Over the past year the war on terrorism has become more real for me. During my last two semesters in college I roomed with somebody who had been in Iraq for two years. One of my cousins had been near the World Trade Center when it collapsed. I saw him a couple of months ago. One night when we went to the movies he refused to see 'United 93.' He said it would be too much for him. And I am always hearing about young people being killed in Iraq. Last week when I looked at my local newspaper's web-site I read a story about a former Hargrave Military Academy cadet who had been killed in Iraq. I attended this same military school during the fall of 1994. Even in England--which is thousands of miles away from home--the war on terrorism is very real.

Last Friday was the one year anniversery of the 7/7 bombings in London. Last year on July 7th four young men set off bombs on three tubes and blew up one bus. They killed a total of 52 people. On the anniversy I went to Russell Square, one of the places in London where a memorial service was being held. I was going to the AFIS office so I could use their computers for free. On July 7th, 2005 a bomb went off on a southbond tube between King's Cross St. Pancrass and Russell Square. Out of the four transport vehicles that were bombed the southbound tube between King's Cross St. Pancras and Russell Square suffered the most causalties. 26 people lost their lives. Seven people lost their lives at Algate, six at Edgware Road and 13 on a bus in Tavistock Square.

When I got on the tube that morning I had forgotten it was 7/7 until I saw The Metro newspaper. At Russell Square all passangers exiting the station were given free exit; nobody had to use their oyester card or travel ticket to exit the station. On a sign it was announced there would be a two minute moment of silence at the memorial which was in front of the station. The memorial sat on the ground. It looked like a long shelf covered in green foam. It had the Russell Square tube station sign in the middle. If my memory serves me correct there was a sign on the memorial stating people could lay flowers on the memorial during the two minutes of silence.

After I finished using the computer at the AFIS office and had gotten lunch I returned to Russell Square tube station. It was a little after 12:15 PM and I discovered there was a gathering of various people around the memorial. Photographers were taking pictures across the street. People were laying flowers on the memorial. Onlookers looked at the people putting flowers on the memorial or took pictures. Security looked on with the facade that this was just another day on the job. I looked at one of the flowers that had been placed on the memorial. It had a card with it. The card blamed the attacks on man's wickedness and vowed to never give up. I saw some people who were dressed in suites get on a bus that was parked on the street. I presumed these were the victims families.

This is as close as I have ever been to the war on terrorism. Before witnessing this I only heard about people being killed in an attack in the news or hearing about an attack from other people who witnessed it. But in London I traversed over the same spot where an attack occured a year earlier. I often used the Piccadilly Line because it ran through the Finsbury Park tube station, which was the closest tube station to my homestay. I would often travel on the southbound tube that would stop at King's Cross St. Pancrass and Russell Square, and I often used the southbound tube in the morning around the same time the attacks occured (the bombed went off at 8:50 AM) because I had to travel south to get to my job. I'd often arrive at the tube station from the bus around 9:00 AM Monday through Thursday, and the 7/7 bombings took place on a Thursday. If Dr. Worringham and Dr. Waite had gotten together a study abroad group the previous year, and if I had the same internship I could have been on the tube that was bombed between King's Cross St. Pancras and Russell Square, especially if I had left the homestay early. Before witnessing this the war on terrorism was always distant to me. New York, Afghanistan, Iraq, Spain, London and the Phillapines are far away from southern Virginia. I only hear about what goes on in those places through the news or from somebody who witnessed an event there. Washington D. C. is relatively close but it would take hours to drive there. When I'm in southern Virginia I don't worry about being killed by a bomb because I assume there is little strategic value in attacking this part of the state. Northern Virginia or the Tidewater area is more likely to be attacked. This is because alot of high profile people in the U. S. government stay in northern Virginia and there are alot of military installations on the coast of the state. Danville, Va. is remote, suffering from the highest unemployment rate in the state and a decreasing population level. But in London all that changed.

Although being in London has been a nice change for me I am still prone to having a bad day. Last Thursday experienced my worst day in London. At work all I did was put records accompanied with stickers, postcards and press releases promoting Fat Records in evelops that would be mailed out to customers. It took me about an hour and thirty minutes to complete this task. After I did this I was told I could leave or surf the internet there. They didn't have have alot for me to do there, and Paul, one of my bosses, had told me this the previous week. Putting records in envelops was the only thing they could think of for me to do. I came all the way from Muswell Hill for that! Muswell Hill and Clapham Common are a long way away in the city. It takes about an hour by tube to get to each destination in either direction. Now I was going to have to spend another hour of traveling just to get back to my homestay after only spending an hour and thirty minutes at work! I didn't want to feel like I had come all that way for nothing so I stayed around and sent out friend requests for their myspace.com web-site. Eventually I got bored of doing that and left.

