I got talking to Tim as I was waiting in the crowd for The White Stripes set to begin. Tim was wearing a faded black tee, a red cap and was stoned out of his gourd. He was a nice fellow and repeatedly offered me a drink of his warm beer. Tim asked if I’d seen the Stripes before. I said I hadn’t. He said that they were incredible. I said I’d heard that they were good. He shook his head and said he was amazed at how the two of them managed to fill a venue of this size sound-wise. “They fill it man. They fill it with just a guitar and drums.” tim said.
I nodded in agreement; it was an impressive feat.
Tim staggered about for a few minutes looking skyward. I was waiting for the moment that the scrawny joint balanced on his bottom lip set his thick black beard on fire. It didn’t happen. Instead he turned his attention to his mobile phone for a while before handing it to me. “Can you check that this text makes sense before I send it?” I had a look. This man, staggering about, beer in hand, joint dangling from his lip and eyes squinted shut had just used his thumb to write a message of utter gibberish.
I informed him of this fact.
“Aw hell man. Can you do a brother a favour and help me send my friend a message?” I said sure. We revised the text so that it instructed his friend Paul where to meet him after the Stripes. He drooled his thanks and the show started.
Jack and Meg came out strong. A flurry of punches to the body. All guns blazing. Tim swayed deliriously. He danced and slapped me on the shoulder. “Look man! They’re filling it! Just the two of ‘em. They’re filling it!” I nodded my head and shook my hips. He was right, they were.
A few songs in Meg took a rest as Jack stood over a xylophone and started hammering out a pretty beat. Tim staggered forward and flung his arm around me screaming, “He’s filling it with a fucking xylophone! A fucking xylophone!” Tim’s eyes rolled up, he pirouetted twice and pushed off through the crowd away from the stage.
Things can only get so full before they overflow I guess.