Zane Lowe (the Radio 1 DJ) played at our union last night.
It was bloody incredible. There are no words to describe the way he combined the best bits from every song you’ve ever wanted to dance to, the driving basslines, or the scream-it-out-loud chorus, or that weird vocal riff that you always find yourself singing on the way home, layering these ideas one over the other, morphing from one idea and one beat to the next and bringing the audience all together to the point where the whole room is literally jumping, screaming, hands in the air, everyone ecstatic, and then down to somewhere altogether more personal, each of us alone with the music, swaying hypnotically, nothing but hips and hair and hands and music and no brain whatsoever, and then he would work us back up again into some kind of indie-rock paradise and – yes! – I dived straight into the mosh pit and got thrown about, completely unable to direct where I was going, just pushed between tens of others (and yes, I was basically the only girl in there, and yes, I nearly died, but it was so entirely worth almost losing my shoes (and ruining them) because it was so much fun).
Hours passed by far too fast, didn’t stop dancing once, and then suddenly, it was three in the morning, the lights came on, and I realised I was absolutely exhausted. My feet hurt, my back hurts, my legs hurt, my throat hurts, my arms hurt, my hands hurt, my feet really really hurt, actually, but that’s mainly because I lost my orthoses over a week ago and since then have been on a proper walk and dancing for hours and have obviously walked down to our union basically every day. Anyway. Pain. Exhaustion. Totally worth every second.
Enough, even, to make up for the terrible nightmares I had last night. Terrifying, oppressive, and on a sickeningly familiar theme (the clue, of course, is in the categories). Just thought I’d put that out there. Urgh. Never mind… .