dizzytiger

2009-08-12T20:26:00.004Z

Postscript to the original Dizzy Tiger blog.

The preceding Blog entries (all 68 or so of them) cover a period in my life in Hastings (October 2005 - Jun 2007) from a few months after splitting up with one long term on/off partner, to a few months before moving to Brighton with another.
It was a fairly difficult period, when writing a Blog (amongst other things) at least gave me some focus and sense of worth, even if, skim-reading it back, both the writing and my state of mind appear to be all over the place.
The earlier entries are all grouped fairly closely together in time, often several chapters a week, whereas by the end of it I was struggling to get online long enough to write a chapter more than once every month or two.
To bring the Hastings tale to it's conclusion (or, at least, up to the point at which I moved away from the town finally - not necessarily for ever though), I've got my Gig Log (some notes in the back of my address book) to hand. Without going too far into each event, the rest of the Summer of 2007 ran as follows...

20th June. Matt & Bonj gig at The Street. One of a series of acoustic Regular John gigs around that time.
22nd June. OMD at the Dome, Brighton, supported by an Australian boy-girl duo Lovers Electric. As you can see if you buy the live DVD from this tour (actually their London date), OMD did half a gig of the entirety of Architecture & Morality (not in tracklist order), followed by half a gig of their hits. Carolyn & I liked it more than Lee, Michael & Caroline, I think.
3rd July. Dean & Simon Shaw at Smugglers, Don't remember much about this night, but there's a photo on my Facebook.
4th August. The Flesh Happening at Brass Monkey (with The Consortium DJs, including Benn Akehurst, who was possibly still seeing my housemate Kirsty, while I was definitely still working with his Mum in Bexhill Gamleys). Photos of Oli's body-painted writhing turned up in East Magazine, along with a few words I'd sent into the music news section.
8th August. Del Vegas with Sophie Nadine (vocals) and Michael (keyboards, circuit-bent Speak & Spell), supported by Jamie Smart, at The Street. My review of this gig was printed in East Magazine, and appears on their website.
10th August. Regular John, Stake-Off The Witch and This Project at Smugglers. There's a photo of Stake-Off The Witch on my Facebook. Probably also one of This Project's final gigs.
16th August. The Logan Wilson Band at the FILO. First chance I'd had to see Logan play for ages, possibly years.
17th August. Ashtray Navigations, I'm Being Good, Deepkiss720, Charlie Uniform November Tango, at The Gildredge, Eastbourne. Fantastic line-up pulled together by Deepkiss720's Jason Williams, who I'd later get to know. The Ashtray Navigations set was issued as part of a very limited CD-R box set of live recordings. First time I'd seen Charlie Uniform... (who I'd encountered when helping with East Magazine's Top 25 Bands feature earlier that year). Adam from East made it along to the gig and handed me loads of back issues of the mag, and it was a bit of a reunion with Michael and Daniel making the gig too. Reuben kept getting chucked out by the Gildredge security - he wasn't under age, but he'd not brought any ID to help that fact.
21st August. Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell & Jimi Riddle at Smugglers. Another great Smugglers gig at the height of Hastings Old Town Carnival week Summer madness (or thereabouts), probably ending up, as many nights did that around that time, in mass skinny-dipping. It was a time of great nudity & alcoholism.
29th August. Matt & Bonj at The Street again. I'd finally managed to get the Dizzy Tiger Music Co compilation CD-R called Anti finished that week, and this was the night I handed loads and loads out.
31st August. Mumm-Ra & Youngplan at the Redstack Playhouse, Bexhill. I was meant to be packing my bags that evening, in preparation for moving to Brighton with Carolyn the next day, but a late chance to use a spare ticket and go to the gig with Lucy & Zoe Armfield (and family) was too good to pass up. This celebratory Rotherbeat gig (one of the last times that phrase was used) was widely reported on locally: I think there's photos and YouTube video clips knocking around, and certainly a review on the East site. In many senses this was the end of an era, not just for myself: the gig was arranged by Pulse Magazine (now defunct); the Redstack closed at the end of that year; Youngplan slowed to a halt not long after (they were a going concern at Christmas when we took part in an East podcast together, but 2008 was a complete non-starter for them); and Mumm-Ra were just starting to dip (this was around the time that Starlight - whose video had also been shot at Redstack - got canned as a single. The band split after a smattering of gigs the following Spring).

As I said, I moved to Brighton that weekend - living first in a house-share with Carolyn & a guy called Simeon in Westbourne Street, Hove, for six months, before Carolyn & I (and my cats, of course) moved here - York Road, Hove - in February 2008. I transferred my Gamleys work to the Brighton Churchill Centre branch, before eventually handing in my notice in September 2008 once I realised I wasn't going to get on very well with go-getting toy chain The Entertainer, who'd purchased the last of the Gamleys stores (Brighton and Maidstone) a month before.
Dizzy Tiger Music Co is still going, just about, at exactly the same low level (a Frontier Telegraph double CD-R came out in 2008, with a rushed compilation On The Town issued in 2009 in time for The Breeders' ATP in Minehead). A 2-track CD-R single by Spirit Of Gravity's Noteherder & McCloud is sitting in my boxes, awaiting a release as soon as I can afford it.
After quitting Gamleys/The Entertainer, I had to sign on in Brighton. All this time I'd been contributing occasional columns and reviews to East, and this actually stepped-up once I'd moved from Hastings to Brighton. East employed me on a very part-time basis late in 2008 as an Editorial Assistant, and in Spring 2009 I started some Sunday hours in another Brighton High Street shop chain. Things are slowly picking up on those scores...
Everything else can pretty much be gleaned from MySpace, Facebook and Twitter now. Funny how none of those social networking sites were really a big thing back in October '05 when I began this Blog. Their present ubiquity explains partly why I don't keep a Blog going nowadays anyway, there's just not really the need to communicate this was as well when so much information about everyone's lives is already out there, and growing.

Anyway... This Dizzy Tiger blog remains open, and at some point I may try picking up the story again from Sep '07. The Brighton Years. Maybe.

See you round and all that,
stu x

2007-06-20T09:31:00.000Z

As I get less & less access to any computers at the moment, this Blog has fallen further & further behind. I think I've got time this morning to try and bring it slightly more up to date, but there's gonna be some vagueness and omissions by now.
In recent years, Alfie has celebrated his birthday by arranging Neil Young Day at Smugglers, but this year he decided to put on a gig at Joogleberry in Brighton on 27th April (a Thursday). I travelled over after work, and met Carolyn at Brighton Station, and we wandered down to get slices of pizza each from outside the Churchill Square shops. We'd got advance tickets, at Alfie's insistence, for the Joogleberry gig, which left us time to get a pint beforehand in some rather posh pub in The Lanes. When we then got to Joogleberry, we found Rumiko Jr dotted about upstairs with various friends from Hastings and Brighton, including Lee, and Paul and his newish girlfriend. We sat and caught up with Lee, chatting about the usual stuff (OMD, 'Doctor Who', his comedy career, etc) until the downstairs part of the venue was open and filling up. This lower floor of Joogleberry is very cosy, all low ceilings and candles, and we grabbed drinks and stood near the back of the venue, as the many tables were all full. There was a band called Sweet Sweet Lies playing first, who had brought a big wodge of the audience with them I think, and who gave a rather mannered performance, in a jaunty way, all cravats and professionalism: this isn't meant to be negatively critical, I just don't remember much else. Alfie had handed Petra's advance ticket to me, so I did some texting and phone calls back and forth, and got her in when she made it down (I kept having to pop up the stairs to answer the phone and send texts to Reuben too, who was eventually unable to make it over, as I think he'd been up in London trying to arrange a University place that day). Alfie's band The Long Goodbye played next, already, by their own admission, a bit worse for wear on birthday drinks. Ben from Leicester was guesting on drums for this gig, and both Josie and Gail had come along from Hastings to add some vocals, so it became one of the typically ragged and open-ended sets that we'd normally see in places like Smugglers, which didn't seem genteel enough for some of the Joogleberry punters (though we grabbed a vacated table), but I really enjoyed it, and was pleased to recognise Jake's chiming guitar intro to 'Changin The Guard' when it came. I also must have been getting drunk, as I was equally as pleased that he resembled John Simm that evening, though this may only have been in my head, as it didn't make as much sense when I told Carolyn and Petra this. Marcus' sister had turned up unexpectedly, which was a good suprise for Rumiko, although Lee didn't get to see so much of their final appearance, as he had to leave and sort out more stuff for his work (the perils of being on call). Once Rumiko were on stage, Paul and his partner came down and joined the rest of us at the table we'd found, whilst Alfie and Robert and the rest of The Long Goodbye watched the band from the posher tables at the far end of the venue (first come, first served). Rumiko played loud and strong, even though one of our corner kept mentioning the phrase 'pub rock', albeit affectionately. We stuck around for drinks a little while longer, and at least Carolyn and Petra were still there when I eventually helped get Rumiko's gear out and into their van, and hitched a sleepy ride back to Hastings with them.
The following day, Rumiko Jr were playing again, this time back down Smugglers, for Jimmy's birthday. My recall for this night is pretty poor, partly 'cos so many people played, and I didn't know who half of them were (and they weren't all much cop). Hayley did a few songs first, with help from Danielle on additional vocals, which was good to hear, though I remember saying that there's an unfortunate gender-divide in the local musicians in our scene, which still seems to dictate that the women stick to acoustic-guitar and folksong, and the men are all amped-up with electric ones, as if it was still 1970 or something. I thought we should set aside a month where everyone is forced to swap instruments for a change just to shatter the cliches a bit (ridiculous and unfair, of course, but as I already said, a lot of the music that was being played this evening really wasn't very good). After some forgotten performances by people I don't know, Jimmy sat astride his drumbox for his other band Superdog, with that guy Adam who'd been doing bluesy stuff in the late days of The Heaters once. Rufus and Bonj also helped out with a few of the songs, but I'm still not much into it. Rumiko played last, and were probably very similar to how they were the previous night, and I'm sure I was very drunk.
Deano actually performed another gig the day after, at dDb Paul's birthday party outside of town, and to make it four-in-a-row, he'd also agreed to play at the inaugral night of open-mic live music at a newish bar in Robertson Street called Frenz Connection. I wandered along and popped my head in the door, and there was some guy playing Stevie Wonder songs on an electric piano there, which didn't seem right, so I went along to the Basement, where I found Deano, Rufus and Reuben just heading along to the bar. We went in and sat at the top of some stairs at the back or the bar, as the same pianist regaled a rapt and packed venue with some Oasis covers too. I think we all realised at once and simultaneously that this wasn't really the sort of gig any of us were gonna enjoy, a fact confirmed by seeing other musicians wandering up and down the stairs with their instruments in one hand, and songbooks in the other. A young and nervous lad tried his hand next with some self-written, emo-ish songs and an electric guitar, and got sarcastically heckled by some guy below us, until he left the stage, whereupon, by a staggering coincidence, the heckler's girlfriend was then up on stage with her band, playing Eva Cassidy songs, telling us about Eva Cassidy's tragic life, playing Cyndi Lauper songs and erroneously crediting them as being written by Eva Cassidy, and generally getting right on my nerves. The crowd (who would appear to have included a lot of relations) loved it, but fortunately Kim had arrived with Leowin, so we just took the piss from our vantage point of bitterness. Once another musician (was it Gendun?) had started playing some very downbeat songs, a handful of the audience drifted away, so we decided to wander down the stairs and sit at the opposite end of a large low table to a couple of women who, upon seeing us approach, glared at us and snatched their mobiles off the table and put them in their bags, so I gave them my most withering Paddington Bear-style Very Hard Stare. Fortunately, the stroppy idiots then fucked off, presumably to get plenty of sleep in readiness for another rewarding day of ripping off pensioners' insurance claims at Pittsville Direkt (this is the only other way I'm gonna shoehorn The Fall into this review, as despite the bar's name including the word 'Frenz' it was clear that this had been chosen as a phonetic reference to the American sitcom, rather than The Fall's song, and certainly the punters were under the illusion that they actually were in Central Perk) . I was really pleased to see the emo-boy have another stab at playing a few more songs, 'cos it was good that he hadn't let the dreadful people from earlier ruin his confidence, and he did seem to have a few ideas of his own in his songs, and then finally it was Deano's turn to rip through some of his songs, though even an acoustic Dean was too much for some of the late-stayers from the Eva Cassidy fanclub, who stood up, pulled a face, and exited the venue with their hands clasped theatrically over their ears. Fair play to the bar staff, who were unfailingly polite, enthusiastic and friendly to us throughout the evening, but I doubt I'll be rushing down there on a Sunday evening again in a hurry.
The next gig we got to was one that Carolyn organised at The Hope in Brighton on Friday 4th May, for her 30th birthday, and which was technically a private party, so by my own self-imposed conditions for this Blog, I won't dwell too long on it here, suffice to say that it was the first time I'd been back to the venue since it's days as The Lift (gigs by Trembling Blue Stars/Fosca; Life Without Buildings - without Sue Tompkins on that occasion/Aerogramme; and Ellen Cherry/The Downs aka Jeff Disastronaut), and it didn't seem to have changed at all. I DJ'd the majority of the evening, Lee did a few minutes of his stand-up routine, Rumiko Jr played another great gig, and Monster Bobby made it along to finish the Djing for the end of the evening. Loads of us stayed at Carolyn's, whilst Rumiko crashed at Petra's, but we met up again outside The Hope the next day to help the band pack their gear away in another hired white van, before coming back over to Hastings again, to prepare for Jack-In-The-Green weekend.
The only actual bit of live music we saw over that weekend was a very sloppy Pugwash appearance in the Pump House on the washout Bank Holiday Monday - although the pub was so busy that we couldn't actually see the group, and had to content ourselves with sitting up the back and round the corner with Oliva and his boyfriend, Caroline and Carolyn's Brighton friends, until we realised we'd be better off hitting The FILO instead. Despite the rain, the typically large amounts of alcohol ensured that our visitors had some pleasant Jack-In-The-Green memories anyway.
Dean had a Le Pattie Cafe session the next day, but the rain was continuing to come down heavily, so in the end there was just him, Matt, Michael & Caroline and myself in the bar. We kept the beer and crisps going steadily, and both Dean and Matt just sat at the end of our table and played whatever songs we or the bar staff asked for. Evenutally, we all just chatted, and talk turned to the current state of the local music scene, and we made some decisions to try and pull a few ideas together down the Basement the next day (which we did, which co-incided with a trip I took out to Eastbourne earlier that Wednesday afternoon, to discuss writing for East Magazine with Adam and his cousin Ruth-Ellen).
Trying to get various things pulled together for East took up a fair bit of my time over the next couple of weeks, so the next time I saw any live music was a random appearance by Colonel Mustard at The FILO on Thursday 24th May, the beginning of another Bank Holiday weekend, although I'd actually gone along 'cos it was Tim Hoyte's birthday, so we spent most of the evening in the beer garden instead. The following day, however, both Rumiko Jr and Regular John had a gig at The Carlisle, which co-incided with the publication of East's 'Top 25 Bands' issue, which I'd contributed to, as well as writing a column on the Hastings scene, so I was a bit nervous about how that would go down with the various musician friends of ours, who had either got into the magazine, or, worse, hadn't. The people who saw it at the gig that night, including Billy (who made the cut with both Gorilla and Cloudesley Shovell), the Ch3vy duo, Southernwood, Rumiko and the 'John, were nice enough about it, although there was some suprise that Regular John didn't make the Top 25, and once again their gig that evening proved that, in reality, they're actually up in the area's Top 2... The usual Carlisle punters generally hung back and let Rumiko and the 'John's mates take-over the main part of the downstairs bar, which was good as this was one of those occasional nights when just about everyone seemed to have come along for the gig. Both bands played strongly again, and we hung around for ages afterwards, before pulling together to lug all the gear back along the seafront to the Basement for more beer. Matt thought I'd been avoiding him all evening, which was a bit weird, unless I'd been unconciously ashamed that I'd not succeeded in getting them higher up in the East article after all. A few Myspace bulletins fired-off by Bonj over subsequent weeks certainly showed no love lost towards East on Regular John's part. Gah, you can't please everyone!
Later in the weekend, I went over to see Carolyn in Brighton, and on the Bank Holiday Monday we went into the city centre as Mumm-Ra's album came out that day, and they were launching it with an instore at Resident Records in North Laine. As in NORTH LAINE. Not 'The North Laines', you illiterate DFL's (I'm looking at you and your boyfriend, Julie Burchill). We popped into the jewellry shop and caught up with Laura for the first time in months, which was quite emotional, especially when I went to hug her goodbye, and the radio in the background, which I'd barely noticed, suddenly swelled up with the crescendo of 'Bridge Over Troubled Water', which was funny. Carolyn and I then checked with Resident what the deal with the instore was, and were told that although they'd given away all their reserve tickets, we should turn up just before the advertised time and they'd try and get everyone in if possible (again, it was still raining, as it did throughout May, so there was an expectation that not all the reservations would be taken up). We went a little further up Kensington Gardens and got some food in a pub, where we were joined by Alfie, Robert and Jake, and a couple of Carolyn's friends. After several drinks, the lot of us went back down the street and into Resident, where I decided I might as well pick up the album anyway, and got given a poster too. The staff were setting up mic-stands in front of the counter, and then came around checking people's tickets. As we didn't have any, and despite Alfie's assertion that he "knew the band" ('cos that always works!), we had to wait outside with a handful of other stragglers, including some European and Japanese students who'd got wind of it somehow, while they did a head-count. Fortunately, we all then got counted back in and out of the rain, and squashed ourselves up at the back of the shop, and Noo got up to do 'Light Up This Room' acoustically, then gradually was joined by other members of the band for a short, off-the-cuff set of songs from the new album, and one or two B-sides too. The members of Mumm-Ra who couldn't fit in front of the counter stood behind it instead, and possibly drummed their hands along on the worksurface or something. After half-a-dozen songs the band were ready to conclude, but there was encore shouts, so they said they'd take requests. I punted for 'Without You' (on the off-chance that Alfie would suddenly produce a harmonica from his pocket and play along, as he'd apparently done with them at the Black Horse Festival one year - an event we were currently missing by being in Brighton), but someone else got their shout for 'What Would Steve Do?' played instead, which was fair enough, before the band started a signing-session. Reuben had texted to see if I'd get him a copy of the album and get it signed, but I'm not really one for meet & greets, so I didn't bother, although Alfie went up and had a quick congratulatory chat. Instead, we all went up to the Prince Albert for a few more drinks, before it really was time for me to get back home to Hastings on the train, which left me just enough time to run full-pelt along to The FILO to join Michael & Caroline, Jamie and a mate of his, and Reuben and Muz (the latter also just back, from Manchester's 'Strummercamp' event) there.
The following weekend, Carolyn and I had booked tickets for one of Throbbing Gristle's 'The Desertshore Installation' at the ICA. These 'Public Recording Sessions' involved the group recording a full-length cover of Nico's album 'Desertshore' (which I've not heard) in front of an audience, at six two-hour sessions over the weekend of 1st-3rd June. Our tickets were for the final recording block, so we travelled up on the train on the Sunday, getting off early at London Bridge Station in order to take in some sightseeing before the ICA. It was a glorious sunny day, for a change, and we weaved amongst the crowds on the South Bank of the Thames, past many of the locations (whether real or faked) of the current series of 'Doctor Who', which I was pleased by, including Southwark Cathedral and The Globe theatre. We also discovered The Clink prison, the Golden Hinde moored in a dock, and the ruin of Winchester Abbey (was it?), not all of which were genuine, of course. Reaching Tate Modern for the first time, we popped inside and headed for the Turbine Hall, but this was between installations (in fact, Throbbing Gristle had played there the previous weekend to accompany some Derek Jarman Super-8 films, as part of the Tate's Long Weekend event: we'd also found out the previous evening, at my Uncle's suprise 60th birthday meal, that my sister-in-law Emma had been along to that event in order to catch part of a projection of Warhol's lengthy film 'Sleep') so there was nothing other than a big empty room full of wandering sightseers there. So we pressed onwards, past the Royal Festival Hall etc, then over the river beside the railway line into Charing Cross, and over The Strand into Trafalgar Square. Having indicated to Carolyn the location of Admiralty Arch, beyond which the ICA sat beside The Mall, we found an Irish pub in William IV Street that not only sold real ale, including Harveys, but knew how to keep and serve it too, which was unexpected (I've banged-on about this in a previous Blog entry, the last time we were in London for a TG-related event). After relaxing there, we headed-out to grab sandwiches from a nearby foodstore, and sat in St Martin's Place to eat them. Carolyn's roll had a bit of mould on the salad, but we threw that bit away and ate them anyway. Then we made our way through the brilliant sunshine into The Mall, and located the ICA easily enough, with the help of a printout Carolyn had made. We milled about in it's bookshop until our tickets were checked, then waited beside its cafe with the rest of the punters and, briefly, Peter Christopherson, until the Theatre part of the venue was opened. We sat halfway up on the seating that resembled a lecture theatre, whilst Throbbing Gristle prepared their equipment on the stage, upon which a temporary recording studio (vocal booth, table of snacks & a kettle, etc) had been built. With the aid of a radio-mic, Christopherson played master-of-ceremonies, explaining the group's intentions and working methods for the weekend, recapping what they'd achieved in the previous sessions, and indicating what remained for them to attempt in this final session. He and Cosey Fanni Tutti were seated behind tables to the left of the stage as we faced it, whilst Chris Carter crossed back & forth to a position on the right, and Genesis Breyer P-Orridge moved between the vocal booth at the rear, and a stool at the front, from where she could play additional instruments. The method generally involved playback of Nico's original vocals, which had been previously extracted from the Desertshore album, to which TG would work up a new musical background (largely electronic, though also with Cosey's cornet or guitar, or Genesis' bass or violin), whilst Genesis familiarised herself with the songs, until eventually Nico's disembodied lines would be mixed-down so that Genesis could perform the vocals in her place. Occasionally, the group would stop and listen to playbacks of other pieces they'd recorded over the weekend's sessions, or they would stop and discuss (amongst themselves, and also via Christopherson the audience) where to take the session next. After an hour there was a 'teabreak' and a chance to stretch one's legs with a trip to the cafe's bar, the toilets, or to have a browse at a merchandise table by the door, which is what I did. There followed a second hour of recordings and playbacks, as we sat there and relaxed in the warm darkness of the auditorium, listening to the music and occasionally watching the live-projection on an overhanging screen that one of two photographers was filming of the group at work onstage. Afterwards, the group came and sat stagefront, and invited the audience to come down and discuss the sessions with them, although Carolyn & I decided just to take our free posters and head out into the fresh air to get some food. In a Tesco Express (irony!) off Trafalgar Square, we bought snacks, and I recieved a phone call from a guy setting up a forum online for East Magazine, but as I couldn't hear him over the noise of the traffic (and what happened to the dreaded 'bendy' buses? All I saw were Routemasters still) I couldn't really have a coherent conversation at the time. We went back over the road and into Charing Cross Station, where we had a little while to wait for the train, so we grabbed heart-stoppingly unhealthy double cheese & bacon-burgers from the Burger King there, and ate them on the train before it pulled-out. Kim rang me to see if we were out in Hastings that evenin, and turned out to be on his way towards Charing Cross to get the train home himself, although ours left before he arrived. Back in Hastings, we went quickly via my house (getting my laundry in) to The FILO for the quiz, with loads of our friends including (he made it...) Kim. And we won! Kind-of.
Carolyn stuck around for a few days, and on the Tuesday we went along to Le Pattie Cafe again to see Dean play, and generally to begin celebrating my birthday. Michael and Caroline, Kim, Reuben, Jamie, Wookie, Ollie and Danielle (amongst others) were all out with us (half of whom had been at the quiz too), and for some reason almost everyone was taking photographs that evening, of Dean, us lot, or each other. Dean asked if I had a request, so I got him to play 'Wave Of Mutilation', as I'd seen Rumiko trying to rehearse it down the Basement a couple of months before. I drank a lot, and got Kim to do a couple of songs after Deano's two sets, which included a very brief birthday song he made up on the spot about me, which was probably not complimentary, as usual! So that was nice.
The next day was my actual birthday, and Carolyn & I went back over to Brighton, as there was a chance to catch up with some of my Brighton friends at a gig at a bar called Zuma in Seven Dials. That evening, we went and collected some of Carolyn's friends, and made our way up to the bar, where we met Lee, Chris (who was playing) and more of Carolyn's friends, who'd been swung into coming along 'cos Britch was playing too. First, though, was Bela Emerson doing her cello & loops things, which held my attention less than the previous time I'd seen her, mainly I think 'cos I was chatting about birthday stuff, but also 'cos Zuma didn't appear to be set-up for live music (in fact I got the impression they book live music there in much the same way as they hang artworks on the walls, or serve particular drinks, ie: as an upmarket feature, without bothering with the logistics of sight-lines and acoustics). I hadn't seen any of Stuart Flynn's incarnations as either Britch or The Dirty Cakes before, and despite all the recommendations from Carolyn's friends, Chris etc, I was rather underwhelmed, but again the venue didn't help, as Britch was performing on a stool along to pre-recorded musics, and I just couldn't hear him. Chris played last in his guise as Same Actor, looping and fragmenting his sitar and acoustic guitar, and from what I could hear he was playing interesting pieces, but by this point I was also just chatting with Geoff from Spirit Of Gravity, amongst other people, so my attention wasn't all there. Afterwards, we said goodbye to some people, then a few of us walked each other back to their various houses or onto the night bus, and Carolyn and I made drunken decisions to purchase kebabs to have with more drink back at her place, yum!
Back in Hastings later in the week, and it was Michael's turn to celebrate his birthday, this time with a Rumiko Jr gig at Smugglers on the Saturday. Although there were quite a lot of our friends there, the pub felt unusually unattended that night. Even though the band played two excellent sets, there was a weird atmosphere (I had similar reports the next day from people who'd gone to the Brass Monkey where Reuben was DJing after Smugglers), and I got drunk very quickly, so can't remember quite which conversations I had with whom, but someone did ask whether I was still gonna be writing this Blog, and I said I would try to whenever I got the time to catch up with it - and as I've had time today, here you are.

