I’m glad I went. It was a different group of people I wouldn’t ordinarily socialise with. The conversation was hilarious and a dinner out amongst adults is always a bonus.
After walking through the line of security personnel, where all headache pills, gum, and water bottles were confiscated and tickets scanned, we made our way in just in time for Lily Allen to start.
The Hordern isn’t my favourite venue, it’s a quagmire of general admission where it’s often hard to see anything, but we found a nice pocket about 2/3rds back from the stage. (The last time I was at the Hordern was for Garbage back in 1996—my prolific gig-going decade.) There was no way I was standing up the front, in the stinking ‘mosh’ with all the jostling and the sweaty armpits, and I could see well enough as long as the tall people I was behind didn’t speak to each other.
I say ‘mosh’ because it wasn’t really one. There were teens and right up to people who were in their 50s. I guess that’s what happens when alterna-pop goes mainstream. So, it was a lightweight crowd and therefore, easy for this 30-something bird to enjoy the show. It wasn’t a lighting spectacular. There were no massive props, no fireworks. Just Lily and her musicians, and for one song, a dodgy rapper.
She sang well enough and looked great. (Though the British press is reporting on her cellulite—strike one against the Women’s Movement.) I think it’s the first time I’ve been to a gig that involved three wardrobe changes. It was entirely enjoyable—I knew all the songs, even if I didn’t know most of the words—and I’ve since read that this may well have been the last time she tours.