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November 20, 2008
I saw him four years ago staggering across the stage, completely off his face, pouring his soul into the microphone. His lyrics were dark and haunting – I remember the silence in the room and the hairs prickling on the back of my neck as he sang about Sylvia Plath. I didn’t think he’d live another year, let alone four. He came back though and he’s introducing songs with his tongue planted firmly in his cheek – ‘Let’s have another sunshine number… This next one’s about how well-adjusted I am! About how I’m gonna die alone.’ I guess he found something better.