2007-04-16T17:55:00.000Z

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!

2007-03-21T14:18:00.000Z

I finally got a full week off work last week, but various social commitments kept me from catching too much live music. At the start of my holiday, I was in Bexhill on the Saturday night, for Sarah-Jane's thirtieth birthday party at The Harp pub. She'd booked a live band called Rumboogie to play, and I'm only mentioning this because at least one of the three guys in the band was at school with us, and had been playing in pub-blues-rock groups even then (it was Nik Le Saux - was he in Full Frontal Nudity? PJ Blue & The Players? I can't really remember who was who by now...), and fifteen years of playing blues-rock meant that at least his current group were very tight and very good at what they do (Ok, no-one except Hendrix is ever gonna be able to justice to Jimi Hendrix Experience songs, but they made an excellent stab at more-coverable songs like 'Baby Please Don't Go'). I congratulated Nik afterwards, but I don't think he recognised me by now, so that's about that! Because of this night, I missed Deano playing at the Eat@ cafe; and I subsequently missed his Le Pattie Cafe booking the following Tuesday by being in Brighton, where the closest I came to any relevant musical experiences was seeing Rachel Fisher's drag-king band Hotfrollicks get a full-page feature in that day's Argus newspaper (I'd imagine the photos are on or near her Myspace). I found out later in the week that the Pattie Cafe pulled Dean's gig quite late, and he'd ended up entertaining would-be punters (ie. our friends) with some songs in their Music Xchange shop instead - sounded fun, if awkward. I finally caught up properly with some live music again on the Sunday afternoon, at the end of my week's holiday, back in Hastings, when at the last minute I decided to go along to The Hastings Arms to catch a bit of a fundraiser for Giles' forthcoming sponsored run across the Sahara Desert. When I arrived, Dean was on his first song, and I got a pint off Katherine and sat a table next to the one seating Rufus, Danielle and, um, someone who's name I couldn't remember to be honest. Now, I had promised I'd try and take more notice of what songs Dean and Rufus are playing at the moment (and I only actually had one pint - I couldn't afford more), but aside from a handful of familiar covers ('We're Going To Be Friends', 'Get Up Jake', Blister In The Sun' in Dean's case; 'Higher And Higher' in Rufus', though he may have done others) almost the whole of Dean's current set, and around half of Rufus', is made up of unreleased songs that I don't know the titles to. What with not having a copy of the unreleased 2nd Rumiko album for reference (I taped Michael's copy and lent it to Gill at work, and I think she assumed I'd given her the tape - it's difficult to ask for things back in those situations), and the 3rd one still undergoing recording (see below) I'm lacking in titles to apply to the tunes. Rufus did play several from his, also, I think, unreleased, album, but my copy of that is at home, and I'm currently in the library typing this. Journalism, eh? Anyhow, when Rufus played, I joined Dean & Danielle at their table, and people like Billy and Reuben (and their friends who I'd not met) arrived and said Hi. Both Dean and Rufus went down brilliantly with the Hastings Arms' Sunday drinkers, though once Rufus had knocked it on the head they said they were off to rehearse down the Basement, if I wanted to join them. First, though, I popped back home and re-opened a bottle of white wine that Carolyn & I had started the night before, and I drank a bit of that and watched one of several Doctor Who videos I'd picked-up that week in Old & Gold in Bexhill. After that, I wandered along to the Basement with the remainder of the wine, and sat in the control room (is that what they term it?) while the full Rumiko line-up played through some new songs for the new album, and Rufus used his remote-control to point into the room occasionally to record live takes (I think this is how the 3rd album is being put together, more from live takes than built-up multitrack recordings). as well as losing my tape copy of their 2nd album, I recently lost my CD-R of their Myspace tracks from last Spring (that I'd received from them at ATP) during the process of Rufus' mastering of the (hey, unreleased!) new Dizzy Tiger compilation album. In my slightly drunked state I thought I'd spotted my lost CD-R under a desk in the corner of the room, and after scrutinising the scratchy disc, and umming and ahing for a while, I convinced myself that it had to be the lost disc, so I took it home (or, in another sense, stole it) afterwards, whereupon I put it in my cd-player, and, lo & behold, the display lit-up with it containing 3 tracks, the first of which was indeed 'Some Days', in the Myspace version. I was relieved that I'd picked up the right disc, but then it reached tracks 2 and 3, and rather than containing 'Carve My Way' and 'Mountain Song', it held a few seconds of glitch, followed by 'Keep It Going On', so I had to return to the shop at the earliest opportunity (this morning, in fact) and shamefacedly 'fess-up to Rufus that I'd secretly grabbed the wrong disc (which, to be vaguely fair, he'd lost in the first place). In conclusion, I'd suggest searching my pockets whenever I leave a recording studio, or maybe just not letting me in if I've been drinking... What an undignified end to the week. Apologies all, I'm usually much more honest.

2007-03-07T09:48:00.000Z

Last Tuesday evening I was getting ready to go to Le Pattie Cafe (well, not so much getting ready, more navigating through a dvd of 'The Invasion' that Lee had given me in Brighton at the weekend; looking for Easter Eggs, and finding none), when Reuben rang, and popped round, to pick up a complete set of Mumm-Ra 7"s that I'd picked up for him while I was in Brighton (yellow and orange vinyl 'What Would Steve Do?' singles from Virgin - where I'd also bought my own copies earlier, brown vinyl 'Out Of The Question' from Borderline, and possibly Brighton's last pink vinyl copy of the same from Rounder). We listened to a little bit of the cd single I had, and Reu agreed that their song 'Without You' could well be Rumiko Jr-inspired - he had already heard it on a solo CD-R Noo had given him once (incidentally, if anyone wants to lend me their old Mumm-Ra et al CD-R demos, I'd quite like to tape them, ta). So, we then went outside and picked up Jimmy in George Street, and went along to Le Pattie Cafe. I had a quick chat about pictures for Create/South with Alice, who was sitting in journalism-corner with Rufus and some of their friends, then sat to watch Dean and Jim do their first set, alongside Reuben, Wookie, Leowin, Jimmy and his girlfriend. Michael and Caroline arrived, as did Kim and Jamie. I gave Kim my 2nd (of 2) demo CD-R of the almost-ready Dizzy Tiger compilation, and passed the actual Rufus-mastered CD-R on to Alice to assist with her article. After Dean and Jim had run through some of their songs, they handed over to young Nathan, and I'm afraid to say that his subtle, low-voiced songs got rather drowned-out by our table doing that whole "Do you remember [Insert old children's TV programme here]?" conversation (kicked into life 'cos Danielle had got Dean to pass on to me a couple of Cartoon Network compilation DVDs - Johnny Bravo, Powerpuff Girls etc - which turned out to have been the background to Reuben's childhood, so I gave them to him instead). Rufus took a break from being interviewed (or whatever they were doing) to play some of his songs next, whilst we continued not really to pay attention, by chatting admiringly about Spider Webb from The Horrors' hair (as pictured in their NME album review that Reuben had brought along for Jimmy and his partner). As usual, Dean and Jim finished off the evening with another smart set of Rumiko Jr songs and covers, and the rest of us carried on downing Stella. I guess I got home safely afterwards, but I don't exactly recall. Hopefully next time I write about Le Pattie Cafe, I'll have remembered more about what music was actually played, and less about the peripheral details of cartoons, coloured vinyl and haircuts, but I can't promise.

2007-02-22T12:33:00.000Z

Just a very short entry: Blogger have shifted all their accounts over to Google-mail, which is hellishly slow on broadband, and nigh on impossible to access on dial-up, so again I may have to lay off the Blog soon. All I've been up to really in the meantime was go out last week to Le Pattie Cafe on Tuesday evening, to see Dean and Jim play another couple of sets of great new songs (I missed the following week's actual Rumiko Jr gig at Brass Monkey, where some of these new tunes were promised, partly 'cos of the entry fee, but mainly 'cos we'd gone along to see Kim and Liam's installation at Bar Blue instead - see below). Carolyn came over and went to Pattie Cafe with me, we met Michael and Caroline there, and Kim sat with us too. I had the impression all evening that Kim was on good form, but I gather he may have been a bit different towards some of our lot when I was out of earshot, naughty sod. Jamie, Wookie and Ollie were at one table; Lily, Christa, Alice and some othere were at the next (taking photos); one table down from us were Helen, Jo and Sally; and Danielle stayed down the front near Deano. Mainly we all just drank and chatted and ate bar snacks (I think we may have worked our way through the entire bar-snack menu, of nuts, nachos, and huge salty olives, during the course of the evening), and as I was facing away from Dean and Jim, not a lot of their performance sank in (in retrospect, I ought to have paid them some closer attention). I tried chatting to Christa briefly, but she was more interested in listening to the music, so I left-off there, and soon Paul had come and collected her anyway. It was nice that everyone in the venue knew each other though, and after some last-minute drinks (for those of us who reached the bar in time for last orders, at least: there was some confusion over this), everyone disappeared quite quick to get on with whatever it was they were planning on doing (preparing for Valentine's Day the next day, if they were lucky). I chatted quickly to Alice about her forthcoming Create/South article, ideas for accompanying pictures, etc, but that was about it.
The aforementioned installation at Bar Blue the following Tuesday was titled Escalate, and featured various items that belonged to Rockabilly Liam (toy cars, bits of musical instruments, junked cassettes etc), which he'd unsuccessfully offered for sale previously on Ebay, apparently, and that Kim had arranged in piles of orange-painted crates, with one corner made up of back-lit gutted wirelesses. Kim's biography from the Saachi website had been printed-off and displayed along one wall, and attendees were free to rummage through the boxes, play with different items, and possibly attempt to purchase them off Kim (Liam was absent for the evening). I'd gone along with Caroline, and when we arrived Wookie was Djing. Reuben came along, as he was DJing too that evening (as was Kim's friend Dave), and we were joined by the backroom installation by Xanten, Leofwin, Jamie, Helen and Ollie (at different times, and in different stages of sobriety). At one point, Kim stopped Dave's DJing in order to plug some Casio or Yamaha keyboard in, for an arpeggiated version of 'Chicken In A Box' (which Dave then tempo-matched on the decks with The Normal's 'TVOD', which may help you imagine Kim's performance). Good on Dave, he even played The Fall later on, and eschewed any obvious, vaguely crowd-pleasing tunes in favour of 'The NWRA'. Kim did the electro to Kraftwerk's 'Pocket Calculator', and I surreptitously filmed him doing so on my phone. Ollie had already had a spin round the bar in Liam's large plastic toy car, and I then did the same for Xanten, but I don't think even she was light enough not to give it some engine trouble. Jamie chatted about his recent discovery that the band Killing Moon, who he had been a member of a couple of years back at the University of Kent, had now become minor chart-contenders Battle, and shed some unofficial light on the coincidence of their name to our nearby Keane-spawning village. And, as you would be, he was only mildly put-out that he'd failed to stick with the band long enough to share in their Top 40 hits (I took his chart research on trust, 'cos I didn't bother to research exactly how high any of Battle's singles have charted over the last eighteen months or so). No-one who was down Bar Blue with us seemed too enthusiastic about heading into town afterwards to see Rumiko Jr playing, but only 'cos the tickets (for the whole afternoon & evening's Mardi Gras events in Frenchs and the Brass Monkey) were a prohibitive £7.50, so we all stuck to our St Leonards bar until time was called, before getting ourselves home again (where, I found out the next day, I fell asleep on the toilet, and had to be woken up by one unfortunate housemate). From the texts and posts I read the next day from various band members, it did look like Mardi Gras was a bit of a washout in the end (certainly the persistent rain and fog that cold Tuesday night can't have helped either). So, for a change, art won the day.

2007-02-07T14:56:00.000Z

Alfie had flagged-up on our Message Boards http://dizzytigerstu.proboards58.com that Mumm-Ra had a gig at The Gloucester in Brighton at the end of Januray, as one of three low-key warm-up gigs for the forthcoming NME tour (upon which they'd be opening a bill otherwise consisting of The Automatic, The Horrors and The View, hmm). When the day (Thursday 25th) came, Alfie couldn't make it in the end, but I'd arranged to go straight over to Brighton from work and catch up with some more of our friends anyway. There had been a tiny amount of snow around on the Wednesday morning, and some of this had remained into the Thursday, but the train journey from Bexhill to Brighton was in the drakness of the January evening, so I could see nothing out the carriage windows, and when I reached Brighton there was nothing on the ground. I rang Carolyn when I got off at Brighton Station, and walked down Queens Road, to catch up with her in Borders by the Churchill Shopping Centre. My energy had been flagging when we met, so I grabbed a thick rectangle of hot pizza from a nearby stall, and we made our way via North Laine to the Battle Of Trafalgar, for a pint and a chat. Reuben had been texting to arrange coming over from Hastings too, and Carolyn was fielding messages from Lee and Charlie too, who were the first to find us there. The four of us went along to The Brighton Gloucester, as it turned out to be called, and met Lucy and her cousin Charlotte outside, where we waited in the cold for longer than we wished, feeling a little elderly and out of place compared to the Brighton sixth-form (they probably don't even have sixth-forms nowadays...) students also awaiting entry. The Gloucester turned out to be a cheap and charming venue, rather like Hastings Crypt, but roomier, slightly plusher, and with more angles, walkways and levels, all deep red and curtainy. We found a table and some drinks near the back, and discovered that Mumm-Ra were to be supported by Youngplan, who we'd only recently read about in the Hastings Observer, and a group called Restlesslist. The latter struck-up very shortly afterwards on stage, so we moved all our stuff down towards the front to watch: they turned out to be a pair of scarved Brighton lads (at the University possibly?) playing short, fun, instrumentals on guitars, keyboards, samplers and the like, a post-Go!Team outfit. They gave off the impression of this being their first gig, though there were cheap photocopied flyers scattered about promising a forthcoming single, so maybe they were merely self-deprecatingly shambolic. Reuben and Muz arrived from Hastings, as, unexpectedly, did Del, who'd decided to make the trip on his own. It was only us Hastings residents who had seen Mumm-Ra play before: the last gig all of us had seen them play was an unannounced, post-signing spot one summer Sunday afternoon at Frenchs bar in Hastings, the occasion of Reuben's 18th birthday, I recall. We were all quite curious to see Youngplan too, 'cos they'd fallen on their feet locally with some good reviews, partly helped by the members past-form in a number of regularly-gigging young Hastings bands. I was aware, also, that the Hastings Observer due out at the end of the following week was due to feature an article on both Youngplan and Mumm-Ra, pegging them both as part of an emergent (but clearly made-up) scene called, variously, Rovverbeat or Rotherbeat: terms that I'd initially assumed were invented by the local paper's correspondent Richard Morris, as he'd used them first in his Youngplan review, and then again in an email to me, promising to fit a few words on the forthcoming Dizzy Tiger compilation album in the same edition. (When that copy of the paper came out, on Friday 2nd Feb, it transpired that Rich must've been at the same gig, 'cos a review of it, more accurate than I'm gonna manage here, formed a large part of the article - I was unaware of this at the time.) Anyway, turned out that the paper's comparison of Youngplan to Futureheads (had any of the groups been at Futureheads barnstorming Crypt gig a few years back, alongside Del and I?) wasn't far off the mark, though I detected Maximo Park as a stronger influence, though we were suprised to see three professional photographers appear to the front and right of the stage, snapping away throughout Youngplan's set. The lightbulb of realisation went on in my head then, that there was some kind of management/publicity framework already in place for Youngplan, and that the Rotherbeat creation was going to be part of an attempt at selling a local scene to the national media. (This supposition was given more weight when I studied the copy of Good Meaure Magazine - aka GM! - that I'd picked up at the gig, and saw Mumm-Ra, Youngplan, and even our old mucker Adam from East Magzine, modelling and being interviewed throughout.) The Gloucester had filled-up with kids by this point, many of whom were down front watching the bands, others I'm sure just taking advantage of the seriously cheap drinks, and waiting for a dancefloor snogging moment to come along. Mumm-Ra took to the stage bolstered by Youngplan's Dale (on guitar & vocals) and, now, four professional photographers. Noo cheerily admitted to having them only just having invented Rotherbeat, and I shouted up that people could pretty much Read All About It in next week's Hastings Observer, if anyone was listening. The band whooshed through their now largely-familiar set of singles ('What Would Steve Do?', 'Song B', 'Out Of The Question', that one that came free with the NME, etc) along with presently-unreleased songs like 'She Got You High;', which we all remembered from the Frenchs gig. What Mumm-Ra have lost in ramshackle, sitar-embellished, somewhat prog-seriousness (as in every gig we saw them play prior to Frenchs, eg at The Crypt, The Ypresstock festival, various Smugglers gigs) they've made up for in a technicolour conciseness and abundance of tunes (for a taster of the 'old' Mumm-Ra, I could point you in the direction of the Basement studio back in Hastings, which still appeared to have a few copies of the Tsunami Appeal cd album knocking about - proceeds to the Disasters Emergency Committee - that featured Mumm-Ra alongside Del's Burn Burn Burn, and several other Hastings artists). They went down superbly with the crowd, but it didn't seem too long before the lights were back up and the following Indie Club night was beginning, at which point we all headed outside and scattered onto various nightbuses Westwards, and Mumm-Ra (by their onstage admission) went back to Behill to mark the 6th anniversary of their debut gig, up in the cold night on Galley Hill in Bexhill. The next morning, on the train back to Bexhill, I was able now to see the vast tracts of snow that had clung onto the North side of the South Downs, between Lewes and Eastbourne. As an Old Man, I can only say that those Mumm-Ra boys must've caught their death of cold.
A couple of days later, and I was back down the aforementioned Smugglers, this time to help celebrate our friend Xanten's birthday. She'd arranged with Ewen for Cloudesley Shovell to play, and so Billy, Louis and John were all soundchecking when I arrived. Aside from Xanten and her housemate, we were also jined by Jamie, Reuben and Wookie, whilst Marcus turned up and sat with Matt and his partner. I think I very breifly saw Rufus appear with Alice and some others, but they must've headed off elsewhere, 'cos I couldn't find them later. Meanwhile, Christa was stationed up the back with Paul and some of their friends, collaring me for the odd kiss as I passed to and from the toilets. Cloudesely Shovell powered through their denim-rock, stomping all over the line between taking the actual music very seriously, but taking the piss out of themselves and their mates relentlessly. A special treat had been word-of-mouth advertised for the evening, namely the debut gig of that Dickensian waif, 'Little' Jimmy (where Cloudesley Shovell hark back sartorailly to the 1970's, Jimmy actually harks back to the 1870's...). Things looked a bit dicey when a guy wandered into the bar (and, yes, he did have a Borat moustache, and responded to shouts of Bohemian Rhapsody!" by muttering a few lines from 'I Wan To Break Free') and wouldn't walk away from the microphone, until Ewen intervened (there had been some suspicion that this guy was gonna be some comical birthday stripogram-style treat for Xanten, but he was actually just a bit random). Thereupon, Jimmy plugged in his electric, requested "A bit of volume" and, brilliantly, howled through a non-stop 20 minute set of Mary Chain feedback and yelping at top speed. There was a bunch of rather long faces at the bar, and some very stupid grins from the rest of us down the front: and Marcus' assertion that Jimmy just might be the "new Dean" only took a battering if you conveniently ignored the fact that, even before The Ital Jets, Dean was a total teenage metaller. I dunno whether we'll ever see Jimmy onstage at Smugglers again after that, but, Jesus, he needs to be pushed back onstage again at as many other venues in the town as we can find, as soon and as often as possible, the feisty little fucker. After that interlude, Cloudesley Shovell's second set of thrilling stoner-boogie ("And this song's called 'Robot Colossus'...") was as a fair balm to soothe the ears. We'd agreed (also on the Boards) to Indie Stu that we were gonna go round to the Brass Monkey, to catch Tim Hoyte supporting the excellent I Am Kloot, but (possibly 'cos Kloot was down from Manchester?) a few texts, and a trip round the corner by Marcus, established that the Monkey had opened earlier than usual, and we'd missed them, so we stayed getting trolleyed in Smugglers instead. Happy Birthday, Xanten! God bless us, every one!

