summer of 1990, the happy mondays are on stage playing and rowetta and shaun keep kissing and holding each other with so much passion and the artificial rays of neon sunlight keep washing over them. bez is happily dancing around on the cramped stage, pauls’ bassline is so smooth and bouncy and rhythmic, shauns’ already incoherent lyrics are slurred out in his thick manc accent. the band starts to play kinky afro and the crowd sings along. everything feels good, it all works, it’s all fitting together perfectly for that one night.
bro that’s all i’m lookin for honestly