Hush yo mouth: stop banging on about loud gigs

The other week the Guardian had one of those oh-so-clearly-brainstormed "ideas for a blog": What are the loudest gigs you've been to? Go on. You know you want to ... Nope. I'm not getting drawn into this mine-was-louder-than-yours macho nonsense. High-decibel gigs are often rubbish anyway, and the sort of people who like this "louder than bombs" stuff are ... well, probably not the sort of people I'm going to have much in common with musically. Stay away from the speakers you big idiot. Anyway, as it happens in recent years some of my best gigs have been easy-on-the-volume ones. Especially good have been the really tender moments in low-wattage performances from George Thomas, Turner Cody, David Tattersall, Josephine Foster, David Thomas Broughton, Jeffrey Greene, Herman Dune, The Santa Dads, and ... er, lots of other people who don't hide behind their oversized Marshalls.

Josephine Foster behind a big speaker in Coventry earlier this month

Shhh! Quiet music being played. Shut your motherfuckin' mouth. No, I also like the stomach-pulsatingly loud gigs. I'm not ... er, dead. But the web traffic-generating idea of discussing loud concerts I've attended with a bunch of people reminiscing about "The Ramones at the Barrowlands in 1982" (or somesuch) is making this blogger reach for the kill switch. [Off]