I’m 37, and that means two things:
- 5pm is my sleepy-time, but Tired Lion kept me awake and dancing happily, despite my poor aching feet.
- Like a child sick of winter, but who can’t wait for Christmas, I’m nauseously tired of the eighties revival and aware that maths says that the nineties must be coming back soon. This felt like opening the final door on the nineties-are-coming-advent-calendar.
Like Smashing Pumpkins meets Hole (you have absolutely no idea how much pleasure it gives me to write that!), Tired Lion told me that the dark times really will end and a new dawn will soon be here.
A version of this review first appeared as part of a different article at fringereview.co.uk