Right, I've got loads to catch up on, so if some of the following is mis-typed, contains inaccuracies, or is lacking in essential details, please indulge me!
A few hours after writing that last Blog entry, Rufus sent a text around, saying that Dean and Marcus were playing at The Street that evening. I had been thinking of staying home, but I thought I might as well see if there was any other music to face after my online admission of CD-R stealing (nb: there wasn't). I wandered along the The Street, and sat down with Danielle, at a couple of tables shared with the local journalism gang (as I'm now thinking of them) ie Alice and Naomi, and some of their respective friends (who I was introduced to, but instantly forgot the names of). Rufus and Jimmy James were around too, as their Rumiko mates played a couple of sets semi-acoustically, in between the drinking. Reuben made it along with a camera he'd recently acquired, and started taking photos, though it struck me that the camera was lacking a flash, unless it's appearance was deceptive and it was actually digital, or cameras are more advanced than I'd kept up with. Whatever, he said they came out ok! I took a picture on my phone too, which was a bit dark. The Street was fairly busy and noisy, and some people like Ollie appeared to have been there for hours - they were that merry, but Dean & Marcus maintained people's attention, and eventually (after several old and brand new songs) started taking requests, within reason. I asked for Sebadoh, which cued Marcus to swap stools (possibly chairs...) with Dean, as this was his speciality. What with much drinking and chatting, the bar seemed to be swiftly closing, so I finished off and made my way home to the Old Town safely.
The following Saturday, Rumiko Jr had a full-band gig at Smugglers, for the first time in a while, so I dutifully went along, and took up my favoured position on the pool table, with Caroline and Michael to one side (him scribbling last-minute set-lists with Rufus on pages I'd torn from my notebook), and Lisa, Marcus and Helen to the other, at least until the boys had to join the band at the front. Aside from an unsuccessful, under-attended gig at Brass Monkey back on Shrove Tuesday, this was Rumiko's first proper gig with Jimmy on drums, and they'd clearly been putting in a lot of work rehearsing and working on new songs and developing new arrangements for some of the more familiar ones. In fact, rather than Dean opening up with an acoustic set, the whole band took positions for a semi-acoustic inital set, with Jimmy sitting astride what looked like an oblong tea-chest, but was evidently a fairly hi-tech rhythm box, which he beat with his palms and generated various different drum sounds from. It was also during this set that I realised that broad stripes are this season's fashion, or else half the group were dressing as smugglers themselves. Gradually, this first set became more electric, and once they'd built the sound up for a few songs, the group took a break. We drank and chatted noisily, then concentrated a bit more once Rumiko were back up the front for their second, much more full-on set, with heaps of new and dynamic songs (there seems to be two or three more every time they or Dean plays... No wonder he forgets so many). I remember having a drunken catch up with Helen about the state of our relationships (both good, it seems), but by the time Rumiko peaked and finished (no encore, I recall) my ability to talk to any of our late-arriving friends (Jonathan, I think, and Maya, and many more I've now forgotten) was a bit diminished, so I didn't stick around to the bitter end.
The following Tuesday, Dean was back with another session at Le Pattie Cafe, attended by such regulars as Reuben and his mates Jimmy and Tim; Kim and Jamie too, I think. Del had come along to play for a change, which was good news, and he tried out mainly new stuff he was working on, as well as nostalgic runs through 'The Weekend's Ashes', and, at Dean's request (he used to play on it), that very catchy Candys song I don't know the name of ('cos it never quite got released, unfortunately). Dean fitted his set in next, and managed a mix of old and brand new tunes again, completely solo this time. Rufus had a little time at the end for some of his own, which I think again included some newish ones, before he and Dean closed-off together with their cover of 'Get Up Jake'. I'd spent most of the evening chatting with Michael and Caroline (I think: this was a few weeks ago now, so correct me if I'm mixing my evening up), and messing around a bit with Reuben etc (this is definitely correct, as we took photos of each other, um, taking photos of each other!), before getting into lengthy drunken discussion with Dean, Rufus and Del about 'Raising Arizona', which included some very off-key yodelling of the soundtrack music. Eventually, I walked back home with Dean and Danielle, still very drunk, and yammering on about the music industry, as usual. Blah!
