It’s gone 1am on the 13th and I’m still wired (no chemicals involved). Stunning, as you are. Lovely to see you and Vince.

Mr Blue, Midnight, State Farm…who am I kidding…all of it. Brilliant. Stunning. A gift, almost indecent in its opulence. And twice.

Nothing compares.

G xxx

I know it was a few months back now but just seen this site.
Just wanted to say how great u were at London palladium.

Good luck with your reconnected tour x

God I hate IKEA

I´m old fan of you since the 80´s. It start with Yazoo with your strong and sensitive voice. My favourite album is the first Alf and then i have follow your carrier.

So right now i´m so glad that Yazoo reunion My and my girlfriend have ordered ticket and come to Manchester 7 June from Sweden. First time in Manchester!
And offcourse first time on a Yazoo concert, i was i little bit young to travel to England i the 80´s.

A question were come the name Yazoo from?

So see you soon Alison!

Bye from Marie Magnusson from Sweden, Stockholm

Love your blog, if it’s not in bad taste to say so.

Home now and sipping a Manhattan. The house is still, my Boy upstairs asleep. I yearned for this drink as I sped down an almost deserted M5 from Birmingham to Bristol on my way home from the Symphony Hall.

The liquor burns and then sooths my throat, a little raw from singing my heart out and through your back catalogue. I could sense the look on the chap’s face next to me. He thought he was coming to hear you sing, but I clearly had other ideas…! And then in the solitude of Beauregard (great name for a car, n’est ce pas?) I ‘looped-the-loop’ with The Turn in the 80 minutes or so it took me to wing it home.

In the terrace, to your left. Front row, and all. Lucky at such late notice. Meant to be, I feel.

I always want to be brave at your gigs. Connect. Shout something witty. Whistle. Leap from my seat and start dancing. It’s about you looking up, smiling and saying “Oh, hey, Glen, good to see you” (probably with your thumbs up!). It’s that Man in the Wings thing again.

But an unfamiliar self-consciousness suppresses me. I’m not normally that way, au contraire (what’s with all the French?!). I imagine that if I ever were to meet you I’d utter something totally unintelligible (“Hmmefpt, manar manar, hmnpf” or some such) or else just stand there agog (good word, ‘agog’) and the moment would be lost. Awe brings out my deepest insecurities, it seems.

It was lovely to see you again. Can’t Say It, Footsteps, Sharpest Corner, You Don’t Have to Go, Momma Momma – jaw-dropping.

Sweet dreams when you get there. Mine will be.

xxx

I so enjoyed that post. My comment is really about the beautiful part at the end of the post. I appreciate the humility but, doll, you’re the whole lovely package.

I want to share a memory. Los Angeles, Wiltern Theater, late 80s or early 90s. I used to be one of those obsessive music people who could remember exact dates but a couple of kids and cresting 40…not to mention all the drugs & alcohol along the way…it’s pretty clear I’m catching the Alzheimer’s.

Anyway, Wiltern Theater. You’re onstage. Belting out some tune and we (the audience) are actually on our feet (rare for an LA audience) dancing, singing along. When this 30-something woman leaps on to the stage. She sniffs your neck. Stuffs her head between your breasts. Then works her way down your body until she’s clutching an ankle. We (the audience) are cheering her on. You’re singing still but now with a big smile. Finally, some fella comes from the side stage, gently prys her fingers from your ankle and takes her off.

Don’t know if you recall that moment or not. I would guess it’s not everyday a lady gets groped by a middle-aged lesbian (while onstage anyway).

Best,
-samantha

ps – when are you coming back to LA?

It’s the morning after the night before. A sense of elation, a bit of a sore throat and then a slight feeling of disappointment (feelings ten years ago that I would have associated with the morning after a night clubbing that ended with a cracking shag, then the sun comes up and shines its harsh spotlight).

Much better, oh so much better then, that my disposition reflects the day after your Colston gig.

I sat in Row G having blagged some better tickets from a mate who was so heavily pregant she feared giving birth so shyed away (which on relection gives a different twist on the line “whose sticky hands are these?”). Sorry, that’s two crude jokes in two paragraphs…

Transfixed. I realised my jaw was aching about 4 songs in: a preposterous smile across my face. I remember it well as a sensation induced either by (a) some good MDMA or (b) a few previous dates we have had which involve you on a stage and me in the audience, just close enough to see the movement of your eyes and yet far enough to imagine you can’t actually see my preposterous smile. Option (a) isn’t one I’ve taken up in this recent lifetime and so (b) it is.

What you said in your into to The Man in the Wings, I totally get. Last night, as every night and day, it was all about me and you. You blew me away with the current list: Can’t Say It, The Sharpest Corner, Fire. These, together with You Don’t Have to Go, Momma Momma and Footsteps (work of genius) still have the hairs standing on the back of my neck. We were blessed.

Others’ relative unfamiliarity (compared to the Yazoo/Alf years) gave me a sense of privelege, connection, intimacy, pride. Were there any other people there?! I thought not when I shot to my feet at the end of Momma Momma to scowls from those around me! I sung myself hoarse, matched you note for note, word for word (if ever you need a prompt…). At least in my head.

What you write in the programme…a desire to be able to flit through your repertoir and have the audience keep faith… You’re a realist and so you’ll know some got lost along the way (still humming Love Resurrection two tracks later). But Moyet junkies like me weren’t just keeping up, they were thrill seeking, trying to guess what next, setting the pace. More, harder, faster. I think only breaking into “There are worse things” could have made it more roller-coaster and I loved it! MDMA holds no candle.

My disappointment is far from anything to do with the night itself but the come down. I can’t believe it’s over. I need a fix (I’ve scanned my diary to see how on earth I can get to one of the other dates without having to sit in row ZZ). Just where is Basingstoke for God’s sake?! If not, I’ll have to peg my hopes on a live DVD…

Darrrhhhling you were fabulous. Let’s do it again some time.

xxx

ps. always wondered, do you write your lyrics with explicit intent on double-entondre (or whatever that frenchie pie stuff is…)?
I seem to read something sexual into almost all of ‘em!

…and how fantasic does Misty and Kathleene in Southern Lousiana sound.. it begs to be in a book! xxx