By this time I was hungry, but I needed to eat somewhere inexpensive. I spoted a Turkish fastfood resteraunt. There are many of these resteraunts in London, and a person can eat a full meal at one of these places for an inexpensive price. I love the chicken shish and lamb shish they serve at these places. I looked at the overhead menue and saw chicken shish. I approached the counter and told the woman behind it I wanted chicked shish.

'Chicken shish kebab?' She asked, not quite hearing me the first time.

I replied that is what I wanted. When my order was totaled it came to about seven pounds, much more than I had anticipated. Maybe the water cost more than I had thought? When I got my order I noticed I not only had chicken shish but I had another sandwich too. I turned around and looked at the man and woman behind the counter. They could tell something wrong.

'I only wanted one,' I said.

The woman looked down at the food behind the counter a little frustrated.

'You order chicken shish! Then you order chicken shish kebab!'

I thought chicken shish and chicken shish kebab were the same thing. I didn't know what to say.

'O. K.' I said in defeat.

I didn't want to get into an argument. The man behind the counter shrugged his shoulders. I sat in the resteraunt and ate my chicken shish, angry that I had wasted some money.

When I got back to my homestay I went to sleep. I didn't want to think about the days events. I just wanted to be unconscious. When I woke up I went for my routine run in Alexandra Park. The run made me feel better as I had hoped, but my stomach started to hurt after I finsihed. I went back to my homestay to use the toilet. But for some reason it wouldn't flush. Water would fill the toilet bowl but it wouldn't flush; something was clogging the toilet. This was embarrasing! I was reminded of all the times when the toilet overran at my house when I stopped up the stool by accident. One time when this happened the water flowed all the way downstairs. It was a disaster and it was disgusting. My mom had to get get the house dry cleaned because of it. I didn't want that to happen in the Forbes' household. So I asked Mrs. Forbes if she had a plunger. She asked if the toilet was stopped up. I said yes, and she told me not to worry about it. This did little to relieve my worries. I was in the Forbes' household, and I didn't want to do anything disrespectful. The toilet overflowing would be a nightmare, and God forbid if that happened. So I stayed upstairs and waited for the water level in the toilet to decrease. I was going to try to unstop the toilet myself by flushing the toilet. I was hoping a flush would put enough pressure on whatever was stopping up the stool to go down the drain. That didn't happen, and I didn't want to risk another flush because the toilet just might overflow on that try. I went back downstairs to talked to Mrs. Forbes about the situation. I didn't know what else to do and I didn't want to leave the toilet clogged; it seemed rude of me to do. I could tell Mrs. Forbes didn't want to deal with the stituation. She had given me no answer as to whether they had a plunger and she had simply went downstairs after she told me to not worry about the stool being clogged.

'Is everything alright,' she asked.

I told her the stool was still stopped up. We went back upstairs and I can only imagine what she must have thought when she smelled the bathroom. When we got into the bathroom Mrs. Forbes must have realized I was worried about this problem.

'Berkley, it's not like I haven't unclogged a stool before! Out!'

And with that Mrs. Forbes went to work to unclog the stool. I went downstairs to eat my dinner in the kitchen. I munched on my food while Mrs. Forbes slaved away upstairs to unstop the stool. I felt awful. This had been my worst day in England. I just wanted to forget about it. After I ate I went to bed hoping to find better things in my dreams and the next day.

The tube station can be a pushy place and getting on the tube can be a challenge. Tubes stopping at Finsbury Park tube station--which is the nearest station to my homestay--are always crowded in the morning. Alot of people get off and alot of people are unable to get on. Before the tube gets there there is always a long disorganized column of people along the plank waiting to get on the tube. The unlucky are at the back of this long column, waiting to see if they can get on. They usually don't, and they have to wait until a tube or two passes until they have a chance to get on. Each time a tube passes their chances of getting on the tube increase. This is because when a tube passes some people get on, making the column thinner, allowing the people waiting to move up each time a tube passes. Also, whenever people move up in the column their previous place is taken by a new arrival. People on the plank in the morning are like a mechanized machine at work, despite whatever inconveniances that exist.

