It’s really late and I should be sleeping but I’m wired from the night I have had. The day finally came when I went to see Bruno Mars, and I absolutely loved it.
For everyone who is looking for a post today where I don’t gush for a time on how amazing the man is, I would recommend heading to the BBC site for a while and checking back tomorrow, because this is not something that I can promise.
If you don’t know me, you might not know about my major obsession with Bruno Mars, or as I like to affectionately refer to him, Future Husband. I love him. So when my friend suggested we see him, and we realised he was playing at Brixton, we immediately jumped at the chance.
And tonight was the night. I spent the day mooching round central London waiting for my friend to finish work, and then we met and headed straight there, thinking we would have food, catch up as we haven’t seen each other in months, and then go to the gig.
There are three options for food in Brixton. Nandos, Burger King and Cottage Chicken (actually, when rereading this I think it’s called Chicken Cottage, but my version makes it sound more grim!).
Nandos has a queue outside right up the street. Damn! Everyone else had the same idea. And Cottage Chicken is like budget KFC, not the sort of thing I could even consider eating even if I was faced with possible death. It looks like you might catch bubonic plague off the tables, and I’m sure it’s not actual chicken they are serving. Maybe a chicken cottage is a strange cross breeding plant. So we roughed it and went to Burger King.
But Bruno. The warm up act was a girl called Skylar Grey who actually wrote ‘Love The Way You Lie’ (made popular by Eminem and Rihanna) and her vocals have also been sampled on a couple of other rap songs. It was a weird choice, and three songs in the crowd were either sitting down or looking like they were going to kill themselves, me included. My whinging started, not helped by four middle aged ladies who were clearly pissed up and determined to ‘HAAVE FUUUUN!’ regardless of the condition of the toes of the people around them. They were rude and obnoxious and so drunk that they were fall dancing into people, but amusing to watch all the same, especially when they played Rockin Robin in the gap between one act and Le Mars, and they jived for a full three minutes, much to the disgust of a girl who kept getting jived on.
And then the lights went off and the music started, and I was transformed from an unimpressed twenty something to a gushing fifteen year old who was at her first boyband concert. I was actually convinced that if I had a heart attack, I would die happy.
Seriously though, the guy puts on a good show. Well known for doing a load of slow songs that are a bit vomit inducing if played in the wrong circles, he managed to keep the crowd happy for the full set by mixing it up with trumpets, jive dancing and jokes throughout. As you all know, I like funny, so this has cemented his place in my heart. It felt like it was over before it started, and even the torrential rain couldn’t dampen our mood. Nor the fact that Stockwell tube was closed and I had to visit pretty much the whole of London to get to Waterloo, or that a taxi back to my house from the station cost me nearly a tenner.
Please can I go again tomorrow?