2007-01-24T20:37:00.000Z

I'd only had a momentary breathing-space after the New Year's visitors and obligations, with the only live-music being accidentally catching the Sundog blues band at Smugglers between Marcus and Rufus' birthdays (Saturday 6th Jan, in fact), before Paula came up from the Isles Of Scilly for a weekend. I'd met her down the FILO on the following Thursday, after which she stayed at Michael & Caroline's, before heading off to rendezvous with Lee in Brighton the next day. We'd planned that I'd catch up with everyone over there later in the day too, so after work I ran and got an early train straight through to Brighton, where I hung about by WHSmiths on Brighton Station concourse until Carolyn arrived. I know I tend to always look like I'm trying to get picked-up when I'm waiting for someone, and sure enough a really sweet young guy came up and made a shy attempt at hitting on me by asking me where Queens Road was. At first I thought he was genuinely lost, and it wasn't until I saw the embarrassed disappointment on his face that I realised my helpful directions ("Um, isn't that the road right outside?") weren't the answer he was looking for. Shortly after, Carolyn arrived, and we grabbed baguettes from the Station shop, and walked down towards the Corn Exchage, where we'd be meeting Paula, along with Lee an Linda, at a ig. We bumped into a couple of Carolyn's friends, and went for a quick drink with them at the Mash Tun, which was a bit overwhelming intially 'cos we went and sat upstairs, right next to a bunch of football hooligans (they reckoned), who all appeared to be called Dave (as in "Who wanted Guinness?" "It was Dave" "No, not me, that Dave" "No, mate, DAVE!" etc). As I was clearly a bit stressed, we went back downstairs, which was still busy, but less threatening, and this is where Paula popped her head in and said Hello. Carolyn and I moved on into the Corn Exchange, and went straight inside to find Paula, Lee and Linda already seated. Last time I'd been to this venue was with Carrie to see Yo La Tengo, which was a standing gig, where we bumped into Miles and Richard too. The fact that we were seated now got my hackles up a bit, and it took a while for my resentment towards the gig to die down. We had gone along to the first date on the O Degrees Of Separation tour: promoted as a package-tour of Vetiver, Adem, Vashti Bunyan and Juana Molina, with an amount of collaboration promised. It turned out that the entire troupe of performers took to the stage from the off, performing one of the few Vetiver songs I'd actually heard. The dozen or so musicians all stayed onstage for a while, taking turns to perform their own or each other's songs, before beginning to splinter off into smaller combinations of groups, depending on the demands of each particular song. The first half of the set was a bit too soporific for me, and I had to concentrate on not just dozing off for the sake of it, pretty as Vetiver's and Vashti Bunyan's tunes were. The couple in front of me were quite busy kissing, while a man to their left was indeed stroking his beard. I only really took notice when, after a full-group crescendo through one of Juana Molina's songs, she performed some of her music solo, building up layers of voice, guitar and rhythm loops, and adding keyboard sounds straight off the second OMD album over the top. Her music (she took another near-solo turn later on) was the highlight of the evening for me, and I noted that her contributions to the ensemble performances weren't as seamlessly fitted-in as the other musicians, as if she'd not found a way to contribute to the overall sound, and was more comfortable with creating her noise alone. There was a lengthy intermission, enough time to get one beer down us, but not two (as I found when I got out of my seat and the bar was shut), before a second-half that was really more of the same, though with a handful more songs I recognised (I think I've possibly only every heard one or two songs each by any of the contributors before). Adem adapted the end of a children's story to the solo accompaniment of some rainbow-coloured handbells; while Vetiver picked-up the tempo somewhat with some dynamic full-band (there seems to be quite a few of them in the group anyway) numbers. The second-half really seemed to be geared towards Vashti Bunyan though, who was clearly having a lovely time up there, playing recently-written songs, as well as many from her initial period in the limelight, back (as you probably know) in the Sixties. The crowd optimistically stomped for an encore, and sure enough, the whole bunch made it back onstage one more time for a joyous run-through Bunyan's 1965 Jagger/Richards 7" (it's on Decca, I checked) 'Some Things Just Stick In Your Mind'. Paula, who's idea going to the gig had been, was made-up, and I'd ended-up enjoying myself more than I expected too, and after a few false starts (too crowded, too noisy, too cold...) we all found a quiet pub near the railway station for a drink and a catch-up, before Paula and I got the last train back to Hastings.
The following day, I left breakfast outside Paula's door upstairs before heading off to work, and at some point she went off to see her parents in Eastbourne for the weekend. That evening, I'd decided to go to Tom Waits Day (Simon Shaw's birthday) at Smugglers, as I'd done last year (see this Blog, um, about a year ago). Before I went there, I popped round Emma's to pick up some stuff I'd lent her, and she told me I'd see Sacha drumming down Smugglers later on, which I did, and very friendly and enthusiastic he was too. It was a real Hastings all-star line-up of musicians down Smugglers that night: the main band involving contributions from Simon (of course) alongside Lianne Carroll, Harvey Summers, Liam Genockey, Jem Turpin, Colin Gibson and John Ballard, all of whom (bar, I think, Liam Genockey and our Harvey) took turns on vocals for a few of the Tom Waits covers. Other friends of ourse performed, including Logan Wilson and Alfie, but generally the evening belonged to the people mentioned above, with a brief bit of singing, between shifts at the bar, for Donna Terenzi. I'd tell you who was there, but really, just about everyone was there! What a fuckin' beauty. Eventually, as the band started-up on 'Heart-Attack and Vine' (ie: only just beginning to play the few Tom Waits songs I know), I had to knock the evening on the head, having spent the whole time drinking and enthusing about what a great place we live in for music (I mean, you've got your BBC Jazz award-winners onstage - ie the top-end of a spit 'n' sawdust pub - with guys from back-in-the-day groups like Steeleye Span and Skip Bifferty, alongside surviving musicians from our old social-group at sixth-form college - your Tuxedo Sam's and your 4D Special Agent's, up with the Leicester/Rumiko Jr contingent, being watched by various Mumm-Ra's and beyond. Don't knock it!)
The following evening, Sunday by now, I'd had a farewell drink with Paula back in the FILO (in order to get out of more parental obligations, she'd told her family that my brother Michael and Caroline had invited her over for dinner, rather than admit she wanted a drink down the pub with me, which felt the teensiest bit wounding: last thing I heard, her parents did like me...), then set her off on the train at Hastings Station, before returning home for a couple of cans. I'd passed Reuben on the way, who pointed-out that Tim Hoyte was playing Smugglers that evening, and after some deliberation at home I decided to go down there. When I left, it was puring with rain, and I managed to walk straight into an abandoned pint-glass outside the Blue Dolphin chip shop, which shattered extremely loudly, much to the amusement of the couple at the cash-point. I shrugged, and hurried along to Smugglers, where I said Hi to Tim, and joined Reuben, with Wookie, Jamie and Xanten. The Smugglers was much quieter that night, to some relief on Ewen's part, I gathered (the night before's Tom Waits tribute had been rammed!), which was also beneficial to Tim's hushed set. He played some Roy Harper song I was unfamiliar with (I love Roy Harper: can we have a Roy Harper Day sometime soon, please?), during which I reiterated to myself just what a virtuoso guitarist Tim is (one of maybe two top-class guitarists of our generation in Hastings - more of the other one later...) Unfortunately, the build-up of alcohol amongst us meant that when Tim introduced an accompanying musician for the second half of his set, we didn't really pay much attention, preferring instead to yammer on amongst ourselves, slagging off this or that Top40 'Indie' band du jour. Before I went, I remember promising to go down Smugglers again for Xanten's birthday, but now I've forgotten when that was, and suspect I may have already missed it: sory if that's the case!
A couple of days later, Carolyn made it back over to Hastings for the first time since Christmas (when she stayed over for about a week, but somehow managed to pick the few days where there wasn't a fabulous local gig on). She came straight to my place to drop her stuff off, and we went off into town to La Pattie Cafe, for Dean's monthly session. Crystal, Kim and Wookie were already waiting at a table for us, proffering complimentary peanuts that tasted of varnish (I guess they'd been roasted in their own oil, but bygum they were tart). Caroline arrived, and sat nearby with Keith and Lily, while Dean and Jim set up for their first set. This was Jim's first gig for a while (he'd been travelling) and, of course, he is the other virtuoso Hastings guitarist I was referring to just now: at one point I got thoroughly mesmerised by the various sounds he coaxed out of his electric (during, I think, their cover of 'We Are Going To Be Friends', perhaps suprisingly). Somewhat hampered by the formal seating of La Pattie Cafe, I tried to divide my attention between my various friends, as Tim performed a similar, but shorter, set to his one down Smugglers over the weekend (including, again, his Roy Harper cover, and a Smiths one, and - missing the boat rather - a Tom Waits one). Michael had joined the throng by this point, though I lost track of time a bit during Dean and Jim's second set, and was susbsequently suprised to hear that he and Caroline left the venue late, but far earlier than th rest of us did. That's the peril of a bar that only serves Stella: things get a bit scrambled.
The same evening, Nick and Melinda (who'd been back at mine the Monday night between theabove-described gigs) had gone over to Brighton to see Lee perform a Rashamon gig at the Marlborough Theatre for Spirit Of Gravity, and later in the week, Lee made the return journey over to Hastings. He came round my place on the Saturday evening, and we went up the FILO for a couple of pints and a social catch-up, before heading back into town and Smugglers AGAIN for an evening celebrating Helen and Patrick's engagement. The pub was still decorated in honour of Eamonn Cahill, bless him, which helped add colour and joy to the night. I left Lee to do the rounds of our friends, and sat on the end of the pool-table, chatting to Linda King, as Hayley Savage played the first set of the evening. Helen and Patrick had pulled-together several of our lot to do a few songs apiece, and Hayley's pin-drop focussed songs were followed by a couple of covers by Marcus, making a rare solo appearance. He was back out of the focus subsequently, when he and Rufus backed Dean for some stripped-down Rumiko Jr tracks; and sometime before or afterwards Tim Hoyte went through a few of his own songs too (time begins to twist and bend...) Apart from occasionally checking Lee was enjoying himself, I spent most of the evening discussing this and that with Linda, so much so that when I went to talk to anyone else (eg Maya, Caroline, Alice) I don't think I came out with much more than the obvious "So, how are you?" kind-of stuff. An exception was made when Helen sat down with me to fill me in on how things had gone with her and Patrick, which was good to hear, and her happiness was clear to see as they danced together to Rufus' band's headlining slot. We stuck around quite late, but eventually it was time to knock it on the head, so Lee and I left. After briefly putting our heads round the door of the Basement (where Dean, Danielle and Alice were chatting) we wandered towards the Old Town. Dean and Danielle ran and caught up with us (they're now near-neighbours), and then we said goodnight, went to our respective rooms (Lee to the spare room, so frequently occupied by Paula, Nick and Melinda over the Christmas/New Year period) and me to the larger room in the house that I'd moved myself into earlier in the month.
The next morning (a Sunday), I was slow getting up, and missed Lee leaving to get back to Portslade, but that, at last, was the end of my Christmas guest-house socialising commitments...

2007-01-07T10:57:00.000Z

Just before Christmas, Anna moved out of our house, taking her handy broadband computer with her. I've now rescued my friend Paula's old computer from the top of the house, and am back on tortuously-slow dial-up again. But at least I can resume my Blog (log onto internet, sign into Blogger account, log off internet, write Blog, log onto internet again, post Blog, etc), though I won't be able to include the photos of the gigs that I've been taking over Christmas (an unexpectedly large mobile-phone bill, blameable on the frequency with which I was emailing photos from my phone to the computer, also puts pay to that plan for a while). 'Cos I was out such a lot over Christmas, I'm only gonna briefly re-cap the stuff we ended up going to, as my memory is even more unreliable after a few weeks of celebration.
Saturday 16th December: Step had organised a Christmas gig at Venue M in George Street (formerly De Niro's, formerly George Street Hall), and I went along with Caroline. We were too early, as the bands had been a bit disorganised, so went along to the Hastings Arms for a drink first. When we got back to Venue M a bit later, the DJ was playing that great Fog single, followed by a MBV/Chapterhouse shoegaze face-off, so the omens were good. Jonathan Martin and a couple of friends played first, and carried off the job of warming the place up well (the venue was still filling-up), and I caught up with the Rumiko lot. The Dawgs came on stage and played some of that zydeco, and we realised that tonight was the social choice for almost everyone we knew: Tim Hoyte; Alfie & Robert; Tara, Caragh and Jackie; Rebecca and Anna; Josie; Harvey and Logan Wilson; Emma and her partner Sacha (also Step's drummer, it transpired); and all the other friends and partners of the various groups. Patrick and Helen turned up very briefly too, and we all got confused when we couldn't see them anywhere (they could only have stayed for a few minutes, I guess). Reuben turned up, intending on DJing later, and we agreed that I'd pop home at some point to get a few bits of vinyl to help him along. The pace of the evening dropped a bit during a set from Zoe Konez, which was fine, but by this point I was getting hyperactive, so I ran back to my house and pulled-out the records Reuben needed. Ella appeared at her door offering Cava, so I dragged her down to Venue M too (though she didn't stay long either, once she'd caught up with a handful of her friends). Rufus had been manning the sound-desk all evening, but when he was due on stage, we roped Harvey in to perform the duties. Rumiko Jr played a vibrant set, culminating in a double guest spot from Alfie on harmonica, and Step on fiddle, for 'We Get Lost'. Step stayed up there for his headlining set, as Tymon Dogg & The Quickening (who I think were the aforementioned Sacha; Muz, once of The Heaters, on bass; and Simon Shaw - who'd played earlier with Jonathan - on guitar). By this point I was very merry, and either my hearing was going, or the sound had got a bit mushy. I ran around giving Christmas hugs and kisses to lots of people (and probably promised loads of thing I don't remember), before realising I was on the verge of passing-out, so I grabbed my records back from Reuben in the DJ booth, and got quickly back to bed.
Tuesday 19th December: I was down to my last few pounds, but wanted to pop to Revolver to see Dean play. I'd had a bath in the evening, so my hair was sticking up all over the place as it dried, and I'd been reduced to some very holey clothes while I did my laundry that evening, whcih meant I looked a bit of a state when I got down to the bar. I spent my money on the only pint I could afford, and sat with Jonathan and Rufus while Dean, accompanied by Simon Shaw this time, played his first set of the evening. I noticed Christa sitting at the top of the room, with a big flashing badge on, so I realised it was her birthday, and went over for a chat with her. She was out with one of her brothers and several of her friends (some of who'm I knew, such as Paul, and some that I didn't), and was having a great time, but I knew I wasn't going to be sticking around too long that evening, so I left their group with a promise to try and catch up at the Winter Solstice gig at The Carlisle a few days later (I didn't make it in the end, as my sister and her family flew in from Australia that evening). In ordinary circumstances, I may just have asked one of my friends if they could stand me a drink (though I'm always quite reluctant to do so, but I generally accept when they're offered, and hope I remember to buy that person one back in return soon after), however, I was aware that I looked even more of a pauper than I actually am, so I apologised to Rufus that I'd miss his set, and said my goodbyes to Jonathan, Dean & Danielle, Alice & Steph, and went home to do something else.
Wednesday 20th December. Rumiko Jr had a pre-Christmas gig at Smugglers for Ewen's birthday, and when I got there, Regular John were lining-up to play too. It turned out also to be Andy Warren's birthday, and he'd asked Zoe Konez to play, so it was quite a full night. However, I must confess that I can't remember very much about it at all (my memories will have been smudged-over by the New Year's Day gig at the same pub). I did say Hi to Helen and Patrick, which was a relief, 'cos I thought they were blanking me at Venue M the other day, which wasn't the case at all, it turned out; but mostly I just sat by the pool table with a mized bunch of folk, and watched the music. I know it was good to see the boys from the 'John, 'cos I'd not caught up with them for about a month; and I recall Michael was working and wasn't able to play with Rumiko; but the rest of the night is just flashes of dissecting the state of the local scene with Marcus, Deano & Rufus. Maybe my photos (which I'll try and upload into this Blog entry at some point) will illuminate things further.
Friday 22nd December: It'd been my day-off work, and I'd spent a while at home, before Carolyn Fouracre and Roschendah texted to get me to join them down at The Dragon in the evening, where they'd gone after the Council's Christmas event that afternoon at St Mary In The Castle. I joined them, and a schoolfriend of Carolyn's, with the intention of just staying for one drink, as I was going to catch Jonathan Martin at Smugglers, before heading to the Brass Monkey for yet another Rumiko gig (Dean later admitted he wore himself right out in this run-up to Christmas). But after one pint I'd changed my mind, and stayed with them for another couple, before Roshendah decided she ought to get back over to Bexhill, whilst me and Carolyn and her friends went along to the Royal Albion for a bit of karaoke. I'd had enough to drink to make me agree to sing 'Fairytale Of New York' with Carolyn, and by the time the song came-up I was able to pull-off a just-about passsable Shane MacGowan, whilst Carolyn's Kirsty MacColl performance mostly involved whispering "Stu, it's your line! Oh, shit, it's mine..." in place of actually singing. I looked up, and people were indeed leaving the pub: excellent! Afterwards, some drinkers told me how bad my singing was: yay! We all got a lot more drunk, and there was a bit of Christmas snogging, until it was decided that I'd accompany Carolyn to The Carlisle, where there was some kind of function going on upstairs. In order to appear more casual about us arriving together, she introduced me to a guy she wanted to hang out with as "My gay friend Stuart" (Having already been introduced to Carolyn's mate down The Dragon as "Our bisexual S&M pornstar friend Stuart" I was getting used to this). I'd totally missed my plan of seeing Jonathan do his Katjam thing at Smugglers, so I made my excuses and went straight from The Carlisle to Brass Monkey to see Rumiko. As with Step's gig the previous weekend, almost everyone I knew was out, but on this occasion I was already drunk when I arrived, so I'm not really able to report exactly who was there. I sat with Caroline before Rumiko played, and I danced a lot with Kim and others while the band played, and then I think I said some rather daft crush-style stuff to Alice and her friends (and, indeed, sisters, I suspect) before finally doing something sensible, and heading home. Although I did (for the first time in years) think it would be a good idea to get a kebab in George Street, and even noticing myself swaying unsteadily on my feet in the mirrors in the kebab shop didn't put me off. I ate most of a lamb doner, and put the rest of the meat down for the cats when I got in. Needless to say, they enjoyed their midnight feast (either they licked their dishes clean, or the garlic sauce dissolved the encrusted cat food), and therefore didn't wake me up for their breakfast the next morning, meaning I overslept for work (which is an annual habit for me at Christmas now).
Sunday 31st December: New Year's Eve, and almost everyone I knew was going to a party at Hayley & Marc's place, but I favoured going into town to see The A Team at Brass Monkey, expecting there to be more of my friends there than anywhere else. Before I went out, though, I finished off the task I'd set myself earlier that weekend, namely finally assembling Anti - the new Dizzy Tiger compilation album (this required much last-minute texting, phone calls, and trips to Smugglers and Michael & Caroline's flat to pick up CD-Rs with other tracks on. Mission accomplished, I went into town around 10pm, and walked straight into a near-empty Brass Monkey, which was a suprise. I sat on my own with a drink, and said Hi to Billy when he arrived, but had no-one to socialise with until Plum turned up with some Rye friends (and, shortly afterwards, Holly Palmer and her friends). When Rufus and Bonj had turned up, I was asked if I could stand in the monitor room while they played, just in case the mics started feeding back (in which case, I'd be ready to turn them down or off). I agreead, and Bonj said he'd collar me when they were ready. A bit later, I had a tap on the shoulder, and turned round to see a stranger in a cream safari suit and blonde wig. It was, of course, Bonj, in character as Hannibal Smith, so I went with him to the booth and he showed me what I might need to do. The rest of The A Team that night were Rufus as BA Baracus (but a green Mr T this time, which I thought was meant to be seasonal), Matt Jukes as Face, and Billy as Murdoch (Paul was absent in Wales, so at least it was a 4-man A-Team again). The venue had filled up a bit more by this point, so there was lots of dancing once the audience realised what the gig was all about. After only one or two songs, it was time for Rufus to shout 'Happy New Year' stuff, then it was on with the tunes. Pete Wilkes popped into the booth a few times, to check I knew what I was doing, and make some adjustments to the mics and lighting, but otherwise I mostly filled the role of unofficial cloakroom attendant for people such as Christa, and sounding-off man for some amiable, but very drunk, emo guy in a local rock band. A-Team highlights included the theme from Fame (with note-perfect Bonj solo) and Home And Away (with affectionate duetting by Rufus and Bonj, all high-notes hit, just about). I flicked the mics off afterwards, and Rufus shook my hand with his green one, and got me a drink. They went off to get changed again, and I wandered around, watching people dancing to garage records (where had this group of kids, for whom 'Stray Cat Strut' was the totemic tune, come from? And where were they when Billy Childish played a few months ago?), but was feeling a bit left out, and so rather than hang-on for the others to make it back downstairs, I just decided to walk home. However, Nichola called me over as I went past The Dragon, and persuaded me to come inside to catch up with Rebecca. It was another private-party, but Paddy was happy for me to come in, so I ended up getting an exciting New Year's Eve bit of socialising done at the last moment after all.
Monday 1st January: In the afternoon, I walked over to my parents, and got a text on the way from Nick and Melinda, who were heading to Hastings to catch up with us all for a couple of days. After some time with the family, a bunch of us drove over to Caroline & Michael's flat, which is where Nick and Melinda caught up with us. We all went back to my parents and watched The Sarah-Jane Adventures with the kids, then I got Nick and Melinda back to the Old Town to dump their stuff. We walkd back through the rain to Smugglers, where Southernwood were onstage. I'd never seen them play after all these years (in fact, I was several years behind the news when I found out Alena had joined them) so I was really pleased to see them at last, doing a wayward but endearing fragmented take on the US left-field. We'd arranged for my sister and her husband to come along while they were in the UK, and they brought my Mum along too, which was fine, although some drunk European student lads mistook her for the picture of the Queen on their £10 notes. I chatted to family and friends, and then Rumiko got up to play their first set. Unlike some occasions, when they may do a slow set first, with a faster one later, played two full-energy sets that evening, so my family did get to see them going off at full tilt. My folks went off home afterwards, and I got drunk catching up with Nick & Melinda while we waited for Regular John to set up (which took ages, for some reason). They played a blinder though, and lots of people took photos and films, and the Europeans danced like loons, and asked me where the 'sexy Queen' had gone... I said Hi to the likes of Christa, Reuben, Ollie, Danielle and Alice, and waved at Plum and her crew, who'd occupied the pool table. Rumiko were finally up for their second set, and it was great (oh, if only they and the 'John had got their albums out in 2006, as I was expecting...) and Nick formulated plans to make a proper film of next year's New Year's Day special (both he and Melinda work in film and photography over in Toronto). After the bands had finished, the bar stayed open for the revellers, but (as he always does) Ewen refused entry to any latecomers after 11pm. At one point, this included a large group of guys who happened to be black, which was misconstrued by a couple of the punters as being racist on Smugglers' part, and as some kind-of white-victory by some tosser of a barfly. Dean and Rufus made sure the guys understood why they weren't allowed in after 11 (everyone, unless they've been doing bar-work or a gig that evening, gets treated according to the same rule, so me, Paula, Reuben, Rufus and Dean, for example, have also been refused service by Ewen in similar circumstances), and generally smoothed things over, though a couple of people walked out in sympathy. That clouded that part of the evening only a little, and after reluctantly accepting a couple more drinks from my mates, I knocked it on the head for the night, and left Nick and Melinda with the spare keys so they could make their own way back home later.

2006-12-14T12:23:00.000Z

Tim Hoyte (above) and Dean Adams (below) at Le Pattie Cafe, yesterday.

On Wednesday night, I forgot all about watching Torchwood 'cos I'd been reading the Christmas NME and Radio Times (and listening to the cd that came with the latter), before heading out into town to Le Pattie Cafe. I'd not been there before, and after finding the Robertson Street entrance shut, I went back round into Cambridge Road, through a door and up some stairs to find everyone seated, slightly awkwardly, around table in a more upmarket eaterie than I'm used too. Fortunately, it was full of our friends drinking booze, so I grabbed a pint and sat in the corner with Michael and Caroline. We'd gone along 'cos Dean's recently started a regular slot there, monthly possibly (this was only his second appearance). I said Hello to Christa, Danielle, Leon, Alis, Tim and Helen too, and chatted briefly to Dean before he began playing. I'd missed Hayley's turn by being late out, but she sat back alongside Dean to join in on the opening Mountain Song. Thereafter it was a lot of songs he'd written recently (but, he admitted, hadn't found much time to practice), along with familiar requested Ben Kweller (On My Way) and Violent Femmes (Blister In The Sun) ones, and chatter. Dean plugged next weekend's Venue M gig with Step, which made me realise I should really have brought along the flyers for it that Jonathan had given me down Revolver last week. I also took one photo (above) in an initial attempt to start illustrating this Blog (though, soon, my housemate is moving-out, with her computer, so I dunno how much more Blog-writing I'm gonna get done over the next month or so). Kim, Reuben and their friends made it along in time for Tim's set, which started out with October Friend, took in guest harmonies from Dean on Heaven Is Far From Here, and ended up with lengthy, impressive tracks from Tim's new album (which I've still not yet heard or bought; and he only had one or two copies out with him, for other people). Again, I took just the one photo of Tim's performance. Afterwards, Dean was encouraging Michael down to the Basement for some work, but we still had time for Caroline to get us another drink before everyone started leaving. I took a picture of some Christmas lights, then went down past The Crypt to find Harry being shouted at by some drunk bloke who was accusing him of having nicked his drink down in the Bad Manners gig. Fortunately, Harry had the door-staff looking out for him, so him and his friends didn't need any extra help. Michael passed by on his way, presumably, to the Basement, and said Goodnight, and I headed back home to bed.

