minutes
worth
of
wandering
and
sightseeing.
Camera
came
back
out
again
and
my
stalking
continued.
This
time
Gary,
Gemma
and
the
band
walked
to
the
movie
theater
I
was
just
at,
looking
at
the
posters
and
such.
I
followed
once
again.
They
started
hitting
other
shops
while
the
band
followed
suit,
looking
at
the
classic
rock
and
roll
memorabilia,
two
shops
more
and
the
group
started
to
break
up
a
bit
to
go
their
own
way.
I
thought;
“Now
or
Never”
so
I
walked
to
the
bathroom
to
check
my
hair,
be
sure
the
spikes
were
sticking
straight
up
and
everything,
earrings
were
just
right,
eyeliner
was
great,
clothes
were
nice,
and
off
I
went
again.
Ade
was
outside
talking
on
the
phone
but
only
lifted
his
head
once
to
notice.
I
was
after
Numan.
This
was
my
shot.
Gary
and
Gemma
were
taking
pictures
of
a
wild
looking
fountain
shooting
water
up
in
the
air,
Gary
with
the
DV
and
Gemma
with
her
Camera.
I
approached
his
wife,
Gemma
first.
She
had
her
back
turned
to
me
watching
the
fountain
when
I
came
up
behind
her
and
watched
the
water
shoot
through
the
air
for
awhile
with
her.
After
what
seemed
like
ages
she
turned
and
jumped
with
a
bit
of
a
surprise
“Hello!”
I
chirped,
“
your
Gemma,
aren't
you?”
She
smiled
and
took
my
hand
which
I
shook
gently
just
before
bowing
like
a
prince.
“Gemma”
She
corrected,
still
smiling
brightly
as
ever.
(I
thought
her
name
was
pronounced
‘gema’,
full
prominent
G
and
all.
whoops)
“Im
Nick…”
I
said,
introducing
myself.
Gary
heard
us
talking
and
walked
over
turning
his
camera
off.
“…And
your
Gary!
It’s
great
to
meet
you
sir,
im
a
very
big
admirer
of
your
work.”
“Hello”
he
said,
reached
out
for
my
hand
to
get
acquainted.
“I
came
all
the
way
from
South
Texas
to
see
your
show
because
there
weren’t
any
dates
set
for
the
south,
figuring
since
you
hit
Texas
before
during
Exile
I
was
really
worried
about
why
you
didn’t
come
back.
I
mean
you
took
this
huge
arch
and
skipped
us
entirely.”
I
said
with
a
hint
of
sadness
in
my
voice.
“Why
not?”
“Record
company
wouldn’t
let
us…”
He
said,
feeling
guilty.
“Oh,
look
at
these!”
Gemma
chimed
in,
looking
at
my
giant
pewter
dragon’s
rings.
“Oh,
those
are
nice”
he
observed.
“
I
really
love
the
new
album,
very
ferocious
and
heavy.
‘Rip’,
‘Pure’,
‘Prayer…’,
best
music
I’ve
heard
ANYWHERE.
Im
sure
everyone
loves
it,
god
knows
I
left
so
many
people
back
home
who
couldn’t
see
the
show.”
Gemma
was
still
looking
my
rings
over
with
all
fascination.
“Well,
we’re
going
to
come
back
in
September
for
a
southern
tour
of,
you
know,
all
the
places
we
missed
before.”
He
added
“I’ll
be
sure
to
see
all
the
Texas
shows,
I
mean,
this
is
my
first
show,
this
is
so
amazing
to
meet
you!
I
got
into
your
work
last
year
when
I
got
a
copy
of
The
Black
Bible
and
heard
your
song
on
it,
oh
wow,
those
percussion
loops…”
“How
old
are
you?”
Gemma
quizzed,
looking
up
from
my
hand.
“Only
17,”
I
piped.
“Poor
dear,
you
must
be
hot
in
all
of
that”
Gemma
added,
looking
over
my
all
black
ensemble.
“
Oh
sure,
but
it’s
worth
it
really.
I
wore
this
white
shirt
all
the
way
up
here
after
a
friends
dog
mauled
it
and
other
such
things,
but
I
had
to
hit
a
mall
near
here
and
pick
up
these
new
threads
for
the
show”
They
smiled
appreciatively
about
that
one.
“…
I
mean,
to
be
here…
I’ve
had
a
good
share
of
torture
from
the
trip
up
here,
almost
mugged
by
crackheads
in
Dallas,
not
sleeping
the
whole
while…
heat
stroke
is
small
potatoes
this
afternoon,
to
be
frank.
