Hob In The Corner

15: By 9.45 Hob In The Corner’s support slot was long finished and Motorvator were almost halfway through their set. I’d been watching the front of the club for a while from the unfortunately named Savage Java, the small coffee bar opposite, where the baleful barista’s patience seemed about to reach its limit – I’d been nursing two espressos since showtime at 8.30 – I paid up and, once I saw the turnstile brute step out from under the marquee onto the footpath, taking a break for a smoke, I crossed the street towards him.

34: Something even odder happened at a Hob In The Corner gig at The Whole, The Good and The Beautiful. I’d only gone along because I wanted to catch Prost Mahlzeit (black, peaked seaman’s caps with braided strands above the peaks) who, as a laudable part of reinventing themselves, had gone back to playing support slots in the kind of clubs they’d started out in.

There were no refunds forthcoming for missing Hob In The Corner (Stormy Kromer caps) but the punters weren’t as bothered by that as you’d think they might be.
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