2006-12-08T14:44:00.000Z

I'd sorted out a couple of reservations for Carolyn & I to see a showing of the new Throbbing Gristle - Live At The Astoria film in London, a gig that we'd both attended a couple of years ago, with Carrie and Paul. So, last FridayI got the train up to London Bridge during the middle of the afternoon, checked the time of the last trains to Hastings, then made my way across the Underground to meet Carolyn at Victoria. If you ever make this journey, prepare yourself for the changeover between the Jubilee and the Central & District lines at Westminster station - it's like ascending throught the set of Metropolis, all echoing chasms of sprung steel walkways and escalators, really uncanny. Worth a visit in it's own right (I love the London Underground, it's like being in a gigantic adventure playground)! Anyhow, I got to Victoria and had a cheese salad baguette, then met Carolyn when she got off her train, and we got the Circle line all the way back round to Liverpool Street (fortunately Carolyn seems to be getting over her tube-phobia again now). Leaving the station under the shadows of the City, we settled quickly into the nearest pub full of bankers, and had a pint. I chose Greene King IPA, which tastes great back home in places like the Horse & Groom, but up here in London it's cold and antiseptic flavour made me remember that for some reason the majority of pubs and bars in London can't keep and serve a pint of bitter to save their lives. Slightly refreshed, we wove our way through the many Police patrolling the edge of the financial district (dozens of them on foot, on horseback, in cars and vans, hiding round corners and down cul de sacs) and turned down towards Christchurch in Spitalfields. I took a quick photo outside The Gun pub for our message boards' running advent calendar, then we ducked down Princelet Street so that I could show Carolyn some of the most unchanged streets in the area (which we'd first encountered with Lee & Chris Cook one night after one of the Placard Headphone festivals in State 51, off the top of Brick Lane). Once into Brick Lane itself, we decided to find the Brick Lane Gallery, where Kim would be taking part in a group exhibition later in the evening, so we headed up the street, past Truman's Brewery and a building where I'd once attended the book launch for 'K Foundation Burn A Million Quid' once, and discussed the bits of Banksy graffitti scattered around, 'til Carolyn spotted the gallery. We turned around and headed back in the other direction to find the Whictechapel Gallery, where we'd be going later for the Throbbing Gristle film, and bumped into Del, who happened to be up from Hastings, visiting a friend nearby. More co-incidentally, he'd spent the afternoon at the top of Tottenham Court Road, looking at a Banksy installation in some Oxford Street shop up there. Carolyn and I continued onwards, past a couple of guys pushing a supermarket trolley loaded up with the torsos of raw meat from the nearby market, and down into Whitechapel, where we bought a Big Issue and found the gallery easily. After a quick stop-off in the gallery bookshop, we went back the way we'd come to find another pub. I was hoping to visit the Seven Stars, where I'd also been before when I saw the film of 'K Foundation Burn A Million Quid' screened in the basement by their roadie Gimpo, and in fact had spent the hour before the screening upstairs in the pub in the same corner as the K Foundation themselves (there was photos of this moment, not including me, in an old issue of Muzik magazine at the time, though I never picked-up a copy). However, the place had closed down, so we went into The Archers opposite (which was more apt for Carolyn, as she listens to every episode of the Radio 4 soap without fail). The Archers was very cosy, and unpretentious, but I couldn't see any favourable bitters, so I remembered the Gherkin towering over us outside, and had a few pints of Fosters. Carolyn had rescued some bundles of old photographs from All Tomorrow's Parties, Shambolica, and her University days, and we looked at those and chatted until it was getting towards the time for Kim's private-view. Back up at the Brick Lane Gallery we struggled past the photographers, artists and students milling around outside, and pushed our way in. Grabbing a couple of complimentary beers from a bucket, we eased our way around the packed, tiny gallery spaces, trying to find Kim's work, or Kim, amongst the bodies and exhibits. The exhibition, entitled Peace Camp, featured anti-war artworks by dozens of artists (the most familiar name being Wolfgang Tillmans, though Kim had said to me on the phone a few days previously that Gavin Turk had also become involved since he'd emailed me about it), all of whom felt like they must have been squeezed in there with us. Neither the ground level, where we couldn't even crane our heads round to view Kim's painting straight-on, nor the basement, offered much repsite, and we couldn't spot Kim yet, so we decided to leave with our beers and grab a bite to eat. We both bought bagels over the road, filled with huge red slabs of salt-beef, and the hottest yellow mustard I'd ever tasted, and stood outside in the light rain chewing our way through them with helpful swigs from the beer. Rather than go back into the exhibition just yet, we found some kind of bar up on the top corner of Brick Lane, and sat down in there with more lager, and a platter of samosas, bhajis etc with a two-colour chilli dip. The decor of the dimly-lit venue was non-specific multicultural: tapestries celebrating the independence of various countries following the break-up of the USSR were hung alongside cinema hordings for Rocky, fightin for attention with all manner of throws, drapes and candles. We'd really eaten enough bagel already, so we didn't quite get through the platter we'd bought (which we'd ordered more out of politeness than actual hunger), and eventually we decided to head-out to to exhibition again. It was still packed, and we could see some guy performing a rather tuneless version of Auld Lang Syne at the back of the room, but we couldn't see Kim still (it turned out he was down the front at that time, though, and got up himself to perform 'Chicken In A Box' in the end), so we left and strode back down through the early hubbub of the evening to Whitechapel. It was still a little early to go to the film, so we found another busy pub and sat down with more lager and spirits in the large back room. This pub was one which was celebrating Jack The Ripper heritage in it's decor: various poorly-executed illustrations and script told us how "a suspect" and possible "contender for the identity of the Ripper" used to live in the pub, and was later found to have poisoned his wife, and how one of the Ripper's five victims was "believed to have had her last drink here" a few days before being murdered "near the rear of these premises", etc. None of this macabre and rather unconvincing detail seemed to be putting any of the young weekend drinkers off the start of their Friday night-out, but there was at least one bloke staring at us funny, so we were happy to drink-up and move back along to the Whitechapel Gallery. After a couple of minutes of hanging around the foyer, we were directed, along with a few dozen others, to a viewing room near the back of the gallery, which unfortunately smelt of raw sewage (apparently the recent rains had backed the drains up), where we settled ourselves down for the screening of the Throbbing Gristle film. Although I'd really enjoyed the gig itself, I had no clue as to how the subsequent, much-delayed film, would look, for instance it could have been swamped by graphics and cut-ups in post-production for all we knew. It was a pleasure, therefore, to discover that the director had assembled masses of close-up footage of both the performers and the audience from countless cameras, and had edited them tightly into one of the most involving live films either of us had see. It successfully pulled off the trick of making you feel you were there - even though, obviously, we had actually been there, as can be seen in the film by our presence in various cut-aways. It's gonna be a while 'til Mute get the dvd out (part of a 7-disc box-set for 2007), but part of the reason we'd gone this evening was to ascertain how urgently I'd be buying that release: as soon as it's on pre-order then! Afterwards, we both took trips to the loos there (though I didn't hear what Carolyn had done, namely a couple celebrating the end of the film by shagging in a cubicle), then rushed-off so we could get that last train. Aldgate East tube station had closed for the night, so we had to weave our way through the side-streets of Whitechapel in the general direction of Liverpool Street station; once we'd found the main entrance (the Underground entrances being gated by now) we ran for a Circle line train, did the Monument/Bank crossover on foot, then got the Northern line to reach London Bridge, in more than enough time to fit onto the crowded train back to Hastings.
A couple of days later, I finally had enough money, and was in the right place, to make it along to Revolver for one of Dean's gigs (I'd had to miss his last two there, and hadn't made it to many gigs during November at all, in fact). However, I'd been at home online and on the phone for quite a while before I left to go to Revolver, and during that time the odd glass of wine I'd been drinking from the half-bottle of red I'd had leftover from the weekend became the entire remaining contents of the bottle. I got a pint and sat down to chat with Rufus and Dean, before Dean played some songs, and then I had another pint and was talking to Jamie and Rob Dennis, and then I had another one and Rufus was playing and I bought some Christmas cards off Kim, and talked to him about his exhibition and the trip to London, then some other guy was playing and I chatted to Reuben, then I was talking to Jonathan Martin about upcoming gigs, and Rebecca and Nicola said hello, and Dean was playing again, and Kim plonked a large shot of vodka down in front of me, so I downed it, and I took a couple of photos on my camera, and they'd called time at the bar, and I hadn't taken very much in at all! Still, it was nice to be out...

2006-11-09T19:48:00.000Z

Kudos to Regular John for finally getting The Flesh Happening a return gig in Hastings, after a gap of a fair few years (during which time Oliva had sorted almost a whole new band). After downing half a bottle of red wine that I had left over, I went down to The Pig In Paradise to meet Michael and Caroline, and Helen turned up at the same time. As I got to the bar, Oliva, in a neat black suit, ran out from the back room and dragged us all back there to join him, with the rest of the group, and a few of their friends, including Shara (who'd once been out on the Hastings scene continuously for ages - I ended up at Glastonbury '97 once, with her and loads of others - then went away just as quickly). I caught up with her, and The Flesh Happening's guitarist Richard (who I'd met previously out in Brighton for Laura's 30th birthday earlier this year), but mainly gossipped with Helen, Caroline & Michael about various exes and misdemeanours. Oliva dragged us all out and along Robertson Street, singing the 'Happy Days' theme, but The Crypt wasn't open yet, so we had another drink in The Street. Helen regaled us with some left-field anecdotes, and we were met by Kim, Reuben, Lethwyn etc. When The Crypt opened, me, Caroline, Michael and Kim were first down, so we sat off to one side with our pints. Kim had brought a rubber ball with him, which he proceded to throw randomly at the walls of The Crypt, so that it bounced at unpredictable angles off the ceiling, arches and stage (unsuprisingly, he kept losing it, and I'd help scour the dark corners of the floor with him 'til it surfaced). Most of the people from The Street & The Pig made it downstairs to join us, as did Rufus, Marcus, Rebecca & Nicola, Christa, Dean & Danielle, and a whole bunch more. Regular John played first, determined to make a mark by playing sharp and concise: Oliva and Shara (seeing them play for the first time) got themselves very into it with much dancing and head-shaking. It was a shame they were time-constricted from really stretching out with some of their heavy epics too, though. I kept drinking steadily, and was doing quite a lot of flirting, then The Flesh Happening struck up onstage. Oliva was still looking dapper in his suit, with his hair styled in shades of black and red, while the rest of the group played solidly behind him: we stood and recognised loads of the songs from their demos (such as Kamikaze, Hitler & Jesus, Anal Joy - love those titles), and I barely noticed that Oliva was divesting himself gradually of his clothing, until towards the end of the set he was performing in a few strips of black leather or PVC, and fucking his arse with a handy beer-bottle. Possibly 'cos I've known him very well for quite a long time, this didn't strike me as being out of the ordinary behaviour: it was only the next day that I realised it was standard behaviour for him, but something more unusual for The Crypt (even taking into account Rockbitch, who I never went to see). Oliva was looking very sexy by the end of the gig, stripped and covered in sweat, beer and other fluids, but that was just part of the theme of the evening (was it 'cos of the full moon?) as by this point I was away snogging one of my friends, without paying any attention to what the rest of our lot must've been thinking. Eventually, people headed home or to the Brass Monkey: despite wanting to hang out more with the woman I'd been kissing, I knew nothing too much further was gonna happen that night, so I went home too, texted a pass at someone else, and passed-out. Classy.
The next day I had to be up and out early, to get over to Brighton to catch up with Petra and a bunch of our friends, which meant I didn't have time for a bath, so got over there still smelling of The Crypt (I thought of a new word to describe the state of being too old to go down the Crypt, and suffering the day after as a result: Decrypid). Most of the day in Brighton was spent at Petra's new(ish) flat with Mimi, Russell and, later, Carrie, before we headed out in the late afternoon, downhill through a stunning 360-degree surrounding sunset, and via the town centre and North Laine to The George for food. But they'd stopped serving, so we made-do in Grub's instead, before returning to The George for an evening of drinking, as more of our friends (including Michael & James, David, and several others) made it along to join us. We were going along to the Concorde 2 for an all-ages show by The Gossip, but none of the others were up for seeing the support bands (Panther, who no-one knew, and Comonechi, who hadn't impressed the others when they'd seen them sometime before), unfortunately, so we stuck around chatting away in the pub for hours. Eventually, it was getting towards time for The Gossip themselves, so we trailed along to the Marlborough Theatre, where we rendezvoused with Sock, Steph, Harry, Lucy and Rachel (plus more of their friends), who'd been drinking there for Rachel's birthday. The whole crowd of us snaked our way up towards Kemp Town, then down onto the seafront, with a big bright moon above, and countless firework displays (it was Guy Fawkes' Night) in the distance, below the arches, and towards the Concorde 2. I was near the back, and remembering how ghastly the loos in the venue had been last time I'd been there (a Stereolab gig, probably) I hung back and snuck off for a pee. Unsuprisingly, the Concorde 2, when we got in, was rather rammed (The Gossip currently riding a wave of press coverage, radio play, and tv appearances) so we got buffeted around the bar area as Comonechi climaxed their set onstage (I guess they sounded a bit Sonic Youth from that distance, which would've been fine with me). I knew I wouldn't get the chance later, so I said goodbye to Petra then, 'cos I had to get the last train home later (having spent all my money on train fares and drinks already I couldn't stick around and do the first train in on the Monday morning this time). Once I'd grabbed drinks from the bar and gone into the main hall, I'd already lost track of most of our friends, who'd made their way down to the front, so I hung back near the djs on the left of the venue keeping a 5-months pregnant Carrie company. Slightly unexpectedly, one of the Wilkes brothers pushed by with a load of empty glasses at one point - I hadn't realised they were working there as well as selling tickets for the venue's gigs through their Hastings bars - but it wasn't appropriate for Carrie or I to wave in that "We only vaguely know you" way. The Gossip were on after a while, straight into lots of their raw disco-soul songs, which I've been hearing loads of on the radio, tv and at people's flats this year, without actually committing the titles to memory). I'd seen them once at ATP this year, and this time took in more of the fact that, Beth Ditto's overpowering vocals aside, both the drummer woman and bass/guitar man (yes, I'm being lazy and not looking-up their names...) contribute huge blocks of sound and power to every one of The Gossip's songs: it's a real three-person construct. Rachel got her birthday mentioned, someone threw the group a back-scratcher, the venue djs (including, I recognised, Verity from Miss Pain) lit sparklers (which was sweet and apt, but a bit "Look at us!"), and then after about 20 minutes and 5 or 6 songs I had to leave and make my way back up to Brighton Station for that last train. Carolyn had also arranged (before I'd been asked by Petra) to go to the gig with her friends, but there hadn't been a chance of spotting them in the crowd, and my text once inside didn't get answered, so I missed them completely. On the way home I read the new issue of Plan B I'd hurriedly picked-up in North Laine, and I also gave some thought to Camilla, who couldn't be there. Then I remembered that vast panoramic sunset, the moon and the fireworks, and it felt ok in the end.

2006-11-03T20:14:00.000Z

Last Friday I was on my way to London, to see New Order play Wembley Arena. Last time I'd been up there was to see Depeche Mode on their Violator tour (supported by Electribe 101), which was obviously a very long time ago. On that occasion I went on my own, using a ticket that Paul had bought for the wrong night, when our friends from Bexhill College were going the day after (or was it the day before?) - I ended up missing the last train back to Hastings, and ending up in Eastbourne instead in the middle of the night, with £15 to pay a taxi to drive me as far home as it could (Ultimately depositing me at the bottom of Filsham Road in the pouring rain in the early hours...)
This time, Carolyn and Lee had arranged to go up to the gig, and I'd been bought an additional ticket much later on. I took the end of the week off work, and went over to Brighton the evening before the gig, so that I could travel up with Carolyn during the day, whilst Lee would get to Wembley as soon as he could make it after his work in Crawley (or somewhere) had finished. I'd seen New Order twice before, both times at the Reading Festival (in 1993, their final gig before their sabbatical, and in 1998 soon after their comeback, whilst Gillian Gilbert was still in the group). Lee had also been at the '98 gig, and had made it to one or two more of their gigs thereafter (including having backstage-passes to their Move gig at Manchester Cricket Ground, the lucky lad). So Carolyn was the only one of our party to have never seen them play (though she met Barney and Hooky when they DJ'd in Brighton on a recent New Year's Eve), so she was particularly excited, but was also going under the assumption (partly assisted by their Finsbury Park dvd) that their best days were disappearing behind them. On the train up to London that afternoon, she told me also of her phobia about travelling on the London Underground (the result of a panic attack she experienced there several years ago), so when we got to Victoria we were quite cautious about entering the Underground. It was clear she was quite anxious both on the Tube platform, and then on the train itself, but she made it two stops up to Oxford Circus, where we got off to visit the shops on Oxford Street. We went straight into Borders, and on the ground floor I had a flick through a book that's going on my (non-existant) Christmas list: Pet Shop Boys - Catalogue, which is along the same lines (and from the same publishers) as the Factory Records graphics book I got during the summer. [As an aside, the day after the New Order gig, Carolyn and I went (at her friend Sara's invitation) to the private view of an exhibition at Brighton's Phoenix Gallery. The main exhibitor was a guy called Jeff Keen, who evidently makes himself extremely busy with multimedia mash-ups of pulp graphics and imagery, shown in numerous paintings, sculptures, comics and films. However, there were supporting displays from a sculptor called Pete Slight, illustrations from a woman called Lady Lucy - whose work was so familiar I must've seen it in Plan B or somewhere, and a load of reproduced fanzine pages from Stephen Drennan and Jo Hodson. Would it help you place the style of their fanzines if I told you there's a song called 'Letter From Stephen Drennan' on my Avocado Baby lp that I got off Paula? Like I said, this was the private view, and the artists were mostly present (though we declined Sara's offers of introductions, but not the free wine), as were a bunch of zine-scene men and women with bobs, sideburns, hair-slides, blazers and stripey socks. The uniformity of image partly reminded me why I never really bought into the fanzine scene (I genuinely disliked The Yummy Fur!) - and it has to be said that my own zines were atrocious - but I think the main reason could've been that my standards were set at an early age by the high-pop of Pet Shop Boys' music, opinions, design and theatricality, so I was unable to discard the hours spent poring over the 7" sleeve of 'Rent' in favour of a load of felt-pen drawings of cats and breathless reviews of I'm Being Good albums that I'd never hear...] Anyhow, we went up the escalator to check out the Fiction section (where I pulled a rarely-found copy of Iain Sinclair & Dave McKean's 'Slow Chocolate Autopsy' collaboration from the shelf), then went up a further two stories to visit the music-book section on the top floor. This is where I found out that Carolyn's Underground phobia also extended to the use of escalators themselves. I also found some dissing of the Hastings music scene in a book about the Mescaleros (not by Step, or Joe Strummer, of course), and that the index to the recent Rough Trade book from Black Dog Publishing is somewhat lacking (unless a collective decision was made to hide the fact that, originally, Rough Trade continued to release records beyond Galxie 500's ones, even if they were by the likes of Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine and My Jealous God...) Meanwhile, Carolyn was overjoyed by the contents of the Best Of Smash Hits hardback - Stephen 'Tea-Towel' Duffy present and correct - which helped re-focus her on normality again. [Actually, it was almost three years to the day that I'd visited the same Borders, on a mission to pick-up as many stray Fall cds as I'd missed out on over the years, prompted by the recent publishing of Dave Thompsons' 'A User's guide To The Fall' - his follow-up New Order book was there too today. Borders came up trumps that day, both in Oxford Street, Tottenham Court Road, and back in Brighton, but it was outside the former that I encountered a very-harrassed Bobby Gillespie doing some, possible, Christmas shopping.] Back on Oxford Street, we went along to HMV, where I got hold of the brown-vinyl 7" of Mumm-Ra's 'Out Of The Question' single (Carolyn got the pink-vinyl one in Brighton's Western Road HMV the next day, but it still froze at #45 in the Charts that week). As we fought our way along the street we also started to feel very harrassed (though not as harrassed as I got the next day, when I got stuck in North Laine behind a dithering family, and actually pushed them out of my way: Carolyn sensibly then drew us off on a side-street detour before I got thumped or caused anyone else any distress). We made a break into a Subway outlet, and sat upstairs eating dry, meaty baguettes until we felt able to resume our journey. After a brief duck into Virgin, we descended into Tottenham Court Road Underground station, to find our way up to Wembley. A very crowded train took us to Bond Street, but luckily a weird old fellow stood next to us until the first stop, and blessed everyone in the carriage with a large crucifix before he got out in Oxford Circus (not being religious, we just took this as a sign of good-luck). From Bond Street, another train took us northwards, overground after Baker Street (to some relief from Carolyn) and on to Willesden Green. We disembarked to change, and in the distance a truncated arc of bright white light marked the bow of the new Wembley Stadium (the span of the supsended semi-circle was only lit to the midpoint). A following tube-train took us the next few stops to Wembley Park, from which I tried to take us directly to the Arena, but got mislaid by traffic-islands and overpasses (in my defence, the whole area has been regenerated and redesigned since the early 90's), so that we ended up back where we'd started from before we struck on the straight route towards the new Stadium, and the Arena to its right (which looked very different to the long-box of a building I remembered, or possibly mis-remembered). Having worked out where we'd be going to later, we went back down the road towards the Underground station in the early-evening rain, and stopped in a wine-bar/restaurant for a pint of lager as we let ourselves get excited about the next few hours. Once ready, we wandered back up the road to Wembley Arena. A couple of guys in reflective jackets swapped our tickets for wristbands (we were a bit wary at first), but we were then able to walk straight into the building and start exploring. Carolyn sent several texts to Lee, arranging successive rendezvous points as our progress into the building changed: first we visited the merchandise stall (one of them anyway), where we admired the faithfully reproduced artworks (eg. Ceremony, Movement, Blue Monday) on the shirts, without actually buying any. We grabbed warm pints of Carling, and some gruesome long, lukewarm, cigar-flavoured hotdogs (I was coping OK until I bit down onto a chunk of bone-fragment), then got let into the main-arena itself. Straight away, I noticed that the back wall of the arena had been curtained off, probably due to unsold tickets (this was the only date of New Order's short tour that hadn't, it seemed, sold out), though I knew we'd benefit from the sound not echoing back to us a split second later throughout the forthcoming gig. There was a huge red&white Maximo Park banner suspended across the stage, and a hidden DJ (or a recording of one) was playing a good selection of records that you'd probably expect to hear(including 'Trans Europe Express', Hashim's 'Al Naayfish', A Certain Ratio's 'Waterline' and 'Be What You Wanna Be', Simian vs Justice, 'Pacific State') and a fair few I'd never heard. Lee finally caught up with us and we had more pints from the mobile barrel-carriers (I was amazed when one punter actually complained that his Carling tasted off, seeing as it was being carted around on the back of low-paid worker all evening - I think if you visit a major London venue, and almost every worker is either of immigrant origin, you can reasonably assume that there's some wage-exploitation going on). He seemed in a good mood since leaving work that afternoon, and we all chatted and took some photos (though not on my new cameraphone - my first, from a much-needed upgrade - which was switched-off back in Carolyn's flat, awaiting number-transference) until Maximo Park came onstage. My one concession to dressing up that evening had been to make sure I had my black Paul Smith t-shirt (that I'd got from Rob) on: normally I pretend it's 'cos I like Blast First, but tonight I was wearing it in honour of Maximo Park's frontman, who in turn was wearing a full white suit (including hat) that was fitted very tight at the crotch ("I think it was the trousers. They were very tight. You could see everything. Nothing left to the imagination" etc). I'd so-far been fairly indifferent to Maximo Park (filing them under 'You know, Alright'), but tonight really made me re-evaluate them positively, seeing them as a jerky Wedding Present style group (with fans to match) with all the lovelorn humanity and honesty that implies. Comically overwhelmed at the venue (Smith allowed himself a knowing "Hello, Wembley!" early on, 'cos he could), they played all the 'hits', I think, with 'Graffiti' coming early on (Lee, listening out for it, missed it somehow), plus lots of album tracks (I assume) and (definately) new songs, saving a monumental 'Apply Some Pressure' until last. I know it's easy to dismiss Maximo Park as elderly, post-Futureheads bandwagon-jumpers, but there's an ache in their songs that (cf: Wedding Present, Pulp) is the real-deal. Converted! Afterwards, the three of us chatted some more as we surveyed the arena with some concern: we all had standing-tickets, but the floor-area was still quite spacious, and there were certainly blocks of seating all around above us that no tickets had been sold for. Even the getting-there-after-work excuse wasn't covering the fact that the gig was notably undersold: would this therefore turn out to be the last occasion New Order played at a venue this size?
The Maximo Park banner was taken-down, records were played, pints were drunk, and equipment was moved, and gradually the venue filled-out some more (though not anywhere near to capacity), and eventually the lights dimmed and New Order wandered on stage. No backdrops, screens, special lighting (beyond the Arena's own rig) or additional musicians: just the three remaining New Order men and (now full-time) ex-Marion guitarist Phil Cunningham. The gig had been promoted as a Singles concert (in support of last year's compilation album), so we'd not expected much different, but straight-away Barney greeted the crowd with the info that they were gonna be Joy Division for a while, and they were into 'She's Lost Control', 'Shadowplay' (at one time my favourite Joy Division song; an album track of course) and, totally unexpectedly, 'These Days'. Most of the audience were getting it, but things took right off when they followed up with 'Transmission' and 'Love Will Tear us Apart' (the Joy Division songs that even those who don't know Joy Division have heard), and then (to Carolyn's pleasure) 'Atmosphere'. That opening twenty-or-so minutes already made the whole trip worthwhile: New Order then did the honourable and right thing of stating their intention of getting back up-to-date, and playing loads of recent (non-single, undersold) songs from their most recent (admittedly below-par) album, starting with the best (and title) track 'Waiting For The Siren's Call'. Despite a chime through 'Ceremony', this part of the gig ('Hey Joe', 'Crystal') seemed to underwhelm Lee (who Carolyn & I had become a few people seperated from in all the dancing), and the next thing we knew she'd had a text from him saying that he wasn't enjoying New Order's set at all, and had gone back to Brighton. This was really disappointing, but then neither of us had been working that day (and Lee's boss had, wrongly, been texting him work-related requests out-of-hours), so I'm sure he just took the decision he felt most-comfortable with by heading home (or, rather, the home he's staying in whilst his own room is redecorated..) Personally, I was loving-it, and sang all the way through 'Regret' (I may have got some words wrong, but not as many as Barney did), and then they slowed down for 'Guilt Is A Useless Emotion' and we both needed a piss and another beer. Re-entering the arena, New Order had started-up on 'Bizarre Love Triangle', and this was when they finally honoured the script on the advertising and hit a seam of classic singles ('Temptation', 'The Perfect Kiss' segueing into 'Blue Monday'). What we were really enjoying was the sheer (after all this time) raggedness of New Order, as sequences from one song got badly-transposed over others, cues were missed, and tracks rattled-on until someone thought about pressing Pause. After 25 years of being New Order (and despite the longstanding use of backing-tapes, whether as rhythm/sequence tracks, or to carry the backing-vocals) there's no slickness involved in their performance, just a mass of verbal 'OK's?' to one another, nods and overlaps. A long call for an encore ensued after those songs (I was doubtful that we'd even get one, remembering their on/off reticence to the form of encoring), until eventually the group returned. Barney explained that they'd spent that time trying to work out what to play next, then (oh yes!) he picked-up a melodica (I like to think he only packed it for the following 16-bars) and (giving the game-away as he positioned his fingers to find the right notes) they went into a heroic 'Love Vigilantes' ("A pro-war song", according to Barney). 'Turn' (second-best song from their last album) followed ("I know it's a new song, but be more enthusiastic, it's a fucking good song" Barney exclaimed, rightfully), then, finally, the (very 90's/House) re-jigged 'True Faith'.
Bootleg T-shirt sellers, crowded tube-trains, end-of-day pasties and pizza-slices from Victoria, fast-trains back to Hove. Even seeing a drunk lad jump on top of the bonnet of a speeding taxi in an idiotic attempt to hail it (reassuringly, we also witnessed the inter-cab emergency procedure come successfully into effect, whereby a taxi in trouble bring all the cabs in the area zooming down to help-out), failed to shake our benevolence towards everything, post-gig. Though Lee hadn't ultimately enjoyed himself, Carolyn & I were both happy that (studio-recordings notwithstanding) New Order still had enough vital-spark left to make going to future gigs a promising prospect. However many years away that might be.

