This is one of the best photos of Max that i have ever seen. Me and the boys love it. It was taken at a full moon party we were all at in Thailand in April 2002. When we all got there Max was in a red shirt. A bit later, as standard, he disappeared for a bit. When we all met up again he was wearing this shirt. He said that he had hidden his other shirt because he had gotten it too sweaty to wear, but now couldn't find it. At the end of the night he found it again but this one was much better so he kept it.Max always disappeared during nights out. Not that we would lose him or anything but he would always just sort of not be there for a while, then, when everyone would ask "where's Max?", he would turn up with a new friend, tell us their life story and explain how safe they were. After a while Owen called Max the 'No-Where Man', after the Beatles song. You knew he was always there but he was always missing as well....he was there but nowhere.
Also, as anyone who has ever been raving with Max or played footie with him would know, he could sweat for England. And he would never stop short to remind you. No real reason for it, he just did, and i always remember that.
Finally i just think this picture encapsulates so many things about old Maxieboy. The look on his face of pure energy and determinedness during a night out, the arm raised with those distinctive fingers ready to give you a hug or kiss or dance to the tune. The randomness of the shirt which, i'm sorry, is super-cool, bright, vibrant, individual, and of course sweat soaked. And just the way he is almost coming out of the dark, the modern day raver-saviour, coming to rescue your average punter from their daily boredom by crossing their path and enlightening them on some random topic.
3 comments:
The thing I loved about Max's sweat was that it didn't smell. It was as if someone had dipped him in a water tank and put him back on the dancefloor. Even when it had dried he never smelt sweaty. The smell of beer was probably too strong! When we were together I'd often come home first and he'd creep into bed later. At first I hated the pong of beer, but after a while I found his beer-kisses comforting.
I love this photo Ize, like I love so many of your thailand photos.
I wanted to say I know exactly what you mean about his big long poised fingers, his big gay hands that looked so funny, but give good hugs. Reading this post brings back so many memories of sitting with Dash and whoever else in the back of a taxi at silly o'clock in the morning, coming home from a wicked night out, feeling pretty tired but just listening to Max chat to, and actually seem to make freinds with the driver! First he'd butter them up and sort us out a good deal on a price all the way back to Queens Park, then he'd somehow convince that cabby to let him smoke in the non-smoking car?, and by the time we got dropped back home safely, max would have extracted this guys life story, and be giving him an emotional heartfelt goodbye....amazing. I looked up to Max so much, he never ceased to amaze me and make me giggle like a schoolgirl. I miss him. Han
Han, that's so true about Max and his relationships with cab-drivers!
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