This is one hell of a missive. Here is how it happened on Thursday night (I'll send Friday night next):

On Thursday late afternoon, I texted my Canadian rocker pal, Lola at work, and say we've got to get down to Porchester Hall and at least TRY to get in. Somehow. She tells me I am mad. But then she relents, as I promise her cider.

We get to the venue as people start filing in. We buy cider and make pals with the flyer kids out the front of the venue. We let everyone know that we are looking to buy a ticket COST PRICE. Touts stop asking us.

We are laughing and chatting to the people waiting and the doorstaff. There is an ongoing joke with the flyering kids that Lola is from Vancouver and therefore by RIGHTS she should see Arcade Fire (if anyone!)

By now, it's 8:15 and Chris Martin walks past and says hello and good luck (as I said, we asked EVERYONE for a spare ;) The venue manager says he'd like to help, but can't. The doorstaff tell us quietly that he (their manager) is an asshole and if they can, they'll try and secretly help us.

Pretty much everyone's gone in, but we can't hear any music yet. We are getting sad.

From out of the crowd, we hear someone say, "Where's Vancouver Girl?" We look over, and the cool flyerkids are pointing at us. Two scruffy, hot 30-something indieguys walk up, tell us that one of them works for the record label, and they heard all about us. The give us tickets. We gasp. We say thank you, but we can only afford cost price (and even THEN we're both pretty skint). One of the guys, Clive, says:

"No. We want you to get to see the band. For free."

Then they just go inside!! (we found the guys later, and offered to buy them drinks, and chatted for a bit)

Oh yeah, there was one thing I left out, when the guys refused payment: Lola starts crying. It was so sweet, bless her.

Then we go in, get given free badges, stickers and posters and STILL have time to get right up the front before the band cascade onstage.

It was SO FUCKING COOL. 10 of them tumbling about with all sorts of weird and wonderful instruments. And they played Rebellion (Lies) and Power Out back-to-back!

Ah, great karma just follows people around, doesn't it? What a cool, cool guy.

So, after what was seriously a wonderful gig...

I got the setlist! Just ripped it from the stage after the encore, (with the help of a supercool roadie).

Ooh, yes, over various stages of the night, I noticed Paul Simonon, Damon Albarn, the wonderful Lauren Laverne (my hero - no really, check 'My Hero' section), Emily Eavis (heiress to Glastonbury Music Festival!) and Chris Martin. The venue is TINY by the way. I find £10. I get their plectrum after they finish playing around me (LITERALLY - they came off the stairs and played on the stairwell, and then back into the hall, and crowded around us on the floor where we were standing, bewildered!). They played The Clash's Guns of Brixton! Regine Chassagne's accordion elbow kept nudging my booby - that's how surrounded by them and their giant instruments we are!

I go home. I'm happy.

THEN I get on the webbernet and notice the most serendipitous bit of mystery...

On Thursday night, the last song of Arcade Fire's official encore (not including when they took their great big instruments and a megaphone and went off-piste) I didn't really know. I assume it must be off the upcoming album, Neon Bible. He introduced it with a very long title. Something about faded lights reflecting all over the room, or something. So then I thought, "Ok, maybe that's him instructing the lighting guy up the back." But then nothing changed dramatically about the lights. "That's weird," I thought, and pretty much forgot about it.

Then I looked at my setlist... and it says the last song was CALLED:

"The room was faded with the light reflected from her white dress."

Odd, I think.

So, when I get home, I get on a music website to see what people are saying about the gig... and I notice to my shock, they are saying THIS:

"Arcade Fire are telling a story with the song titles in London!

On various nights, the song AntiChrist Television Blues has been titled on the setlist as:

Monday: Joseph Simpson knelt down in a grove and a dream came to him
Tuesday: He saw his daughter standing on a stage in a black room
Wednesday: When suddenly the brightest spotlight he had ever seen was turned on her "

I told them what I had found, and they flipped with excitement! So now the full mystery story reads:

Joseph Simpson knelt down in a grove and a dream came to him. He saw his daughter standing on a stage in a black room. When suddenly the brightest spotlight he had ever seen was turned on her. The room was faded with the light reflected from her white dress.

Then on Friday, yep, I got the setlist again. Yay for me! And this is the final part of the perplexing story:

He heard her cry out, so he moved towards to see if she was OK, but he was paralyzed by his own reflection shining in her eyes.

