So said Ben Ottewell, midway through Gomez’s set at the Espy last night. I’d spent most of my day in an air conditioned office, and couldn’t believe how hot it actually was when I stepped out of it at half past five and almost got knocked over by the wall of heat that hit me: thirty eight blistering degrees, apparently, and it didn’t cool down quickly.
After having dinner down by the beach in St Kilda, feeling like the most overdressed person in town (we were surrounded by people more properly attired for enjoying the beach on the evening of the sunniest day of the summer so far), we headed for the Espy in search of somewhere cool to sit: we didn’t find it. It was sweltering inside and outside.
We were there to celebrate the tenth anniversary of Bring It On (the Gomez album, that is, not the shabby US teen cheerleader comedy), and to commemorate the event the band had decided to play the whole thing in full, in order.
Oddly, they also decided to do this twice on the same night: the original gig that I’d booked tickets for was shunted back to 9pm doors, and another one was crowbarred in before it from 6 to 9. All of which meant that I at least was sweating profusely after we’d hung around in the sweltering Espy for a couple of hours, and then squeezed in to the front of the long airless Gerswhin Rooms waiting for the roadies to test every drum and tune every guitar string (just what is it that takes so long about setting up a band? Especially considering they’d already used all those instruments just a few hours earlier…)
But I forgot all about that when they finally arrived on stage and launched into album opener Get Miles: I was instantly taken back to my wooden floored room at Wills Hall, where I listened to the album ten years ago as a fresh-faced innocent in my first year at Bristol Uni. I can’t quite believe that that was a whole decade ago.
Where did it go?