I
mean,”
I
sort
of
shot
my
arms
out
in
a
bewildered
gesture
before
Gary,
“This
concert
is
when
life
starts
to
get
good!
I’ve
been
following
all
your
moves
online,
and
I
had
to
come
to
see
you
at
THIS
venue”
Gary
smiled.
They
both
were
impressed
that
I
had
come
so
far,
being
a
minor
and
all,
to
see
his
show.
“I
mean,
this
is
the
greatest
thing
EVER
to
meet
your
sir!”
Gemma
set
down
her
handbag
“Would
you
like
a
picture?”
“Yes
ma’am,
I
would!”
I
handed
her
my
camera,
showed
her
how
to
reset
the
loading
mechanism
and
she
went
back
a
few
feet,
Gary
and
I
moved
in
for
the
magic
moment,
me
muttering
nonsense
like,
“This
is
truly
a
great
honor,
sir”
she
got
two
pictures
and
returned
the
camera,
it
felt
heavier,
like
it
was
made
of
gold
now.
“
How
do
you
know
so
much
about
what’s
been
going
on?
Where
do
you
hear
about,
you
know,
all
that’s
going
on
with
the
tour,
do
you
go
to
website’s?”
Gemma
asked.
“Theres
this
great
site
I
go
to
at
least
three
times
daily
to
see
what’s
going
on
in
the
news,
what
other
fans
thought
of
your
shows
going
back
as
far
as
three
something
years
to
the
exile
tour,
it’s
called
AFENET.com.
it’s
got
chat,
links,
and
everything
great
because
you
know,
your
not
always
around
to
update
Nuworld
so
theres
other
fans
out
who
make
it
their
life’s
work
to
keep
track
of
all
your
moves.”
“What’s
this
black
bible?”
Gary
got
closer
to
talk
as
Gemma
took
out
the
DV
camcorder
and
began
filming
us
talking.
“Cleopatra’s
Gothic,
Industrial
&
Ethereal
Collection
they
put
out
a
couple
years
ago,
each
disc
has
all
this
gold
colored
religious
imagery
on
it.
Your
spot
on
the
collection
was
disc
1,
track
3,
they
put
“Dead
Heaven”
on
there.
that’s
what
broke
me,
it
shocked
me
that
I
out
down
$40
dollars
for
a
collection
and
the
only
track
I
really
liked
was
Yours!”
“I
guess
we
should
have
stuck
with
them
then
after
all.”
he
giggled.
“I
wouldn’t
be
too
quick
to
say
that,
every
time
I
ordered
a
CD
of
yours
from
them,
the
case
comes
back
all
massacred.
I
made
those
little
bastards
replace
em
all,
too.”
The
next
thought
entered
my
head
at
that
moment.
Programming.
The
drum
loops
came
back
to
me.
“…your
work
on
Exile
and
Sacrifice
is
the…BEST
electronic
music
I’ve
ever
heard,”
I
stated,
as
proud
as
I
was.
“bear
in
mind
too
that
only
a
couple
of
years
ago
I
didn’t
even
LIKE
Electronica,
I
was
one
of
those
‘Metal
forever’,
‘guitars
rule’
sort
of
idiots…and
I
mean,
wow
Gary,
your
work
turned
me
around!
And
those
drums!
What
kind
of
drum
machines
do
you
use?”
“Oh
hell,
I
forgot”
laughing,
“too
many
to
remember…”
“Do
you
run
everything
through
computers?
I
mean
the
mastering
and
all?
or
do
you
go
analogue?”
“everything’s
recorded
and
then
run
through
the
computer
and
mastered
using
software…”
he
went
on
to
describe
the
studio
environment
that
his
past
couple
of
records
were
recorded
in,
and
I
started
talking
about
polarity
spec.
in
pitch
and
other
such
keyboard
dabbling
that
would
be
almost
impossible
to
remember
in
it’s
entirety.
We
got
into
a
rant
about
which
keyboards
were
the
best
and
which
he
liked
playing.
The
funniest
part
of
the
tech
talk
was
yet
to
follow,
“
The
gain
on
the
samples
and
drums
have
got
to
be
the
best
ive
heard
anywhere,
and
the
vocals
as
well…I
gotta
tell
you
about
this
great
demo
I
found
online
back
in
September
of
Rip
before
any
copies
had
been
released
of
it
anywhere.
Drums
are
tough
and
tight,
guitars
more
aggressive
sounding,
the
bass
synth
growled
like
a
beast
from
the
depths
of
hell…
it
sounded
far
better
then
the
copy
that
went
along
on
Pure…”
“Couldn’t
be.”