The next day, I got the train over to Brighton to catch up with Carolyn, 'cos she'd got a couple of tickets off someone she worked with to go and see The Fall on the Thursday, at the sold-out Hove Old Market gig (their first of two in Brighton that weekend). I picked up a cd copy of their new album 'Reformation Post TLC' in Resident before I met her (and, incidentally, an old vinyl copy of 'The Early Years' from Rounder), so we were able to get a couple of plays in before the gig, although it turned out that most of the new songs they ended up playing were ones I'd heard from various YouTube postings already. On the evening of the gig, we got a bus down to the Old Market, arriving not long after the doors had opened, so we went and had a drink in the bar area, and quietly sized-up the fans who had also made it down early. We headed into the main venue area, and checked out the merchandise stall (very well stocked with vinyl, cds, t-shirts, badges, lighters etc, evidently courtesy of Preston's legendary Action Records shop - and, for a time, record label of The Fall). Keeping ourselves topped up with cans from the little bar that had been set up inside, which was staffed by a very exiteable, but confused, barman, we stood and looked around until the first support, Pope Joan, came onstage. I'm not the first person to suggest that The Fall deliberately choose mediocre support bands (to reflect better on their own performance, the rumour would go), but I really didn't enjoy Pope Joan, partly 'cos they looked exactly like you'd imagine a basic four-piece band to look these days (big-haired bassist, floppy-fringed guitarist etc), and also 'cos not only did they plug their t-shirts, but they also plugged their mailing list (which I, hopefully politely, declined to sign up to when it was offered round later), their Myspace URL, etc. Their actual band-sound was ok though, even if it was a bit rock-school for me, but lyrically they were pretty cringeworthy. Fortunately, the between-bands DJ was playing loads of records we liked ('I Want More', 'Godstar', 'Outdoor Miner', 'Nag Nag Nag' etc), which helped pass the time too. There was another support, with the rather forgettable name Make Good Your Escape, which I tried very hard to remember only for the sake of this Blog, as again they weren't much cop: all dressed in black, and would be epic guitar histrionics, that only put me in mind of Geneva (who I'm sure they've never heard of, and no-one else remembers either). Though the gig was sold out, the hall didn't fill up uncomfortably, but it was too dark for me to identify if anyone else I knew had come to the gig (or, as I found out in the days afterwards, to notice either Marc Riley or Frank Skinner... I did see Alan Wise sitting out in the foyer, though that was only to be expected really). Once Make Good Your Escape (see? catchy, eh?) were over with, we'd both got pleasantly drunk, and were looking forward to The Fall, when, with ten minutes to go before their advertised start-time, the fire alarms went off, the lights came on, and we had to evacuate the building. As the entire crowd milled around outside the doors, Mark E Smith and another fellow arrived at the venue (probably very suprised by the crowd that had seemingly waited outside to greet them), and they were ushered inside in a parting-of-the-Red-Sea style, amongst much handshakes from the punters and sheepish grins from Smith. Fortunately, it had only been a false alarm (later, The Argus' journalist claimed it was his cigarette that had accidentally set the smoke detectors off, though this may be invention), so people were soon back inside in time for, oh yeah, Safi Sniper: The Fall's ever-present laptop image-manipulator, and unpopular warm-up merchant. With the clock ticking well into The Fall's advertised playing-time, there wasn't much enthusiasm from the crowd for his looping and stretching of musical celebrities (Elvis, Freddie Mercury, Barbara Streisand, et al), but this was ultimately a canny move in order to build up tension for release when The Fall finally started up. Aside from Smith and his wife Eleanor Poulou(on keyboards), this was a drums/guitar/2-basses line-up of The Fall, and (for a change, in the times I've seen them play) the sound was very loud and cleanly mixed, with even Smith's vocals coming through clearly. The set was largely made up of music from the current album ('Over! Over!', 'Fall Sound', 'My Door'), with one new song at the start (with the chanted line "Senior Twilight Stock Controller" - do that over and over and you can easily imagine how it goes, I'm sure), and the odd old single ('Wrong Place, Right Time', 'White Lightning', 'Theme From Sparta FC') or previous-album track ('Pacifying Joint', 'What About Us?') chucked in. This was The Fall on strong form, rolling and churning through bass-heavy, repetitive extensions, and Smith staying focussed at the front, without getting distracted by too much amp or mic abuse. After Poulou's central performance of 'The Wright Stuff', the band concluded with a mighty loud run at 'Blindness', pushing their set a good half hour beyond the credited stage-time. We did think that may be all they could fit in, but there was still time for an encore, and the lenghty and rapid 'Reformation' before the audience were thrown the mics, and the band took themselves offstage whilst a venue bouncer tried to get things sorted between the audience and the stage (there was othewise no barrier or security measures throughout the gig: good move!) Afterwards, Carolyn and I retired to a nearby pub (along with dozens more of the audience) for some happy post-mortem pints, which I don't remember much of at all! Ah, mighty mighty Fall.
