Oh yes I did. Didn’t get paid a penny for it though.
Glastonbury 1992, I’m in the crowd waiting for Neds Atomic Dustbin and 808 State. Ask your dads. I have to sit through a succesion of crappy Indie bands..Eat, Family Cat, etc. And do so, to appease the demanding girlfriend who doesn’t want to lose her spot in the crowd.
Which is, after an afternoon jostling, right up front. Blur come on.
I was ambivalent to them, I was aware of there conceit and could smile at ‘Shes so High’ and ‘Theres No Other Wy’, but they were no Cud. So I watched, and thought ‘lead singers a twat’. So I threw a cup at him.
It was a hot day, and we were dehydrating, so they gave us cups of water. Rigid plasic cups, that flew really well. If aimed at the stage. Which they were. Cos I was bored.
A puddle develops, to my delight. Damon Albarn sees this, runs towards to the collection of cups, now lying like albino Liliputian warthogs round a waterhole, and kicks them asunder, slipping on the water in the process, slamming into the monitor stack as he flails drunkenly towards some control.
And doesn’t notice how how the monitor stack destabilises, rocks and falls, topples and lands on the ankle of the lead singers heal and ankle, He collapses, sings no more
American tours are canceled, Albarn broods and witnesses American movement dominate, and write the glorious counterblast that was Modern Life Is Rubbish. Britpop was sparked. The rest is history. Britpop changed culture, Cool Brittania rode its heels, and only now, in the dying days of Nu Labour, are we looking back with puzzlement and baffled analytical process.
Britpop. Where better to start, albeit via the second hand, than Beestonia?
I’d love to believe that this is true… but it sounds like a chemically-induced fantasy.