But this is only the begining of all the complications of using the tube. In the morning and evening the tube is crowded. When somebody enters a crowded tube its like entering a packof sardines that has reached its maximum capacity and is on the brink of collapse. It's so crowded you can't move. Your literally in somebody's face and there is plenty of bumping up against someone or something. Everybody who has to wait on the plank to get on the tube trades his or place place for a more crowded one! The best thing you can hope for is to get through the experience in one peace. But if your unlucky you'll be stuck in front of someone who needs takes a shower and there's nothing you can do about it. This has happened to me. The last time I was in London somebody's bare armpit was in my face, and this guy either did not put on any deoderant or it had worn off. There are certain places where alot of people tend to get off the tube, which will leave more room to move. Alot of people get off at King's Cross St. Pancras, Russell Square and Covent Garden. The King's Cross St. Pancras tube station is huge in comparision to alot of the other tube stations. Six lines run through it (Piccadilly, Victoria, Northern, Metropolitan, Hammersmith and City and Circle), and alot of people use King's Cross St. Pancras tube station. But that means when all those people get off the tube there are just as many people getting on. The same thing tends to happen at Russell Square and Covent Garden.But worser things can happen. Sometimes the tube stops because of some malfunction, and people can be stuck on the tube for hours until the problem is resolved. This tends to be big news in London. Newspaper venders often try to sell papers whenever the latest tube disaster has happened using this sort of headline: 300 PEOPLE TRAPED ON THE TUBE FOR THREE HOURS IN TUBE NIGHTMARE! Perhaps this is a reflection that violent crime doesn't happen that often in London, which is usually something that will be headline news in the United States. So newspaper venders in the U. K. have to focus on things most Americans would consider mundane to sell papers, like people being traped on the tube for hours, unable to get to their destination.

Somebody from a small city might fell overwhelmed and intimidated by this, especially people who have mobility problems. There have been times when I have seen elderly people who have mobility problems have difficulty using the tube. This is reminiscent of the Tortoise and the Hare children's story. The hare has no problem with mobility; he's fast and the mere thought of being slow because of mobility problems would be unthinkable to the hare. But tortoise is slow, and sometimes it's a real struggle for him to get from point A to point B. The elderly who have mobility problems inch their way toward the tube in a struggle while everybody else rushes by them. This reminds me there will be time in my life when my health will be in decline, and I might not be able to do some of the things I enjoy doing now. I can see why Ray Davies wrote 'imagine yourself growing old' when he was 23. Those people were a constant reminder to him the older he got the more likely he was going to have health complications.

But one complication I know the elderly wouldn't tolerate in London is being pushed or shoved from behind, which is common in the tube station. One night when I got off the tube at Finsbury Park station I was pushed from behind. Somebody put their hand on my backpack--either inadvertly or not--and pushed me forward. I had paused for a second because I was tired; the trek down to Tottenham Court Road and back had worn me out, and I needed a breather. But the unspoken rule of the tube station is unless you have mobility problems no one is going to wait for you. If you stop moving when alot of people are trying to get off the tube or when alot of people are trying to get on your liable to be bumped or pushed out of the way. I didn't turn around and quarrel with the person, that would have been pointless. He or she were probably long gone anyway, making their way through the rush and push of the crowd. I fell in with the rest and did the same with the knowledge that this was simply part of life in London.

After one of my adventures trying to get back to Muswell Hill on the bus at night I met a girl named Holly. After I had gotten back to my homestay I went up the street to get some chips. It was almost 2 AM in the morning, but I was hungry, and I knew a place up the street where I could get some chips at that time. The trek back to Muswell Hill on the bus took almost two hours because I went beyond Finsbury Park (the place where I can catch a bus to Muswell Hill) and I had to figure out how to get there from Edmonton, which is north of Muswell Hill. After I had gotten my chips I made my way back to my homestay. I noticed a snail slithering across the sidewalk. I have noticed that Muswell Hill has a lot of snails, and they usually come out at night. One time when I went into the kitchen at my homestay four snails had gotten in there and I accidently stepped on one with my barefoot. It was a gross experience, and I didn’t want to step on another one with my shoe. So I checked the soles to see if there was any gooey mess on there. A girl who was walking down the street behind me asked me what in the world was I doing. I told her I didn’t want to step on snails.

