This past weekend I drove down to Andover to work at Into the Cage 6. As far as domestic shows go it's fairly standard but they're moving in the right direction with the matchmaking/presentation.
The fights were entertaining but the drive home was arguably the part of my night that required the most focus. Dave was staying in Reading with his family so I drove home alone after the show and got to my door at around 3am.
I drank a few cans of some sugar free energy drink that tasted like a cross between Vimto and Vinegar and crushed up some pro plus into them for good measure. It reminded me of the start of Nightmare on Elm Street 3 (1:53) somehow and, not wanting to make the experience seem artificial, I obliged by blasting out some late eighties hair metal to keep me awake.
This epistle already feels less celebratory than my previous few. It's nothing intentional. I think it's because I'm reading so much about Richey Edwards at the minute. His whole situation, personna and vanishing is just so fascinating to me. I think that a big part of me never got past being 19 and going to Chicos dressed as Nicky Wire.
One of the best things about the Internet is how quickly you can revisit things and the wealth of transcribed interviews and videos available. You can only imagine what Richey would have made of it. I regularly spend hours watching videos of people completing old arcade games on one credit, gigs from 20 years ago and the old protect and survive videos about how to deal with the threat of a nuclear assault. Something about the futility of those videos fascinates me.
Why Thunderforce?
There's something predictable about 16 bit games, not in a bad way, that means you can expect certain aspects but never be prepared for them. If you ever played the later Thunderforce games you'll realise just how this works. Those things are bathed in heavy metal synth done through the screaming Sega sound chip.
Anyhow, the point was that when you heard that crazy music start you realised all manner of shit was about to go down. Big solo meant boss music and boss music meant it was time to die unless you knew the attack patterns.
There was a scene in Andover, where I almost thought that something crazy may have happened. In my head, for a second, I almost heard the boss music start to prepare me for the incoming carnage.
As it happens it didn't but I still got that rush of adrenaline that I always used to get when the level music faded out on Super Probotector and the haunting tones of the boss music started.
