Paul Draper @ Electric Brixton, London, 8th March, 2018

I never thought I'd hear these songs performed, hear of Mansun again. More than 20 years on, pink light glowed with appropriate celestial splendour to gesture in The Chad Who Loved Me, strings all swaying. Totally absorbed and in awe, I felt sheer gratitude. I was basking in younger years, taken aback, knew all the words.

The album I'd first heard from a library loan, the band I'd seen on the covers of the NME. Mansun represented, replicated a whole other world. Pen pal circles, adoring fanzines with ridiculous titles and frivolous expeditions, my first music festival, instant friendships in Freshers' Week, and all the blissing out to their music, words, revelling in characters and ridiculousness...

Mansun were one of the first bands I saw at a gig venue. They weren't like other bands, they toured relentlessly and favoured small places where fans greeted them with fervour. They came to my humble hometown Milton Keynes! Played in the local leisure centre. Summer holidays 1998 - that early July afternoon, I decided to dye my hair cobalt blue, wear it in two plaits. Second-hand army shirt, cord flares, purple Doctor Marten boots, maybe a baggy t-shirt, and off I strode with glee. I'd meet a pen pal or two there, get there a few hours early to enjoy the clamour for the band. A 45 minute walk later, and I was joining the circle of female fans who travelled up and down the country to see Mansun. Excitable stories about encounters with band members, here a fanzine tale about tinned soup, flyers for our latest fanzines exchanged, postal addresses noted and promises of letters so we could keep in touch (no internet in our family household till 1999). I remember days like that crystal clear and fond.

Mansun were this perfect embodiment of the kind of dreamy, zany, brilliant parallel world you could escape into as an aside to your sixth form studies.

Back to the beautiful gig. It was simply special hearing Paul Draper's silken voice again. And some of the solo songs swirl about like the most elegantly melodic and shimmering of Mansun classics. We heard a hotch potch of chosen songs from Paul's recent career, rather than a straight-up rendition of his entire debut solo album. The collection of songs we'd waited years for, kept hearing about, then crept up and arrived of a sudden..

Opening with Don't Poke the Bear may have had an ulterior message due to some recent upset, but let's just think on the music and that night. It was a gem to hear Paul announce that he was about to play "a string of B-sides." A long lost, forgotten art. Mansun ruled supreme with B-sides, and it was the best of their art. Memories of Everyone Must Win blisteringly closing live sets chiming in my ears in distant memory... I took a lot of quiet moments to remember fond times, people I'd been afforded to meet purely because of the band.

More blazingly bright lights, seering sapphire and purples - the trademark Attack of the Grey Lantern purple... strings and bliss.

I'd been giving the old album a spin in the kitchen in the last week and I was gearing up for Taxloss. Got to dance about for that one - climax of electronic wigging out. Remembering those: "We're a Taxloss" Mansun fanclub t-shirts - never did buy one but probably still have the postal order form in a box of momentoes somewhere!

All night, just kept thinking how special it felt to be hearing Pauls' voice and these songs again, as well as the new songs. It's hard not to think track by track and write on and on but every song was truly momentous. Had never heard You, Who Do You Hate? played live, it really kicked in.

More nostalgia and dancing beyond my years for Wide Open Space - total bliss. I'll use that word again and again.I was fourth or fifth row down the front, like the old days, good view and bit of room to manoeuvre, there was no way I wasn't moshing for old time's sake to Stripper Vicar with its killer chorus and lyrics. Less thought about the pulled muscles in my sides from doing so, as I type this now, the better. I was probably alone in pogoing and I still don't care. All this too-cool attitude, posing still... I was there to feel the years fall away and enjoy myself and it was the best feeling to just let go and not care like when I was in my teens and 20s. I wore heart on sleeve with my 1998-circa Mansun fan gear. I had drawn the line at wearing the old army shirt and added safety pins on the arm though... Mansun's image changes were legendary, it must be recalled and celebrated and I loved indulging in all that in my teens.

Disgusting was intriguing to hear live, and then it was into another mosh-a-thon with She Makes My Nose Bleed. Only thing missing was Steve Lamacq back-announcing it on the radio!

Naked Twister was swirly and squally as of yore. Then a massive sing-a-long to Egg Shaped Fred, with Paul joking about the lack of lyrics at the end... na-na-na-Na-na-Na-na-na.... 

Dark Mavis was epic and it was one of several moments on the night where the humour of Mansun shone through so much - and I realised how lost it must have been outside of the dedicated fanbase. The descriptions, the wryness, but in such straight-up delivery. The subtlety. I found a lot of hilarity in the lyrics of the album, as if understanding them all anew.

"You can kiss his vase until the end of the month" sung over and over was a high point.

I exited the fray, but I was keeping an ear out just in case. I mean, a band so famed for quirks and B-sides and so much oddity... The familiar piano riff kicked in and a great big sing-a-long ensued, music hall style... "The lyrics aren't supposed to mean that much, they're just a vehicle for a lovely voice..." All the arms aloft and silly delight, it was fantastic and the best end to the night. I finally got myself a long-sought-after roses t-shirt with Mansun logo, so beautiful.

Sir Draper said he'd see us all "next year" for a rendition of the album Six... I'm counting on it!

Albums of summers past #2

Had a real craving to hear this album when it was unbearably hot the other night, and I was cooking. There's something incredibly suited to the recent weather about this album. It's not so much that it reminds me of when I was younger and listening to this album (on C90 tape again - but I then owned it on CD), perfect summer times, or anything... Though I do recall the fun time I had when the Dandy Warhols came to my small town, the sensation that caused at school, and the amazing gig itself...

No, Dandy Warhols Come Down just has this incredibly cool air about it - both exuding from the band as they deliver it, and from the songs as they sound... There's a really nice groove to it, that makes you feel (or wish to be) stoned, and it's very American-cool sounding - and danceable - rock/pop, which I appreciate. It's such a 60s influenced album, too. A lot of the songs are good time, and there's summery pop bounding about. This is one of my albums of the summer at the moment, as is some of their first album.

Not wanting to mention The Dandys in the same breath purposely, but I was already thinking about and remembering what an ideal summer album this was for me a few years ago, so I'll just mention it anyway - and the music has a similar effect and groove and influences...

 

I guess it was more the Peppermint Wonderland singles collection by The Brian Jonestown Massacre that I dug this one perfect, happy summer some years ago. But then, there are two songs from here that were on constant repeat as well: Free & Easy, Take II, and The Ballad of Jim Jones. I guess it's the harmonica that makes it so summery and cool. The laidback, hippie, 60s air. I remember feeling so ecstatic this summer, strolls in west London parks, all this amazing, tuneful music soundtracking everything, feeling so spirited.

 

 

Underrated and wrongly slated, I feel. The farewell album from Mansun had a lot of moments. This reminds me of being on my year out, working weird shifts at a cinema, being practically nocturnal, and often coming home to listen to this and Marquee Moon by Television, as I drank restorative booze, so badly needed as my muscles ached so much from the long hours at the cinema. A strange time in my life, but how acoustic and melodic this album was in places was really nice - and, again, that word, sorry, but no other fits - breezy!

 

That same period of my life as the above, evenings as the sun set, and there was dreamy pink-yellow-purple light, were often soundtracked by this. Again, just so cool sounding - floaty, and ebbing on and on, winding guitars, hypnotic.