I was dead tired last night and the third Bourne film was on, Supremacy is it? I was getting all involved (for the umpteeth time) with the stuff around Waterloo station but had one metaphirical foot under the duvet. “Just tape it on +1” said Joycee, so I pressed the button on my Virgin box and went to bed.
But, as I brushed my teeth with the same care as an archaeologist brushing away debris from an iron age brooch stuck in clay I realised something with a little dismay, there’s no sense of occasion any more.
It used to be The Big Movie was something to make sure you were home in time for and it’s something I seem to have subconsciously carried over to watching Doctor Who, we watch it live every week, it’s just not the same recorded or on catch-up.
I was bemoaning a big empty venue when I went to see Judas Priest a few weeks back and something Adele said to Jonathon Ross (channel hopping fills in the gaps in one’s current cultural reference library) made sense of it all, she was touring the US and causing upset because she wouldn’t play stadiums, prefering smaller venues. It’s the bastard promoters, they want to get us all in the door in one night for maximum profit rather than let the band play a few nights in a smaller venue like in the old days. I used to love that, the second night of a band was always brilliant, they were usually more relaxed than the first night, better rested from no travelling perhaps, but the contrast in shows was a delight whatever and always worth the money for the tickets for multiple nights, well, they were only £4 in those days.
A ticket for a small venue, waiting for a new album to appear in the shops, The Big Movie, strawberries in season, waiting for your cheque to clear so they’d send your Motörhead t-shirt you ordered a week ago by post, little things that were all a sense of occasion and have been taken away from us.
It’s human nature to want more and want it now, but I can’t help feel that the quality of life has been eroded a little by the mass and instant availability of everything. Sure it’s nice to be able to access stuff and get the things sent by post in 24 hrs, but now the bar has been raised so high and our expectations set to match, it means there’s always some poor bastard feeling the strain underneath as they’re pushing hard to keep up.
Ah what the hell, whatever we do, we do it to ourselves. The future belongs to the apes/ aliens/ bacteria anyway. Haven’t had a nudie mountain lady for a while, so here’s a less depressing footnote.