Gigs

Well – December has pretty much turned into just treading water, waiting for the New Year – which will hopefully provide enough symbolic ‘new beginnings’ to provide an impetus to get moving again.  Not sure if that makes sense to anybody – but I have talked to a few people who agree… we’ve had enough of this year, it’s time for a new one.  There’s not been anything particularly bad about the year – in fact it’s been rather good in a few ways – but it’s just gone on long enough.  Mostly – I’ve fallen into an apathetic hole, and am using the upcoming New Year as an excuse to not do anything about it until then.  Which just means I’m going to have to actually get up and do quite a lot in the New Year, so that I don’t fall into a guilty spiral back into inactivity.

But – what has been breaking up the monotony of December?  Since I last dragged myself up enough to type… a couple of gigs.  Firstly – DJ Shadow.  Rather an odd show – due to the stage set-up.  It was just an empty stage, with a big white background, and a big white ball – which he sat hidden away in most of the time.  But he used the background wall and the ball as projection screens – creating a rather spectacular effect, especially when the whole 3D nature of the projection space was used cleverly.  And once in a while, the ball would spin around – showing him inside on “his decks”.  All in all – it sounds rather boring, just a stage with a big ball on it – but his lighting/display/video guy used it to spectacular effect.  There’s a series of clips on youtube, showing the whole gig – which show the visuals quite well, but the audio is utter shite.  Which is a shame – because he was rather good.

I then had nearly a week off of gigs, but not off work – instead working on a new client, spending about a week of waiting for the client to get all the things ready that I’d asked to be ready before I wasted their money by being on-site.  Oh well – it’s their money.  Oh – and over that time, I also decided on several occasions to NOT stay up overnight watching cricket, because it was obvious that NZ was going to get thrashed by the arsetralians.  Which was the correct choice considering I had to go on-site at a client the next mornings, but the wrong choice considering the eventual result.  Oh well.  Now I can get my hopes up, and stay up all night while watching South Africa thrash us.

Next gig was one which I went to only to see the smallest support act.  HMV is doing a series of gigs in February – 11 nights in a row, of their picks for the “Next Big Thing” – £10 per gig.  The first one I checked out on youtube, and decided to go see – was We Are Augustines.  But it turns out they’re playing on the same night as the Black Keys, which I already have tickets for.  But – I saw they were playing support for some shitty rock radio station’s “Winter Wonderland” event.  So – I got tickets to that, and headed off extra early to be there in time to see the very first support act.  Which of course meant scoffing down junk-food on the way, getting there at 6pm, and then essentially spending 6 hours at a bloody gig drinking red wine.  And regretted that pretty quickly.  We Are Augustines were fine, but re-affirmed my initial impression from their videos – slightly too earnest young rock’n’rollers – bordering on cringeworthy.  If they were from any other country, I’d think that was fine – they’ll grow up, become cynical, their music will become better, and yay – more good music for the world.  But these guys are american – I suspect they’ll grow up, become more earnest and self-important, and start churning out earnest well-meaning soft-rock.  Anyway – I’ll shelve my cynicism and enjoy them for now.  Meanwhile, back at Brixton Academy – loud obnoxious radio DJs (are there any other kind?) – came and went, introducing each band.  Next up was the Tribes – which I don’t really remember much of.  I guess they were fine, but forgettable?  I’ll check them out this afternoon on youtube.  After that – Band of Skulls – who of course I’d already seen this year.  I’m thinking maybe even more than once – but maybe I’m mixing up that I’ll be seeing them supporting the Black Keys, twice, in February.  And they’ve got their new album out now – so it was pretty much a set of all new songs, with only one or two of their old crowd-pleasers thrown in.  Then it was the Maccabees – whose name I’d heard a fair bit, but haven’t really listened to.  They were fine, and I’ll have to listen to a bit more of them.  I think the Horrors were also supposed to play, but they pulled a sickie.  And then the headliners – Kaiser Chiefs.  I’ve never really bought into the hype around the Kaiser Chiefs overly much, although I do understand that they are rather good.  So – I should have enjoyed it, but by this stage the Academy was packed full of young people – young people who listen to a rock station named XFM – and I was tired, old, many wines down, and cantankerous.  I slipped out before the Kaiser Chiefs’ encore in order to avoid the rush, and slunk off home for a good ol’ nap.

