Picture this. It’s early. Earlier than I usually go to work but there is something important at stake. There is…a 3rd Pixies gig in the Olympia. I want just one ticket. Just one. I’ll even go on my own dammit – how tragic is that?

Reload. “tickets not on sale yet”. Reload “tickets not on sale yet” Reload “tickets not on sale yet” Reload “tickets at the price you have requested are no longer available”. Reload “tickets at the price you have requested are no longer available”.

And so on. It was not a good morning.

Over to online therapy shop. “I hate Ticketmaster. No Pixies tickets for Treasa”. But hark. What light through yonder Direct Message Notification breaks? It is verily Prince Charming. “Ah. I might just be able to do something about that.”

Yes. Damien Mulley to the rescue. Damien may have one spare ticket going a begging if I might, perchance, have any interest in giving it a home…

Do I what?

So, I field nine thousand conversations that go “goddammit the Pixies sold out fast” and “Bloody hell I thought I might have one hope in hell”, safe in the knowledge that no matter what else happens – bankruptcy, for example, I will be at the Pixies. Now, where are the Pixies CDs thanks to those movies – look – in the first CD bag opened. This is good. Very good.

I was introduced to the Pixies by a somewhat rare creature in my life – an ex I am actually still friends with (look, it’s hard to stay friends with people who collectively are ex for very good reasons. Most of the exes have left musical marks on me, some good, some horrific (we will forget about Rhythm and Blues Alibi, for example), and in this case, I drew the Pixies. It’s not such a burden. They have some great songs of which my favourite is Velouria.

Pity he wasn’t around. Anyway.

Last night, 8pm, I got to swan it into the Olympia with Damien and Alexia who are gadget freaks and both own something I have foresworn ever to own…iPhones. Here is Damien in his guise as video director and Alexia in hers. I sat between them in awe straining to burn the sound and images on the inside of my brain.

I have been to a lot of concerts in my life, of which there are now about 20 in the top ten. This is definitely squashed into the top flight. I like bands who come on, play stuff and don’t heckle the crowd [much]. Their songs are all near perfect. The sound, in the Olympia great, loud but who the hell cares. Sit there in awe watching the guitar work. Brilliant. Here Comes your Man – fantastic. Sit there wondering why not every gig can be this fantastic. Not care about the fact that you’re the same level as the Chandeliers (hell what I wouldn’t give for a macro lens for that).

There’s a reason the Olympia was sold out last night, tonight and tomorrow night. It’s not for the want of goodness, that’s for sure. I’d have gone again. Really.

And I don’t say that too often.