There is a particular kind of quiet bewilderment that only live music can inflict.
You buy a ticket for a landmark anniversary show. The ticket says it, the artwork proclaims it, the venue screens reaffirm it, and the date in the diary has been ringed for months - forty years since a debut record landed and soundtracked a chunk of my youth. In the autumn of 1986, as an eighteen-year-old fresher arriving at university, God’s Own Medicine was practically fused to the turntable.
Forty years on, you turn up expecting the familiar, storming opening chords of the songs that defined that autumn term. Wayne Hussey battles through a rasping throat, (‘I’ve got a cold’), the band sound tight, and they pull out some cracking belting tracks, but almost none of them are from the record on the ticket! Bar a solitary outing for Garden of Delight, the debut is completely shelved.
I still believe in God, but God no longer believes in me.
(IYKYK).
The explanation was probably standing right there on the merchandise stall. It was night two of a four-night residency at Kentish Town. Hussey had spent Wednesday night hammering out the big album anthems, blown his vocal cords to pieces, and left Thursday with a throat like sandpaper and an impromptu detour into b-sides, later chapters, and classic alternatives.
Naturally, I bought the tour t-shirt anyway. You have to.
Because of 1986.
Yet walking out onto Kentish Town Road, the curious setlist gave way to something far more energising. The real highlight of the evening had happened before the headliners had even plugged in.
It came from the support act - SpaceAcre.
Opening slots in cavernous venues can be a thankless task. Most crowds treat them as background noise while pints are bought, coats are checked in, and old mates catch up. This was a huge night for them.
And every so often, an act cuts right through the indifference through sheer craft and presence. SpaceAcre delivered a set of widescreen, atmospheric indie with genuine weight - dark, melodic, and completely unconcerned with chasing fleeting pop trends.
I caught up with them briefly at their merchandise table afterwards to say hello. They are clearly a band in demand, they told me twice, but I have dropped them a line to see if we can get them onto The Third Half for our Musician of the Month feature.
The night served as a brilliant reminder of why we run TTH.
Nostalgia is a comfortable place to spend an evening, but newer artists are the ones carrying the culture forward. Bands like SpaceAcre do not have massive corporate machinery paving the road - they tour through graft, belief, and an obsessive commitment to what they make. Whether it is an emerging indie duo, an artisan cheesemaker in Suffolk, or an ex-international rugby player carving out a second life, the common thread is always the same - people who care deeply about building something worthwhile against the odds.
Sometimes you turn up for the past and end up discovering the future.
And if Wayne and the gang tour Gods Own Medicine in 10 years’ time, I’ll make sure I go to the first night.
Because of ‘86.