2006-10-26T10:34:00.000Z

It was frustrating having to work last Saturday, 'cos Rumiko Jr were playing a 'secret' afternoon gig in the town centre. I'd been left in charge of the shop where I work (in Bexhill) throughout the week, and was thinking that I might give myself a reward by closing it early on the Saturday afternoon and sodding off back to Hastings, but then the manager of the shop decided to cut short his signed-off period and come back to work after all, the swine. What I was missing out on was the opening of the new Source BMX shop in Queens Road (relocated from St Leonards Road in Bexhill), where Rumiko set up on the roof and played a fairly impromptu set to the Priory Meadow shoppers over the road. I spent the afternoon at work wondering if they'd been arrested, as the group's expectation was that they'd have the plugs pulled, but when I got off the train back in Hastings later in the afternoon Marcus drove past and was able to fill me in briefly on how succesful the gig had gone. As I passed through the shopping centre itself, I met Helen, Sally and Jo, who also told me what a good event it had been, as did Reuben when we caught up with him near his flat. It'd been a sunny afternoon, but in the distance over the cliffs I'd seen a mountainous cloud approaching out of the clear sky. I went home and cooked some foodas some flashes in the distance indicated a storm approaching. When it came, the storm hit hard, hurling lumps of ice out of the sky and onto the Old Town, sending the kids who'd been hanging out in the car parks and the chessboard scattering for safety, as booms of thunder physically shook the floors and walls of our old house. The storm circled round twice, but then subsided, and I settled in for the evening with some poor-tasting beer (Corona - possibly the same people who made them soft drinks in the 70's from the flavour of it: in fact it may just have been Corona Limeade that had been fermenting since 1978) and watched an old Doctor Who video that I'd got in the post (The Daleks - apparently 'Remastered', which again made me wonder how poor the condition of the tapes for the previous vhs release must've been) 'cos it was a few hours until the Brass Monkey was gonna be opening. Rob popped by with a friend who was interested in moving in to the house, so I was relieved to get that a bit sorted as our housemate situation been bothering me most of the week. When it got closer to 11pm I started heading-out, and bumped into Sally again outside the Dragon, who told me that the Monkey had been closed. I nipped back indoors and received a text from Caroline, saying that the place had been flooded in the storms earlier, but that they'd got it open again, so I went out and picked up Sally, Lethwyn, Reuben etc from the bar, and we went on into town. I said hello to the Regular John boys in the Monkey (it was Pete's birthday the next day, and Matt's a couple of days after) and stood up to watch Cloudesley Shovell (John, Louis and Bill) play a heavy and intricate set of intertwining early-prog riffs - I think this was the first time I'd seen them doing their own material, rather than the covers-based sets they'd started out doing at Smugglers etc. I found space to sit down next to Michael and Caroline, who advised me not to put my coat on the floor, as up until the doors had opened, the floor had been covered in raw sewage: in fact, the smell of scented-disenfectant was still heavy in the room. Kim sat with us for a bit, until Rumiko hit the stage for their second gig of the day, whereupon he went up to dance, and somehow seemed to generate a breakdance-influenced moshpit during their performance - the first moshpit I've seen at a Rumiko gig (as opposed to people just dancing), which did include a lot of the skaters & BMXers who'd have been watching them on the Source's roof earlier. For both the band and the audience, it seemed that the high of the afternoon's gig was carrying over into the night's set, so the band played energetically and the audience went for it in kind. I had a chat to Tim Hoyte, Jamie and various other people while we waited for Regular John's headline slot, but once again I found that by the time they were playing, I'd rendered myself incapable of much other than some dancing about to them: I think my head was just receiving the message "Yay! Noisy Rock Band!" without much else sinking in - not that this mattered much for a Saturday night. I must've picked up on them introducing a song as their last one though, 'cos I took that as a cue to slip off home, sparing myself the physical difficulty of having to make my mouth work to say goodbye to people.
After a quiet couple of days, I went down Revolver on the Tuesday evening to see Dean play. It was a more relaxed night than the last few sessions there: I sat with Dean and Marcus, who were still enthused about Saturday's rooftop gig, where we were joined by Steph and Alis, and then Rufus. Dean and Marcus played the first set, and Kim appeared from behind a wall to sit near us all. Sooner or later, I'm gonna have to get my notebook out at one of Dean's Revolver sessions, 'cos I was even more aware that evening of just how many new songs he's playing at the moment (it feels like there's at least a dozen more than are even on the unreleased current album). I hit a bit of a zone of being unable to communicate, as I went through a temporary alcohol-induced torpor, which may have looked a bit rude to people like Chuckie who came by to say hello. Fortunately, this began to lift while Rufus played a strong set (or maybe it was the goodness of the lingering aura of Jackie Wilson), and by the time Dean and Marcus struggled back onto their chairs for a second set (it was getting quite late by this point) I was cheery again. Reuben had been texting, as he was down the Gritti Palace at the last of Mr Twangy's open-mike nights (which are coming to a halt there because the Gritti is giving up and closing next Tuesday night on Hallowe'en), and Kim also asked if I was gonna go along there with him after, but I'd never been to any of the previous Twangy nights, so I didn't feel it necessary to mark it's passing. Besides, I was very tired by now, so I took myself off home, as usual.
Then last night (Wednesday) Alfie had come over to Hastings again for a gig at The Street, and as he'd felt a bit miffed that very few of us had made it over to his recent Brighton gig, I thought I might as well pop along and say Hi. Leicestere Ben and Simon Shaw were Alfie's accomplices for the vening, and Robert had come over with them. I got a drink from Richard at the bar, and sat down near the back with Dean and Danielle. We chatted briefly with Ben and Alfie before they started playing, and between songs I caught up on a bit more chat with Dean (who was recovering from last night by sticking to soft drinks) and Danielle. Alfie's songs were sounding stronger than I'd heard them before, and the balance between him, Ben and Simon was solid, so it was all going down well with the people who'd come along to see him (Ewen from the Smugs, musicians like Andy Warren and Colin Gibson, and some Brighton visitors). I texted a few friends, and during the band's break Reuben, Muz and Richard all turned up and joined us. We chatted about local music stuff (the new Mumm-ra single, pub-tussles with John Martyn in the 70's, forthcoming Indie Stu promotions, all that kind of thing), and Dean and Danielle chose an early night. Alfie's band played another energetic second set, with a lot of covers chucked in amongst Alfie's songs (some of which were so new he'd not played them publicly with Ben and Simon before, though they'd spent the past few days recording them successfully in a newly converted barn on the farm), and afterwards they all looked likely to be going down to Smugglers. I didn't have the money to do this (though I didn't, at least, have to work the next day, as I'd got a few days holiday from work), so I had a quick catch-up with Jonathan Martin, then strolled home again.

2006-10-20T20:30:00.000Z

This week's been quiet, but last week was Hastings Week, which meant there was stuff going on out & about whether we were expecting to find it or not.
The Tuesday visit to Revolver was planned, though, as it was Dean's usual session. This time he had Pablo on the pedal steel accompanying on all his songs, which made a special change. Carolyn had come over to visit everyone in Hastings, in the run up to Saturday's Bonfire Parade and fireworks, so she came along with Kirsty and me. Michael and Caroline were already there, along with Angie and her dad (Duncan made it too, eventually), but we were a little late, and Revolver was very busy, so we couldn't sit too near them. Hayley was playing too, which was another treat for the evening, and she was the only one of the night's performers to hush the whole room into full pin-drop attention. Both Rufus and Arthur repeated their appearances from the previous session there too, so there was a distinct spread of styles and voices within the singer-songwriter framework of the evening. Jamie was out, but didn't seem in any hurry to draw us into conversation about whether he was going to move into our house, so Kirsty got to work on trying to persuade Reuben instead. He looked tempted, but that may have been a combination of alcohol and glamour (Kirsty had spent the day off work dressing-up at home for her own entertainment, and was better turned out than even Reuben)! Kim sat down with us for a while, and was enjoying himself, but he eventually started throwing paper darts to grab our attention, so I had to do one of my ineffectual Paddington Bear 'hard stares' at him. I'd been concentrating a fair bit on watching how Paul operated the pedal steel as he added his chimes and glissandos to Dean's songs, but after a while the drink was taking over, and I just started gabbling on to my friends instead. Richard turned up too, and joined Kim, Jamie and Reuben on the nearby sofa, as they formed a posse to continue the evening down at Harpers. Me and my two companions decided to decline, and politely made our way home after the music had finished, where Kirsty ran off upstairs to catch up with Ben, and Carolyn and I went online to arrange her Myspace page, and one for the cats too. [nb: It's my hope that Luke & Leia's Myspace page will prove very popular - they've got more 'friends' than me already - and launch a new Pet-Myspace phenomenon. Animals take control!]
Wednesday, Carolyn came back over after visiting her family (and I'd been to see mine too), so we could both go down to Smugglers where Helen was starting to celebrate her birthday (she'd also have a party later in the week). We'd all assumed that there would be no live music that night, and that we could all get raucously drunk playing pool and putting nonsense on the jukebox, but it turned out that Tom Palmer had booked a gig for the night, one of his occasional visits back up from Cornwall, so we had to be a little more subdued than we'd intended (out of respect not only to the performer, but also to Ewen and some of the regulars who'd come down specially to see Tom play). His songs may be rather earnest, but his demeanour is anything but, so at least we were all being entertained by his boozed-up banter and anecdotes, and some of the covers he dropped in occasionally, such as 'Solid Air', hit the spot fine. Helen was out with Lisa and Christa, and of course Marcus, Caroline, Rufus, Dean et al were also along for some fun. We were trying to keep a bit of a lid on our behaviour, and for a moment were gonna head off to The Street to let rip, but then we did all get quite pissed after a time, and once Helen's birthday cake (a fabulous pink handbag-shaped slab of sponge and thick icing, with loads of specifically-flavoured icing lipsticks arranged around it) was brought out and consumed, any ideas about going on from Smugglers went out the window, and it all got a bit knockabout. Matt Jukes turned up later to hang out too, and the birthday lady was getting very kissy with everyone by then, so I think she had a good night overall. I don't really remember Carolyn and I leaving, but we got back safely to the Old Town nonetheless.
Thursday was supposed to be a bit more laid-back: Carolyn again spent a day with family and friends in Bexhill, and came to visit us in the evening, where we decided to go out to the FILO for a quick drink. I'd completely failed to pick-up on the fact that there was a party happening all down Courthouse Street that evening though, and it wasn't until we got past the High Street launderette and found a huge crowd of revellers, an Elvis impersonator, Sambalanco, and a bunch of disparate friends (including Billy and his mates, and Ludivine and hers) that we remembered it was Hastings Week now. I made a few excuses and headed on up to the FILO, where it turned out that there was gonna be live music, and it was the first day of their Beer Festival, so the place was rammed. Carolyn and I got beers from the back garden (we'd return again later in the week several times, including after the Saturday fireworks with Marcus) and stationed ourselves in the pub, near to the toilets, in order to hear whoever was going to be playing. We couldn't actually see over the crowd's heads to the makeshift stage area by the windows, and the occasional drum roll or flurry of trumpet indicated that either we were gonna have live jazz, or that the FILO had hired some avant-garde jazz improv which had already begun. In actual fact, the music that night turned out to be from Blair and his group (including Russel on drums, Jo on organ, and, I think, Sambalanco's Julian on hand-drums, plus other musicians I didn't recognise). Many other Sambalanco participants had flooded the pub, including Adrian Davies (one of many Hastings friends who'd joined us at University in Hertfordshire a decade ago, along with Nick Blewitt, who I'd also bumped into in the FILO a few days previously), and Leigh, who I'd not seen since I was actually at University, and therefore didn't recognise, even when Carolyn said "Isn't that Leigh?" Good to catch up with these people so randomly though. Step turned up looking for his mate, but the pub was so busy that Mike the landlord was having to close the doors, so as Step couldn't find who he was looking for he joined us lot to watch Blair and co hit their stride with some expertly played funk, soul, latin and even hip-hop grooves. Linda King could be seen up on a chair dancing away, with her paintings that hang on the FILO's walls in the background, which was a neat confluence. Billy and his mate could be seen hanging in through the front windows before they could get into the pub, heads bobbing away like some beatnik version of Statler and Waldorf. The single drink that Carolyn and I had come out for inevitably turned into many more pints as we chatted away about music and everything else with Step, Leigh and anyone, and it took a bit of an effort to finally break away from Blair's second set and get back to my place, where we then cracked onto the bottles of wine we'd stashed away for a quiet evening's drinking at home. Needless to say, the following day's hangovers were cracking. And we had Helen's party to go to! And fireworks the day after! Our poor addled brains.

2006-10-06T19:18:00.000Z

Dean's birthday bash down Smugglers last Friday could also be viewed as the last great night of Summer; such was the warmth of the night, and high turnout of friends. I got along to the pub about half-eight, said Hi to Dean & Danielle, got a drink, and jumped up over Jonathan Martin's table and onto the pool table, as Regular John started tuning up - loudly. Caroline and Marcus joined me up there, with Rufus and Joe sitting beneath us, as the John played. Their new songs are excellent: relentless monolithic riffs, somewhere between Black Sabbath (my guess) and Spacemen 3 (Marcus'). The power and lights blew during one of Bonj's songs. Ewen plugged everything back in down in the cellar, the band started up the song again, and everything blew in exactly the same place. Then a third time... it was suprising that Bonj didn't just smash the bar up, Beserker-style. Something got fixed then, and we finally got to hear the set played as intended: very awesomely. The power held for the duration of the night after that (at least, while I was around). The pub was really filling up, not just with the usual Smugglers-music crowd, but people like Nat & Bill from Flying Marrows, various former Toyskin bods, Alena, etc. Once Michael made it over from his works-do, Rumiko were able to play, letting Deano get his performance part of the evening over early - as planned, of course, as he was already on the slide. Lisa, Helen and Christa arrived outside (where there were dozens of our lot massing in the balmy evening), and though Lisa and Christa popped in to get to the bar, Helen stayed outside watching through the windows. I tried to tell this to Caroline, over the noise of a highly-amped Rumiko Jr rocker. "Helen's outside." "What?" "Helen's Outside!" "What?!" I decided to try sign language; pointed outside, then used the fingers of both hands to make the shapes H, E, L, E and N. Caroline nodded, but when the song finished asked me "What were you saying about an alien?" At some point, on one of a few trips to the loos, I waited 'til there was a free urinal, undid my trousers, but was immediately disturbed by the guy who'd just finished there pounding his fists against the wall behind me. "Oh, sorry to disturb you mate," he said "But I'm really ANGRY this evening, things are FUCKING PISSING ME OFF!" At the point Reuben came in and struck up conversation with me too, all of which put me off going for a piss, so I made an excuse and went into the (apparently broken) cubicle instead for some privacy. Reuben asked me very specifically to use a particular phrase about him in the context of this blog entry, but I forgot what it was almost straight after. I think it was something to do with his legs, though. Sorry Reu! Tara came by with Karen and some others, they were passing through on their way to George Street. Tara (now out of her leg-cast) asked me if I'd compere Other Words the following week, and being a bit drunk I said Yes, without really taking into account that I'd be bricking it when the evening came around. They'd lost track of Karen, so I was instructed to tell her when I saw her that they'd meet her in the Old Town. My evening got unravelled enough that when I did finally bump into Karen outside, and attempt to pass on Tara's message, I found that it was now several hours later, and Karen had in fact already gone into the Old Town, spent the evening with them, and the whole lot of them had just returned to Smugglers at that very moment. Ewen had given Dean a polystyrene crate that held six large foil-wrapped bottles, which I took to be champagne, but turned out to be large Kronenbergs - probably more of a result for Deano and the various people he passed them around to. A visiting group from Italy, The Small Jackets, were playing: all skinny, sweaty bare torsos, tattooes up their arms, hair and bandanas, the whole Motley Crue/GnR thing. They were very (Italian) metal, and the Regular John/Gorilla axis were loving it. Some of our less-metal friends weren't, though, and took the lateness of the hour as a cue to head off home. I carried on a while longer, as Leicester's Ambrose Tompkins had driven down, and arrived late in order to play too (reciprocating Rumiko's participation in their drummer Ben's birthday gig in Leicester over the summer). They sounded fun to me, but I'd reached a stage at which everything was fun (passing glasses to the bar - hey, that's fun!), so had switched any musical perception part of my brain off, never mind! I just vaguely recollect rushing from outside, to bar, to pool table, to toilets, to wherever, bumping into waves of friends (Wookie, Katherine, Del etc), and eventually making very lengthy goodbyes to the mass of people outside Smugglers, before zooming off home. I don't expect anyone else to be able to fill in the blanks here for me. Go, Deano.

2006-09-29T06:06:00.000Z

A quick post, before we reach Deano's birthday gig at Smugglers tonight. I saw him on Tuesday, down at Revolver for his regular fortnightly session, and he was in good form. As a result of him turning 30 this week, he's been thinking about what sort of stresses he can put his body through as he gets older, and is attempting to have at least some regularity to both his excercise and his drinking time. However this manifests itself over the forthcoming months, it meant that he was very focussed on the evening's gig. I didn't actually get down Revolver until well into the initial set that he and Marcus were playing, the latter keeping up admirably with Dean's on-the-spot decisions about which song to play next, despite pranging his top string with little effort. I sat with Kim, who was also particularly cheery that evening, and Dean and Marcus soon finished their tunes and joined us. Despite some current problems around (not within) the band, both were on chatty behaviour, debating the pros and cons of aspects of gigging, labels, the internet etc with us (or, rather, with me, as Kim seemed more concerned with interjecting random comments and compliments). A guy I'd not met before, who I think was called Arthur, then played some songs which were fine but downtempo and sonorous. He seemed to be having a fun evening out with the crowd he was with (various local photographer types etc), so it wasn't like the evening suddenly got all serious or anything, though. Marcus played a few tunes, including Lemonheads' 'It's A Shame About Ray' (the band had been a talking point this week, on occasion of their new album coming out); then Rufus turned up and fitted a few of his own songs in too. There was quite a few people around by this point, including (amongst their various friends) Lethwyn, Reuben, Ollie, Step, and Rob Dennis; all spaced out around the bar in different groups. Tim of Revolver was having a fine time, and so there was no hurry for Dean & Marcus to rush their second set, after so many others had performed already. Rufus sat with Kim and I, while we listened to the pair rattle through a whole bunch of new and newer songs of Dean's, with Marcus embellishing both the ones he's played on with Rumiko, and the ones he'd apparently not turned his hand to before, with flowing and circling lines on his guitar. I stuck around for a bit of a chat to everyone afterwards, but made my way off before the bar shut, and found Rebecca and some of her friends outside the Dragon (itself just closing up). We had a short, slightly rushed and drunk, chat about the Cinema, but her lot were keen to get to Revolver as I'd told them it was still open, so I said goodbye and continued my research into films I'd like to show there back online indoors, before sending my conclusion via text and turning in for the night.

2006-09-21T18:10:00.000Z

After being collected from work by Carolyn on Saturday afternoon, we went back to Hastings, and bumped into Kim and his wife Ann outside St Mary In The Castle, and they invited us to the private view of the new group show there (in the SOCA Gallery) that Kim is in. The two of us went back to mine for a dinner of chips, then went back out towards St Mary's again, 'cos I'd picked up tickets the day before for Billy Childish & the Chatham Singers there that evening. We met Maya on the way, and once inside managed to catch up with Reuben, Tim & Liam and their friends; Tim Hoyte; Richard Evans & Sally; and Sally & her friend. We got drinks (bottles of sweet cider, for a change: I don't know why) and sat at the back and chatted, whilst the venue filled-up (it was a strong turn-out), and the group and promoters (Don't Feed The Poets' John and Justin, on behalf of the Coastal Currents festival that was running all across the town) got things set-up. I'd not been sure what form The Chatham Singers would take (and half-expected them to have some sort of multiple-voiced choir thing going on), but onstage was just a small drum-kit, a couple of guitars and amps, and microphones by each. Childish, still very whiskered, came on and sat down on the stage front, and made his hellos. He was a lot more garralous and self-deprecating than I was expecting, and although the evening was nominally meant to have a poetry-half, followed by a musical-half, the whole evening's performance was a lot more mixed. Childish did concentrate mainly on poetry, and a few anecdotes, in the first set, but on several occasions (partly 'cos his speaking-voice began drying up and cracking) he launched into several acapella songs (mostly traditional ones) in order to stretch his throat again. Having read a handful of his poetry and prose books, I found that much of the material he was performing was quite warm (in poems dedicated to his wife, child etc, or about his artwork), whilst I was prepared for the subject matter of some of the harsher poems (that largely dealt with his own childhood). When he took a halftime break I found, from chatting to my friends, that thought they were all enjoying the evening to some extent, a few of them were finding it very depressing, which suprised me. Regardless, I advised them to stick around for the second half: correctly, as it turned out that The Chatham Singers were indeed another 3-piece group (in similar vein to all those other 3-piece groups of Billy Childish's), with him and his wife on electric guitars, and a guy on tiny-drumkit and percussion duties (with all three on vocals). The group's mics and guitars were all fed back into their vintage (or, rather, ancient) amps, without any further amplification, which meant that, from the back, we had to strain a bit to pick out what was occurring at some points vocally, but they were still able to generate a trebly storm of jagged electric blues. Unfortunately, the gear was so elderly, it began packing-up during the set, and eventually Childish's own amp expired, much to his chagrin. He extended the evening further by singing a few songs unaccompanied (including Leadbelly's 'In The Pines' aka 'Where Did You Sleep Last Night?', and, as a pleasant suprise, his own 'You Make Me Die'), and then piecing together various combinations of the group through the remaining amp for a few more songs (Leadbelly's 'Bourgeois Town' made an appearance here - which I knew from The Fall's version - not, I assume, in reference to Hastings, although the round tables and bottles of wine in St Mary's were rather more highbrow that Childish's bands' usual gig-surroundings). I had a whale of a time, as did most of Reuben's lot, who were eagerly buying up what records they could from the group during the evening, chatting to the band and getting them autographed; though Rockabilly Liam predictably had some criticism of the way they'd treated their gear! Afterwards, Carolyn and I headed down to Smugglers (Reuben and Liam; Linda King et al, followed on when they were done at St Mary's) for the night's Rumiko Jr gig. I'd been entertaining thoughts of dragging Childish etc along to the Smugs to see Rumiko, partly 'cos I thought they might enjoy them, and partly 'cos I'd love to see them play the pub themselves, but Rumiko were playing so raggedly when we arrived that I was actually pleased I didn't. The band were fairly unfocussed partly 'cos they were being forced to play with the unusual line-up of just Dean, Rufus (who didn't look like he'd slept for several days) and Marcus, plus fall-back teenage drummer Jimmy pounding along behind them. Soph, Steph and Harry had all turned up, which was great, and the John's Matt was at the bar with his girlfriend: we said Hi to them, and to Reuben's mum, and Tom, before plonking ourselves up on the pool table to watch. We'd timed it to arrive just before Rumiko's mid-set break, so got a chance to catch up with everyone then, and fill people in about the St Mary's performance (once again, I'd found myself wishing that it was a little easier to coax my friends out to some of the more unusual events that have gone on over this summer). Caroline, Lisa, Helen and Christa all turned up; as did Jonathan Martin; Step and his partner; Richard Hart; Simon Bush; Jonny Russell, and many others. Rumiko got it together during their second set, with the guitars finally ringing through loudly and in tune, and Jimmy really making a strenuous but successful effort to force himself through playing all Bill's rolls and fills, often on cue from Rufus (the stress was showing on the lad's face, but he didn't slip-up, well, only once, by finishing a song slightly too soon, but they picked it up again). Rumiko's final song was that (title not known) rock-out with the rapid angular riffs, and it was great to see Gary at the bar, Linda and her friends, Reuben and everyone else grinning and throwing air-guitar shapes with their hands and arms during it. The band had pulled the gig off fantastically well by the end, and everyone was all smiles, hugs, kisses and free Disastronaut T-shirts afterwards. A lot of them, having only been out since about 10pm, were heading down to Brass Monkey to catch Cloudesley Shovell (Bill, John and Louis' group) playing, but as Carolyn and I had been mixing our drinks since the early evening, we left them to it and reeled back to the Old Town instead.
Carolyn reciprocated the hosting on the Tuesday after, when I went over to Brighton after work for Spirit Of Gravity, as usual at the Marlborough Theatre. I found her in the downstairs bar, and we were soon joined by Lee (who was contributing some vocals to one of the acts that night). More members of the collective were gradually arriving, including Geoff, who popped his head round the door of the Theatre Bar to hand me a copy of his new Elmaes 7" as promised - ta! When it was performance time, the three of us went upstairs: Carolyn & I seating ourselves, and Lee organising when he was going to perform, when to take care of the door, etc. First act on was This Sound Bureaucracy: basically the Malevich duo of Nick and Tony, with guest spoken-word vocalists from the Spirit Of Gravity collective. They started their set with Nick reading aloud their Manifesto Of Audience Appreciation Of Live Music (handily also photocopied onto A4 and left on each table, along with a pair of dice, the latter for use with the Audience Participation Event instructions on the reverse of the Manifesto) to Tony's sound-generation. Following that, Nick strapped a couple of electronic-manipulation boxes (I didn't recognise their identity or purpose) to his torso, and the first of the four guests stepped up to read into the mic. I'm not sure of the identity of the first two vocalists (though one of them would have been Dan Powell, according to the thank-you's afterwards), the second of whom came across more clearly as he decided to fit his poem about Art Galleries in with the rhythm of the loops that were being generated. Lee came on third, in curly black wig (not quite an afro wig, thankfully) and dark glasses, in order to read his adaptation of a Britney Spears online poetry posting about her experience of motherhood, which Lee had altered by the frequent addition of the words "Emperor Penguin". Geoff was the final vocalist, with an "I am Brian Eno" poem, which may have been pre-planned, but may equally have been improvised after the arrival of a couple who'd excitedly misread the Evening Argus' billing for Leo Abrahams that evening ('Featuring Brian Eno and David Holmes collaborator Leo Abrahams, and guests') as indicating a gig by Eno himself. Inevitably, that couple left before the end of the evening, during the set of solo electric guitar pieces and songs by Fupper. A shame, as they would probably have enjoyed much of Leo Abrahams' concluding appearance: as his more ambient pieces (generated with chiming, fluid guitar playing, looped with pedals and laptop) were straight out of the Eno, and associated, canon. These pieces were superb, but very, very soporific, though preferable to Abrahams' more dynamic pieces, which edged closed to Robert Fripp or Mike Oldfield territories. I still enjoyed both his set, and Fupper's rawer one, and it was a nice suprise also when Chris Cook (heavily featured on the Elmaes 7", as it turned out) arrived unexpectedly, on a flying visit from London, but we were finding it too easy to nod-off during the heavy ambient moments of Leo Abrahams (incidentally, is there no ventilation upstairs in the Marlborough? It's oppressive, but so relaxing..), and popped back downstairs for one more drink (first in the main bar, then back into the Theatre Bar). Turns out we'd decided on that move within the last few minutes of Abrahams' set, 'cos we then witnessed him, and most of the collective, filing out of the buildig in fairly quick succession. Lee knew we'd gone for another drink, though, and so joined us, before we all got the night bus back into Hove.
Ok, so I've declined to open the bills that came from British Telecom and British Gas this week: but I've still managed, along with Carolyn, to scrape through a major poetry/blues gig, a rocking pub gig, an art exhibition private view (St Mary's with Kim and Ann, Sunday afternoon), a pub lunch (The Pig, Sunday, during which I fielded many phone calls and texts as I tried to help Jeffrey find door-staff for the Air Guitar championships that night over in Brighton at the Concorde 2), an evening's social drinking (The FILO with Caroline, Sunday) and a night of experimental music in Brighton, all on the most minumum of wages. It ain't the way you do it, it's what you do, etc.

