So, a few gigs over the last week or two – warming up to what is about to be a marathon of them.
First off – Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy at the Hackney Empire.  There had been a company meeting, followed by some drinks (including whisky tasting) earlier in the evening – and when I arrived at the venue, I was feeling very… sluggish. I arrived as some frenchman was begging to be allowed in, or to buy a ticket, or anything. I had a spare – so gave it to the poor chap. Then discovered my ticket was for the upper balconies. I made my way up hurriedly (being slightly late) – and discovered I was indeed rather high up – so much so that my blurry tired eyes really struggled to focus on what was going on. But I could hear well enough – and to be honest, the man is not exactly easy on the eyes – so probably better that I couldn’t see him properly. So I found myself a spot leaning on a railing, and listened to some indie-folk. And yeah – decent gig. Good music, not much more to say.

Two days later – another guy with a ‘nickname’… Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry at the Jazz Cafe.  And again, too tired to enjoy it properly – with my thoughts running distractedly over things like how many people in the crowd looked/acted like their mothers did drugs while pregnant.  At one point, a chap I’d picked earlier as almost certainly a dealer – pushed me aside at the bar – then looked at me, and said “Sorry – I’m a c*$%.”  Without thinking, I immediately responded simply “I know.”  He laughed, and there was no “shankin’”.  Anyway – I describe that mostly to relate how distracted I was at the gig – even though it was good.  I find myself doing that at all gigs now – I’m absorbed for the first couple of songs, then the mind starts wandering.  The wine?  A 21st century attention span?  Old age?  Dementia?  I don’t know.  Although the only video I can find of ‘the Upsetter’ is of terrible quality – it really was quite a good gig.

I had the weekend off – and tried to use it to get back into some kind of routine, do some housekeeping, and catch up on sleep – with one eye on the upcoming ridiculous schedule of gigs and work.  I half-succeeded with pretty much all of that.  Except the sleep – which I nearly accomplished, and then dashed all the good work by staying up until 4am Monday morning – doing nothing but reading and a terrible cycle of “another wee dram before bed”.

On the Tuesday, it was my wee sister’s birthday.  I stayed up on the Monday night in order to give her a call – then realised the time difference is currently actually 13 hours, or 11 hours, or something – so I could have called much earlier than I did.  And when I did – I only got voicemail anyways.  Tuesday night, her birthday in local time – I celebrated the way I know she would have wanted (or maybe not).  By seeing some classic hip-hop.  GZA – in the rather small Islington Academy.  He was rather good – much better than the gig with the rest of the Clan.  Red wine and Wu-Tang – classic.  There’s a series of videos from the event here – 1, 2, 3, & 4 – but they seem to be taken from the mezzanine, and focused on the DJ rather than the rapper.  (For some shimmy shimmy ya action – start of clip 3.  In clip 4, I’m in that crowd somewhere, near the top of the screen – and no, I’m not one of the people bouncing the W symbol.)

I then had a night off (which actually turned into tapas and drinks with workmates) – and then last night was the first night in a schedule I’m really starting to regret.  11 nights in a row of gigs (although last night was not strictly a gig).  And looking at my calendar – that is followed by a 3 day training course, and then another gig.  And during that 11-day marathon – I will be be spending a week on-site at a new client, where my full wits (and patience) will be required.

But to get it out of the way – last night’s not-strictly-a-gig.  The Long Count.  Ummm… not sure how to describe it.  So I’ll plagarise:

Acclaimed rock band The National’s twin brothers Bryce and Aaron Dessner conceived The Long Count in collaboration with video artist Matthew Ritchie as a multimedia concert, which explores the ‘time before time’; the indivisible moment before creation is expressed.
Inspired by the ‘hero twins’ of the Mayan creation myth contained in the Popol Vuh – of which the Long Count calendar is an important part – the show presents a mythical song cycle of subtly interweaving guitars, solemn a capella, layered sound structures and scintillating rock.
The Dessners team up with a 12-strong ensemble featuring members of the Heritage Orchestra, surrounded by an impressive installation designed by Ritchie, and singers/performers Shara Worden (My Brightest Diamond) and Kelley Deal (The Breeders), plus special guest Tunde Adebimpe (TV On The Radio).

Yeah – so it was that.  I didn’t really know what to expect – but I think that the NY times summed it up the best:

The multimedia orchestral-rock song cycle “The Long Count” is theoretically about the prehistory of time, ballgames and twins. Practically, it’s about a semipopular indie-rock band with some contemporary classical-music experience not embarrassing itself in a multimedia commission with an extremely convoluted theme and text. The practical part is what you want to focus on.

Unfortunately, I was so tired that after the initial bemusement wore off, and the wine and very comfy/roomy seats took effect – I actually dozed off a few times.  This despite the fact the entire show was only a little over an hour long.  But it was pretty good.  That NY Times review really does get it right – they “didn’t embarass themselves” – which isn’t gushing praise, but in such a concept – it’s pretty good.  A lot of the crowd left very confused – I think they’d just read “The National” in the description and thought they were going to see some side-project gig.  And then got confronted with all this artsy theatre buuuulllshit (here’s the ‘trailer‘).  Me – quite pleased I went, slightly upset I was unable to appreciate the whole thing – and struggled to follow what (if any?) narrative there was – but I probably should have read up on the subject material beforehand.

Right – been too busy and lazy and sick to write for a while, so now I just have to skim over it all.

First gig of the year – Ani DiFranco at the Union Chapel.  Cool gig, talented lady – did an improvised song with a crowd member playing guitar for her – after somebody requested a song, and she claimed to not be able to play it anymore.  A crowd member reckoned he could, so he did – and it turns out she remembered how to play it fairly well also.  But yeah – cool.  Legitimately improv’ed?  Not sure – the crowd member turned out to be a fairly successful musician himself – Declan Bennett.  She seems fairly genuine, and it didn’t happen the following night – so I’m giving the whole episode the benefit of the doubt.

And then – France.  Caught a train over to France on the 14th, and spent the week there – helping Dom celebrate his 40th.  This was done by learning to ski, then doing actual skiing, interspersed with large amounts of food and drink, and very little sleep.  But now I can ski.  By the end of the week, I was going down red pistes comfortably, and trying stupid things like jumps and off-piste which I really had no right to be trying.  Amazing weather – clear blue skies for the entire week, until the final day which was pretty much constant snowstorm, with zero visibility, and lifts closing all over the place (doing red slopes).  Here’s a video of my new skillz (warning, the music might not be to everybody’s taste, and has naughty words):

And then we came back to London, drinking the bar dry on one of the trains, and discovering the tube between Kings Cross/St Pancras and my place was closed. I eventually crawled into my place at about midnight, drunk and exhausted – and immediately came down with a terrible cold or influenza or something. Bah, London.

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.