I'd been invited to go to the comedy night at Club M by Tara last night, but had already agreed to go see Dean play. Got a bad drinks order at Revolver though: Leffe, Castlemaine, Castlemaine - an inverted parabola of drunkeness... It was, of course, Dean's fortnightly session: now that Jim's back from the land of Oz, they split the sets so that Bonj backed him for the first half, and Jim for the second, all fair, and a good chance to hear the differences between the two guitarists on the different songs they played. This did seem to mean that Bonj was a little more up-to-speed with Dean's newer songs, though, and Dean threw a deliberate challenge to Jim by asking him to play on a song he'd never heard before, which Jim (being clever) was able to pull-off. Matt & Bonj played their usual Regular John set in between, with Twenty-Six coming across best I reckoned this time; then Rufus was swiftly persuaded to fit a few of his songs in too. Kim managed to get an invisible friend (who he claimed, briefly, was actually a Ninja) to slip a live cdr of his stuff into my bag without me noticing. Had some chats to Paul, Christa, Alice, Reuben, Wookie (who was collecting signatures for Sally's Birthday Card - and it's only now that I realised I had the wrong Sally in mind when I signed the card, and hopefully I've not put anything stupid in there...), Chuckie, Joe & Kate; then Carrie & Tom asked if I was gonna go ahead with having a birthday party in the house this year, and I got distracted from most of Dean's second set by beginning to send out preliminary texts to let people know about it, which led me into several text discussions with some of my friends, which meant I eventually ran out of credit before I'd sent everything I was intending to. God knows how many people I've got on my 'phone now, but I've decided it's too many to send mass texts to like that, as it must be costing me four or five quid a go. Word of mouth - that's the new thing! I missed last orders, so when Revolver started chucking-out I drank-up, said goodbye (and hello to latecomers from the comedy-night, such as Helen), then went-off home, bumping into Tara and Michael as they left Club M too. Come to think of it, that's not a parabola, it's a circle. Smart.

The Easter Weekend pretty much started for me on the Thursday evening, with my friend Carolyn's birthday party out in Little Common: there was karaoke, and her, our friend Roschendah and I did I'm A Believer badly when we were quite drunk. I don't do karaoke really, but that was safety in numbers. There may be photos at any rate.
Good Friday, and The Street was putting on a bunch of singer-songwriters in the afternoon. I'd not seen the poster in town, and was only going by Alfie's mention, so I thought it was one of his gigs. A last minute message on the boards pointed out that he wasn't playing 'cos The Street weren't gonna pay his travel costs from the other side of Sussex, but I went along anyway 'cos he'd indicated that some of our friends were playing too. Mistimed it so that I arrived after Dean had finished: he was on his way to practice guitar elsewhere. Had a chat with Alena, saw Tom & Carie and gave her her doorkeys back (I'd forgotten mine when I went out the night before, and had to traipse back up to Tom's in the middle of the night to borrow Carrie's set so I could get indoors). Sat with Helen once Dean had gone, and Rufs and Reuben joined us. Joe Clements was playing: I prefer his Hard Days Night shirt to his songs, mostly, and he covered Lost In Music (not as well as The Fall did) and Dear Prudence (not as well as Siouxsie & The Banshees did), but he's alright, you know? Rufus stepped up and growled through mostly his own songs, with a bit of Sly Stone etc thrown in, and mucho light-relief cycling-related banter with Jay at the bar. Richard Dennett finished off the music: very much in the Billy Bragg (or, if you want the exact comparison, Rodney Allen) lovelorn style. All decent enough entertainment, but I do wish I'd been quick enough to catch Dean. Fortunately, there was a Rumiko gig lined-up for later in the evening, so after several more drinks, Reuben and I escaped to our respective homes, and I ate a load of unsuitable crap on top of the beer (cups of tea, cheese on toast, crisps, chocolate) then headed back into town to the Brass Monkey. It may be Easter, but I had work on the Saturday, so (seeing as I was already pissed) I was only intending on catching Rumiko's opening set, before getting home and getting the sleep I'd need. But you know how it is sometimes... There was just so many people out: obviously all the band and their various partners, and Del and matt doing the sound and dj stuff, and Kim being a bit awkward (until the threw himself into some dancing later, which seemed to cheer him up), and Sally and Katherine, and most of the people I'd ssen at The Street earlier, and Rebecca, and Kathleen who I hadn't seen for years and who, despite her usual steady eyeline, was actually very drunk indeed, and Jonathan, and