“Yeah,
sure
it
is.
Vocals
are
more
strained
and
run
at
a
much
higher
pitch
then
what
I
bought
at
the
record
store.”
“Not
a
chance,”
he
said,
almost
dead
serious
now.
“must
have
been
the
mastering,”
he
added
also
“The
English
and
European
versions
vary
from
the
American
ones,
ours
have
much
better
bass
then
the
American
versions...”
Although
this
didn’t
explain
his
vocals
and
the
extension
of
the
chorus
I
wanted
to
ask
him
about,
the
rest
of
the
band
caught
up
and
Gemma
was
trying
to
pull
Gary
into
another
Gift
shop
so,
with
a
heavy
heart
our
time
was
through,
Gary
and
I
parted
ways
till
that
night.
Gemma
came
up
to
say
goodbye
and
I
returned
my
gratitude
likewise
and
kissed
her
hand.
I
returned
to
my
spot
outside
the
House
of
Blues
to
wait
for
Alex
to
show
up.
The
rest
of
the
afternoon
was
pretty
quiet
and
cool,
Gary
and
the
rest
of
the
mob
came
back
around
to
the
House
of
Blues,
after
seeing
me
sitting
against
a
lamp
post
he
turned
and
talked
to
a
man
for
a
moment
and
he,
as
well
as
the
whole
band,
turned
to
look
at
me.
I
felt
really
odd
so
I
put
my
shades
back
on
quickly
and
tried
to
keep
cool.
The
man
approached
me.
“What’d
they
say?”
he
asked.
“Oh,
usual
stuff.”
I
replied.
“No,
I
mean
the
club.”
“The
club?”
“yeah,
isn’t
this
venue
18
and
up?”
I
got
alittle
panicky
and
checked
my
ticket
stub
real
fast.
Sure
enough
it
said
ALL
AGES.
“Oh,
well,
just
in
case
you
have
any
trouble
getting
in,
Gary
told
me
to
make
sure
you
were
in
there
tonight,
any
guard
asks
you
anything
just
refer
them
to
me
and
I’ll
take
care
of
it.”
Another
swell
of
joy
hit
me.
I
kindly
declined
and
told
him
I
would
get
in
okay
and
told
him
to
thank
Gary
for
the
kind
thought.
“That’s
what
you
can
always
expect
from
Gary.”
Every
inch
of
my
smile
couldn’t
say
‘I
know’
enough.
Alex
showed
up
eventually,
we
spoke
for
awhile
&
smoked
a
clove,
he
watched
all
the
boys
wander
up
and
down
the
street,
got
bored
and
walked
to
a
gift
store
to
look
at
Cheshire
Cat
toys.
He
didn’t
stick
around
though
but
commented
he
would
like
to
have
gone
to
the
show
had
he
the
cover
fee
of
$21
on
him.
He
had
$8.
The
sun
had
fallen
somewhere
around
7:00
that
evening
when
all
the
fans
started
showing
up.
Mostly
large
amounts
of
Goths
&
Rivetheads
out
with
their
girlfriends,
boyfriends,
love
partners
of
the
same
gender,
anything
you
can
think
of;
the
fat,
balding
type
Numan
fan
was
at
an
all
time
low
at
this
show:
PERFECT.
The
age
was
very
well
mixed
too;
personally
being
at
17
I
thought
id
be
almost
totally
alone
at
this
show,
but
there
were
a
good
few
amounts
of
college
types
and
high
school
seniors
to
meet
&
hang
with
during
the
quiet
before
the
storm.
When
I
got
around
to
queuing
up
to
the
side
of
the
building,
there
were
a
good
amount
of
people
waiting,
I
got
around
to
talking
to
them
for
a
few
moments;
my
hang
time
with
Gary
and
the
distance
I
traveled
for
the
show
was
the
topic
of
interest
among
them.
When
the
bouncers
for
the
club
came
out
to
straighten
the
line
out
and
get
people
ready
to
come
in,
those
same
fans
grabbed
me
and
stuck
me
at
the
front
of
the
line;
KUDOS!
The
inside
of
the
building
shocked
me
the
most
when
I
stepped
in;
it
was
all
dark,
there
was
a
square
dance
floor
with
a
large
prominent
DJ/mixing
console
and
before
it
hung
a
giant
blue
and
purple
patchwork
quilt
for
a
curtain.
I
was
euphoric,
I
had
stepped
into
the
venue
from
my
dream!
