Dear Zola,
Words cannot fathom the surprise that overloaded my senses upon you taking to the Kazimier stage a few weeks ago. Standing no taller than 5 foot, you looked almost too timid to talk let alone holler a tune. But holler you did, and, in return my body convulsed like a rabbit on heat.
Prior to my attending your gig, I casually played a beat or two of yours to some Zola virgins. This unfortunately concluded in a comparison to Florence which led to the subsequent slamming of my laptop (the provider of your music to the masses of my house) and a subsequent slamming of my front door. The comparisons made between you and Florence reminded me of that same harrowing feeling that dictated my guts and bowls upon the discovery of the musical pairing of Nicole Kidman and Robbie Williams (#howthefuckwasthateverallowedtohappen). Writing such words and remembering such putrid moments in the history of music is giving me neurological diarrhoea. Thankfully, the memory of your whale breathed voice clouds any such comparisons, acting as an aural nurofen and imodium.
I believe at this point in my declaration my nose is already caped in your excrement, but nonetheless I shall continue.
I particularly liked the elasticity of your dancing. There was a distinctive feline femininity to the performance that on occasions reeked of an early Kate Bush. Zola, you were like a cat captivated in a catnip induced haze. Simply wild! A frightening thought is that all of these memories could have easily become subject to the fading of memory and time had it not been for my wondrously handsome Nokia N8.
Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy!
Zola in the crowd having a casual epileptic fit
Kind Regards
RLF
p.s.
I believe an apology is also due on my part. It was with great distress that I missed your set at Bestival this September, however, as I’m sure you are already aware, you had an unfortunate schedule clash with the seamstress of noise, Bjork. A piece of my heart and the part of my ear drum that I had reserved for you died a little upon this realization, however your pit stop to Liverpool has since rendered such aliments. Please do not let your last visit here, be your last, as it so often happens to be the case in this city. We refuse to accept that the 25/11/2011 was your Liverpool swan song.