That must have sounded like a strange thing for someone to say. I turned around and looked at her. She looked like she was in her early 20s--22, 23 perhaps, maybe older. She stood around 5'4 and she had long brown hair and blue eyes. As we walked down the hill I munched on my chips and heared her footsteps. They went plop, plop, plop. I thought maybe she was drunk. She told me she was on her way home because she needed to get changed because she spilled wine. I introduced myself. I told her I was an international student interning at a record label and how much I liked London. She looked surprised. I told her in London I ccould see many of my favourite bands, and that there was more stuff up the street than the entirity of my hometown of Danville, Va. Danville has hit hard times. When I left Danville the city had the highest unemployment rate in the state. This might be due to a shrinking labor force. Muswell Hill has been a nice change for me. They have all sorts of shops on Muswell Hill Broadway, which is the main street in the community there. You can buy clothes, eat all sorts of delicious foods you can't get in Danville--Thai, Indian and Greek resteraunts are all within walking distance--, buy wine from several wine shops, go to the movies or even drink coffee at Starbucks. Muswell Hill is a far cry from life in Danville.

As we made our way down the street I told her my dream was to be a rock journalist, and she listened intently to my story.

'You sound like your from America or Mexico,' she said. I replied that I was from the U. S.

I offered her some of my chips as we talked.

After I told her who I was and why I was in London she told me some things were meant to be. I know many people believe fate exists in some form, but I don't know if anything is meant to be. I am of the philosophical postion that is something we can not know. But her comment does make me think because of the way things have worked out. I had a previous opportunity to study abroad in London, but I passed it up because I wanted to finish my philosophy minor. At the time if I had gone to London I wouldn't have been able to have finished the minor. I still had to take the capstone class, which was a topics class. Nothing at Middlesex University would transfer into Radford University as credit for it. I could have taken the capstone class as an independent study, but I was uncomfortable with that idea because I wouldn't have any direct supervision from a teacher. Also, the capstone class is supposed to be the hardest course in a curriculum, and the idea of me doing an independent study of a capstone class made me uncomfortable. If I wanted to finish my minor the best choice was to stay at Radford University, which I did, and I did complete it. It was through the media studies department that I was able to take advantage of a second opportunity. Dr. Waite and Dr. Worringham formed a study abroad group. They chose students through the process of elimination. I was a shoe in because I was the department's Dean's Scholar for 2005. I've been able to do many things that I wouldn't have been able to do if I had studied abroad the first time around. At Middlesex University I probably would have spent most of my time studying, and I wouldn't have ventured out in the city much. But since I have an intern--which means I don't have to spend my time studying--I have plenty of time to explore London. This has been a great advantage because I've been able to see some of my favorite muscians. I saw Neko Case at Sephard's Bush. I saw and met some the members of The Church at The Boderline. I also saw Echo and the Bunnymen play an amazing gig. Underpining all of this is the fact this is the first time Dr. Waite and Dr. Worringham have put together a study abroad group. I got lucky, and things could not have worked out any better.

England is currently in the grip of World Cup fever--and it is intense. Wherever I go in London people are displaying their patriotism. English flags hang in the windows of homes, many people are wearing the English soccer jersey, countless flags are being flown on cars and on game day many people drape the beloved English flag over their shoulders. Wherever you go in England you can't escape World Cup fever.

From an outsiders perspective during the World Cup in this country people are expected to put aside whatever differences they have and support England. There's nothing comparable to it in the United States. The closest sporting event we have that approximates the intensity of the World Cup is the Super Bowl. The Super Bowl is a huge event in the U. S. Out of the three major professional championships played in the U. S. (the other two are the World Series and the NBA Championship) the Super Bowl is easily the most recognizable and the biggest of three. This is because the Super Bowl has morphed into something more than just a championship--it is a cultural event. The Super Bowl is hyped up long before gameday. Fans not only eagerly debate what two teams will be playing each other on that special day in January but they also plan where they're going to watch the Super Bowl, what they'll eat when watching it and what they'll be wearing during it. Advertisers in the U. S. have latched on to the Super Bowl as a way of showing their new commercials, many of which try very hard to be clever and funny, and sometimes a big deal is made over some of these commercials. Commentators are now almost expected to critique these commercials. And any American knows how much of a big deal the Super Bowl half-time show is--one of the most important things during the Super Bowl. Usually some big name entertainer such as The Rolling Stones or Paul McCartney play their music to millions. In comparision to all this it would almost seem inevitable any other championship in the world would pale in comparision

But the World Cup is a bigger event. The Super Bowl lacks the intense patriotism fans bring to the World Cup. The mere thought of the World Cup being unpatriotic to the English would be unthinkable. When I went to the pub to watch England's first match against Paraguay with my housemates (both are from Texas) we were lost in a sea of red and white (the colors of the English flag). We had gotten to the pub an hour early so we could find a seat and get something to eat. When we entered the pub we realized we weren't going to find anywhere to sit for awhile--the place was packed. Everybody in there was ready for England to take on Paraguay, and they were going to support England all the way. When the English soccer team took the field the pub was filled with a loud chorus. It said one thing: England!