I
quickly
grabbed
my
piece
of
the
front
of
the
stage
&
never
let
go,
no
restroom,
no
merchandise
table,
nothing,
I
was
THERE,
I
was
before
the
alter
on
which
Numan
was
going
to
come
out
and
bring
a
small
piece
of
happiness
to
my
world.
The
first
openers
were
a
great
sounding
metal
band
called
Grand
Theft
Audio,
more
in
fact
a
bunch
of
Sex
Pistol
clones
in
Lip
Service
clothing,
but
I
only
quietly
mused
about
them
during
the
set,
which
turned
out
to
be
very
good,
well
paced
and
tight
as
a
drum.
They
rocked
the
crowd,
though
they
were
an
odd
choice
of
openers
(a
hint
of
tape-played
samples
helped
though).
I
hold
nothing
against
them
because
they
were
metal,
I
used
to
like
metal
a
lot;
the
songs
were
pretty
pop-y
sounding
(sorta
familiar,
too,
though
I
know
ive
never
heard
of
GTA
before),
the
singer
was
very
abusive,
but
I
guess
that’s
what’s
gotta
be
done
to
make
the
crowd
react
to
a
band
they
didn’t
pay
to
see.
They
gave
it
their
best,
played
a
beastie
boys
song
for
a
closer,
which
went
along
well
because
EVERYONE
sung
along
to
that.
Pretty
cool
actually.
These
guys’ll
be
big,
I
can
imagine.
The
next
openers
were
probably
the
ones
most
horribly
hassled
in
the
past
reviews
for
sucking
and
having
a
dumb
stage
show;
the
very
misunderstood
fish
out
of
water,
The
Gwenmars.
With
a
sound
not
unlike
the
Cure
&
Echo
and
the
Bunnymen,
with
an
image
that
rolled
straight
out
of
Angus
Young’s
closet
(see
that
tie??)
they
didn’t
sound
half
bad.
Their
equipment
was
barely
up
to
par
though,
I
was
right
in
front
of
Mike
Thrasher
(yes,
that’s
really
his
name),
singer
and
guitar
player;
pretty
talented
but
he
had
more
distortion
pedals
on
the
floor
in
front
of
him
then
I
have
major
organs
from
the
cranium
down,
and
there
seemed
to
be
no
excuse
when
the
other
two
thirds
of
the
band
took
a
break
and
let
him
play
alone;
DICKS!
Now
tell
me
if
this
is
bazaar
or
not:
towards
the
end
of
the
set
mike
sees
me
in
my
little
concert
cul-de-sac,
watches
me
for
a
moment
&
during
the
last
song
tries
to
fit
in
a
few
arm
gestures
&
added
expression.
Odd,
huh?
They
were
well
received
though,
but
very
out
of
place
as
well
at
an
industrial
concert.
First
song,
Venus,
was
the
best
one
of
the
set.
Download
it.
Curtains
draw
and
the
building
gets
packed
–
the
shows
about
to
go
on.
I
see
movement
behind
the
curtain
and
the
monitors
were
moved
out
of
the
way,
a
red
light
radiates
from
underneath.
The
building
gets
hushed
as
more
murmurs
start
flooding
the
air,
from
that
point
on
theres
barely
any
space
to
stand,
theres
chicks
and
huge
tall
guys
squeezing
in
from
all
angles.
Then
the
lights
go
out.
The
crowd
gets
worked
into
a
frenzy
as
the
curtains
open
to
reveal
the
stage,
very
sparse:
The
drum
riser
held
a
set
up
of
peavey
drums,
a
guitar
to
the
left
of
the
stage,
a
black
bass
to
the
right,
two
keyboards
and
right
in
the
middle
was
the
Les
Paul
sunburst;
Gary’s
Guitar.
The
opening
strains
of
pure
come
into
the
air,
a
grouping
of
blue
lights
rotate
above
the
stage,
giving
off
the
impression
of
a
giant
zeppelin
preparing
to
land
before
us.
the
crowds
emotions
skyrocket
as
the
band
jogs
on
stage
&
take
positions,
Gary’s
last
on
and
the
crowd
screams.
He
floats
around
a
bit
before
putting
on
his
guitar..
the
final
groans
of
the
synth
draw
to
an
ebb
and
Steve,
clad
in
a
pair
of
black
bondage
pants
with
braces
holding
his
legs
loosely,
does
a
little
dance
beside
Gary
before
beating
out
the
opening
chords
of
pure,
Gary
and
Dave,
mounted
to
the
keyboard
with
his
PVC
and
awesome
headgear,
head
banging
along
in
a
furious
uproar
steaming
from
the
crowd.
The
show
went
on
this
way
for
the
next
hour
and
a
half:
the
second
song,
“Films”
was
a
no
brainer
for
Steve,
only
one
chord.
