I ♥ Rob Thomas (and the boys too, of course)

Listening to: 'You're So Real' by Matchbox Twenty [More Than You Think You Are]

Oh. My. God.

So, surprising as it may seem, until 19:30 yesterday, I was a gig virgin. Those of you who read my posts regularly will probably note that my music taste is rather varied, to say the least, so you would think I'd find at least one concert worth attending. Which is partly true. The Goo Goo Dolls were in Cambridge last year and I could've gone...but the tickets were 'standing' and I wasn't sure how my spine would handle the boisterous crowds, so I bailed. KT Tunstall played at the Roundhouse in November, but my life was in a total mess around that time and I didn't get around to buying a ticket...and by the time I realised she was to play in Cambridge, tickets had sold out. Another reason is that I'm quite reluctant to spend money on unessential things.

So when my friend said she had an extra ticket to see Matchbox Twenty at Wembley and asked if I'd like to join, I was in a quandary. £30 is a lot of money for me. Going to London on a Thursday night and coming back late in the night does not bode well for getting work done on Friday. Even though the doctor said my spine was A-OK, I don't think he was taking into consideration the exuberance of Matchbox Twenty fans in the 'standing' area of Wembley Arena. BUT...this was Matchbox Twenty. The same Matchbox Twenty whose three albums were sitting in my CD box. The same Matchbox Twenty whose songs (both singles and album tracks) I could recite word for word on a good day. The same Matchbox Twenty who were fronted by a most delectable Rob Thomas; lyrical maestro with possibly the sexiest voice in the Alternative scene. So I said yes. And last evening, with two friends in tow, I popped my gig cherry to the sounds of Matchbox Twenty.

And weren't they amazing. OK I should first mention Headway, the supporting act. Clearly influenced by the likes of MB20 and The Calling, but British (they're from Nottingham). And pretty good, might I add. I had listened to their stuff on last.fm and I liked what I heard...they were as good live. Which says a lot, I think. Too many bands have perfect studio albums and crappy live performances. These guys are promising.

So once they were done, the lights came on and my friends informed me that now we would have the agonising wait until the stars were ready to show. We utilised the time to weave our way through the crowd to get a better view of the stage, taking care not to get stuck behind the many 6-footers who seemed to think they were made out of glass. I mean c'mon! I'm 5'3" - it's not like I'm gonna block your view if I stand in front of you. And then of course there were the couples who obviously thought that a rock concert was the perfect setting for full-on gropage. Seriously dudes, if you're gonna spend the entire evening exchanging saliva, the least you could do is get out of the way! There should be some kind of fan-o-meter that only lets hardcore fans to the front, leaving the snoggers to their own devices. Sigh.

But yes, we managed to find suitable viewing spots before the lights dimmed. My heart started pounding as I realised that Rob Thomas was soon gonna be standing on that stage in front of me. And then they arrived. Oh. My. God. The crowd went wild - I know it sounds clichéd but it's true. We screamed. I took a million (mostly blurry) photos. We waved our hands in the air and sang along to every single song they played. For one and a half hours, I screamed my lungs out and stomped around like a crazy fool, all the time thinking "omg he's just there in front of me". Such adrenalin I have never known.

And then it ended. And I was still buzzing (heck I'm still buzzing!). We made our 3hr journey back to Cambridge, and then I cycled home and crawled into bed.

This morning, I woke up with proof that it was not a dream...dreams don't leave your voice hoarse and muscles aching! And here's more proof...one of the few non-blurry pics from last night.