And I own TWO parts of it!

What do you think it means?

By Friday night, Lola was satiated, and had given up on lightning striking twice. So she texted to say she was just happy with Thursday's gig and wasn't keen to potentially stand in the cold on a pavement, on the off-chance again. I told her I was ;) I mean, I had comedy pals going on Friday anyway, so I could hang with them in the pub for a bit before they went in. So I did!

After my pals hugged me goodbye (a mixture of excitement and guilt in their eyes) I waved them off and got chatting to a couple of people by the door. It just wasn't the same vibe as Thursday night - there were loads more ticketless indiekids, and they were desperate. I guess it was the Friday - the last of the tiny church gigs - and people came out in force. What with all the mad-eyed, competitive fans, the staff were getting grumpy, and told us to all get out of the way. So, there was no one to be jovial with, really. I just sighed and leaned on a lamp post, a bit further down the street, back from the action, and wondered what I'd do next.

Then all of a sudden, a door opened up further down the side of the building.

From the shadows, I recognised a face: it was the lead-singer, Win. He tip-toed onto the pavement. He was most definitely up to something. No one noticed him: I didn't say anything, but gave him a little smile. He smiled back. Then I subtly lifted up one glove and gave him a single wave. I was surprised that no one even saw him standing just over there! It was quite funny. He waved back and whispered up the street, in a hushed Canadian voice, "Do you have a ticket?"

I said, "No."

Then, suddenly he looked very conspiratorial, and he said louder, with conviction and urgency, "Then follow me."

And like a little fox, he darted back into the shadows of the band entrance. I followed him, but then I felt there was ONE LAST thing that needed to be done:

I quickly turned around and had one split second to beckon the forlorn-looking ticketless girls by the main entrance with a loud "Pssssssst!" I thought, I can't leave them; even though they're a bit 'starry-eyed', they're freezing and they clearly deserve to be in there! Luckily, one of the girls saw me, knew something was up, and they jumped up and sprinted for us. Win stood in the doors and we ushered them in. "Quickly guys, quick!" he whispered as people started to notice what he was doing.

In the confusion, I also spotted an indie boy in a white t-shirt walking past, who I'd talked to earlier, and he'd told me he had no ticket. I grabbed him by the arm, "Come with us" I urged. He looked confused, but so happy, that I thought he might cry. Someone yelled to the security guards and a tout rushed up and got his foot in the door and was grabbing at the girls Win had just let in. The tout was trying to pull the smaller of the girls back out onto the street and force the door closed on us. An almost-fight broke out between him and Win as they tussled over the girls and the door. Win was urging everyone in a loud whisper, "Go, go, go - just get up those stairs!"

Now, I am no shrinking violet... so I stayed in the doorway and helped push the fans IN and pushed the tout back OUT (quite fiercely - oops!). He was saying to Win, "That's not allowed! You can't do that buddy!" I pushed his hands away from Win, and said to the tout, "Back off, he's the lead singer, you cock!" (oops again - I really, really am going to get a black eye one of these days)

And with that, we got the door shut, and we were all safely in a darkened back stairwell with Win and about 10 fans just all looking freaked out and so grateful!

I few seconds passed as we just all stood there gasping, and then everyone just started laughing. I thanked Win and told him he was an absolute legend to do that for us, and that I hope he wasn't getting himself in trouble. He smiled coyly said "No worries. It's cool!" (such humility!). Then he walked us upstairs, through the rest of the band, who were rehearsing at the top of the stairwell. They all grinned at us and nodded. It was like a giant secret in-joke, and now we were all in on it. It was so, so fucking cool.

I thanked them all as we went past Win's lovely wifey-lady, Regine and the double bassist, (or guitar or keyboard, depending on the point of the night!) Richard. Richard winked and said it was fine. Once again I thanked Win, and we ran through the sidestage curtains, past a perplexed-looking security guard, and into the gig.

And THAT'S how I saw Arcade Fire without a ticket on Friday night...

What a fucking guy. Seriously, Arcade Fire have proven, to me at least, that they are a band that cares about humans. Long may they reign!

[and thus endeth my massive missive]

S. x"
Thanks go to http://www.myspace.com/sarahbennetto
and               

http://www.myspace.com/thespiceisright

thanks Steve for the copy