A Final Note

The first time I saw Kidd Blunt, I was fifteen years old, neck deep in the excitement and happiness of my first band and my first love. It was the Summer that we all have; the one you always remember, and there I was in the under-crowded, contextually over-expansive Red Box. I wasn't there for Kidd Blunt and, in fact, had never heard of them. But I loved them right away and if I think hard enough and confabulate just a little bit, I could swear I remember what song they were playing when I turned to my girlfriend said "They sound like NoFX, they're amazing!!!"

It was a couple of years after that first afternoon gig when I saw Kidd Blunt for the second time and I hated them. A mixture of dramatic teenage angst and jealousy had poisoned me against them for some reason and, on top of that, they didn't sound like NoFX anymore. In truth, they didn't sound like anything I'd ever heard before. In fact, I couldn't really hear them at all, so bad were the acoustics in the horrible Church Hall they were playing. It's funny to think about it in such clichéd terms but I'd be lying if I didn't say that it all changed for me with one simple, almost insignificant gesture. I was walking through town alone and saw Stephen, KB's drummer, coming my way. We'd had a few ill words towards each other on the internet (I believe he'd called me a cunt) and my stomach fell. I knew he recognised me and I knew that he knew that I recognised him. Politeness took hold and I nodded as we passed, expecting the same in return. Instead, I got a smile and a "How are ya!?" He was a nice guy.... Guess I can't hate his band out of jealousy anymore, I thought.

Screams filled the air and a guitar made noises that I'd never heard a guitar make before. The snare drum sounded like the fire of a Gatling gun that fired for far longer than a drummer should be able to hold a steady roll. And I sang along. Because after a few gigs of listening to this band, their songs became anthems. I didn't know the words but I fucking screamed them anyway. I was sweaty and drunk and falling into other people and being pushed into the stage and my voice was horse from doing the same thing two nights before. I was in love for the second time of my life, but this time, it was with a band. When I think about it now, I don't even remember how long ago that it was that I fell in love with this band. I don't care to remember either because I know that my life was made better and easier by their presence in it. Finally, after years of trying to find somewhere to fit in, something to relate to, some sort of release for the anger or hurt or happiness, I had found my self lost in time. Everything slipped away in the minutes and hours I racked up spent singing along to these songs, talking to Stephen about what the band was doing (or more often, girls) or chatting with Turlough about the lyrics and the gigs and whatever else (more likely, girls).

It's been seven years since the first time I saw the band. Seven years. And they were playing for four before even that. Over a decade of playing music together. I've never done ANYTHING for a decade! One time at a party, Turlough invited me to see them play in Galway the following week. I didn't see why not so off we went. When I think back over the 'punkest' times of my life, that gig in Galway was probably at the top of the list. Arriving after a 6 hour drive just in time to miss KB's set; standing inch deep in piss pouring cans for me and Turlough while he took a shit in the next stall and told me about quitting his other band; dumpster-diving with Ed (sadly to no avail); stealing food from Tesco; sleeping on someone's floor that I'd never previously (nor since) met; and driving home the next morning, having missed the entire point of the trip and gotten it all the same.

The last time I saw Kidd Blunt was just a few hours ago. I don't go to gigs much anymore these days. Unfortunately, they were one of very few bands who had made me feel like I belonged over the years and, having grown weary of not fitting in even in a scene full of people who didn't fit into the norm either, I'd stopped bothering and buried myself in a corner of life, far away from most people I'd met on the scene. But tonight was the last chance I would ever get to see the band that gave me some of the best times of my life, simply by playing their songs. I went with a quiet nervousness about the night ahead. It had been so long. I decided to stand at the back and enjoy the night and make a quick exit afterward. And yet, when I saw the lads pick up their guitars and drumsticks, my legs took me to the front row for an hour and a half of singing, screaming, dancing, air-guitaring, air-drumming, nostalgia, happiness, excitement, awe and any other feeling I could possibly feel. This. Band. Changed. My. Life. And my favourite part, the thing about them that I always admired so fondly... Kidd Blunt is proud of what they've done. They're not afraid or embarrassed to admit that the band meant as much to them as we all knew it did. They poured their hearts and souls and thousands of hours and euros into their band and they were proud because they were in love too.

The last time I saw Kidd Blunt was one of the saddest events I'd ever been at. The last time was epic. It was raw and emotional and inspiring and amazing and that's why I'm writing. Because the band really did make me feel a kind of hope that I hadn't felt for years beforehand, maybe even ever. Hope that someday I can love something or someone and be as proud of it or them as the boys are of their band. The last time I saw Kidd Blunt was one of the saddest occasions of my life. The songs will remain and the memories will never fade, for any of us who were lucky enough to peep our head in at some point over the last eleven years. The last time I saw Kidd Blunt was one of the happiest times I've ever had. Thank you lads, for so much. I'll miss you.