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Southbank is such a lovely place to spend warm summer nights at. The pitchers of watermelon caipirinha and passion fruit mojito are all over the place and practically impossible to resist. I was there last night to see Moby play at the Royal Festival Hall and it was pure magic. The man is a complete and utter genius. He played an awful lot of songs, both proper old school and from his latest album, but it was all over much too soon (compared to the support act whose three songs went on for what felt like an eternity. Exploring vibrations and acoustics with a tuba is apparently not my cup of tea). I was expecting a rather relaxed a chilled out concert as we were at a concert hall but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Half of the time everyone was standing up and rocking it out. When I say everyone, I mean everyone except Mr. Stoneface next to me who, at the very most, showed enthusiasm by tapping his index finger against his elbow. His loss really, I had the time of my life.

He played his first single and when he said it was from -91 I first thought well how very nice. I easily find comforting nostalgic value in all things nineties; doc martens, fanny packs, super mario and walkmans… Then I quickly added up the years and OMFG, it was almost twenty years ago. I’m seriously not OK with this, the years are moving way too fast. So while I’m off now to have some sort of  nervous breakdown, here is Moby and GO from nineteen-ninety-freaking-one.

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on twitter

  • Dear Home Office, can you be a bit more specific? 🤔 https://t.co/emTLLydQHL 6 days ago
  • Pick up line from random guy on the street “please can you be part of my life” may be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me 1 month ago
  • So, let’s see how I, who get stressed out by Oxford’s ring road, cope with LA’s spaghetti junctions 😬 1 month ago

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