I had to go straight back to work in Bexhill on the first train the following morning, so I was safely back in Hastings the day after that for Alfie's new band The Long Goodbye, once more at Smugglers. During that Saturday, Carolyn had followed on from Brighton, so that we could be up and attempting to buy Glastonbury tickets on the Sunday morning after (yes, we failed to get any) and had got to my place after I'd finished work, so we ate pizza and watched the opening episode of the new series of Doctor Who (yay!) before heading down to the Smugs. Once there, we said hello to Alfie and Robert, before again climbing up onto the, now rather wobbly, pool table to spend the evening watching the band play. Aside from Alfie, and his shit-hot guitarist Jake, the new band's rhythm section are two very young teenage lads, both of whom were energetic players. We were sitting with Caroline and various Rumiko's again, and I was really enjoying the sound The Long Goodbye have reached now: no longer the slower, country-influenced music I was familiar with from Alfie's music, but much more down the Crazy Horse route, occasionally landing on a classic mid-Eighties indiepop sound (I suppose you end up sounding like The Chesterf!elds more by accident than design these days), which was fine by me! I grabbed the occasional chat with people such as Richard Hart, Jonny Russell, and Reuben in between trips to the bar and the loos, but mostly nodded along and talked to my friends on the table. Alfie and Jake did a song or two without the younger guys, and then Josie duetted with Alfie on another tune (oh, my vague memory..); then, once it seemed the band had played as many of their own songs as they were going to, they coasted through some duelling guitar versions of some familar covers such as 'For What It's Worth' and 'Cortez The Killer', with Josie rejoining them at the mic occasionally to ad-lib her own lines or harmonies over them (unrehearsed, I think, and therefore with some contributions working better than others). They all encored with 'What Goes On' (and on, of course, but in a good way!) before hitting their final chord and getting stuck into the serious business of drinking with, um whoever else was around, whilst Carolyn and I made drunken farewells to everyone before weaving our way back to mine.
It was another week until the next gig came along, and once again it was Rumiko Jr, this time at a Festival Of Nu Blues at the Brass Monkey, promoted by the Not The Same Old Blues Crap mob. The evening started earlier than I was expecting, and after I'd watched Doctor Who and had a listen to my just-arrived copy of the new Throbbing Gristle album (really getting in the country-blues mood then!) I felt I had to run along to the Monkey if I was gonna catch Rumiko. I paid on the door, and was handed a couple of event programmes (one for this evening, and another for the month-long series of events that Not the Same Old Blues Crap are promoting at the Spitz), then got inside where fortunately The Jooks Of Kent were still onstage, playing very Crampsy blues-trash, which I really liked, but none of my friends seemed to! I was hoping to have a cheap evening, but soon I found myself helping to get people in, buying others' drinks, and generally getting very drunk myself. Marcus and Lisa were at the bar with Lisa's friend, and after the Jooks had finished I sat around the corner with Caroline, Kate & Oliva Speer, and Lou and James. We moved back around to the main stagefront area to watch when Rumiko started up, sounding a lot cleaner, and possibly a bit out of place amongst the other blues acts that evening. They played valiantly again, though, with those few new tunes standing out, though they may have been either too rock, or not blues enough, for some folk who took the opportunity to leave, um! We all took the vacated seats though, and were soon joined by Kim and Reuben; Shara - making a reciprocal visit after a bunch of the Hastings crew had crashed at hers for a recent Flesh Happening gig; a very drunk Del at the bar; and Helen and Sally, who'd been stargazing and studying Saturn through telescopes out at Norman's Bay. Initially, I thought headliner Scott H Biram had taken the stage next, but it turned out to be the frontman for the band Black Diamond Heavies, playing distorted dirty blues to his own overdriven organ accompaniment, plus one improvised head-to-head wth Mudlow's saxophonist. He remained onstage to guest during Mudlow's set proper, and they churned away awesomely in the filth. Despite the early start, the evening had been stretching on by this point, so that when Scott H Biram evenutally got onstage to headline, the guy was far gone on his booze. He started up hacking away at his electric guitar, growling distorted blues through two metallic, overdriven mics, taped together, and then proceeded to continue doing this for song after song after song. We stuck it out watching, as friends gradually grew tired from the music, the drink or the lateness of the hour and headed off. Things got hazy: we kept buying more pints, thinking that Biram would conclude his set eventually, whereas the man himself seemed determined to start another song as soon as he'd finish one, with no pauses for breath. Then we noticed vaguely that he was flashing his cock occasionally behind his guitar, and eventually we were turning to one another, asking "Did he just drop his trousers again?" and "How long has this guy been onstage now?" and such like. Finally, one of the Wilkes' gave the nod to Rufus and Bill in the sound booth just to stick a record on and have done with it, upon which Biram looked disgusted, threw his guitar down, and started hurling the mic-stands across the stage: which activity was quickly halted by some swift jabs to the head from a Wilkes. Kim, Reuben, Sally, Helen and I were agog, and I ran to the booth to see if it might be a better plan to hit the lights on and calm things down (this normally works at house parties...) but Rufus assured me that everything was under control, and sure enough Biram had calmed down onstage and was packing his gear up with Rufus' help shortly afterwards. I still felt that the evening had turned sour, so when Sally said she wanted to head off, I said my goodbyes and took her across the road, where she instantly found a vacant taxi, and I wandered back home (throwing the last of my change down for the guy in the underpass who sits with all the toys), texting the evening's events to Carolyn.
