I was standing in a field with my friends drinking from a flask as Interpol played, and it wasn’t 2006. A man in front of us in a red Fred Perry zip-up top – I was pretty sure I’d seen it on The OC once – was dancing as if someone had put scalding hot porridge under his bare feet, but that he kind of liked it.
“This was my wedding song!” he shouted to my friend, as Bloc Party started.