John and Kay enjoying their victory over the Hastings Observer social drinking outing, and Christa and Amy, and the Regular John group, with girlfriends old and new, and then Dan the Horse, Patrick and Matt & Elliott, which was special, and in the face of that many friends I couldn't just go home. Rumiko played a really strong set, aided by a fantastic sound out front (comparing to no sound on stage, apparently), so we were in high spirits. Reid Paley was over from Brroklyn with strong-recommendations, but he was playing solo, and seemed a bit lost in front of the Bank Holiday revelling: I only caught his set on the wall-projection round the corner, whilst John and I yammered away about the Hastings scene, so I wasn't in a good critical position. Bone-Box, a large mutli-tasking psycho-blues group down from Manchester, headlined and were very tineful and vibrant, though I was more interested in being on the pull by then. And then it became chucking-out time, and we all got chucked-out. I headed back to the Old Town, straight into a large-scale power-cut, and had to drunkenly try brushing my teeth by the light of my mobile phone, before falling into bed.
The rest of the weekend continued to be excellent fun, with another night out, this time for Laura's birthday, in Brighton on the Saturday; followed by a playback party for the freshly recorded Rumiko Jr and Regular John albums down the Basement on the Sunday. Of course, a private party is a private thing, but the albums (at least, what we managed to take in, as Rufus and the Regular John band attempted to mix one song at a time from the desk) sounded strong, and the night was very funny and very messy. I didn't get to see all my friends over the weekend, unfortunately, but I must've seen about 98% of them, so it was a Bank Holiday Bonanza all the same. Fun Fun Fun.

As I said, Carrie & I went along to Smugglers on the Sunday evening, to see Alfie play. Josie had forgotten she was meant to be there, or was unwell or something, so it was just Alfie on vocals mostly backed by Simon Shaw's guitar. Simon was seemingly one of many people who'd spent the day getting trolleyed, presumably at Beatles Day on the Pier. Alfie's gig was a timely haven for any of us lot who find the Beatles Day alienating, and need that reminding boost that there are still musicians writing songs today. Alfie's stuff was laid-back enough for the mostly-frazzled clientele, but also lively enough to stop anyone dropping off (though Simon seemed to be having a great deal of difficulty staying upright onstage himself). Christa turned up, and may have been hammering it harder than anyone, 'cos even Alfie & Simon's music was too much to cope with, poor woman...A crowd of us (Dean, Rufus, Bill, Marcus, Caroline, Reuben, Richard, Liam, Bonj et al) stuck around for the night: though the Smugglers ceiling was still holding, tonight's problem was no beer, so I sunk pints of Guinness until I was very heavy. Evenutally it got towards midnight, and I had to leave people to it. It'd been too many days in a row.
After a Monday staying in, we went down Revolver on the Tuesday for Dean's evening. Between his & Bonj's two sets, Tim Hoyte and Matt & Bonj both played short sets: Tim with a handful of his current, circuitous songs, and the other two with a quick burn through some recent Regular John tracks. It was noticeable that Dean's got so many songs in his current repetoire, that he's relying less & less on covers to fill the length of the evening - probably only a couple got played, the rest of the sets being full of Rumiko songs from the first lp and the new one, as well as a bunch more new additions that don't seem to have made their way into the band's sets yet. This is one reason I like going down Revolver every fortnight: with Dean (and, to a lesser extent, the rest of our friends who play: eg those mentioned above, or Jonathan - who turned up later) you're constantly getting brand new tunes weeks and months before they appear in his regular gigs. The other reason is our friend alcohol. I got slowly pissed with Michael & Caroline, Carrie, Rufus, Wookie etc, though there was a lot of people out, and I just about remember Reuben, Jamie, Anna and others making it down later in the evening. I think I only spoke to a lot of these people on my way out later: Dean had passed me a chillie cocktail Jo was forcing on him, and drinking that seemed to confuse me slightly. Whenever I write these entries a few days after a gig, and try to remember who was there, I always get it slightly wrong, and either forget who I saw, or ascribe people's presence to the wrong night. Not that it matters, it's kinda correct in spirit at least. I do remember quite deliberately saying goodbye to a friend of Regular Johns who I don't really know, but 'cos I'd like to know her I pretended that there was no reason I shouldn't say goodbye to her. I'm not being coy about names here, on this occasion I genuinely don't know it. Booze: breaking down those social barriers. Time to go now!

