I’m crowding around a TV in the college common room while a kid with a mullet shouts “Look at that foot cam!” as the Chad Smith Drum Tuition Video reaches its enthralling apex. Suddenly — or should that be All of a Sudden — walks in “Gustav,” the weird black-clad exchange student from Germany who’s staying with my sister’s friend. He plugs in his VHS camcorder and plays some grainy footage from a Liars gig he was at last night. “This is real drumming,” he says, slowly, his words dripping with assured Teutonic condemnation.
As the bell rings for lessons and we all hastily finish our ketchup-smothered hash brown sandwiches, a mood of vague shame hangs over us. We all walk away from that moment wondering whether Red Hot Chili Peppers really are the best band in the world — some people erase their “Californication” lyrics from the front of battered exercise books, others dig in their heels and play slap bass in the pubs of West Yorkshire to this day. Whatever the reaction, something changed.
• Blood Sport: http://bloodsport.bandcamp.com
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