I have never seen patriotism this intense before, and it is hard for me to think Americans would get as patriotic about something, especially a sporting event. This is for several reasons. Americans like their sports homegrown. We typically aren't very supportive of a sport that hasn't been bred on American soil. This is why we love baseball, basketball and American football so much. These three sports are played in other countries, but it has only been recently that we have considered two of these sports--baseball and basketball--as being international. This year was the first year of the World Baseball Classic, a baseball international competition. But most Americans didn't get patriotic about it, and this is a sport that is often said to be the American past time! Most Americans were disinterested. Also, there was some controversy about it in the U. S. George Steinberner made it known he didn't want his players involved in it out of fear they would get hurt and wouldn't be able to play for the Yankees. Also, there is a deep cultural divide U. S. which makes it hard for Americans to support something with an one for all attitude.

The comparisions and contrasts of the attitudes that Americans and the English have toward sports is interesting because these attitudes reveal some major differences between the two countries. Soccer isn't that big in the U. S., and many Americans are disinterested in the sport. There's a deep rooted bias against it in America. Some people are so disinterested in the sport they openly express their dislike of it. I remember one time when I told my dad I wanted to play soccer. He replied why the heck do you want to play that, and his attitude has always been disinterest toward the sport. But in England football is a big deal; it's so embedded in the culture the idea of not supporting England in the World Cup--and I suspect any other international soccer competition-- is almost unthinkable. To illustrate my point yesterday evening after England had defeated Paraguay one of the housemates told me he wasn't leaving the homestay if the U. S. and England played each other in the World Cup. I don't blame him.

When somebody takes the bus or the tube in London he or she becomes a voyeur. Londoners have a habit of talking about their personal lives when they use public transportation. On any given day of the week you can overhear what happened that day in a place of business on the tube or bus. Also, you can hear people talking about their personal problems. Somebody might be having problems taking care of an elder member of the family. Somebody might talk about how to resolve a situation with a potential lover. Two people might even make out in front of you on the tube, revealing the physical intimacy between those two people. Observing all of this is like weaving in and out of other peoples personal lives, although I don't know anything about these people. And as can be expected from someone who constantly observes these things I have overheard some hilarious things in London. I remember one time I overheard a conversation between a man and a woman about opera. The topic of conversation was about a male singer, and the terminology they used could've been interpreted as having sexual connotations.

'Did he float your boat,' the man asked the woman. She was a little skeptical of the singer's abilities, but she replied that her boat did in fact float.

But this isn't the most interesting thing I've heard while using public transportation. Three nights ago when I was on my way back to my homestay on the bus a young woman made her way to the back of the bus where I was sitting. She looked like she was in her late-20s or early-30s. She was dressed in a nice outfit, and looked like she was going to have a night out with some friends or go on a date. She pulled out her cell phone and started to talk to someone on it. She told the other person on the other line she didn't want to be lonely in life and mentioned the perfect relationship and the perfect somebody. Then she proceeded to beg--and I do mean literally plead--the other person to have a drink with her. She wanted to go out on a date, and it was obvious she was desperate.

Whenever I overhear these conversations on the tube or the bus I know it reveals something about somebody's personal life. I always wonder who are these people? What walk of life do they come from, and how did they get where they're at now in life? What sort of problems have these people encountered, overcome or even succumbed to. I know there's something interesting about everybody I have taken bus ride with or the tube with. All of these people could probably take their life story and make it into a good novel or movie. But I know I will never get to know the vast majority of these people. I can only observe, listen and learn.

