England, Manchester
MEN Arena

(Monday 17th November 2003)

Report: Manchester 17th
From: Dave Willett

The concert was brilliant at Manchester on Monday night.

Although dismal rain and wheather teamed it down outside the Arena, it didn't dampen the spirit if the fans.

I was also chuffed at seeing Earl Slick and the band team leader strolling thru Manchester on Tuesday morning.

Damn, if I only had my pen and concert pictorial brochure.


Report: M.E.N. Arena
From: Gaynor Anne Maxwell

David at the M.E.N. Arena, he was excellent, as he was in Frankfurt 18/10. The difference being the M.E.N. staff, they were rude, you weren't allowed to move out of your designated seats, which were excellent ones, to go onto the floor which was empty in some parts! We were moved many times, you weren't allowed to dance anywhere aisles, stairs, even at the bottom. I just wanted to say the atmosphere was ruined by their typically British rules. Totally different, lovely staff letting you have a good time safely. Sorry had to say my piece re the M.E.N. and it's the last time I will go there. Love to Bowie he was awesome.


Report: Manchester Memories
From: Little Miss Wonder1

I just knew it was going to be an interesting evening when we were pounced upon by a Hayley Cropper double as we sat waiting for the doors to open. I asked her how many times she had seen The Mainman. Peering at me from under what appeared to be a knitted bobble hat she replied in all seriousness "I've never seen Bowie live, but I've seen David Cassidy seven times, David Cassidy is my hero!" I could have cried I really could.

As I stood counting the minutes till Bowie was due on stage I gazed out at an anorak ocean. Where were the pretty things? Where were the spaceboys and girls? Where was the wham bam glitter and glam? I don't want to sound like a nostalgia saddo, but I got into Bowie because he is a true outsider, elusive and challenging and his fans were always a big part of that deal, but on Monday night I couldn't shake the feeling that the true Bowie fan is small select breed, swamped that evening by the "he was OK up until China Girl" brigade.

Of course when he did make his appearance I was instantly transported to that special Bowie place, the same magical world I enter when I seek solace in a DB album. I sang, I danced and I even cried when he sang Life On Mars and The Loneliest Guy. The profound emotion within his voice seemed to reach out over the crowd and for a second I honestly believe it touched my soul. I did take my eyes off the divine Mr Bowie to glance around the arena, to bask in the atmosphere, to remember the moment. Alarmingly I found myself completely surrounded by the living dead. The only sign of life came as they started swaying to Under Pressure or when some of them decided to nip too the loo when Bowie delivered that exquisite rendition of The Motel (did you just not want to slap those ignorant people in the face?).

I'm sat at home now listening to Diamond Dogs, tapping out my memories, mulling over Monday night for which I waited so patiently to finally arrive. Bowie gave a fantastic performance to a lack lustre audience, but I know that his true fans were out there in the crowd. They were the ones who for 2 hours were lost in Bowie. They are the ones who have Bowie in their blood. They are the special ones who appreciate Bowie for the unique one-off he truly is.