Shirley Manson from Garbage
Ah Shirley Manson, the flame haired Scottish songstress from briefly popular mid-nineties band Garbage.

'tis the summer of '96 or possibly '97 - the details are a little vague. I'm stood in line outside of the prestigious* music venue that is the Newport centre quaffing cans of Kestrel with my mates and little do I know that I am about about to experience one of the most profoundly erotic moments of my young life - needless to say, I was, it has to be said, rather sheltered in that respect. Subsisting almost entirely on a musical diet of Korn, Entombed and the like it was perhaps odd to find me clad in an oversized machinehead t-shirt with a group of similarly attired mates queuing for a Garbage concert, but it almost certainly had something to do with seeing the spafftastic Shriley Manson up-close.


Eventually, the line began to move and we hastily nailed the remainder of our lukewarm less-than-premium lagers from their somewhat rusty cans and made our way into the cavernous arena. For reasons unknown the support act were the Crystal Method. This did not sit well with us, but soon enough they buggered off and it was time for the main attraction. We shouldered our way to the front in that self-centred manner entirely bereft of consideration that only teenagers can manage (years later at the Reading festival I nearly started a fight with a bunch of young 'uns for doing just that, but that's not really relevant here).

The concert gets underway and she strides out onto the stage. Shirley Manson wearing a tiny, tiny red dress and proper 'fuck me boots'. Stood a mere ten feet from the stage and a gyrating Scotswoman I was in a randy teenage heaven for the next hour or so - my feverish, but at the time rather limited imagination running wild. I still maintain to this day that I got a look at her knickers at one stage. I hobbled out of there hunched awkwardly in a pathetic attempt to mask the raging stonk on that I had. We then spent an hour lurking round the back in the hope of getting a glimpse of her and if we were truly lucky an autograph. Alas, we were to be disappointed and the closest I ever got to her was the promotional material for the concert.

Probably still would.

*completely shit.
(barnaby_kettleworth, Wed 11 Nov 2009, 14:10, 2 replies)

hmm...
May have been at that gig. Can't remember...

Ahhh Newport Centre. What a venue. Chuck Berry is playing there in December. Why? It's only slightly bigger than two tennis courts and, if you're Chuck Berry, why on earth would you want to go to Newport?
(Megamoss, Wed 11 Nov 2009, 14:29, closed)

Was there some bloke at the back screaming 'Play Queer again' ? Short of gawping at Ms Manson that's my other enduring memory of said gig.
(barnaby_kettleworth, Wed 11 Nov 2009, 14:57, closed)