And those were the last gigs of 2011.  It will be time to draw up a “Best-of-2011″ some time – but in 2012, when I’m all re-energised.

Other than that – on the evening of the 24th, I stayed up very late, watching the entire Die Hard series, and chatting with family over this new internet jobbie.  Spent an hour or so just watching the niece and nephew over internetcam – which was awesome.  And eventually headed off to bed about 4:30am – having been reminded how tangential the downhill slope of those Die Hard movies really was.  And on the 25th, slept in, before heading North with half-a-dozen bottles of wine in my arms.  Eventually found a taxi, and went to visit Caro’n’Dom & Malachy.  And then a day of board games, roast lamb, wines, chit-chat, and a stroll up to Alexandra Palace.  And then an evening of wines.

And now – back at work, in a deserted office, killing time until 2012.  Not having even organised anything to do in order to welcome in the New Year.  It is looking like the least eventful New Year’s Eve since high school days.

Right – so after I foolishly did a hungover-still-slightly-drunk edit to last week’s post, I’ll try to make up for that with an ultra boring sensible post.  “Try” being the key word there.

Firstly – the one gig I made it to in the last week or so.  Das Racist – some alternative hip-hop.  If you’re open-minded about music, you should definitely check these guys out.  They’ve become popular because of their slightly gimmicky ‘joke-rap’ songs, and accompanying videos – but they are also actually really freakin’ talented, with a fair bit of ambition thrown in.  In fact, their best known song is probably their worse.  So yeah – it was pretty sweet to see them in a tiny venue – XOYO – just around the corner from my place.  Every gig I’ve seen there has had their ‘visuals’ limited to some smoke machine, and usually not too much of that – as the place is just too small.  But these guys had a full on light-show, with the backwall covered in images/videos, and all that.  And yeah – good show, with the crowd being an odd mixture of geeks there for the “joke” rap, homeboys there for the “proper” rap, and me – there for the good music.  Yeah – something like that.

The following night – I had tickets to Thurston Moore at Union Chapel, which I was really rather looking forward to.  I also had my work’s end-of-year dinner/party (known to some as “the Christmas Party”).  I left work in time to avoid the giving of gifts/etc – headed home, and got changed into my “lounge suit”.  I then headed back into town, to the “lounge” where we had drinks and dinner, while everybody enthused over my suit.  I really have to stop dressing so well – I get tired of compliments so easily.  Anyway – I took my tickets to Thurston with me, hoping to slip away at some point.  But – I got caught up in it all – a good dinner, free drinks, etc… and ended up missing the gig.  Instead I got drunk enough to ignore my promise to myself to not bring up the prospect of a payrise with my boss while drunk.  I knew I was going to do it – and had desperately tried to do it during the two previous days while at work – but had failed.  So – as was always destined – I instead did it in the midst of a drunken conversation with one of the company owners – how unprofessional is that?  But, it seemed to go well, as his response was “of course, yeah”.  I now just need to follow up while we’re both sober.  Or maybe – organise more drinks, and have some paperwork handy next time.  Anyway – more drinks were had, I did some breakdancing, drank plenty of wine – and eventually left everybody when the decision was made to go to a casino.  I don’t do casinos.  (The list of illegal stuff I’m fine with is rather long – but gambling… that’s where I have to draw my moral line in the sand.  Go figure.)  I think I got a bicycle rickshaw home.

And woke up the next morning with my first “proper” hangover in quite some time.  And proceeded to half-drunk-half-hungover babble all over this website.  And then crawl off back to bed, and spend the rest of the day alternately stumbling about trying to eat, drink, and sleep.  (And came very very close to whim-purchasing flights back to NZ/Aus for the 25th/31st respectively.  I was actually seriously considering flying out, landing in NZ on the morning of the 25th, spending a couple of days, flying to Melbourne or Sydney on the 31st, having a party, and then flying back to London on the 2nd.  Stupid hangover urge.)

