Tonight Patrick Barrett bared his soul in a way not sung about by Rites of Spring. He played his last album in full, a record written during lockdown and a period of looking after his elderly parents. A time of beauty, strange beauty at that. And I looked on and relate to much of what he sings about
Henry Rollins is like a well 62 year old regularly serviced oiled machine that can operate for hours without a break. The reliable machine that never breaks down in a factory producing items 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.
Right from the first note the crowd was in raptures at this Easter punk rock show. One hour of fun, smiles, comradeship and entertainment. A bit like the Stations of the Cross I guess