A Dream I Had

I dreamt last night that someone reviewed a Randolph's Leap gig.
I've embellished it a little bit but this is pretty much how it panned out:

Sigh.

Firstly, Randolph's Leap are not a band who will be winning any beauty contests in a hurry. Frontman Adam Ross displays a mouthful of teeth almost as crooked as his sense of rhythm. I struggled to keep my eyes on the rag-tag formation, finding their desperate and misguided attempts at 'stage-presence' nausea-inducing.

And as for the performance? More like perfor-mess. The band stumbled their way though the kind of meandering, lightweight melodies and rhyming schemes most of us abandoned at nursery school.

However, unbelievably, the pain was worth enduring for one song. 'Going Home' is the jewel in a desert of shit. A song that (keeping in mind the otherwise abominable set) I struggle to believe is not a cover. For 5 sweet minutes, it all comes together for Randolph's Leap as they bellow the glorious chorus to what is surely going to follow Auld Lang Sine, Loch Lomond and The Proclaimers' 500 Miles into the annals of Scottish DJ classics, a sure-fire foot-stomping disco staple for future wedding-goers the world over. Ecstasy.