Books – I think I was reading Pigeon English, by Stephen Kelman, at the Das Racist gig, and it has somehow lasted most of the week.  Quite good – even though – or actually because of – it’s rather gimmicky premise.  More qualified, if not better, people than I have called this book “overhyped”.  Perhaps it is – but probably because of this, it was quite welcome in the middle of all the other Man Booker nominees I’ve been reading.  It’s just trying so hard to be “literature” – that it perhaps pushes a little too far, but instead of becoming overly pretentious – actually becomes just bad enough to enjoy while being good.  I realise that makes little to no sense – but I can’t be bothered trying to explain it any further.  Essentially – a story written from the viewpoint of a 11-year old boy, in the middle of immigrating right into the middle of London’s much-publicised knife-crime.  So yeah – the expected attempt at a poignant mixture of wide-eyed innocence – facing normal childhood experiences, along with gangs.  And then just randomly throw in a mystical connection to a pigeon – seemingly just to justify the title.  Odd.

Oh – and I was also supposed to see the Felice Brothers on Tuesday – which was possibly one of my most eagerly anticipated gigs of the month.  But then one of them went and got facial shingles, or so they claim – and that’s been postponed until March.  Which has resulted in rather a quiet month – most welcome.

Okay – due to popular request – the shiner revisited… coming home from a gig, tired and a wee drunk – got off the bus (at the wrong stop, it turns out) – and as I was walking down the street, four guys run past me towards the bus – and one guy punches me in the chest as he runs past.  I stop, kinda shocked into paralysis – then I have the sudden thought (I remember thinking the actual words) – “Nah, I’m not having this”.  So – I gave chase – and as the guys were hopping onto a bus, I harangue the guy.  His mates then all turn around, get off the bus, and confront me.  One of the guys especially was particularly enthusiastic in protecting his mate.  A couple of times I was turning away, and ready to walk away – when he’d say something and I’d remember “No – I’m in the right here, these guys need to be told they can’t get away with that kind of shit”.  The last time, as I was really about to walk away – one guy hit me, then another guy.  I think that only two of them hit me – neither of them the original guy.  They then all got on a bus which had just pulled up, and off they went on their way.  While I suddenly realised I wasn’t where I thought I was – and didn’t know how to get home, with a rather bloody face.  But, as I mentioned last week, I called Ben to keep me talking until I got a taxi home.  The next morning was when the doubts set in.  Did they guy really punch me?  Was it just an accidental elbow as he ran past?  Was it just a swinging bag?  Did he even know what the hell I was talking about when I accosted him?  To him and his mates – was I the bad guy?  In any case – it was downright rude of them to hit me, and very nearly get blood all over my new jacket.  And all’s well ended well – the eye is all healed now, except for the scar which is bigger than I thought – I probably should have got stitches (but going to a London hospital on a Friday night… nah, don’t think so).

Anyway – now with that out of the way… last week’s quartet of gigs.  Wednesday night – the Low Anthem.  This was at the Roundhouse, so I was able to make use of my membership, and watch it all civilised-like – sitting at my own little barstool & table – with a candle on the table, drinking red wine, and reading my book during the gaps between acts.  The first act was William Elliott Whitmore – who I think supported some other gig I attended recently?  Dunno – but pretty good.  Very good, in fact, for the first act in a 3-act line-up.  Next up – Simone Felice… and it turns out that yes, he is related to the Felice Brothers (who I’m looking forward to very much) – and used to be a member of the band.  But is now doing his solo thing – and doing it pretty well.  And finally – the headliners – the Low Anthem themselves.  A simple but very good gig, plenty of chit-chat, displays of musical talent by using various and odd instruments, etc.  And a great encore with a Leonard Cohen cover, including a whole heap of crowd interaction.  Oh – and for one of their songs, they ask the crowd to put their cellphones on speaker, and then hold them together with somebody else’s.  Sounds very gimmicky – but it really does produce an odd sound throughout the venue – which they use as the background for a particular song.  Works a lot better than I would have expected.  And – I just found this video – which shows the clearly named “Members Bar” – although I am hidden directly behind the pretty lady for most of the song (I’m pretty sure that’s me revealed for a couple of seconds at around the 2:52 mark).