2006-09-16T06:05:00.000Z

Paula was in town last weekend, so on Saturday evening I went along to the Gritti Palace to catch up with her and Caroline. Reuben and Rob were djing there: Reu had just returned from Brighton with the vinyl Nuggets reissue and the Mumm-Ra ep on 10" (the old and the new, but a huge amount of learning in between), and was leaning heavily on the former for the evening. The Gritti was quite busy though, and Caroline and Paula were sitting on an outdoor table on the East side, which was pretty cold really. After a quick pint and chat, we decided to go somewhere warm, and headed along to sit in the back room of The Pig. Bumped into Alena and (I think his name is) Adam at the bar, turned out she's playing in SouthernWood now, and has been for a few years (my genuinely suprised exclamation of "Are they still going?" could've been more tactful). After a couple more pints, we went around to the Brass Monkey, where Gorilla were windmilling and scissor-kicking their way through their power-rock onstage. Almost anyone and everyone had turned up at the Monkey for the evening, so much so that it wouldn't do me much good to try and remember exactly who I chatted to: but I can still recall speaking to Jamie, Christa, Alis & Lucy. I know there were dozens more friends about, but I reached overload of socialising and drinking at some point, and all my faculties began to leak away. Caroline and Paula only stayed for one drink during Gorilla, before they headed back to St Leonards, so the rest of my night gradually blurred as I carried on drinking, waiting for Regular John to come onstage. Which they eventually did some time far past 1am: and it had got to the point that I was standing watching them play a loud, heavy and thrilling set, with the knowledge in the back of my mind that I wasn't really taking anything in, and was struggling to remember where I was, who I was with, or that I was supposed to be awake. The John did do an amped-up Hyeshin, and many more tracks I know (and, if I'd been a bit more sober would've been able to put titles to the day after), as well as, apparently, dropping in the odd unplayed track from the newly recorded album. Somehow I managed to keep drinking beyond the point at which they'd finished their set, though I'm not sure how long for, and I eventually wound-up home abround 2:30, I think.
After she'd spent a couple of days fulfilling various family commitments, I got a text from Paula again, and caught up with her on Tuesday evening up at the FILO. She was a lot more upbeat than she had been on Saturday (blame the fatigue of travel), and we had a much fuller recap on our, and our friends, recent exploits. After a few drinks it was time to go down to Revolver, where Deano and Jim were setting up to play. Dean was cheery and chatty, as he seems to be focussed and on the up again, and we were soon joined by Kim, Michael and Caroline. Dean & Jim played their first, more countrified set, and the bar filled up with friends and fools. I had a quick chat with Matt, just prior to him and Dean collaborating on an excellent set of Regular John songs, which just worked really well (I didn't ask if they'd rehearsed or if it was unplanned, but they gelled). During Dean & Jim's more upbeat second set I was starting to get a bit more drunk, and slightly edgy about one or two punters around our table who I don't have much trust in, though I'd exclude Jonathan Martin, Richard Hart etc from that comment, of course. Caroline and Michael had organised a cab back to St Leonards, but Paula was thinking of going on to Harpers, so opted to stick around with the rest of us in Revolver for a bit longer. Not wishing to do Harpers myself, I impressed on her that she should ring my mobile if she got stuck for somewhere to crash later (not that I ever hear it during the night once I've got home and passed-out): then I did the rounds of saying my goodbyes, had a quick chat with Rebecca about films and the Electric Palace, and slipped away.

2006-08-31T19:29:00.000Z

Last weekend the Jour De Fete events happened at the De La Warr Pavilion, so partly to prepare for them I went into the De La Warr during my lunch hour on the Saturday. Took a wander around Jeremy Deller's exhibits in the first Gallery (without stopping to view the various filmworks included), then headed upstairs to observe Mark Anstee scribbling away on a large slope constructed in the upper Gallery. A trip up the next flight of stairs revealed a television screen inset into the wall, from which a camera positioned at the top of the slope transmitted a live feed of Anstee at work. From there, I went onto the roof of the Pavilion, for the first time, and took in the view: which included some of the Bexhill Bow-Wow event that was warming-up down below. A group called Johnny & The Wags, who specialised in dog-themed songs (at least for the afternoon), were on the bandstand performing I Wanna Be Your Dog in a slow-country style, and I rather liked them. Then I went down the far staircase back into the building, through the restaurant and bar, past Mark Anstee again, and down to the ground floor shop, where I browsed a couple of the books related to Deller's works, before heading out and back to work in a sudden downpour.
After I finished work in the afternoon I got the train back to Hastings, went home, ate, and changed my clothes, then got the train back to Bexhill. Re-entering the De La Warr I met Carolyn and a few friends she'd brought over from Brighton for the evening's Acid Brass performance. We were introduced, then bought some drinks and went out onto the lawns whilst the Fairey Band (who I'd been referring to on my boards by their longer, possibly earlier, name of the Williams-Fairey Band) wandered about, ate chip suppers, and prepared for the concert. It was a particularly fine evening, and we discussed various facts about Bexhill and the area (though I felt rather old for pointing out that I worked somewhere beyond a set of belisha-beacons, a term which none of the Brightonians had heard). When the Fairey Band took to their positions on the bandstand, our party went indoors and up to the bar to get drinks, then took places out on the first floor balcony as the band played Can U Dance? The concept (colliery brass band plays acid house tracks) had been formulated by Jeremy Deller, and I was familiar with the sound of the band as I'd seen them onstage at the KLF comeback gig, as 2K, at the Barbican in London, several years ago, but this was my first opportunity to catch them performing in their own right. Their conductor was enjoying the opportunity of introducing each piece before it was performed (though we sensed his speeched were rehearsed through routine, and that the band would've heard most of his asides before), which would certainly have been of use to many of the large, all-ages audience there (toddlers dancing down the front, very elderly pensioners nodding away on the deck chairs and balconies, the great and good of the local arts crowd, comic actor Sam Kelly, et al). Crystal turned up with her mother and joined us, and the band parped through tunes like Pacific State, Cubik and Let's Get Brutal. When the Fairey Band took a break, we got more drinks and chatted, and I popped up to the roof and found Gill & Jim watching from on high (an even larger work-reunion was stymied by Dave's forgetful double-booking of himself that evening). Back down on the balcony, Lee finally broke away from his family engagements at home, and joined our group. He was relieved to find the Fairey Band were about to perform a second set, which they shortly begun with What Time Is Love? As we'd all had a few drinks by now (Lee had been on wine with his family) there was a fair bit of limited dancing going on up on our balcony, and after Voodoo Ray I started to find it trickier to get my brain to identify the songs the band was performing (the tuned I knew, but the names escaped me). They, a little disappointingly, finished up replaying two or three tunes from earlier in the evening, culminating once again with What Time Is Love? but we were all quite pissed and so that was still enjoyable. The rest of the Brighton lot had gone off for a meal towards the close of the second set: I couldn't find Gill & Jim again (though they were still about), and Crystal's mum was heading home too, which left me, Crystal, Carolyn and Lee to continue the evening down at Traffers. We hadn't realised quite how drunk we all were, and Traffers turned out to be running a late bar, so the evening degenerated into very pissed joking around (Carolyn's camera phone displayed for us the next day how what we remembered as being sparkling wit looked a lot more like drunken shouting in the cold light of the following day). Darren was at the pub with a mate or two, but wisely opted not to join our table, as we ranted and gibbered at each other, before heading back to Carolyn's dad's house for partially-revitalising cups of tea. All of us took the sensible decision to crash out there, rising very late Sunday morning to face our various journeys home.
After a low-key evening in the FILO on the Sunday night with Caroline and Carolyn, Bank Holiday Monday beckoned. Carolyn had stuck around in the Old Town, and late in the afternoon we walked along the seafront to the Pig In Paradise to meet up with Caroline again. The three of us were meant to be going to The Carlisle, where Rumiko Jr were performing as part of a Johnny Cash Day, raising funds for the RNLI. Walking past The Carlisle on the way to the Pig earlier, I'd got cold feet about going (partly due to the crowds standing around the bucking bronco outside, and partly 'cos I'd not been out to a local gig for a few weeks now, and was starting to forget how to cope with being sociable in a crowd). I didn't commit to a decision until we reached The Carlisle, and I was encouraged to go in with Carolyn & Caroline. After I had a pint in my hand, I soon settled down, and was glad to have broken my (financially induced) unsociable streak. Though I'd been to a few gigs involving Regular John upstairs in The Carlisle's function room last summer, this was the first time I'd attended a gig down in the main pub, and certainly the first time I'd been there in daylight. This did afford me the opportunity of studying the adolescent rock decor (loads of Metal Hammer & Kerrang posters, pasted up over one another, and frequently defaced with black marker pen with speech bubbles, pictures of cocks, etc), and the demeanour of the clientele (mostly old soaks like in Smugglers, but with more leather). Dean and Marcus were at the end of the bar, Rufus turned up soon after (looking suitably dishevelled from his absinthe-snorting stunt after Rumiko's previous gig there the night before), followed eventually by Bill (Michael was working that afternoon and couldn't make it). Lisa, last-night's stand-in drummer Jimmy, and Patrick had all turned up too, and we stood in bemused awe as a bunch of pub regulars (some of whom may have been musicians etc, but may not have been) were called-up by the host, and performed an utterly appalling karaoke version of Bohemian Rhapsody (possibly to placate the non-Johnny Cash-loving crowd), which went down a storm, inevitably. Rumiko then had the chance to set their gear up, and we took it's place in the near corner seat. I chatted to Chuckie about his photography work, then Simon Bush turned up at the bar, so we said Hi, and Alfie popped in too, all tanned and excited from his recent Ibiza honeymoon with Robert. Rumiko had managed to cram in rehearsals for three Johnny Cash tunes to scatter through their own material, so begun with I Still Miss Someone, and Dean doing a very passable Cash approximation. It became rapidly clear that country music (even country rock, or Johnny Cash) wasn't massively popular with most of the crowd who'd cheered through Bohemian Rhapsody a few minutes earlier, but plenty of people stuck around, applauding and occasionally dancing to Rumiko's own songs. Mid-set, and The One On The Right Is On The Left cropped up, with both Dean and the group struggling to keep on top of the rhythms and phrasing that is so distinctively Cash style. Rumiko whipped through a few more of their own songs, hoping Hayley would appear in time for her scheduled duet-appearance on Jackson, but it wasn't to be, and Dean ended up taking the plunge and performing both Cash and June Carter's lines himself (though it would only be fair to admit that his falsetto needs some work: it was rather Monty Python). After this, the group seemed releived to have got through the gig without too many pitfalls, and begun clearing up their gear. But a word from the host persuaded them to stick around for a couple more songs after what turned out to be the most interminable raffle we'd ever witnessed (dozens of prizes to choose from, but dozens of ticketholders had evidently fucked off to the back bar, or elsewhere). Even the relentlessly cheery host was finding herself flaggin towards the end, grimacing and whispering apologies to those of us within earshot. But eventually Rumiko had a crack at two more of their tunes, and then we were off, for food, and the FILO once again.
By the Tuesday evening, all our visitors had departed, and I was one of the few people still willing to head down Revolver (in fact, when I got their a little after 9pm, there was only Deano & Jim and the bar staff in the place). A friendly, but progressively drunk, bloke, new to the town, joined our table, and made conversation and comment (some interesting, some irritating: to be fair, he was getting trolleyed) throughout the evening. Dean & Jim begun playing once a few more people (Jo, Simon, and their respective friends) turned up, making up for the delayed start by performing such a lengthy set of original material that I assumed they were gonna get through their entire gig without a break. Kim made it along, and Dean & Jim eventually paused for refreshment. Reuben then appeared, and Ollie made his was in to stand at the bar with friends. I chatted pleasantly with Kim and Reuben, Dean & Jim, before the latter made a final run through a shorter set, with a few covers this time, 'til it was getting towards time at the bar. As usual, I was quite tired by this point, so I said my goodbyes to my friends, and got a solid night's sleep at last.

2006-08-08T20:08:00.000Z

The weekend before last, Alfie got married to Robert, which involved a ceremony and reception on their farm out in West Sussex, with lots of our friends playing live in a marquee, followed by camping out in the fields, all accompanied by some heavy drinking! By the following Tuesday, most of us had sufficiently recovered to go down Revolver to see Dean play (in fairness, Dean had been the most wrecked of everyone, poor sod: fortunately he was a bit physically healthier a couple of days on). I sat with Michael and Caroline, with Rufus, Del, Alis etc on another sofa, and many passing visitors scattered about. Dean and Jim did their slower set first, and Dean was in particularly strong voice, which was suprising as the last time I'd ssen him (at Alfie & Robert's) speaking was still difficult for him. Two more of the wedding guests were able to play again that night too: Rufus did a short set of his own songs, whilst Marcus unexpectedly got up for three covers (one apparently by Sebadoh, another was Higher Than The Sun, and was the other September Girls again? Sorry to say I've forgotten already). Anna had emailed Rufus some of the photos she'd taken at Rocksalts, so we were able to view those on Revolver's computers, and there were many excellent ones. Dean and Jim came back on later for a second set, which was a real mix of very recent songs, but also some Dean hadn't played for years (so familiar, but unplaceable, were they by now, that it took Marcus to jog my memory of when I'd have heard them last: years ago down the Jenny Lind probably). It's always good to see Dean remeber songs he'd forgotten or dropped in the distant past coming back to light again. Kim joined our table towards the end of the night just as I was thinking of heading off, but he bought me a pint, so I stuck it out a while longer. It was just a nice evening of post-wedding catching-up really, with some very strong performances by our trouper pals.
As I was preparing to head down to Other Words at Bar Blue, Tara rang in a bit of a panic to see if I could help set the PA up: but as I know nothing about them, and I wasn't going to get there for a while, I wasn't able to offer my services. I passed Maya outside Revolver, and walked her into town, then took a No More Hiroshimas poster off her for Bar Blue. When I did get to the venue I found Tara and a couple of the poets struggling to get everything plugged-in and working. The only useful thing I could do was get her a drink: they got the gear working soon enough though, in time for Richard to arrive and start pulling the running-order together with Tara. It was an unusual Other Words, in that the first guy onstage was there to try out his stand-up comedy routine: unfortunately, it was very much in the Dennis Leary/'shock' style, and he completely misjudged the audience (cancer jokes at a Sara Lee Trust benefit...), meaning he got very, very few laughs, and fairly soon decided to cut his losses and get offstage, going off to play pool at the back with his friends instead. There was a bizarre musical collaboration between two of the regulars (Alvin and John are they?) preceded with a lengthy bit of Yamaha keyboard instrumentalism, which was peculiar, then things settled more into the usual run of comical poetry, political poetry, penny whistle folk tunes, rap-poetry, gritty poetry, Elvis impersonations, and the like. As the only other person who turned up that evening that I knew was Ollie (who was talking to Richard), I spent a lot of the evening sitting on the sofas or barstools, drinking to myself (though the venue was quite busy anyway). It was only towards the evening's winding-down that I got more time to chat with either Richard or Tara, and things wound down not too long before midnight. I helped pack up the PA anyway, and loaded bits of it into a car, then said my goodbyes and wandered home in my own world.