Two nights ago I got to see Echo and the Bunnymen at the KoKo club in Camden Town. It's the best gig I've been to so far. I got to the club early so I could see the two opening acts, and because I wanted to make sure I could get as close as possible to the stage. When I was at Radford University I never had time to go to gigs because I was always busy doing homework. But in London I have plenty of time to see some of my favorite bands. I was able to get a spot in the second row from the stage. But when I entered the club there were alot of people on the first and second balcony. I wondered why these people weren't on the first floor trying to get as close as possible to the band. There was still plenty of space on the first floor. The first band to go on that night were already playing, and when I got as close as I possibly could to the stage I understood why those people remained on the balcony-- it was loud down there. The Koko club is a big venue with two balconies. So that means the band has to be loud enough for everybody in the club to hear, including the people on the two balconies. At times the voice of the singer in the band sounded like a muffle lost in the blare of the music from where I was at and I couldn't hear the harmonies that well.

The two opening acts worked hard on stage. They poured alot of passion and energy into their songs. The second act, a band called Freemaker, reminded me of The Stooges alot. They played straight ahead primitive working class hard rock that was catchy. They even dressed in black t-shirts and jeans which made them look like they were from Detroit or New York. The singer even seemed like he had learned a thing or two from Iggy Pop. He strutted up and down the stage and did various rock poses in an effort to work the crowd. But when he spoke with a Scottish accent I knew this band was from some place far away from Detroit and New York. I was impressed, but the singer was having a hard time working the crowd. The crowd was there to see the legendary Echo and the Bunnymen and Freemaker couldn't fight against that.

'You're a hard crowd,' the singer told us.

Freemaker's style of rock 'n' roll wasn't anything new. The MC5 and The Stooges laid down the ground work for that sort of rock 'n' roll in the late '60s and early '70s. But Freemaker weren't a bad band. They had good songs to play and alot of raw energy live. After Freemaker left the stage the floor began to get crowded. People were making their way to the first floor so they could get as close as possible to the Bunnymen. Like The Church gig it got so crowded I couldn't move to my right or left or forward or backward without bumping in to someone. It got so bad I had to take off my backpack to make more room for myself and other people. I laid my pack on the floor in front of my feet so I wouldn't get seperated from it. After awhile the legendary Echo and the Bunnymen came on stage. The first member of the band I saw was Ian Mculloch. He wore a black coat, a t-shirt, jeans and black shades. He walked up to the mic with his cigarette and started to sing non-chalantly. Ian looked like the Terminator up there on the stage. His movements were concise for maximum effect. All he did was stand there and sing, and the section I was in went crazy because of it. When the Bunnymen played 'Stormy Weather,' the third song that night, the entire section broke out in a massive orgy of pogoing. Echo and the Bunnymen had unleased a fury of middle-age male aggression, and there was no letting up to it; it just grew, and I was caught in it. Now I realized why those people on the two balconies were there. They didn't want to get pogoed on. Things were getting aggressive and I had only two options: pogo with them or be pogoed on. Since I was far away from the non-pogo section I had no other choice but to get aggressive with them, and it was rough going. I couldn't enjoy the music because I was getting pogoed on and I didn't feel like pogoing for the entire gig. I had already gotten seperated from my backpack, and I couldn't go back for it. So I made my way to the non-pogo section where I could see Echo and the Bunnymen's amazing gig without somebody pushing me. I also continued to observe the Bunnymen's middle-age male fans go berserk. These people treated the gig like they were at a celebration. While they pogoed some of them had their arms around each other, happy to be in the presence of the Bunnymen as the band played classic after classic. I could tell these fans truely loved that band. After the Bunnymen left the stage I was able to retrieve my backpack. It was still in the place where I left it, and the contents (which included Joy Division's first LP on vinyl) weren't damaged.

The Bunnymen gig put me in a state of awe. I didn't know live music could be like that, and the definition of music has taken on a new meaning for me. Compared to the two previous bands that night Echo and the Bunnymen made rock 'n' roll look easy. They played classic after classic, and those songs sounded better live than the studio version. 'Do It Clean' and 'All That Jazz' put the recorded versions to shame, and they made the crowd go into a frenzy. Also, Will Sergeant's guitar work put me in another world. It was like he showed up from another dimension just to show us what could be done with a guitar and some effects pedals. Simply put-- The Bunnymen are a were spellbounding. The records just do not capture what that band is capable of doing live. They had the right mix of passion and great songs to play that night and they could make the place go crazy just from showing up. And as Keith Richards would say on any given night any band that has the right mix of passion and songs is the greatest band in the world, and on June 4th, 2006 Echo and the Bunnymen were that band.