Tom Hark Preston Park
Will Post For Cash
- Jul 6, 2003
- 72,358
OK, big post coming up, if you don't want to be bored by a ramble of EXTRAORDINARY length, please look away now...
It’s just starting to sink in today. Somehow me and Superphil appear to have sleep-walked into what tonight’s Evening Standard think may be The Greatest Rock Concert Of All Time. I mean, it’s quite ridiculous. There we were, tiny ants in the vastly impressive O2 Arena and f*** me, we’re standing no more than twenty yards from the front of the gig of the year and possibly the decade. You all know the stats by now, a million people registered for a mere 9,000 pairs of tickets, people come from 70 countries etc etc. but it seemed like a cosy club venue to me at least, and possibly Phil. Right from the moment that Harvey Goldsmith came ambling onstage in a pair of jeans George of Asda would be ashamed to sell, to say he hoped we enjoyed the show, what struck me most was the complete and utter absence of ego. It’s like the very first band onstage has Keith Emerson and a cast of dozens doing Fanfare For The Common Man. And here comes a shuffling absent-minded Bill Wyman, and his Rhythm Kings, featuring TheLegendaryAlbertLee and then Paul Rodgers (nope, not OUR Dodge) doing a stonking version of All Right Now. Then the twitchy out-of-his-depth youth team player Paulo Nutini, then Maggie Bell then the stunning black girl back-up singer whose name I’m ashamed to have forgotten. And have to say my heart leapt when Old Bill introduced Mick Jones! Surely not a a mini-set from the legendary Clash guitarist?! Brilliant!!! Or not. Turns out Mick Jones is quite a common name and is shared between OUR Mick Jones and the keyboard player out of Foreigner who bears a striking resemblance to Mick of the tank-tops and tweed hat out of Channel 4’s Time Team. They did just the one number, a greatest hit ‘Keep On Loving you’ bafflingly accompanied by the School Choir of St Paul’s C of E school from Portsmouth. No idea what that was all about. And neither did the schoolgirls on stage I suspect. They looked absolutely petrified. Too good a chance to miss tho eh? Foreigner exited stage right with a hearty ‘One song. You’ve Only got One Song’ ringing in their ears, courtesy of the disrespectful Ton Hark, Preston Park. BAD fan!
Led Zeppelin were simply stunning. End of. Can’t admit to being what you’d call a fan in the sense of like, y’know, ever having bought a Led Zeppelin album other than Mothership, and that one only for the purposes of research – tho I find myself playing it worryingly often. I don’t know much about Led Zep, but I know what I like, and I liked that IMMENSELY. The power and the glory of Robert Plant’s absolutely magnificent voice, Jimmy Page getting stuff out of a guitar that you could only GAWP at (tho has to be said that use of a violin bow during a marathon version of Dazed And Confused may well have been a substitution too far. But fuckit, no picky complaints from here, this wasn’t a Greatest Hits package being sold, this was a genuine one-off and as the bloke from the Telegrapg said ‘it was a joy and a privilege to be here’. John Paul Jones stalked the stage, all short hair and menacing stare, and Jason Bonham, son of the father, was a revelation on drums. All I can do is bow down to the maker of the XXX-strong skins cos he was beating the SHIT out of them.
You’ve no doubt seen the set list, and I’m sure most of you of a certain age are WAY more familiar with it than I am. So I won’t attempt to even describe it other than to say it was hard and honest and loud and the very best of genre. With bladder bursting, eventually went to the bogs telling Phil I wouldn’t be back. We shook hands. As I emerged into the empty spaces of the back of the standing area, just a few good stoners sitting around, the first delicate strings of Stairway To Heaven were just being plucked. What you gonna do? Stayed til its thrilling climax then sent Phil a text ‘Ross has left the building’. A genuine heartfelt paranoia of queues and being stuck in North Greenwich overnight kicked in at that point, so I yomped for the Jubilee Line, thereby missing the final thirty minutes of the set. But I figured, well, seeing Led Zeppelin perform Stairway To Heaven in 2007 is like watching New Order perform Love will Tear Us Apart in 2002. It’s as good as it gets. Still buzzin’ after all these hours.
Phil, I hope you enjoyed it, mate. And big cheers to you and Gareth. I love you both!
ALIEN: I bring you love.
DR. HIBBERT: Is that the love between a man and a woman, or the love of a man for a fine Cuban cigar?
(He chuckles.)
ALIEN: Uh... I bring you love.
LENNY: It's bringing love! Don't let it get away!
CARL: Break its legs!