Thursday night – off to hang out with the students at the University of London Union (ULU) – to see the Dum Dum Girls.  And typical students – disorganised and what-not – the doors didn’t open until over half an hour after the scheduled time.  A fairly short set for the warm-up act Veronica Falls – and then the main show.  The crowd a strange mixture of mostly very very young students, with a scatterring of old gig-goers – who all look just that much sadder when surrounded by so much youth.  And I can only guess at where I stand in that spectrum.  Anyway – the gig… pretty good.  Nice cheerful indie-pop, smiles, quirky sunshine and what-not.  Flowers presented to somebody for some reason – just married?  Baby on the way, or recently had?  I don’t know – wasn’t really listening.  And an acceptable cover of the Smiths.

Friday night – off to the Jazz Cafe, for the unpronouncable Me’shell Ndegeocello.  No support act – as gigs at the Jazz Cafe tend to just be the one act, and then it switches over to “club mode”.  So – I camped out against a wall, reading my book, until Me’shell took the stage.  And I’ve been asked to make more mention of these books I am supposedly reading – and in this case, it was rather apt – as I finished Half Blood Blues – by Esi Edugyan – while waiting.  Half Blood Blues was rather good – but very similar to other Man Booker Prize shortlisted novels this year, in that it took me quite some time to start enjoying it, and very similar “multiple revelations throught changing who you think is in the right/wrong”.  Which isn’t a bad thing – just noting t that three out of the four finalists I’ve read so far have had similar styles/themes.  Anyway – yeah, good.  But you gotta assume that when some experts judged it to be one of the top 6 books written by a Commonwealth citizen in the last year – it’s a safe bet it’ll be alright.  Aptness – it’s about some jazz musicians.  And I was in a jazz bar, about to listen to a musician.  So back to Me’shell Ndegeocello who gained kudos when she early on asked everybody to just leave their phones in their pocket, turned off, or whatever – and just touch each other and enjoy the music.  (So the videos I’ve linked to are from a previous gig, at the same venue).  It’s a shame she hadn’t asked certain people to simply just stop talking so loud also.  Good gig – amazing voice, beautiful music, and a (mostly) very appreciative audience – listening with a reverent hush.  Talented woman.  With a new album!

Saturday.  Spent the afternoon watching the last 3 ‘Arry Potter movies – barely leaving enough time to rush off to the Hammersmith Apollo… for Mark Knopfler (Dire Straits), and Bob Dylan.  Got there bang on time to catch Mark Knopfler come on stage – with my ticket in my pocket, where it should be.  Unfortunately, my pocket wouldn’t open.  My nice new Icebreaker coat – with zip-up pockets – had decided it wouldn’t let me unzip the pocket I had safely stored my ticket in.  I spent ten minutes trying to coax it open, trying to force it open, swearing at it, and probably generally just making things worse.  The inner lining had been caught up in the zipper – and to such an extent, it is now really really stuck.  I eventually managed to curl the ticket into a tube, and slip it out the 1 cm opening the zip allowed.  Rushed in, and got myself a dose of some classic ’80s guitar pop-rock – including a couple of classics.  And then his Bob-ness.  It is apparently a lottery nowadays – good Bob or bad Bob.  I refrained from buying merch until I thought “yeah, this gig is worth it”.  And yeah – it was.  Sure, his voice (never exactly a gem) struggled at points – and excusing him due to his age shouldn’t be allowed when one is paying £65 to listen to him sing.  But – the fact is – he is 80 years old.  And I was impressed at how much he did do on stage, moving around, playing guitar, little mini leg-kicks, etc.  And with the crowd favourites – to be honest the audience was more than happy to sing for him anyway.

Sunday – I had a day of rest.  With a bit of housework, the first session of exercise in a long time, and a couple of movies.  And I’ve got a fairly quiet week, this week.  Gigs tonight and tomorrow – and then nothing for the rest of the week.  Except I need to go and vote at some point.  Although it seems a foregone conclusion that NZ’s own little version of David Cameron will be staying around for another three years.