2006-07-28T19:52:00.000Z

Rocksalts - where to start? Maybe the night before, when we went down the (still open!) Gritti Palace to see Duncan dj, but thereby missed Regular John's last-minute warm-up gig at Smugglers (Reuben and Rufus informed us in time, though, via phone and text). Lee and Carolyn were already over from Brighton for the weekend; me, Caroline and Kim made-up the Hastings crew, but there was actually hundreds of people sitting outside the Gritti too (including Tara, and Maya) either soaking up the gorgeous evening sun, or grabbing possibly one of the last remaining days on the Pier, in case it stays shut soon. We all took it fairly easy though, because of the long day ahead in Rye.
That Saturday morning itself was a bit of a rush trying to get organised and ready: Reuben rang me again to see if I was going to compere (I didn't know) and if I wanted to help him with the djing (I did). Lee, Carolyn and I all got the same train from Hastings to Rye, bumping into Greg Mulhearn in the carriage (which was handy for him, as Mookie were scheduled to play later, and Greg didn't know where the festival site was). Once in Rye, we stopped off in Budgens, then walked around the outside clockwise to the Salts, and made our way across site to the stalls and the shade of the trees. I bumped into Paul, and he asked if I was still ok to compere: as I was, he and Plum gave me a quick site-tour, and filled me in on some of the info about the day: I also grabbed the programme and a copy of the compilation cd (mp3 files, on a cd-r, in a dvd case), which was selling at £7, so I gave a tenner to the funds. At the top end of the field, a tent marquee had been set up with a beer stall, and a small stage in one corner (Harry was running this stage). At the far end of the field was a much larger stage, complete with covering, pa system, lighting rig, etc: this was the main stage I was to compere from. Reuben was trying to set up Wookie's decks front of stage (not wholly succesfully: he had to borrow bits of equipment from the dj from Bristol's Lower Case, who was happy to lend them), and I got some more groundwork sorted with Spoon (who had the daunting task of running this main stage). Once I'd got the idea of what was going on, I sat back down under the trees at the side with Lee and Carolyn, where we were gradually joined by the Rumiko boys, Julian Wallinger (who was filming much of the event), Reuben's mate Fred, and other passing friends. Because of the late arrival of some crucial cable-cover matting, proceedings on the main stage were late starting, so the first music we heard was from The Red Shift, out of sight to us in the marquee. Last time I saw them play (a while ago at The Carlisle) I was really taken by their enthusiasm, although without the visuals their pop/ska jaunts were less attention-grabbing. Carrie and Tom then turned up with Barney, who was enjoying an early music festival, but not his first. Eventually, things on the main stage were ready, so I made my way around the barriers and up onto the stage to make the introductory announcements. Even though the field was thinly populated at the time, I still had that half-second's pause, where I suddenly wondered what the hell it was I was supposed to be doing up there, but then I just decided I'd have to say something, so I welcomed the public to the event, and shouted-out Drowning By Numbers' name as an intro (this became my pattern for the day: mumble a bit, shout band name, leave stage quick). Drowning By Numbers were a decent young rock band, though they were weaker when they tried some ice-breaking comedy covers (Sex Bomb etc) that may work well in a bar with your mates, but fell pretty flat in a large empty field on a sunny day. Some of the others also went to check out Gunmetal on the second stage, and had generally good things to report of them, but I decided it would be best mostly to stay as close to the main stage as possible during the day, in case I was needed in any kind of hurry. The next group to introduce was Noxious, who ground away at some tuneful metallic grunge-rock. Further up the field, I noticed many more of our friends (Lisa, Helen, Gillian, Alfie, Hayley, Josie etc) were turning up, and seating themselves on some of the circles of haybales that had been provided. Rather than do a great deal of socialising, though, I continued to alternate between watching the main stage acts, and popping behind the barriers to discuss bits and pieces with Reuben and Spoon. Wookie was around by now, taking the opportunity to get some more photography practise in on the day, both for all our benefit, and for his journalism training. Next I introduced Purple Bubble (having confirmed that they had no 'The' in their name, in a very confused conversation with their singer), who were a much quirkier guitar group, with a lot of self-deprecating chat (and, also, a few good-natured digs at everyone else) At Paul and Plum's request, I'd also welcomed Tony's Rolling Stones Ice Cream Van onto site (true: it's a working ice cream van covered in loads of the Stones' Lips logos), though I then had to balance things out by indicating the tricycle ice cream vendor who'd been there all day, on my next turn onstage. I'd been fielding the odd text and phone call from Petra during the afternoon, as she and her friends made their way over from Brighton to Rye, and I noticed that they'd at last made it onto site. I went up to the marquee stage and caught some of Hayley's solo set, which she performed to a very attentive crowd of our friends. I went out for a wander, chatted to people like Kim, and then it was time to introduce another band, The 5-40's. I'd been carrying half a quiche around all day, left over from the small picnic lunch I'd brought along: I'd had more than I wanted, so I decided to give it away and concentrate on a can of beer that Reuben had given me instead. After several declined offers, I eventually caught up with Petra and her friends, and they took the food off me. As to whether they actually ate it, I don't know, as The Crayons had begun on the marquee stage, so I went and sat down and watched the remainder of their set. They played some good new songs really well, and were as personally amiable as ever, though they were facing a near-empty tent (possibly 'cos it was teatime). On the main stage, there were few people watching The 5-40's either, though the band had a loyal crowd of friends larking about with a giant inflatable ball stage-front. With their primary-coloured fashion-sense, and reliance on one-finger Moog melodies, the group were the closest thing we'd seen for a long time to the sort of band we played in when we were their age (in fact, with me, Michael and Lee already there, and Dan on his way over from Eastbourne, we considered trying to get Paul all the way over from Brighton for an emergency Duplo reunion, but this was never likely to happen instantaneously). Caroline at last joined us, having had to take a squitty-kitty to the vets, and I had a quick chat with Sally and Helen too; whilst The 5-40's ended their set by jumping offstage and fighting with their fans, which was very endearing really. I hung about backstage with Matt & Bonj for a while (the rest of the 'John, along with their friends and partners, had turned up by now), and got introduced to another Matt, who'd designed the distinctively-psychedelic Rocksalts artwork (nice fella), while Fracture set up. The group decided to start their set straight after their soundcheck, which relieved me of compering duties for a little while. Fracture were a widescreen melodic rock group, with a full-throated lead singer giving it some moves, and so they at least made some success in reaching across the steadily-filling field. After their set, however, the rain that had been scatteringly threatening all afternoon finally came down in a storm, sending all the punters back to the marquee (much to the probable delight of Alfie, who was onstage at the time), whilst we tried to get all the bits of gear and cables covered up successfully. Lower Case were also due on the main stage next, which required some shifting around of the dj decks, so Reuben's skills weren't needed for a bit, leaving the hired sound crew to supply their own cd entertainment (much more MOR than Reuben's 60's/70's nuggets). Lower Case's two mc's and dj were going to be accompanied live by Si Ham & Matt Jukes (Ch3vy), Jim and Billy: I did a bit of a check to see if they needed to be introduced, but, as I had thought, their mc's were able to do a much better job of bigging themselves up, when the rain finally moved on, and the marquee tent disgorged it's punters. The Hastings backing group have all put plenty of time in over the years with various funk groups (Bubba, the Rufus Stone Band) and so fitted seamlessly with Lower Case's entertainingly bouncing rhythms and verses. The mc's were pretty damn funny too. I knew there was an impromptu set by The A Team starting as a suprise straight after Lower Case (as Bill and Matt were already playing onstage), so I took some of the food and drink tokens Michael had given me (he had spares from the handful he'd been given as an artists' courtesy) and joined the (very slow-moving) queue for a couple of burgers for Carolyn and I. The two skaters running the food stall were doing the best they could in the face of a lot of customer-demand, which at least meant I had plenty of time to chat to Reuben, Fred, Del and another skater called Sam while I was waiting. I hadn't realised I was wanted onstage at this time though, meaning Paul had to introduce The A Team after all (he wasn't joining them, for a change, so the group became Bill, Matt, Rufus and Bonj on this occasion). Just three short tv-themes later (oh, how the crowd love them!) and I had my burgers, but the band were moving offstage already. Carolyn had been offsite to pick up some bottles of wine for everyone too (except Lee, who wasn't drinking today), so it was definately tea-time. Dan and Pip, as well as Matt and Elliott, had made it over to the festival by now, so we had a chat, before I went backstage again to see if any more introductions were needed yet. This Project, on next, wanted to start themselves without an intro, so I went over and had a chat to Petra and her friend Gemma under the trees, mostly interrupted by Barney trying to impress them with his best junior-Tarzan moves. The women were on their way off to get some rest, having not warmed to many (if any) of the day's rock bands (and This Project's epic heavy-prog excursions weren't going to change their minds) so we said goodbye, and I carried on swinging from the trees with Barney 'til I got tired (long before he was ever going to). Back on the field, I swigged away at the wine, and could hear very promising psych sounds coming from The Higher State up there on the marquee stage, but my duties were now to be ready to introduce Regular John, which I haltingly did (those few hours without compering had already started bringing the nerves back, but after this point enough wine started kicking-in that it wouldn't be a problem again). Despite seemingly only having one set-list, in the possession of Pete (an improvement of sorts on Rumiko, who'd left their pre-planned lists back in the Basement or somewhere, necessitating a rather wasted Rufus to have to think of a new set and rewrite it out in pentaplate, or whatever the word would be), Regular John played a fierce set of favourites, that friends such as Alis managed to execute dance-moves to throughout. Meanwhile, Reuben and a couple of his mates fought like wild-things with the aid of some of those haybales (the first hit, taken by Reuben in his back, was magnificent: mainly 'cos he was watching the band, and was unaware that a wild woman was bearing down on him at top speed, wielding an enormous bale of hay: thwack!). At one point, it looked like the festival-wardens were going to step in and break things up, but fortunately the kids stopped in time: in fact, neither the ambulance, nor the occasional visiting police officers, had to be called upon all day. At Spoon's request, I did some more words after Regular John's set, partly to indicate that the bands had finished (a marker we should have thought about doing earlier really) and partly because soon the main stage entertainment would be over, and we needed to put the information in the crowd's heads that the focus of the festival would then shift to the marquee stage. As Reuben and I had already arranged, I joined in on the djing between Regular John and Rumiko Jr's final main stage slot: cocking up a bit with the faders, struggling when the power went down unexpectedly and slowly, but generally managing ok (we even got the Jesus & Mary Chain's version of The Pink Floyd's bootleg-only Vegetable Man on, in late-tribute to Syd Barrett, who The Crayons had unfortunatle missed from their earlier shout-out's to recently-deceased rock-stars). When Rumiko were ready, I ran back round from the decks and onto the stage to make the introductions, then grabbed Reuben and went out front to join everyone watching. And it really was everyone now: the attendees having noted that Rumiko were going to be their last chance at seeing a live band for the day. There was all sorts of unusual people enjoying Rumiko, from toddlers, to long-haired secondary-schoolkids, to the wardens, to middle-aged guys with peculiar dance-moves, plus just about everyone we knew there. Down at the barriers, Barney at last got to see all his friends in Rumiko play a gig together, whilst Caroline, Anna, Wookie, Julian etc took plenty of photos and footage of the onstage action. Dean did the right thing and invited Alfie up on stage with them: the lad leapt over the barriers and up to the mic with his harmonica in a leap and a bound (especially impressive as I got the feeling, when I collared him and Robert back in the audience afterwards, that he was pissed right-up). So we were treated to big-band, full-on Rumiko country-rocking, which was a great way to end the evening out there: a couple of encore numbers later (both covers, the main set having been wholly originals) and that was the main stage finished: Spoon doing a final onstage direction of the crowd towards Ch3vy's Funk Of Fury dj session back up in the marquee. I gathered up my records and belongings from front of stage, vaulting back over the barriers with them (apparently I tumbled over really, and made Reuben and Murray crack-up as a result), then joined my friends to consider heading home. After a bundle of goodbyes and congratulations, Lee, Carolyn and I wandered back towards Rye Station (Lee sober, Carolyn and I drunk). On the way, I tripped forwards and, with the weight of two record bags around my neck, inevitably fell sprawling into the road (fortunately vehicle-free at that moment), grazing my hands and arms. Lee helped carry the records after that! At the station we said Hi to Kim, then joined Carrie, Tom and Barney for the train journey. I tried to grab a paper on the train, but it was the inspector's, so I nodded-off a bit on the journey back instead. Disembarking at Hastings, we caught up with Kim again for the walk into town, then the rest of us got back to the Old Town and into the house, for a few cups of tea, and a winding-down chat before bed. Rocksalts: hats-off all round! They'll be back...

2006-07-19T19:19:00.000Z

I was amongst the very few people who made it along to Revolver last night for Dean's fortnightly session: with the heat, some people were staying home; Rufus and Bonj were putting in time at the Basement; and Jim was onstage in the house-band for Lenny Beige's Seaside Spectacular at White Rock that same night (an event which may also have accounted for the quietness of the Old Town during the evening). If I'd have had the £25 ticket-money, and had known for certain that anyone I knew would be there, I'd have favoured White Rock too; but I hadn't and I didn't, so Revolver it was. I wandered down a little after 9pm, and Dean was already inside, chatting to a couple we know. It was too hot for him to feel comfortable with a shirt on, so he elected to perform the whole gig shirtless, which was quite (country)rock. Amongst the dozen or so people in Revolver (with a few more sitting out the front) were Joe (with some friends) and Chuckie (with some others), the latter of who was able to supply Dean with some much-needed plectrums (I guess he normally keeps them in his shirt-pocket. Beginning with his take on We Are Going To Be Friends, Dean played a leisurely set of slower Rumiko songs, with a bit of Ben Kweller thrown in. The lack of familiar faces in the audience may have made Revolver's entertainment look a little bizarre to the passing punters and pedestrians (a handful of people listening intently to an undressed beardy troubador), but the atmosphere was good. After a while, Dean gave himself a break to chat to some friends and strangers alike, and soon Step chanced to come in with some other friends and a dog. Partly 'cos the evening was unusually under-attended, I started thinking that this evening was as good as any other at marking a shift-point between the Hastings arts-scene we've been experiencing for the last few years, and the forthcoming more widely-known scene (taking as internal evidence the media-friendly entertainment at White Rock, which I reckoned was introducing many new people to the town or the possibility of what can be carried-off successfully here; and the current push that Mumm-Ra are experiencing as a very Bexhill-centric band - an appearance on The Album Chart Show on Channel 4 over the weekend, the correctly-predicted single-review that would appear in the next day's music press, etc). These are both minor events, but ones which are reflected in the popular national media, so I decided that Tuesday 18th July 2006 was the last evening on which the Hastings arts-scene operated independently of the attentions of the country as a whole: fairly arbitarily, but there you go. Meanwhile, Dean had begun his second set, but part-way through his voice started cracking with the heat (Dean - "My voice is getting really low"; Step - "That's 'cos you're playing so-lo"), so Step moved across to give him a break by performing a couple of his own strum-heavy agit-folk songs, which made people grin. It was only when the two musicians swapped places again that Step revealed the extent of his inebriation, by commenting that he thought he'd been playing the gig shirtless, and was glad now to see that it was Dean who was undressed after all, and that he'd been wearing his own shirt all the time (it was confusing then, too). Reuben and Tim turned up, closely followed by Helen (who'd been at White Rock, but had evidently left very early on, and thereby missed anyone particularly well-known comically or musically): the two lads had been at Guilfest over the weekend, and Reuben had some great pictures on his 'phone, including one of him, their friend Emma, and the great Donovan, all mugging furiously (oh, if only Reuben had the technology and inclination to post it online for everyone: maybe keep and eye on his Myspace if you're one of his 'freinds'; there are lots of you). Dean was feeling sufficiently recovered to power through the faster songs that traditionally make-up the end of his solo/duo sets (with a bit of The Monkey Song and Blister In The Sun, upon request); bearing in mind people were sweating cobs (what does that mean?) he did us all proud. I drank-up my last pint, and said my goodbyes to everyone (including Kim, too late for the music this time), then marched home again.

2006-07-10T20:15:00.000Z

Last week, so much happened in so little time that I can only get the outlines of it down here: there was more socialising than my memory can handle.
It started on the Monday down Smugglers, where Rumiko Jr had a gig. I walked in about 9pm, but most of the soaks in the bar had been there at least all day. As I said to Rufus: "My God, this pub's full of alcoholics!" Dean started off with a warm-up set with Bonj, a few fairly new (and the occasional very old) songs, as the rest of his band, and more of the audience (ie those who were coming to see Rumiko, not just the Smugglers drinkers) turned up. There was a lot more gear on stage than usual: Michael had got another keyboard for his rack (an old organ, via Rufus), and I think there were more amps etc too. When the full Rumiko band started up, the boosted sound was evident from the off: they were loud! And really full-on, this being the first gig they'd done for a few weeks. Dean was able to casually introduce songs as being "Off our first album", confident that they had the second one in the bag, ready for mastering. And they were playing other songs destined for the third (or beyond), which included the debut airing of a rapid, riff-heavy song (Zep/Lizzy/AC DC) that flipped our wigs. 'Cos of the hot weather, half the boys were in shorts, turn-ups, sandals etc: and what with Dean's current hairstyle/beard making him the spit of Captian Jack Sparrow, there was an appropriately comic Pirates Of The Carribean look to the band that evening. The band played heavy and long, and you could see us lot in the audience(and if you were there you'll have to nominate yourself here, 'cos I mainly remember talking to Alis, Caroline and Reuben, I think, though I half-recall Richard Hart, Jonathan and Jamie being there at different points too) all glancing at one another and grinning, 'cos this was immediately evidently one of the best gigs we'd seen them play (and there's been many great gigs from them, especially in the Smugs). No songtitles given here: just imagine what you'd have wanted to hear, and pretend they played them all, really clearly and energetically, it was that sort of gig. Eamon was dancing to the whole of the set, and was absolutely made-up when he spotted the Rumiko Jr badges that Caroline had made and brought along. When they finished, the band admitted straight away that they'd known they were playing well too: all very promising in the run-up to the big (for us) summer gigs. More chat, then home.
Tuesday was Dean again, down in his Revolver slot. Tonight he was playing with Jim instead, who's guitaring was especially fluid tonight, the guy's ridiculously talented. It was a very chilled evening compared to the night before: the bar staff turned the lights right down, and put the candles on. I'd passed Harry & Steph Holmes on the way, outside the Dragon with their friends, and fortunately they were coming along too. Bill, Lee, Anna and their friends were sitting outside with some of the kids, taking in the fresh evening air: I sat inside with Rufus for the music. Kim, Reuben and that crew turned up for a while, then went along to the Stag for a bit. Dean and Jim played the gentler first half of their set, then handed over to Rufus for a stirringly solid soul selection (I'm always hindered by not knowing the names of any of Rufus' songs, but I can't specifically remember much of anyone else's this week either, so hopefully no-one looks put-down out of my ignorance). Reuben had invited some guy he'd just seen playing at Mr Twangy's Open Mike night at the Gritti along for a turn, but he arrived too late in the evening for Dean to fit him in. His and Jim's second set was typically the more rabid stuff, wherein Dean lets loose his guttural roar towards the end and frightens the Jack Johnson crowd. I chatted with Richard Dennett about his Wednesday sessions at The Street, and we were both amazed by yet another excellent "I wrote this one today, Jim's not heard it yet" -style song from the boys. I went outside afterwards and found Reuben, Kim, Ollie and Wookie sitting with some others, including Helen, who was celebrating her 40th (and may have been doing so for a while), trying to get people down the beach for a swim: I declined, and she got miffed (with everyone, I think, I'm not sure there'd been any takers for a drunken dip in the Channel). The bar was shut, so I left everyone to it.
Wednesday had Matt & Bonj billed along with Hayley at The Street, but she didn't make it along in the end. Rufus had been setting the gear up for the Regular John lot, so he stepped in admirably with another set of his own, somewhat different from the previous night's gig, if my addled memory is serving me well. Carrie & Tom had come along for the night out, having missed the two preceding night's gigs, and were well-rewarded with an inspired acoustic Regular John set, which included (and this bit is true) Matt & Bonj's version of Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue... The other half of the 'John (Lee & Pete, with 'Lex) were in the house, I don't think I asked them what they thought of that cover (I was too busy defending the Raintown album to Carrie & Tom), but perhaps I should have. Again, I chatted to Richard Dennett (behind the bar), Wookie and Alis, and probably several more of my friends who I see every day, so often that life blurs. There were new songs from Matt & Bonj too, and a couple of encore-requests, in which I got in a superlative version of Hyeshin for my shouting-efforts. God bless 'em. When I left, I strode through town, just catching up with Pete, 'Lex and Alis as they were saying their goodbye's to each other on the seafront, so I said goodnight too, and got myself safely home.
Thursday brought Other Words at Bar Blue: the first time I'd made it along properly for a while. Fortunately, in my general-absence, the Other Words crew have been able to get a far-superior (ie professional) PA set-up for the evenings, and I'm now able to relax as a punter, albeit one who still offers as much encouragement and support to Tara and Richard Hart as I can. The majority of the evening was taken up with the familiar set of poets, with the occasional instrumental musician (eg a recorder player performing folk-tunes). Kim and Wookie were around (Wookie chatting to Tara about the Other Words website he's building for her, and taking photographs for it), as was Caragh, but it was really Tara I wanted to spend time with, having been too heat-struck to stick around on her birthday barbeque on the East Hill the preceding Sunday afternoon. Caragh sung beautifully, and Claire Hamill eventually made it along for a few late songs too, which was very fine. One late appearance was from a bloke called Andre, who did conjuring tricks with a pack of cards. He said he does entertainment on cruise ships, and so he had the comic patter (of the "Take my wife..." variety) to suit, but also, I think, as part of his misdirection during the magic tricks. After using a friend of Tara's as support/stooge, he recieved demands for more: the fall-guy decided to have a drink in the back bar instead, and I was the next-nearest audience member, so was offered-up onstage in the guy's place. Although I was quite drunk, I went for it, 'cos I was very interested to see what it's like being the straight-man to a magician. Like I say, it was tricks with a standard deck of cards: there were points at which I was aware there was cards being forced on me, or stuff that Andre had to think on his feet to make go right, or bits where I was being encouraged by his patter to agree to things slightly different to how I was sensing them (as in "This is where you told me to cut the deck, right?"), but because you want to see how the trick is gonna go, you're happy to go along with them. But, seriously, the majority of the time, his sleight-of-hand was so deft that I was caught-out time and time again: so that it genuinely felt as if cards were changing their suit in my hand, or moving up through the deck that I was holding. It's a finely honed skill: and well worth being up close for at least once in your life. After all that, and with the bar closing, I finally got more of a chance to hang out with Tara, Michael and some of the others, before I took myself back along the prom and home.
Friday was a busy evening at the Gritti Palace, where Duncan was djing (as Spunky Dunk Funk) again; and Lee had come over to join me, Michael & Caroline, Angie etc there. His djing was expertly selected and mixed (as usual); and we were all massively suprised (now that the rest of the Pier has had to be closed for safety reasons) by the verging-on-luxurious portacabin toilets that have been parked outside on the boards (flowers! paintings! actual toilet rolls!) It was so busy there (taking the staff by suprise) that we spent the first half of the evening squatting across in the juice bar, which we had to ourselves; before getting a space in the main part of the Gritti, with Angie and their friends. Bumped into Reuben, Frank, Murray etc outside The Carlisle on the way back, who'd just been watching Gorilla there, but I left them to their adventuring.
Finally Saturday, and after work and that final Doctor Who, I faffed-around a bit, then wandered over to catch the end of the first St Leonards Festival in Warrior Square Gardens. The Selecter were already well into their set, and I found Tara, Jackie and their friends, and (once I'd established that, for obvious reasons, there was no beer-tent, and had got myself a couple of cans of Red Stripe from the seafront off-licence) stood-around watching with them (who were, to be fair, already dancing). I spotted Nat & Bill from the 'Marrows further towards the front (easy to do, they're rather tall), and went forward for a chat and a dance with them. I dunno how many of the blokes in The Selecter are from the original line-up (several of them look like they could've been), but Pauline Black is unmistakable (and looks ridiculously better than you might expect: see her jump!) She was grinning a hell of a lot too, which seemed natural to me, though Bill said he'd never even seen her smile onstage (and they'd seen them often, unlike me, who'd happened to have missed them in Hastings each time). Having arrived in the middle of the set, I had to wait 'til a bit later for the songs I knew to turn up (including, of course, On My Radio, their version of Prince Buster's Madness, and Too Much Pressure in a medley with the Maytals' Pressure Drop - hey, I do know my reggae, this wasn't me taking notes from Nat or Bill you know) and when they did it was great: a view shared by the (very Two-Tone fan -based crowd). The evening's entertainment was concluded by the Heliosphere (in it's second performance of the day): an acrobat suspended beneath a large heluim balloon, itself tethered to two guys on the ground, keeping in contact with one another via radio-mikes. It was dark(ish), and the balloon was illuminated, but really the spectacle was more impressive to the (very excited) kids who were left, sitting up on the adults' shoulders, reaching upwards to what they could very likely have been believing was an actual angel. I rejoined Tar & Jackie's crowd, and watched the performance whilst chatting to Michael. Most people seemed to be going to see the live music at The Rooms (which was a very good plan), but I was heading into town instead, so I said goodbye to everyone, nodded to Linda King, missed Tim Hoyte (striding back and forth between groups of people he knew), and had a garbled conversation with Pete O'Mant, before I made it up over White Rock, and into the Brass Monkey. I sat down with Caroline, Lisa and Helen, and we chatted about the sadness of Doctor Who earlier. Kim turned up, and Rumiko Jr were up onstage already, hammering through a shorter, but no-less excellent, set than earlier in the week. Those new songs were still in there too: we were a bit drunk, we bopped. The venue was busy, and getting busier: Christa, Maya, Alis, Reuben and others kept popping up to say hello or dance about a bit. Dave Arnold was there too, and I really ought to have got round to saying Hi by now, but I was too drunk to think of an intelligent way to do so (even though he took the initiative to begin emailing me). With Katherine back in the UK, Del had seized the opportunity to (briefly) reform The Candys, who were up next: thrashing through the singles Queen Of Perfection and Monitor Rock, along with all those other pop-songs they had that never (yet) made it out to the world at large. Matt Jukes was djing, there were birthday-balloons everywhere, and finally a full Regular John gig onstage: no time for anything vaguely epic or prog, but heads-down rock-outs (not the 'Quo, that was last week!), gone in sixty-seconds (so it seemed, in my alcoholically-exaggerated sense of timing). Drink/noise/drink/noise and over and over and I was very happily drunk, and not making much sense to Caroline or Helen (I think), or that may have been 'cos I was being deafened by rock. I didn't want to leave during the bands to walk Maya part-way home this time when she enquired (which she was fine with); and then I got very bamboozled when Alis tried to suggest that I knew her older sister (the recall part of my brain wasn't in operation: everything became clear the following day - I'd not seen her sister, a friend once, for years). Eventually, I did that "I've drunk enough, I'm gonna go now" thing, and zoomed-off home, but it was a great night out.
Sunday I rested at home. With beer though!

2006-06-26T19:56:00.000Z

Got home from work on Saturday and stuck a pizza in the oven: Carolyn made it over in time to help me eat it, while we drank Stella and watched Doctor Who. Caroline got to the house after it'd finished, and we sat in my room listening to records and drinking Fosters. Then we headed up over the West Hill, and down to the PoorBoys cafe, where we met Kim, Reuben, Crystal, Helen Driver and Ollie. Richard Hart was playing a gig there, with the occasional friend helping out on hand-drums etc. We drank Starpramon, and Tim Hoyte joined us. Richard's progressed over the last year or two from playing cover-heavy gigs (generally Dylan, Velvets etc, as far as I recall), gradually introducing his own songs, to the point at which his gig this evening was (again, as best I can remember) entirely his own material. His guitar-playing has also grown in confidence: he really powered his acoustic through some of the tunes, which matched the intensity with which he sings some of his more personal songs. Nearer to 11pm, it was time to get to Brass Monkey: of our group, I went along with Kim, Crystal, Carolyn and Caroline. As I paid to get us in, the doorstaff dropped my change on the floor, and I couldn't find it, but we did all get given excellent sampler cds by Lowercase (Bristol hip-hop, forthcoming at the venue) so that kind of made up for it. The A Team were due to play eventually, with Ch3vy djing either side of their performance, but there was a long time to wait until the band started, and all the XXXX I was drinking there was sending me off to sleep now and again as I listened to Ch3vy's choice of funk/soul records. Kim got most into the djing, and had a bit of a dance, although he left before the band played. The rest of my friends were determined that I wasn't going to slope off home to bed before the band, though, and eventually the guys made it onstage, all dressed-up in character (though the addition of Bonj to the group meant there was an extra man in The A Team: I dunno whether they tried to get him dressed up as that reporter woman from the earlier series' that no-one remembers, but he seemed to have declined on that idea anyway). I think Billy was being Murdoch, Matt (Ch3vy) was Face, and Paul was Hannibal, but I may have got that a bit wrong: undoubtably Rufus was B.A. Baraccus though - there's no mistaking a ginger-bearded white guy disguised as Mr T. In the run-up to their previous gig at Brass Monkey (which I missed) I had tried to dissuade Rufus from going for the full make-up option, fearing unwelcome connotations with minstrelism on his behalf, but none of my friends (white and black) that evening seemed bothered, so I didn't mention it this time. What with it being so late, and everyone being so drunk (there was wedding-parties in the house) The A Team went down a storm, even if they were quite sloppy round the edges (Dean, not at the gig, defended this fact by pointing out that the TV/Film themes were generally so short, that they were playing a set of around 30 tunes, which is a lot to remember and rehearse for anyone: he seemed less-impressed by The A Team concept as such, as he's a passionate believer in original songwriting, but you can't deny they've found a quick and easy way to get paying gigs - they should be out capitalising on the University Summer Ball season pronto). Right now, off the top of my head, I can recall attempts at Thundercats, Ulysees 31, Cagney & Lacey, Minder, Monkey, The Muppet Show and Fraggle Rock, but there was loads more, and if anyone wants to post a few more titles up in response to this entry, feel free. We really laughed a lot and danced about badly, and just got generally more drunk, I think particularly Crystal 'cos she kept telling me how much she was loving it, in that really excitable way only drunk people can manage! We stuck around even later into the early hours after the band had finished: Caroline made it out the venue first, but soon the rest of us tumbled out and across Havelock Road, just about suceeding in hailing a taxi (well, jumping the queue in our drunken enthusiasm) to get the Bexhill lot home. I couldn't get up until 3pm the next day, and have been ill since, but whatever!

