In one of those strange but serendipitous series of events, I found myself at the final night of the Take That concerts at Sunderland’s Stadium of Light last night. Having been invited in the afternoon, I went along with a feeling of ‘why not’ rather than any great passion for the band which so enchanted my generation. Back then I was much more interested in Dr. Martens and The Pixies, and I remember it as the age at which a kind of watershed ocurred amongst my friends – the Pop Vs Indie, Townie Vs Goth battles of clothes and music and ideologies.
Nowadays, I’m much more receptive to golden pop tunes, the kind that bounce a stadium, so the endless stream of memorable hits the boys sang not only took me back to lunchtime discos, but planted me firmly in the present, where I’m much more likely to be found joining in with the singalong than sulking in my bedroom listening to tapes.
