Working Men’s Club

Working Men’s Club – ‘Bad Blood’

The irreconcilable dichotomy that is football and rugby. Since this whole adulting thing fully kicked into me in the latter half of 2018, somewhat reluctantly, I’ve been repeatedly told that it is important to experience a degree of contentment in one’s own recreational time, and of course this is largely to do with the general onset of FOMO that is apparently a chief reason (according to my big brother Arj) that I have been unable to sit still since I was, like, younger. While technically I disagree, especially as my Apple Watch continuously tells me to stand the fuck up when I’ve been sitting the fuck down (I do feel this qualifies as sitting still) for too damn long, I absolutely agree with the merits of perhaps reducing the more overt sense of productivity in how I spend my personal time, and perhaps concentrating in just getting into the general swing of things. Which isn’t terribly difficult to do, in the context of the number of sporting events I’ve ended up at in more recent months. This is my unique, long-winded way of saying that I’ve been enjoying a lot of football lately – mainly in the form of Brighton & Hove Albion carrying on in their campaign to be a legit Premiere League team, which I also believe is part of my mate Tony Boden’s much more ambitious campaign to somehow drag me down to his level by taking me to the aforementioned football games – but, of course, the Six Nations is also happening. I went to see England vs France yesterday, and I have to say the pre- and during- and post-match rituals are rather different. Everyone is continuously sitting down at rugby games; whether that is for the 3 course meal available in the hospitality package, or indeed for spectatorship purposes in general, there seems to be an accord that thou shalt never stand up unless it is for a piss, beer, or a piss’n’beer. By contrast, everyone stands up all the time at football games, and this is probably why I feel I have in fact played the game myself by the time I’ve trudged it back to my flat in Hendon. There is also a distinct lack of 3 course meal action, so I’ll address this with Tony at the earliest opportunity given that it does seem like an ongoing point of class difference – which seems like a really good albeit skeweringly-basic way to introduce a band called Working Men’s Club, who have managed to get pretty much every A&R’s knickers into a musical twist ahead of their big ol’ London show tonight at The Moth Club according to a very trusted source of mine (ta very much, Mr Garrett). What’s also seemingly impressive is selling out of the vinyl component of debut single Bad Blood – an unashamed throwback to the bridge that somehow exists between the early effects-pedal frigging tendencies of Joy Division branching out to more quirky indie bands of the mid-noughties, like Clor which compliments the bands chosen aesthetic, both in terms of look and nomenclature. Which is, again, my unique long-winded way of saying that I think this is really good.

  • Ach

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