If Dean was back at Le Pattie Cafe the following Tuesday I missed it, because I was close to skint, and saving what money I could for Thursday's Mumm-Ra gig at The Crypt, kicking-off their new national tour. Fortunately, I'd picked up a ticket in advance, and after sending a few texts to try and get people to join me there, I went along to The Crypt, where (although it was an all-ages gig) unsuprisingly I wasn't ID'd. I headed downstairs and met Del's girlfriend Anna at the bar, and we chatted as we got drinks. She was taking some through for Del, who was doing the sound that evening, but I wasn't allowed to follow her into the main part of The Crypt, which was strictly soft drinks only, for the (over 14's) kids, some of whom were with a parent (including a guy called Ben who once did work experience in the shop I suffer in)... So I stood on my own drinking my pint as quick as I could, and when Youngplan started up onstage I downed it all, and went through to watch. Since we'd seen them (again supporting Mumm-Ra) in Brighton a few months ago, they'd added a new bassist to the band, freeing up the singer to, well, sing - though I reckoned this diminished their intensity a bit (though this may have just been the ambience of The Crypt, which was still filling up, as this was an early gig). The more rapid and angular Youngplan songs came across better than some of the midtempo ones, which veered a bit close to ska-punk on occasion, and it felt odd seeing a band from Hastings doing the whole "Thank you, Hastings!" thing between songs. I bought their 7" (launched that night, I think, and both sides played, naturally) anyway, along with the remaining Mumm-Ra coloured vinyl 7" I'd not so-far bought, from the merchandise stall that was jam-packed with all their vinyl, cd-singles and t-shirts. After Youngplan, I went back to the grown-ups bar, and grabbed another pint, where I met Sally and (I think) her brother-in-law, so I drank and chatted with them about local music etc, until very soon Mumm-Ra were onstage too, whereupon we all downed our drinks to go and watch. Mumm-Ra were also playing with a slightly-altered line-up to the Brighton gig, in that there was no guest guitar from Youngplan's Dale, but there was an additional keyboard player who I'd not noticed previously. They had a huge sound tonight, starting with 'Song B' and 'What Would Steve Do?', and getting the (now full) crowd bounding up and down straight away (aah, it could well have been so many of the kids' first gig!)... Reuben popped up, as did Mark Rodrigues, and then I saw Michael, Marcus and Rufus watching to the right of the stage, whilst Dean was somewhere to the left, so we had a full-deck of local pop contemporaries down there. Mumm-Ra threw in new songs, old songs ('Cute As'), tracks from next month's album ('She Got You High', 'These Things Come In Threes') and B-sides ('Song E', 'Clocks Tick Louder At The Dead Of Night'); they bigged up Youngplan some more ("You've just had the pleasure of watching the best unsigned band in Britain..." - dunno how that went down with Del, Mark ,Dean etc) and enthused to the crowd generally; Noo scaled the lighting rig; and cameras swept through the crowd (I guess it was the BBC, as the gig ended up on Newsroom South East, or whatever it's currently called, apparently); before the band peaked with 'Out Of The Question' and I decided that I do sometimes still really like that guitarpop sound! The Crypt had to empty out afterwards, so that all the kids were out before the rest of the night's actual clubbing could start, so we made our way up the stairs (saying goodbye to a hugely excited Ben on the way) and into The Street, for more drinks and chat with all our friends (as did the rest of the audience, and the various band members, past and present). As well as Youngplan and Mumm-Ra, we gassed about our friends bands, and other mainstream indiepop groups who find our favour (Mark and I were in agreement on the positive merits of Maximo Park's comeback single, and as he correctly identified Mumm-Ra's kinship with the early Blur, we swapped Blur stories too)... Although I'd declined one, Sally's brother-in-law came back from the bar with a half for me, so I hopefully-not-rudely had to pass on it, as by this point Reuben and I were on our way out of The Street, and pressing-on to fulfill Dean's invite to join Rumiko down The Basement for their rehearsal, which we did; and we drank their booze, and chatted, and watched and applauded and made positive comment where appropriate, and I didn't actually nick anything this time. End!