It’s just starting to sink in today. Somehow me and Superphil appear to have sleep-walked into what tonight’s Evening Standard think may be The Greatest Rock Concert Of All Time. I mean, it’s quite ridiculous. There we were, tiny ants in the vastly impressive O2 Arena and f*** me, we’re standing no more than twenty yards from the front of the gig of the year and possibly the decade. You all know the stats by now, a million people registered for a mere 9,000 pairs of tickets, people come from 70 countries etc etc. but it seemed like a cosy club venue to me at least, and possibly Phil. Right from the moment that Harvey Goldsmith came ambling onstage in a pair of jeans George of Asda would be ashamed to sell, to say he hoped we enjoyed the show, what struck me most was the complete and utter absence of ego. It’s like the very first band onstage has Keith Emerson and a cast of dozens doing Fanfare For The Common Man. And here comes a shuffling absent-minded Bill Wyman, and his Rhythm Kings, featuring TheLegendaryAlbertLee and then Paul Rodgers (nope, not OUR Dodge) doing a stonking version of All Right Now. Then the twitchy out-of-his-depth youth team player Paulo Nutini, then Maggie Bell then the stunning black girl back-up singer whose name I’m ashamed to have forgotten. And have to say my heart leapt when Old Bill introduced Mick Jones! Surely not a a mini-set from the legendary Clash guitarist?! Brilliant!!! Or not. Turns out Mick Jones is quite a common name and is shared between OUR Mick Jones and the keyboard player out of Foreigner who bears a striking resemblance to Mick of the tank-tops and tweed hat out of Channel 4’s Time Team. They did just the one number, a greatest hit ‘Keep On Loving you’ bafflingly accompanied by the School Choir of St Paul’s C of E school from Portsmouth. No idea what that was all about. And neither did the schoolgirls on stage I suspect. They looked absolutely petrified. Too good a chance to miss tho eh? Foreigner exited stage right with a hearty ‘One song. You’ve Only got One Song’ ringing in their ears, courtesy of the disrespectful Ton Hark, Preston Park. BAD fan!
Led Zeppelin were simply stunning. End of. Can’t admit to being what you’d call a fan in the sense of like, y’know, ever having bought a Led Zeppelin album other than Mothership, and that one only for the purposes of research – tho I find myself playing it worryingly often. I don’t know much about Led Zep, but I know what I like, and I liked that IMMENSELY. The power and the glory of Robert Plant’s absolutely magnificent voice, Jimmy Page getting stuff out of a guitar that you could only GAWP at (tho has to be said that use of a violin bow during a marathon version of Dazed And Confused may well have been a substitution too far. But fuckit, no picky complaints from here, this wasn’t a Greatest Hits package being sold, this was a genuine one-off and as the bloke from the Telegrapg said ‘it was a joy and a privilege to be here’. John Paul Jones stalked the stage, all short hair and menacing stare, and Jason Bonham, son of the father, was a revelation on drums. All I can do is bow down to the maker of the XXX-strong skins cos he was beating the SHIT out of them.
You’ve no doubt seen the set list, and I’m sure most of you of a certain age are WAY more familiar with it than I am. So I won’t attempt to even describe it other than to say it was hard and honest and loud and the very best of genre. With bladder bursting, eventually went to the bogs telling Phil I wouldn’t be back. We shook hands. As I emerged into the empty spaces of the back of the standing area, just a few good stoners sitting around, the first delicate strings of Stairway To Heaven were just being plucked. What you gonna do? Stayed til its thrilling climax then sent Phil a text ‘Ross has left the building’. A genuine heartfelt paranoia of queues and being stuck in North Greenwich overnight kicked in at that point, so I yomped for the Jubilee Line, thereby missing the final thirty minutes of the set. But I figured, well, seeing Led Zeppelin perform Stairway To Heaven in 2007 is like watching New Order perform Love will Tear Us Apart in 2002. It’s as good as it gets. Still buzzin’ after all these hours.
Phil, I hope you enjoyed it, mate. And big cheers to you and Gareth. I love you both!
ALIEN: I bring you love.
DR. HIBBERT: Is that the love between a man and a woman, or the love of a man for a fine Cuban cigar?
(He chuckles.)
ALIEN: Uh... I bring you love.
LENNY: It's bringing love! Don't let it get away!
CARL: Break its legs!
![Led Zep 1 [640x480].jpg](/data/attachments/0/596-96172f62e72933512f75a0529359cc7b.jpg)
![Led Zep 2 [640x480].jpg](/data/attachments/0/598-f8d3208c32c31d2eaaa36fbb2a796cdc.jpg)
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