You beat yourself up. You’re absolutely torn. It won’t be the same. Disappointment awaits. But can you pass by your favourite band’s reunion tour? This is not fear of missing out. This is a matter of loyalty. You should be there. You ought to. You go way back with this band, they got you through your first love / loss / hangover / mock GCSEs. No one loves this band like you do.
You are caught, stuck, reeled-in and that’s what this band relies on. Your loyalty and come on, admit it, that nostalgia for a misspent youth – if you call thrashing every young man in town at Tekken 2 tournaments down the arcades ‘misspent’. This gig will be an opportunity to feel young again. Because face it, you are old and if you need reminding of that fact, just go to the reunion gig, where the rest of the audience will be old too.
No corduroy flares, streaks of pink hair and smuggled Smirnoff Ice under the obnoxiously wide trouser leg – rather polite, neat adults who smugly sing along to prove that they know absolutely every single word and are therefore, by default, a bigger fan than you, who forgot the second line of the third verse. Loser. But don’t worry. The smug gits won’t stay for the encore, as they have to catch that 23.06 train home from King’s Cross. It’s a work night.
Reunion gigs are never great. And even when they’re great, they’re rather sad as you know deep in your heart of hearts that your old favourite band of days gone by very probably most likely just really, really need the money and honestly, no one needs to see a middle aged man or woman pogo up and down like it’s 1996.
But am I saying don’t go? Absolutely not. If you’ve found some music that makes your heart beat faster and your imagination soar and just for one second in that moment you feel 14 years old again, why deprive yourself of that? 2016 is poised to be another reunion-lathered year. Can I contain my excitement to see Kula Shaker for the first time in 20 years? Can I bollocks.