#IndieAmnesty: Confessions of a 2005 Indie Kid

An awesome thing happened on Twitter last week; bands, ex-indie kids and John Prescott (?!) lined up to confess their embarrassing deeds done in the heat of indie fandom, using the hashtag #indieamnesty.

Allow me to take you on a journey through space and time...


I still have no idea what was going on here.

The year is 2005. Franz Ferdinand and The Futureheads released their debut albums the previous year and a British indie revolution was in the offing (in fairness, The Libertines had already released two albums and broken up, but they were ahead of the curve).

Bloc Party released Silent Alarm and I was hooked. Aside from the fact that I wasn't very cool, I went into full-on indie kid mode. A gig a week became the norm and I would bore anyone and everyone senseless with opinions I'd rehashed from that week's NME. Cardiff was a great place to be; it had Barfly for gigs, Welsh Club for indie pretentiousness, Fun Factory for £1.50 ciders and Metros for 99p doubles and dry humping sweaty boys on the dancefloor. Good times.

Anywho, I guess it's time for the #indieamnesty confessions to begin.

Kir started us off with:
I still can't decide if Eddie Argos' tache was ironically bad or just bad. Same re: Art Brut. One for the 2005 indie art pop aficionados there.

I then remembered this:
It's true. No regrets.  
In fairness to Kirsty, that should have read 'lipstysalter and I'. On a similar theme, we used to buy NME every single week.

And then some more that didn't make it to Twitter:

I used to buy my favourite/the cheapest songs as 7" singles. I didn't have a record player, so used them as posters instead.


I actually used to sing along to indie songs like this because they just meant so much. Actually, I think I still do that. Seems like Fee is struggling not to laugh at me and I do not blame her!

I once nearly had sex with Stephen Fretwell's bass player because I thought it might help us get into Athlete's aftershow party. Turns out Mr Bass Player was not important enough to also get entry for my two friends, so.... overaries before broveries and bye bye Mr Bass (also he wasn't that fit).


I busted a series of brilliant/humiliating/competitive dance moves under the influence of cheap vodka. On the plus side I perfected my 'Are you suuuuuurrrrrrrrrre?' fingerpoint/full Common People lip sync routine.

I had a massive crush on Ross from The Futureheads. I still would.


I loved MySpace (the pirate was my profile pic) and genuinely worried about who to put in my Top 8. Probably not as much as my brilliantly, hilariously emo housemates did though. 

And, worst of all, my one actual regret in life:

And, to finish off, just because...


I'M ON FIRE!

So, please, tell me your fangirl/fanboy confessions! Surely I wasn't the only one?!

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