Today's Muse: MOSH!

I am exhausted, my toes hurt, I can barely hear, and I just realised I lost several files containing articles on the ancient world I was supposed to have already sent. But still I labour to bring you, yes, YOU, this report.

It was an Experiance. So it's all good.

Today shall go down in history as one of the wettest days in Singapore. The rain still hasn't let up; it's being pouring since early morning. Now, normally such a day would be spent fettering indoors, under the covers preferably, watching the Hallmark channel. And then there would be nothing to report, except maybe an emotional outburst about how fragile life is and other shite.

Instead of the above, I dragged me fine self out of bed and out into the deluge, suitably garbed of course - mud-encrusted pants, leg warmers, overcoat, striped wrist warmers, scarf and fecking big umbrella - to attend a showcase of the finest of local music.

That's what they sold me on.

What it was, however, was a delightfully noisy MOSH. With a couple of friends I trooped down to Armernian street, to the Substation. We paid, got those funny plastic strap things and were ushered into the "Indoor Theatre".

It was a rectangular room painted black, with a high celing, relatively small. There was no stage, and the bands that played just set up their stuff at one end of the room. Someone in the lightbox kept playing with the lights, and yellow and red spots flew here and there. People were sitting against the walls. It felt pretty informal, and we relaxed instantly.

When we came in some band was just finishing up their set. Imagine this: A small group of people standing close enough to the band to feel spittle, split down the middle, and just staring, arms crossed.

What they were watching were a group of guys attempting to mosh. Just walking drunk, falling into each other and hoisting people into the air. They were having fun; the others were just staring in disbelief. I stared at them in disbelief. Hardcore bands, and you're just standing there?

Okay, I stood around too. But I didn't like the band that much, and 'sides, I was drying off.

The set ended and another band started setting up; one of our number knew the vocalist. They were really tight... the would-be moshers kept zombie-walking, and that was entertaining enough.

There were other bands, something that sounded reggae - but what do I know? - but I wasn't really drawn in until Subway Stars (is that right?) came on. By then the whole room was sitting on the floor, and when the emcee introduced them as indie, you could feel a palpable sigh. Like we can take a break now.

Subway Stars (in picture) was anything but soothing. They were fantastic. They performed original numbers and really broke all barriers. All eyes were on the bassist, whose skinny frame belied his awesome axe skills. He was really lost in the music, throwing himself around the stage slamming on his bass (five-string)! Bloody hell, they snapped strings up there and still played on.

That got the audience interested again. The next band came on coasting on the energy (Don't remember the name, but they said they would do monkey tricks. They lied. Liiiieed.) with more hardcore riffs. These guys knew how to play to the audience. They got us standing, and jumping, and yelling, and - wait. Now I get it. We're the damned monkeys...

Despite technical difficulties and having to cut their set short, I had the most fun during their performance. They said, "Jump when the chorus comes on.", and did we fucking jump. People were slamming into each other. My first mosh experiance and I was wearing rain boots. Lucky me.

It was like, Foot, shoe, hand, shoe, face, floor, why thank you, floor again. I was caught right in the middle and people were going crazy. I was pushed to the floor, but some nice chap pulled me back up, and I just continued. Jumping. Pumping brolly in the air. Being pushed. Pushing back. Screaming along. Feeling my toes being mashed. Mashing other toes.

There was this real sense of camaradiere. Complete strangers danced with each other, helping those who had fallen down, crashing into each other laughing. Everyone joining in; even the timid ones jumping at the edges away from the heart of the crowd where the going was really wild. Of course, there were a couple of baby goths at the sides, but who cares about that? Some tiny dude was hoisted in the air, and carried from one end to the other (which, admittedly, wasn't very far.) . Inhibitions thrown out the window. Friendships struck up in seconds without words. Primitive, dangerous, but whacky fun.

I liked it.

And then the set was over, people calmed, and the huge group split into tiny cliques again. I had to leave, sadly. Fun while it lasted.

There was this fellow, whom I dubbed "Spasm Dude", simply because he did. He wasn't afraid to jump and yell and spasm. Bold, tad obnoxious, but exuberant. I would credit him and his companions with turning the whole venture into a sucess. Otherwise I think it'd just be people standing around, arms folded.

And he was rather nice to look at.

Really nice.