KATRINA TWEEDIE

I’ve never been to a music festival and I’m embarrassed to admit I’m part of Radio 2 demographic – not cool, apparently

FOR a very brief time, back in 1991, I was ahead of the curve musically when a friend took me to see Primal Scream perform during their now-iconic Screamadelica tour.

The concert was at the Ayr Pavilion, which later became a kids’ softplay venue. In the years that followed, I spent many days at this same place, where screaming (children this time) remained a theme.

But left to my own devices, my musical choices are more questionable.

I’ve never been to a music festival and I’m slightly embarrassed to admit I’m part of the Radio 2 demographic – not cool, apparently.

I regularly Shazam tracks on my phone, using the brilliant app that identifies musical favourites, yet I always seem to save Toto’s Africa and 80s hits.

And a personal gig highlight remains Hootie and the Blowfish at Barrowland. I even bought a cap from the merchandise stall.

But recently, my gig-going credentials started looking up, when I was invited to the sold-out, one-time-only Soft Cell reunion concert at the O2 in London.

It was a slightly shambolic final chapter in the history of one of pop’s defining duos, but it was worth enduring the three-hour show just to hear Tainted Love. When they played their other big hit, Say Hello, Wave Goodbye, it took me straight back to the first disco I ever attended in a tiny village hall.

Two weeks after, I went to yet another gig – that’s more than in my entire 30s.

It was back at Barrowland, this time for Tom Odell, described as the King of the John Lewis advert. The accomplished singersongwriter had been on Radio 2, of course, plugging his tour, so I bought two tickets on the spur of the moment. But come Friday night, standing in the middle of a sweaty crowd, in my work clothes and clutching a large handbag, I was regretting my rashness. A legion of young girls, all madly in love with the angle-faced singer, were either swooning or getting seen to by St John’s Ambulance, their heads held over a bucket. I looked like someone’s mum. So when a friend invited me to see Darius Rucker, the lead singer from Hootie and the Blowfish (as fate would have it), I didn’t go, staying at home, opting for a quiet night with the kids instead. Oh well, as Huey and the Lewis – another favourite of mine – says, “It’s hip to be square.”

‘A legion of girls were swooning.. I looked like someone’s mum’