Not the same after that

The very lovely and very music-geeky Nick Hornby maintains that, if you really truly love a song, it won't remind you of anything in particular when you hear it.

But if tonight is anything to go by, he's talking through his arse. Because every time I hear Not The Same from now on, I'll be picturing the Paradiso house lights illuminating the faces of a thousand people singing along in three part harmony.

Two hours of nostalgia and mind-boggling riffs and bowel-loosening (not really) synth chords and disturbing stories about Las Vegas hotel rooms and almost every song I wanted to hear in the two and a bit hours we were treated to. The standard's been set high for the rest of the gigs I'll go to this year.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go gargle with some Disprin before I lose my voice completely...