So – this is what happens when I’m feeling sorry for myself and can’t be bothered writing anything for 11 days – I’ve got 6 gigs, 2 weekends, and a shiner, all to write about.  So I’ll try to be succinct… not that I’m usually successful at that…

It all starts on Friday the 4th.  Work drinks, then off to the Garage, to watch some irreverent tongue-in-cheek high-brow indie-punk-rock.  Or something.  Art Brut – who were mingling in the crowd during the opening acts.  The show itself was actually quite good – plenty of crowd banter, usually actually fairly amusing.  For a rock band.  I can only find one video from it – and not their best song – but it at least conveys the energy, some banter, his willingness to get right into the crowd and improvise (a bit too much), and displays the guy’s self-admitted inability to sing.

Then – on the way home – I walked into a door.  Or something to that effect – long story short, I was too tired and drunk to walk away from trouble when I should have – and instead walked away with a bleeding and bruised left eye – and slight concussion, and the sudden realisation that I wasn’t even where I should be – and was completely lost (having gotten off the bus at the wrong station).  Luckily I had enough wits about me to call Ben to talk me through staying awake and out of trouble – until I found a taxi (which I jumped into before he could notice and become alarmed about the large amount of blood coming out of my face) – and got myself home.  So all’s well that end’s well – and I got home, took a photo of my face, washed it off a bit, and went to bed.

Woke up in the morning with a blood-stained sheet, and a spectacular black eye.  Moped about the house for the day – and then headed off to Bibby’s little boat for a Guy Fawkes evening.  It was a nice enough evening, floating on the Thames while drinking wine, watching explosions, etc.  Although I suddenly realised that I was becoming a little unsteady on my feet faster than normal (the whole bang to the head thing I guess) – and that this probably wasn’t a good idea when climbing across boats, etc.  So – went home relatively early like a good boy.

Sunday – the day of rest, which would be very welcome.  Except, of course, I’ve got a gig booked.  So – relaxed most of the day – and then headed into the Borderline for The Antlers.  And there are a few videos for this gig available – which is both bad/embarassing for the guy, but good that I can show you what I mean – when I say the chap got a little carried away.  But overall – some good songs – just the slow hip thrusts could have been toned down a bit.  Or a lot.  And he did seem to take himself and his music a little too seriously – possibly leading to the over-enthusiastic stage movements.

Two nights off!  Yay.  And then Wednesday – when somebody asked me what I was doing that evening, I had to tell them “I’m going to see Girls, at the Electric Ballroom.”  Which doesn’t sound the best.  But that’s exactly what I was doing.  Luckily I have found some videos to prove that it’s not what it sounds like.  (Although – searching for video clips of a band named “Girls” does prove a little difficult (and at work – dangerous)).  Anyway – a good gig, I found a decent spot, drank some red wine (with mini-bottles where the lid is actually a glass – so you twist a plastic wine glass off the top of the bottle to open it and provide you the vessel.  Brilliance), and listened to some twee indie-rock.  As you do.

Thursday was time for another dodgy sounding gig – for I was off to see The Naked And Famous.  My one “Kiwi Gig” this year, I believe – although this band is definitely good enough that I’d be listening to them anyway.  If you haven’t checked them out – do so.  They’re just so… young, and happy, and young.  I took Chook along, and we sat in the Member’s Bar – as I am a Member of the Roundhouse.  And, I hear a lot of you saying, just a Member.  But it was such a civilised way to watch a gig, sitting on our stools, literally within arm’s reach of the actual bar, and overlooking the stage.  Money well spent.  And the gig – good.  Really quite good, I fully enjoyed it – and look forward to seeing these guys just get more and more credit where it’s due.

Friday – a day of work, then headed up to Koko – to watch Turin Brakes playing their classic LP The Optimist – as it’s been 10 years since it was released.  Which distressed me – as I remember fairly well buying that album – and it can’t have been a decade since then.  But yeah – they reckon it has been – so I went along with it for the evening.  They had a fairly gimmicky concept whereby you could order the CD of the actual gig – and pick it up on the way out.  So they recorded the gig, then burned it to CD(s) immediately after – and 10 minutes after the gig, the CDs were available.  I’m all up for gimmicks – and my original CD of the album is back in Rotorua – so I figured it would make a decent souvenir if nothing more.  And yeah – decent gig.  I’d forgotten just how good that album was.  And of course, they did an encore of other songs – and I realised I’d forgotten how many other good songs they have.

