Yet it wasn’t his bonhomie, his frenetic dancing, the way he dominated the stage or the sophistication of his voice that mesmerised her. Neither was it the aliveness of the brooding music coursing through every cell of her.
At first she thought it was the lighting, but the colours were too elaborate and too precisely bound to the music. Besides, Bauhaus would never be lit in pink. Ten bars in and she realised she wasn’t only hearing “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”, she was seeing the song, seeing every note, the whole forming an intense kaleidoscopic light show. She stood, transfixed, the audience rocking and swaying all around her receding into an amorphous blob of insignificance.
As the song ended someone jogged her arm and the moment was gone. The band launched into “Kick in the Eye” over the ap
