Oh Jenny. I was the only boy around you that didn’t love you, and that’s why we hung out. And when we vaulted around FROG, ‘back in’ ‘the day’, I felt so many scowls hit my cardigan I thought I’d burst. I might have been your eyes, it might have been your leggings, it might have been your smile, but we all know it wasn’t. It was effortless though, wasn’t it? Linking up sometime after work finished, me packing Red Bull, you packing Smirnoff and whatever it was the made the boys smile would get us in for free and get us cheaper drinks and get us smashed enough to scream our throats raw.
Never louder than to this, this fluffed up piece of nostalgia-pop, because there’s nothing wrong with nostalgia pop, not when you’re breaking ice with strangers. The beauty was it didn’t matter if we were in London or Ireland or wherever – it would all be just fine. And it didn’t matter if it was followed by At The Drive In or Bloc Party or The Arcade Fire or The Libertines or Joy Division or My Chemical Romance or Blur or Oasis or Kylie or Clor or The Futureheads or The Rakes or Goldfrapp or Yeah Yeah Yeahs or Ladytron or The White Stripes or PJ Harvey or Head Automatica or DFA1979 or Smashing Pumpkins or Nirvana or Daft Punk, we’d just dance.
And it doesn’t sound the same without you. So I don’t listen to it.