And then I thought I’d have the weekend off.  Probably watch the last 3 ‘Arry Potter movies in a row, from the comfort of a steaming hot bath.  Just the normal weekend routine.  And then I discover that Pete is in town for the day – literally – landing at Heathrow at 9am or so – and flying out at 9:30pm to head back to Brisbane.  So – he lands, comes to mine, and we go for a wander around Barbican while waiting for Justin to get in touch.  Barbican itself – fine idea, nice place to just wander about catching up.  But then we stray into the art gallery.  And that was just a mistake.  I don’t know how to describe the fixture which was in place – but we didn’t even go into the main exhibition – we just saw the free bit.  And it was all architecture, and very very “meta-”, possibly even “meta-meta-”, and very self congratulatory, and all just so very very infuriating.  And there were cardboard cut-outs of people making it look like there were extra people looking at things, but they were all blurry and difficult to look at, and they were actually part of the installation, and you couldn’t tell at a glance who was real and who wasn’t, and AARRRGH.  And then the products for sale – the gift-shop as it were.  Just, so much architecture-nerd, little industry in-jokes, and then occasionally just something completely normal which was peripherally related to architects – which just made everything worse.  We both left fuming – and I seriously advise that nobody admits to being an architect in my presence for the immediate future – because I am likely to vent a helluva lot of anger and confusion.  OMA.  If something with a name like ‘OMA’ comes to a town near you – avoid.  The rest of the day was spent grabbing lunch, beers, Justin, beers, football.

And then I discover that young Caitlin has also just arrived in London.  And is having drinks in Richmond on Sunday.  So – no relaxing weekend for me at all.  Sunday – I make my way to Richmond (and who the hell lives in Richmond – it’s practically in Wales) – and commence the drinking red wine, avoiding/declining shots of tequila, “jaegerbombs”, or any other nastiness; all while trying not to feel self-conscious at being twice the age of anybody else.  And that was a good day – caught up with Caitlin, and didn’t seem to flounder too obviously in conversations about Justin Bieber and whatever else the kids are talking about these days.  And was presumably seen as some sort of role model, as by the end of the evening nearly everybody else had switched from their beers to red wine.  And much red wine was had, and then I figured I’d better disappear before I become the drunken old man in the room.

And a new week starts, without having had any rest.  A day at work, and then back to Koko – to watch another ‘veteran’ – previously (and soon to be again) of Pavement – Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks.  And yeah – pretty cool gig.  Stephen was fairly funny, again – for a musician – and there was just the right level/type of crowd banter.  I suspect he might have had something other than alcohol before coming on stage.  Not too many videos available of that gig – as it was only last night – but I figure nobody actually clicks on all these links I spend hours finding anyway.  But here’s one – a ‘Sweet’ cover of Love Is Like Oxygen.  They also did an odd cover of Wild Things to close out the night.

I’ve got tonight off – then a week with only 1 night off.

And gig season continues.  And I foolishly just bought tickets to about 4 more gigs.  The calendar is starting to look very, very full.

But back to the present, or past… The last week’s worth started with Wilco at the Roundhouse.  I signed up to become a member, so that I might get access to the Member’s Bar for the evening (this was the third night in a row – and I was keen to just sit down and listen to the gig).  But – alas, no email confirmation or anything – so I paid the money for the membership, without getting any benefit (yet).  So – headed to the venue, and got there nice and early to listen to the support act – some nice inoffensive singer-songwriter fare by a chap named Jonathan Wilson.  I found a spot against the back wall, with enough light to read by – and settled in for the evening.  The venue is not bad – and the stage for Wilco was pretty cool.  Dozens of lampshades hanging from the ceiling, with lights in them that switched on/off in patterns along with the music.  Simple, yet effective.  Signs at the door saying that cameras/etc were banned – which I smiled to see, both because of my dislike of people holding up brightly lit LCD screens of cameras/phones in front of me during gigs – and because I realised that it would be impossible/unlikely to be enforced.  And sure enough – yeah, plenty of youtube links of the gigs.  (But looking them up, I discover that the following night – Nick Lowe joined them for a song during the encore.  Which I missed out on.  Damn.  But – I do have tickets to Nick Lowe next year – so, yeah.)  But yeah – my gig was good, although I was too tired to really enjoy it properly.  A nice mixture of old and new songs, good stage set-up, and Jeff Tweedy even apologised for his gig back in 1997 (although I suspect that this was heavily tinted with irony).

