Here is the Ved performing one of my favourite songs of all time: Chloe Dancer Crown of Thorns. I have loved and lived the supertastical grunge since I was 13. My Dad had, at that point, already taken me to see Van Morrison and The Chieftans (ace – but I was 11 and it was massively past my bedtime) and would, three years later, take me to see The Rolling Stones at Sheffield Arena because he is basically amazing.
I’m digressing a tad but Pearl Jam was one of my first real musical loves. Like, music loves. Not the NKOB guys (although Jordan – ammarite??) which sent me and my young friends into paroxysms of tween lust. The album Ten sent me on an odyssey of crazy love. Of getting the train to the big smoke and seeing Live and Bush and Terrorvision before anyone else. I was so close I could have spat on Gavin Rossdale (which I did not and never would because spitting is terrible and uncouth and such and my mother would skin me alive for it). I spent my misspent youth in grungy bars and dodgy clubs, anywhere really with a band or a jukebox. And props to my parents, whose “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy enabled me to cavort around Edinburgh at age 16 in Doc Martens, getting pissed on cheap cider, crowdsurfing and going to places where the walls literally ran with the condensation and sweat of music fans.
Parents: I salute you. Eddie Vedder: I will love you for my ever.