Editor’s note: We’ve already published one review of Augustines on their final tour, and while it seemed fitting to say something about their final gig, another review didn’t seem right. Instead, here’s more the shape of things, a summation of feelings.
In Liverpool last night four fierce and honest men sang and danced and played their hearts empty. The words sung out, sung back; the tears cried; the pride and joy washed through the crowd and over the stage. A flag raised in the encore — I am, You Are, We Are All Augustines — the fans’ love letter to a band whose heart shines bright in the dark, through seas both rough and stormy.
The Good Ship Augustines has sailed away, and all that’s left are the memories. And there’s no sadness in them. Regret, perhaps, for what else might have come. A book has closed, and no-one knows how the next one looks. But here was a night that will be always remembered.
And yet, in the street, we reflect: A band that changed the world in little ways. The people yet alive who might have given in to blackest urge, but for the songs from these men’s hearts. The friendships made, bonds deep and strong, spanning nations, forged in the heat and dark of gigs uncounted.
Bill McCarthy, leonine, philosophical, muses in the street: “For someone to see me in the street and say ‘Hey, Bill! Nice job, man. Well done.’ That’s all I ever wanted.”
Nice job, boys, well done.