After that – I had the day off.   A nice leisurely Saturday – which I used to do enough housekeeping stuff to feel virtuous, and then spent 4 hours in the bath – eating dinner, watching TV/movies, reading book, drinking wine.  The bath is the new couch.

Sunday – a big one.  PJ Harvey at Royal Albert Hall.  First half of the show was stuff from the new album, Let England Shake.  Which is a very very good album – a concept album about war, but packed full of beautiful music.  And PJ wearing her crazy black outfit – with use of the lighting system to good effect – at times only lighting her head, providing the effect of a floating singing pretty wee head full-o-genius.  And then after an hour or so – she brought out a range of older stuff.  All good.  Crazy good.

In fact – so good, I went the next night also – this time sitting in the Grand Tier.  And again – yeah, good.  Very very good.

And then it was Tuesday – with another great venue – the Union Chapel.  This time, to see Timber Timbre – which I can only describe as folk music which sounds like it belongs in a David Lynch film.  Once again – being the 3rd gig in a hat-trick of gigs – I was too tired to really enjoy it.  But – I turned up early, took a book, and enjoyed the opening act – a band by the name of Evening Hymns, playing in a chapel, who are not religious.  And they were nice and pleasant to listen to, while reading.  And then Timber Timbre – as per above, just really creepy folk.  And obviously aware of that – as the latest album was titled Creep On Creepin On.  So – good gig, but just too tired to appreciate it properly.  Weird voice, and if you want to get an idea of what I mean by “creepy” – check out some of their videos.

And then Wednesday.  Yay – no gigs.  But, alas, work drinks.  First – drinks at the client I was at, leaving drinks for some of the other contractors/consultants being booted out of there.  And then rushing off to a ten-pin bowling alley where my actual company was holding an evening.  Where I found everybody finishing off pizzas.  And then some bowling – after most people had spent the last hour or two eating pizza, I had spent the last two hours drinking wine.  I initially tried to avoid being made a member of a team, but when I failed – I fishtailed spectacularly, and sneakily ended up playing for two different teams.  Sharing around my overly flamboyant bowling style – like a good samaritan.  Still didn’t end up on the winning team.  And then found the pool table, where I challenged the current holder.  And somehow, very early on, we took a strong dislike to each other.  He was the kind of guy, with his retinue, who obviously spend every evening at the bowling alley, playing pool, thinking they are the Fonz.  And loving the whole tacky coca-cola americana side of it.  In short – loving everything I despise.  Whereas I was taking the piss, once again show-boating – slightly intoxicated (after having had another bottle of wine while bowling) – and making some ridiculous trick shots.  When I heard one of his mates ask another “Where the hell did this guy come from?” – I figured my job was done.  But I continued to play, but without full commitment – and the game was rather epic.  Eventually we had this guy with his dozen little greaseball friends cheering him on – and my company had found me and were cheering me on shamelessly.  All in all, rather bizarre.  But eventually I lost – when the ball refused to travel just that extra 1cm which would have allowed me to win.  Stupid ball.  But I left with my boss clapping me on the back and assuring me I’d won the moral victory anyways.  Which I’m not entirely sure of, but sure – I’ll take that.

Thursday I had a night off – so it was dinner, TV & movies in the bath again.  And then today, forgetting how I struggle with three gigs in a row – I’ve lined up a 9 day period with a total of 7 gigs.  Including one run of 4 gigs.  I figure that 4th gig, I’ll be sleeping through.  Sorry Bob.