wishus | The Abridgment of Memory (Reply)

Well hello LJ — I want to thank you, and the many, many Russians who still use you, for being here when my memory failed me.

It is 1 week since my dad died. Over on Facebook, a lot of people were sharing a meme about the gigs they have been to, possibly prompted by the fact we all miss them in these plague times. I have a very persistent musical memory about my dad accompanying me to my first ever gig, when I was 14. It was Marillion, and my dad wore a yellow Pringle jumper (I was wearing Concord Market's finest — a white and navy striped sweater, a blue denim skirt, and enormous hair. We used to have lean times, interspersed with not so lean times and 1987 was a pretty good year in many ways for my family. Nonetheless I was getting rather grown up and my non-uniform outfits were few, so photos exist of me wearing this combo at various stages of hair enormousness).

The memory of this gig is very clear, because it is one I go over and over again, recounting to people as quite the experience! It is important to me at this time to have these memories, and at the very least I need them for the eulogy I am to give in three weeks' time. Plus, it's especially significant given how damaged Dad's brain was, when not even basic functions were within his capability in the end, that somehow he seemed to retain a musical memory. Me and my sisters played him lots of Pink Floyd, Dire Straights, and a bit of Dido and Keane to be different — just the stuff he'd play while off to the shops, or on longer trips on holiday. He would even try to sing along, though he was non-verbal.

So meme point one, first gig, as clear as meme point two — last gig. Babymetal, Feb 22nd 2020 Manchester, I don't think I will ever forget. Also the anniversary of my last express haircut, not that I have them more than once a year anyway. Chatting to other people at the hairdressers about how I loved this Japanese band, was learning Japanese and wanted to go to Japan one day, and this lady said, "What do you want to go there for? They've got this Coronavirus!"

I. Know.

But the rest of the gig memories... somewhere in the loft I think I have early ticket stubs, but trying to tie things down has been an exercise and a half. I started <a href="Wishusdonna's setlist.fm | setlist.fm">this setlist</a>:

It looks impressive, but there are big gaps. I have managed to add in 32 gigs so far that were previously not listed, most of which are thanks to this journal, which threw up some surprises that my memory was hiding from me. Never seen Bauhaus have I, even though I live in Northampton? Well, what's this journal entry from 2006? And then suddenly, there it is! Me and my friend Kate watching Pete Murphy on stage, having an amazing time. Never been to Rock City have I? Well, what's this review of Queenadreena that Kate did and I linked to? What was that room? I remember it! I remember Katie-Jane reaching for a water bottle between songs, and how small the room was, how she wandered about us in the crowd. Yeah, that was the basement! I have been there! And then when was this Cruxshadows gig that I went to with Gabby and Lydia? The year they were doing their first Dragoncon stream with Storm Constantine, as Wendy and I were talking about last weekend. We all got tickets to go see them! And it was definitely Edwards, I remember the walls and compared photos. Apparently, the place burned down after, I never realized! But I had to find a German goth blog to get the dates, because I never mentioned the details of the gig here except in passing after I'd been, and neither did they on theirs!

"Where was I?" said Neil, about the night I went to see My Bloody Valentine in London with my brother. "On the phone to scientologists!" I replied. I got back from the gig, and they rang him from a party in Cornwall and chatted to him while I was trying to sleep — in the top bunk. For that was our comedy sleeping arrangement back then. He'd filled in one of their online questionnaires and foolishly left his number... but memories like that are no good for pinning down a gig date when there are 5 of them in a row on Setlist. I saw two other people I knew in Camden, but I could neither trawl their social media nor my brother's as they have either left and stayed gone, or come back with different profiles since that time. In fact, it's how I discovered my brother had left Facebook... but there was a photo! I needed that photo. I never owned it, but it was time and date proof I was there, and now it is gone.

Well luckily, I didn't need the photo, and thanks again LJ. And thanks also to past me for posting all my nonsense. But this stuff... it's transient.

I tried to find my reviews for the BBC of gigs I had been to. Gone! (I found my unedited submissions in my email.) Other people's WP blogs where I knew info had been... gone! And trying to trawl through Facebook... it is designed for Facebook to be in control of what you can remember and bring back up, not you. And the disappearances of other people affect your timeline in ways you might not notice let alone predict.

Blogging remains fab. Friends can chip in with amusing asides. But the internet is too big to be cached anymore. Also it is a horrible place. Having one friend posting idiotic conspiracies can be entertaining. Several friends doing so becomes tiring. Strangers doing so and becoming aggressive about it is exasperating. And scary.

So last night, I resolved to buy a beautiful paper journal and return to writing a proper diary. I bought one from Coleman's, the Northampton family stationers which due to lack of footfall on St Giles Street these days is going to have to close its original branch. That journal is en route. Today though... serendipity. The muse whispered on the wind and a friend, hearing about my loss, has sent me a lovely recycled paper hardback journal, bound in a handmade vegan leather slip cover, with spaces for notes and cards.

The universe, then, is saying: "Begin."