Nat and Bill had invited me along to a Flying Marrows gig at The Street on Wednesday, so I trotted down, and bumped into Kim there. There were two support acts, both of them down from Tunbridge Wells, I think. Both acts (a duo of rock blokes, and a busker bloke) were so so terrible it sapped my will to be out that evening. I could name them, but it'd only make them sad when they Google their names, and I can't bring myself to begin describing just how wrong their music was. I'm counting it as the second-worst gig of my life, the worst gig of my life being (not coincidentally) a Battle Of The Bands at Tunbridge Wells Forum once (I'd gone to see Shinecello there: they came last, but I think they were only there 'cos it was a chance of a gig in a new place). There's definitely something wrong about the Tunbridge Wells scene: I spoke to two friends from the visual arts during the week about this, and they both said that the visual artists they've had to work with from Tunbridge Wells in the past have been awful too. Sorry, you wealthy Kents, but there's the truth: you're better off moving to another town with a decent scene (here, Brighton, London, anywhere) and having a long-think about what precisely you're making music for. I'd only brought a small amount of money out with me, 'cos I thought it was gonna be a leisurely evening, but the rubbish music meant I'd spent it all very quickly as I forced myself to down my drinks in a vain and unsuccesful attempt to get drunk (beer at The Street - also rubbish). Reuben, Carrie & Tom, and most of Rumiko had made it to The Street by this point, and the Marrows were only just beginning, but I'd nothing to get a drink with, and was so depressed by the delusions of adequacy of the Tunbridge Wells massive that I just went home. Felt bad, 'cos I had to walk-out past Nat & Bill midway through their third songs, which must've been awkward for them too: if it's any consolation, I thought they were actually sounding much better than the other acts, and would've been fun to hear the rest of the set, but sometimes I just can't cope.
After a few more days of fun and disappointment, I went down Gritti Palace last night for Kim's birthday gathering, and saw him, Reuben, Murray, Helen, Mike & Sally, Wookie, Jo, Lethwyn and Romily there. Ben's lot The Consortium were djing a load of breaks stuff which was sounding great, though after a while (and cake, speeches and singing) people started drifting along to catch Regular John at Smugglers. Kim was heading on to the Tubman with some women he knew, so when they went there I went to Smugglers instead. I just missed the John (by seconds, I reckon, as Matt met me at the door, drenched in sweat), but stuck around for Gorilla's headline set of heavy power-trio riffing. For some reason, the Smugglers roof was leaking near the bar (it wasn't raining, and there's about three floors above the bar, so fuck knows what that was about, but it made us a bit nervous). As well as the Gritti Palace lot mentioned just now, and the musicians, it was good to see half of the Rumiko band there again, along with Helen, Christa, Anna, Kate, Chuckie and loads more. Despite splitting-up with my semi-partner the previous week, and failing to meet a friend I rather like at The Crypt on Thursday night (instead, Kim turned up, again!) I had no inclination to hang about on the pull or anything at Smugglers once Gorilla had finished, and headed home to sleep instead. Anyone interested in rescuing me from another period on lonesome-ness, feel free to get in touch: I'll be back down Smugglers later this evening, drinking beer, listening to Alfie, and dodging the water dripping from the ceiling, that is, so long as the ceiling is still there...