Londonward

I missed the last gig Paradise Lost had in Finland one and a half years ago, so I decided to buy a ticket for this time around. I’ve liked Paradise Lost ever since I started seriously listening to music as a teenager. They’ve been going strong for a respectable 17 years, and I hope they keep going.

I didn’t go in 2004, as I hadn’t listened to material they had released after Host, which was their foray into experimental, electronic music. I had seen them live on the One Second tour in 1997, but wasn’t too familiar with the material they had released prior to 1995’s Draconian Times. This time (only 9 years later!) I was much more familiar with the old material, and was very glad to go, as I had heard they would be playing a cross-section from a lot of their albums. It seems there are people who would have liked to be there too, as I found this gem in my inbox after getting back home.

All in all, I liked the concert. The band seemed to enjoy playing in Helsinki, feeling pretty loose and friendly. A minor nitpick I had was about sound quality - Nick’s singing seemed to get drowned out under all the bass. The playing was tight, and the new drummer, Jeff Singer, impressed me as well - what a technical yet organic-sounding guy! During fan favorites such as Enchantment, Hallowed Land and Say Just Words everything just seemed to click.

I went with a couple of friends, and at least one seemed to agree that the gig was pretty good, but not perfect. I don’t know what exactly was missing: I guess they could have played for a bit longer. I know for a fact people were expecting a couple more songs after the encores - the lights seemed to come on all of a sudden. Maybe there could have been a bit more of Nick Holmes’ trademark audience interaction - pretty much all he quipped about was “Well, now is the time I ask you to request something, so what do you want to hear? Well, it doesn’t matter, since we’re going by the list here anyway” after which they, of course, played As I Die.

I want to go see them again in November at the Roundhouse in London. It’s a gig supporting Opeth, who I don’t really like, but it can still be a good night.

And finally, a question - how do people get to meet bands after concerts? Do they hang out at the exits so that they’re bound to bump into them, or do bands come out to drink with fans? I still haven’t figured it out, but I want to.

(I don’t want to be the annoying clingy fan, though.)

It’s 4 am. I can’t sleep.

My life is going to completely change in a month.

What if I’ll hate the place?
What if the people there, being probably several years younger, are annoying and I won’t find friends?
What if I won’t like the course?

Everything is fine here, so why change the status quo?

I guess this doubting is all natural, but that’s not much comfort when you have to be at work in less than four hours.

It really hasn’t hit me that I’m actually going through with all of this. Sure, I tell everyone that I’m starting school in London in October and go through all the motions and paperwork. It’s just that it doesn’t seem real at all, just hypothetical.

The reason must be my lack of experience with the place. I’ve only been to London twice in my life: Once when I was too young to remember it and once for a day between flights. For me, London represents a confusing collage of media pictures, pop culture references, preconceptions and hopes. The picture I have in my head is no doubt a silly mish-mash of expectations that will never hold true in the real world: I expect to land in the middle of exciting intellectual debate, a vibrant, varied nightlife, excellent gigs to go to every single night, interesting friends and an inconceivable variety of excellent food. I see myself walking on the banks of the Thames or down a quiet neighbourhood road, listening to new music on my headphones, feeling as one with the pulse of the city. I don’t want to miss anything. I keep making up these hypothetical situations about doing things in a city I know nothing about, and basing my feelings on these assumptions. Now, before you roll your eyes, let me assure you: I think this is completely silly and unrealistic as well.

I kind of feel the same kind of uneasy excitement you feel before beginning a big project of some sort - it’s a feeling of being in front of something insubstantial and being expected to make something out of it. I have no idea what to really expect, and only a vague one of where to start. As I said, what I’m aiming for just seems so unreal, still so far in the future (though actually, it’s only a month away).

An old woman fell over in the tram today. She was standing a couple rows down behind me, so I didn’t see it happen. I turned to look, expecting someone to help her up and give her a seat.

Far from it - the woman she hit when falling, a middle-aged professional, coldly stated “You might want to hold on to something” and that was that.