It
was
very
well
received,
the
whole
place
rocking
out,
head
banging
and
such.
“Rip”
came
up
next,
I
went
nuts
during
that
one,
too.
Id
once
in
the
company
of
another
of
the
newly
enlightened
listened
to
"RIP"
and
had
an
epileptic
seizure
with
it
playing
at
full
volume.
The
bass
jarred
me
from
out
of
my
skin.
“A
Question
of
Faith”
played
out,
not
really
my
favorite
from
Sacrifice
(Id
rather
have
heard
“Seed
of
a
Lie”,
or
“Desire”)…
And
if
THAT
wasn’t
enough,
“Metal”
came
up
next!
Clearly
one
of
the
best
of
Gary’s
remakes
played
before
us
in
full
glory,
the
fit
of
euphoria
was
too
much
to
handle.
At
one
point
during
the
song,
free
of
the
restraints
of
his
guitar,
he
came
over
to
my
piece
of
the
stage
and
stood
before
me,
RIGHT
OVER
ME,
leaned
back
and
spread
his
arms,
doing
the
weathervane
pose
from
Pure’s
cover.
I
could
reach
up
and
barely
touch
him
again,
he
was
spreading
his
love
back
to
us
again.
He
did
that
three
times
that
night,
one
point
I
actually
got
ahold
of
his
boots.
Gary
was
having
a
great
time
tonight.
His
menacing
glare
soon
wore
off
and
he
played
even
more
of
the
great
songs
from
Pure.
Walking
with
shadows,
Listen
to
my
Voice
(during
this
tune,
Gary
and
I
had
a
head
banging
match,
he
was
watching
me
out
of
the
corner
of
his
eye…
I’ll
hand
it
to
him
that
he
won…THIS
match!),
Down
in
the
Park
was
presented
&
loved
by
the
crowd,
as
well.
“Prayer
to
the
Unborn”
ushered
in
some
other
theatrics
ive
never
seen
from
Gary.
He
fell
on
the
floor!!!
I’m
also
pretty
sure
this
wasn’t
intentional,
but
im
sure
Gary
and
the
band
was
focusing
his
performance
to
my
part
of
the
stage
the
most.
Steve
dancing
around
the
edge
of
the
stage
near
my
head,
Gary,
as
I’ve
said
before
weathervane’d
in
front
of
me
several
times
and
reached
out
to
the
fans
around
me.
Dave
the
keyboard
player
even
ran
over
to
my
end
to
hand
this
Goth
girl
a
bottle
of
water.
After
the
show,
we
were
treated
to
an
encore,
“Are
Friends
Electric?”,
“We
are
Glass”,
and
“I
can’t
Breathe”.
The
show
was
absolutely
excellent,
I’ve
never
seen
anything
like
it.
a
very
minuscule
man
with
a
pertinent
for
aggro
stood
before
me
that
night
and
rocked
the
shit
out
of
us.
The
days
of
synth
pop
were
dead.
A
new
Numan
stood
before
us,
full
of
life
and
energy,
power,
emotion,
heart.
You’d
never
see
anything
like
this
from
any
other
performer.
Ever.
I
had
been
connected
to
a
truly
gifted
artist
in
a
way
that
id
never
thought
possible.
And
if
you
think
the
show
was
insane,
lots
of
fun
was
waiting
for
us
in
the
parking
lot!
I
had
been
introduced
to
Jack
Nappier,
President
of
the
north
American
Gary
Numan
Fan
Club.
So
we
all
grabbed
our
stuff,
gathered
more
fans
and
took
off
in
search
of
Gary’s
Tour
Bus.
We
walked
around
to
the
back
of
the
building
and
camped
out.
Nothing
happened,
so
we
all
got
up
and
ran
around
to
the
front
of
the
park
and
with
me
in
the
lead
and
scaled
a
fence
and
ran
at
the
tour
bus,
even
faking
out
a
guard
to
let
us
in,
who
was
as
bewildered
as
ever
when
all
of
these
black
clad
kids
ascended
down
from
out
of
nowhere.
was
this
guy
going
to
stop
us?
I
think
NOT!
But
unfortunately
someone
else
did,
Disney
security
stopped
us
and
told
us
that
the
tour
bus
couldn’t
linger
around
any
longer
and
had
to
leave.
So,
perhaps
as
a
shock
to
all
of
us,
we
were
denied
Autographs
and
pictures…but
that’s
okay,
He’ll
be
back.
He
told
me
so…
Nicholas
Christopher
Leur
([email protected])
|