2006-06-21T20:21:00.000Z

For some reason, I felt really out-of-sorts again last Saturday, and I'm not at all sure why. I'd watched Doctor Who and played a cd before heading out to the Brass Monkey for Rufus' gig. En route, I passed Lethwin, who asked me along to meet everyone at the Jenny Lind before they went to Desolation Boulevard at Venue M, but I wanted to get into town, so I declined. Unfortunately, I'd got my timings wrong, and the Monkey was in the middle of throwing a private party (fundraising for special needs children, I heard) and wasn't opening to the public until later, so I had to head home again. By the time I got to the Jenny Lind, everyone I'd have known had moved on, so I decided to have a couple of beers at home. I was a bit hot and bothered, and wasn't in the mood to be scammed by anyone, so when a woman stopped me outside Turners with the line "Hey, mate, sorry, I know it sounds daft, but I've just been up to the Hospital with my Granny, and we were driving back just now and I've run out of petrol.." I just said "You're right, it does sound daft" and walked off. I grabbed drink from the shop and ducked back indoors, and drank them whilst listening to some of my Beatles 7"s ('cos I'd not been in a Beatles mood for ages, but you can't deny them when it strikes). Then I went back into town and into the Monkey, which had only just opened, so only Rufus and the Regular John boys were about. I gulped a few beers, and then Michael and Caroline turned up with Dean, and we sat at the tables round the back, which turned out to be alongside Alena and her friends (who included our old next-door-but-one neighbour Simon, and a guy who used to hang out at Ridding and the Crypt and early ATP events with us, who was enthusing about Dizzy Tiger etc, but his name escaped me at the time, though I think I've remembered who it might've been since). Said hello to Christa and Paul too, and then Regular John came onstage, and they were really shrill and powerful, and seemed to have been re-organising some of the structures of their songs in the time since I'd seen them last. It was all good, but I wasn't very awake, so I slipped away quickly once their set had finished, missing Rufus' band, unfortunately.
I felt better later in the weekend though, and despite feeling very tested at work at the start of this week, I still honoured my plan to go over to Brighton last night for Spirit Of Gravity. As usual, I got the train over straight after work; I picked up food in the shop outside Brighton Station, ate a cheese roll as I walked down towards the Level, sat on a bench and ate some enormous cupcake/muffin thing, then went along to the Marlborough Theatre. I sat in the quiet, left-hand bar, as the right-hand bar was rammed with football fans (mostly women), psyching themselves up for the evening's England V Sweden World Cup match. Lee had been upstairs soundchecking, so he soon found me, and gave me a copy of the new Shitmat/Spirit Of Gravity Remixes cd, and I showed him my Doctor Who Top Trumps. Carolyn turned up and joined us, and SOG's Geoff popped his head round the door to say Hi. Once the match was underway, it was also time for the live electronica too, so we went upstairs to find that (apart from Lee setting up onstage, and Geoff and Tony running the door) Carolyn & I were the only members of the audience. Lee started up his Rashamon set, and it was quite fun being the only people there for a while, we just sat in the front row and smiled at Lee. Fortunately for everyone, more and more people began turning up as Lee's set, and the rest of the evening, progressed. Lee had been working on some newer tracks on his laptop, it seemed, and re-ordering some older ones, and it all worked very well, even the trusty melodica. Afterwards, Lee sat down with us, and then next up was a guy playing as Lifting Gear Engineer, who was up from Swansea (the SOG mail-out flagged-up that he'd had some stuff on Boobytrap Records, which I'd at least heard of). This guy was great, playing a laptop set very much in the vein of Skam Records stuff, or the old Artificial Intelligence acts: really crunchy and tactile. The music was occasionally interrupted by the cheers of the football crowd in the bar below, though, which prompted the odd inhabitant of the room to run swiftly downstairs in order to check the scoreline. Headlining were SOG stalwarts Multiplex - two brothers and a scrawny drummer, with loads of slow, ambient visuals (clouds, ballet etc) projected onto them, the stage, and a small film screen. Multiplex's stuff was generally so soothing (again in a 90's/Orbital way) that, coupled with the visuals, and the beer of course, I kept sliding into nodding off. But I got through it happily in the end, and then it was time for everyone to pack up. Tony SOG gave me one of his I'm Dr Bouyant 3" cds to listen to too, which was nice of him, and then it was the late bus/taxi challenge for Lee, Carolyn and I. Taxi wins!

2006-06-13T20:19:00.000Z

Er... not much happened, then a few things happened, now nothing's happening again. More details? Well, this time last week it was my birthday (33 years old on 6/6/6 - I liked that!), and handily we were all going down to Dean's regular Revolver slot anyway. It was a busy enough evening, nice to see Michael & Caroline (who gave me the Warp Records book), Carrie & Tom (who gave me the World's Worst Record-Covers book), Wookie, Kim et al all out & cheery. I'd arranged to meet Jeffrey (Disastronaut) there too, just to meet & catch up, & I had a Rashamon cd for him, at his request. Dean & Jim played their first set, seemingly more golden and chiming than usual (whether this was because Revolver had sold the upright piano since a fortnight ago, necessitating a change in set-up - the amps used to rest on the piano behind the performers - I'm not certain); and Jeffrey turned up towards the end of the set. It was very good to meet him, he's very enthusiastic about all sorts of music, and a forward-thinking promoter/networker, which should be mutually helpful to all of us, I'd hope: was good to get the chance to introduce Dean etc to him too. Richard Dennett played the next set: he wasn't coming through particularly clearly this evening, compared to times I've ssen him play before: again, that could've been due to the set-up, or it could just have been my position in the room. Jeffrey headed off to do more work, and I popped outside again to talk Paul for a while, but I mostly chatted to Wookie & Kim from that point,as far as I recall. Rufus played a quick, strong set: and Dean & Jim finished off. The bar stayed open late, and I don't really remember particularly much that went on after a while, except that people bought me drinks, and I drank them quite quickly, but didn't stay on too late. Id had my full birthday party at home the Saturday before (very nice, thanks for asking), and had had to be at work during the day itself, so the evening at Revolver was just a nice coda to the whole thing really.
The next evening I went along to The Street because The Crayons had emailed me with news about a gig there. I got there and chatted to Mark for a bit, then Carrie & Tom made it along, so we took a table. Being The Street, Richard Dennett was on hand to perform again: he was a lot chattier and relaxed tonight, and many of his songs came across much better for it. At one point he mentioned that Dean (absent tonight) had compared his next song to Buffalo Tom (not a reference Richard was familiar with), but Dean was right, and it was a good song anyway! I met Rob at the bar (don't see him a lot since he moved out of our house), but he was chatty and got me drinks, though he preferred to watch the music on his own, and didn't join us at our table. Kim turned up as arranged, and was in good spirits, buying drinks for me too, and being very agreeable to everyone. The Crayons came on for their set, and impressed me by the fact that they'd thought seriously about making an acoustic gig different from their usual 60's/powerpop electric sound. Tempos were changed, instruments were swapped, or replaced by shakers and melodicas, and there was general good feeling about. Kim executed several sketches of us all in his book, and finally did one of me, that (whilst I looked away momentarily) he swiftly put into a pre-prepared frame, as a present, which was very suprising and clever of him. That was a warm evening.
A couple of days later, on the Friday, it was the turn of the Brass Monkey, on the occasion of Michael's birthday. I got there, and Michael & Caroline were there before me. One Boy Girl were just starting onstage: a three-piece associated with the Eastbourne group Fracture, I believe, though The Crayons' Mark plays bass. After a shaky start, where it seemed none of the group could hear one another, meaning tempos slipped out of joint, they hit their stride three or four songs in, with some decent indiepop sounds. Duncan & Angie, followed by Carrie & Tom, turned up, and sat at the table, whilst I chatted to a fresh-offstage Mark, and said Hi momentarily to Del, who must've been helping-out with the sound or djing, I think. Our email friends The Black Tulips started up onstage, and as they were the reason we'd chosen the Monkey to celebrate Michael's birthday at, I hung back with Mark and watched their amiably-mannered set. As expected, their art-collective mates Rob Sample & Sara were dressed-up (as requested in the Tulips' mailout: both the band, and Hastings Free-TV, had arranged to film the gig) and down the front, dancing away with Linda King. Though The Black Tulips have an edge of actual 'performance' (as well as 'playing' if you know what I mean, and that's not meant disparagingly), and a Gothic (via Siousxie & The Banshees) aspect to their sound, it's important to note that they're a hell of a lot of fun too, and don't take themselves massively seriously onstage (every gesture is quickly broken-up by a grin or a gag). As we'd had a bunch of email and message-board conversations over the past year, I was glad to take the opportunity to say Hi to Lord Fuxley (not his real name, of course, but I'll leave that minor detail out for now) at the bar after their set, and he was a charmingly self-effacing but enthusiastic chap. Caroline had given me a (debut merchandise exclusive!) Rumiko Jr badge earlier in the evening, and Fuxley gave me a Black Tulips one to complement it (in negatively inversed colours, ie black & white, but they looked good together). Marcus & Lisa, Dean & Helen, Rufus, and a few of their friends, all turned up around this time, and were able to catch the headliners The New Shapes (introduced onstage by Mark, who told the crowd that they'd had to drive 9 hours to be here... from Watford?! What did they use, the Blue Mini-Van?!) Anyhow, they were a fine-enough angularly-jagged guitar group of the currently-popular type, and (unlike the previous Stuart MacKenzie promotion we'd been at) I had no problem with them at all. Some of my friends did though, but only because they reckoned the lead singer was the spitting-image of me: couldn't see it myself, but then why should I? Maya arrived at this point, fresh off the train from an anti-War meeting in London (laudably, and as expected), and eventually (after more jabbering away about the evening's music) I agreed that I'd walk her part-way back to her place. Said goodbye to the others, got Maya as far as the top of the West Hill, wished her well, and stumbled my way down the footpaths to home.

2006-05-25T18:59:00.000Z

A second weekend at All Tomorrow's Parties then, already. This time, I got picked up in Rufus' car: Dean, Carolyn & Petra were already inside. We drove to Camber and into Pontins, Petra went off to find David, and the rest of us (sharing the same chalet) went to the main building to sort out our keys and wristbands. Lightning Bolt were due downstairs very soon after we arrived, so rather than get into the chalet we four went to find the band, meeting Patra, David and Rita in the second room. One thing that everyone knows about Lightning Bolt is that they don't play on stages, and this afternoon their gear was in the middle of the floor, facing the actual stage. The amps were already buzzing loudly, creating anticipation in most of us, bar Dean & Rufus, who wanted to sit down and rest (probably to continue recovering from the heavy party at Caroline's we'd been to the night before). Lightning Bolt were never likely to soothe anyone's hangovers, so the rest of us just gave ourselves up to the inevitable. The two guys plugged in and played to a very small early crowd, with the houselights on, which meant I got the closest view of them I'd seen yet (being a veteran of several Lightning Bolt gigs at ATP before, often with seething moshpits). I'd promised Dean & Rufus overdriven bass and drums, and this is what they got, but (even taking into account some early technical difficulties) it was mostly a relaxed set, with a few bars from Third Stone From The Sun played at one point. Though when they were loud they were very very loud... Got Jonathan Caouette's camera in my face again, and kept having to accomodate another camera-operator standing next to me: we could also see J Mascis observing from behind the amps. Afterwards, I found Carolyn (who'd hung back after the set begun) with my stuff, and we followed on out (passing a couple of The Chemistry Experiment on the way, who waved) to catch up with Dean & Rufus (they stuck the gig out, but it wasn't their thing) by the car to get to the chalet, ears whistling. We were still quite far from the venue this weekend, but in a far-easier to find chalet, with a better view of some trees and the entrance to the site. After a bit of unpacking, Carolyn & I headed back into the venue, bumping into Petra, David,Rita and their friend Leesey, before going upatairs to catch the latter half of The Lilys psychedelic-pop: Lightning Bolt had damaged our hearing enough for The Lilys to sound like they were playing with pillows for amps, but after a while our ears readjusted, in time for Nanny In Manhattan and the closing song, at least. We sat down for a short while with Petra's lot, before going on our way. The themes of the weekend were already being set by this point: Dean & Rufus amd Carolyn & I mostly saw bands in our seperate pairs, and the term 'psychedelic' to describe a band in shorthand would soon become overused. Downstairs for the distinctly not-psychedelic Mt Eerie/Microphones - the former being a gently pastoral band, the latter being mainman Phil Elverum's solo songs, to his very quiet guitar playing. They, and particularly he, were charming, and I inadvertantly made an audience/performer bond by stretching my arms up in a yawn, then turning them backwards before lowering them: Elverum had been watching me stretch, and copied my arm-movements after his song, like some Close Encounters/grebe-dance ritual. A short wander about and back to the downstairs bar, and Magik Markers were onstage, howlingly ragged tumbles of drums, feedbacking guitar and wailing vocals, asides and cursing, like the first time Lydia Lunch got drunk with Sonic Youth. We got upstairs in time for the closing bars of Dead Meadow's chiming psych, then went off for a refuel at the chalet. But we were soon back upstairs for the Bevis frond, who I'd been in a minority of actually looking forward to (only Carolyn, who'd been unimpressed by some lps she'd got out the library, had heard of them). It was teatime, and they only played to a smallish crowd (including, unsuprisingly, Stewart Lee), but the fellers seemed very happy and slightly-nervous to be there at all: Nick Saloman rambled amiable introductions to each song, which inclued such possible crowd-pleasers as He'd Be A Diamond (as done by Teenage Fanclub) and Lights Are Changing (ditto Mary Lou Lord), though the fairly-obvious Stoned Train Driver went down well for comedic value. During the closing Eyes In The Back Of My Head, Saloman let each band-member have a thirty-second solo: one of his guitarists took the opporunity to gurn through the opening bars of Voodoo Chile, to the amusement of the other guitarists (Saloman: "You might think he was being post-ironic. He wasn't"). Say it again: Bevis Frond - under-rated. I went off to find the others at the chalet, and we went back to the downstairs bar to buy drinks and catch the opening minutes of Mission Of Burma's solid, churning hardcore before doing what every punter and their dog had decided upon, and taking in the tuneful splendour of Broken Social Scene upstairs. A lengthy and rather-unrehearsed jam with Mascis mid-set aside, the group's varying numbers of guitarists, vocalists and horn-players were tight on every upbeat song, spreading much joy throughout the capacity-hall. Time for Teenage Fanclub then, and a properly crowd-pleasing set of popular classics, beginning with one of those Catholic Education instrumentals, then God Knows It's True and Starsign. During the mid-set of new and Grand Prix-era album tracks, I decided to give Brian Jonestown Massacre downstairs a go, having enjoyed a bunch of their songs on a sampler cd before. Though they had a mass of slowly-riffing melodic guitars, the multi-instrumental edge of some of their records was absent, and as soon as I'd recognised the amusing monkey-sideburned tambourine-player's moves as a Liam Gallagher Xerox, I returned upstairs for the less-affected sound of the rest of the Fanclub's set: The Concept, Sparky's Dream and Everything Flows, fine by me. We all went for a wander, and returned to the main stage to find a wall of Marshall stacks erected in two semi-circles (one smallish, one huge) at the front of the stage: time for Dinosaur Jr, and, to our joy, the Mascis/Murph/Barlow line-up. They wandered on, tuned up, and, fuck, were they loud! "Sorry, I couldn't hear the guitar" deadpanned Lou Barlow after an early amp-adjustment. I don't know enough music by the earlier Dinosaur to say much about what they played, but The Wagon was in their early, and Freak Scene arrived for one encore, Just Like Heaven for another. God, they were so good, again, after all this time (Reading 1991: The Year That Punk Broke, Rollercoaster tour 1992, if you wanna know). We all went down to our chalet afterwards 'cos we were all too knackered from late-night partying the evening before to do a tremendous amount back in the venue. We poured more drinks, though, and watched the four episodes of That's My Bush! that were on the ATP channel (nb: Trey Parker/Matt Stone White House comedy from 2001, really tasteless spoofing of the Bush clan). Dean was soon sparked-out on the sofa bed, and when Team America: World Police came on afterwards, I went to bed too. Although I turned in only 5 minutes before Rufus or Carolyn, I was still fast-asleep by the time they turned out the lights and went to their respective rooms.
Saturday morning and Dean and Rufus were up and about unexpectedly early, cooking their breakfast, and then off out to the arcades. Carolyn & I took the morning slower, and sat in the chalet watching the TV hit of the festival: R Kelly's Trapped In The Closet, an R&B musical soap-opera, with tortuously ridiculous and juvenile plotting, all dialogue overdubbed in the R&B style by the R himself. Odd to think that the one financial beneficiary of this year's ATP may turn out to be Kelly, based on the number of people who decided that, once home, they were gonna order the dvd of the show. Didn't he film himself urinating on an underage teenage girl? Here's a few hundred extra dollars, courtesy of the ATP-going hipsters! Thankfully, that scene wasn't in Trapped In The Closet... When Rufus & Dean got back, we hung about in the chalet drinking Snoop Dogg's fave tipple of Gin 'n' Juice. I'd brought pineapple juice to stay healthy, Carolyn had brought gin to drink, after Lee had given us the taste for that alcohol last week - and it only took 'til the second day for us to decide to mix the two: delicious! Rufus & Dean agreed, and supplied more of both liquids from the Londis. As a result, this Saturday became my day of drinking too much... We watched a bit more tv (Hendrix at Woodstock, then the post-Woodstock Dick Cavett Show special), until there was some live music to see. First band of the day, eventually (as Lightning Bolt, scheduled to open proceedings every afternoon, postponed their early Saturday appearance) was upstairs, and the fabulous Boredoms. Three drummers formed three points of a compass, with leader Eye at the fourth point, conducting the circle of sound, with his own screaming and noise-making over the top. No other band in the world sounds like Boredoms, super-percussion heaviness, rounds of pounding, and (yes!) the occasional disco rhythm workout. Yoshimi (we presume) added a few songs of her own, amongst the continuing demands of her drumming duties. They were a mighty start to the programme, but there was a bit of a break for us to all catch up with our friends, before we sat in on a bit of Radar Brothers downstairs. It'd been a few years since I last saw them at ATP, and I couldn't really remember much about the previous time they'd played, but when I saw them again this weekend I concluded that that must be because their gentle songs may be softly pretty, but they're fairly unmemorably performed. After a while we went upstairs for a bit of Dungen (who we'd missed at previous ATPs), but their Scandanavian folk/prog (Jethro Tull, as Dean observed of their flute-enhanced jams) was rather dull. Still, it was then time to trot back to the chalet for the second-half of the Cybermen Doctor Who story, and by this time we were definitely getting pissed, 'cos the episode seemed to whip by in a bit more of a rush than usual. Back to the venue, passing through the downstairs where the 1990's were on (being a bit arsey, we decided that as they were partly ex-Yummy Fur, they were therefore no friends of ours...) and up for the final doomy chords of Black Heart Procession. More drinks and the first handful of dislocated rock songs from the excellent Fiery Furnaces (including Crystal Clear), before going down them steps once more and getting set-up with drinks ready for The Gossip's mighty-mighty soul-disco, a post-Riot Grrl ESG for the kids. I thinks we might've refuelled with more juice back at the chalet then, 'cos we got back to the downstairs again during Joanna Newsom's exceptionally still set of harp-songs, and I was steaming drunk, so much so that all I could think about was how she'd flogged a song to a mobile phone company's adverts last year. This was winding me up, and in my addled state I thought it would be a great idea to puncture the silent reverence with a few lines of that Brank Flakes jingle: "They're tasty, tasty, very very tasty" as if everyone in the room would know exactly what I was talking about. Fortunately, I kept quiet, thereby avoiding a surefire lynching, 'cos I got the impression that the couple snogging next to me were giving me the eye (I was very drunk...) Also I unexpectedly bumped into Rachel and her girlfriend there, who I didn't have any inkling were going to be at ATP at all, so that was a treat. I then bumped into Petra, Rita, David and Leesey, but my attempts to hold a conversation were a bit stunted by booze (reassuringly, they'd been more pissed than me earlier in the evening, so the conversation was probably failing on all sides). Carolyn & I went upstairs, again catching only the last moments of the band onstage (in this case Spoon, whose classic group songwriting may concievably be edging towards Wilco areas of experimentalism, but my critical faculties had evaporated). More drink, and finally David Cross (the stand-up comedian, signed to Sub Pop, who had been billed as compering the day, but had seemingly not been booked any stage-time to do so) finally got a chance to appear and perform some routines (to a chorus of "Fuck Off"s from some belligerent cowards in the audience: when challenged, the dicks responsible hid behind their fringes and looked down), before introducing Sleater-Kinney. The trio were taught as a wire, and super-adrenelined, but as I found myself paying more attention to Carrie's impressive fringe-shaking than their jangling guitar-stomps, my attention drifted to thoughts of, well, maybe I might make a new Myspace page after all, and why do so many 'alternative' artists (nb: not Sleater-Kinney), sell their music to the advertising industry, and... before I knew is, Carolyn was shaking me awake from my standing-up sleep, waving the chalet key in front of may face, and suggesting I took myself off to our rooms. I didn't disagree, and stumbled back to the chalet, but was disconcerted to find Dean & Rufus up and about and drinking. I couldn't wuss-out and turn-in, so I poured more drinks (not just gin & juice, but now Jack & ginger) and joined their party. Carolyn made it back later, buzzing from Sleater-Kinney's set, and grabbed more drinks too, and we all stayed up with the music on, gabbling away to each other, and we ate some stuff we possibly shouldn't have, and it all got a bit silly, and I made a new face out of two apples and some bananas, and had to trip off to bed eventually, whilst the others stayed up further or went dancing...
Sunday morning brought hangovers and an inability to speak in full sentences. Tarnation was on ATP tv again, so I filled in the gaps in the film that I'd missed the previous weekend. Dean & Rufus played some air-hockey in the arcades, then made it back to the chalet for us all to catch Buckshot Boys again, which got truncated near the end in favour of R Kelly's Trapped In The Closet again, which Carolyn & I made the others sit through (I think they enjoyed it..), followed by a South Park double bill of the contentious Scientology episode and the subsequent Isaac Hayes- quits episode. Dean & Rufus chose not to experience Lightning Bolt downstairs again, but Carolyn & I went for it, and the guys played a loud, clear and fearsome set to a huge number of onlookers, in a slightly-different place on the floor than Friday's gig (variation!). We caught up with Petra's chalet crew straight after, and watched the beginning of Triangle's set there, but their motorik FM wasn't much cop (compared to Lightnin Bolt's freshly ringing in the ears set), so Carolyn got some food from the shop and we went upstairs to where Destroyer were onstage, with a set of pleasant Grandaddy/Elton John melodics. We sat through 'til the end of the set on the floor with Petra, David and Rita, then made the correct choice of opting for Big Business downstairs: probably the suprise great-group of the weekend. One poundingly fierce drummer, one seriously loud (in both aspects) bassist/vocalist, playing a crushingly intense early-Seattle sound. And when they frequently busted their gear, the very tall, very curly bass/vox dude filled-in with some proper-funny banter/whistling/bass solos/crowd walkaboutsanything. A guitarist from The Shins helped out on their final devastating track, and we were, like, Wow! We found Dean & Rufus, and all went upstairs for some of The Drones (who everyone had seen last weekend, and were raving about), and they were amiably Australian, in a desert Sonic Youth style. We went down again for a bit of Elf Power: once in the right position (facing the stage, anywhere else and all you got was bass-fuzz) their 12-string led whimsy was tuneful and charming. But we had to get some food in at the chalet, and get back downstairs, and down the front with drinks, for the long awaited ATP appearance of Electrelane. I was writing about them in the 'zine I did for ATP back in 2000, and the band seemed to feel they were a bit overdue for an appearance there themselves. In fact, this was Electrelane at the most chatty and crowd-friendly I'd ever seen them (at The Crypt and the Freebutt), enjoying themselves, interacting with the crowd, experimenting onstage (Mia Clarke, also the focal point for every man in the audince with a camera: and I say this as an observation, rather than an endorsement, of such behaviour, had particularly developed her role from static guitar player to such devices as sawing her instrument over the tops of the amps), and playing what Verity Susman admitted would be an 'oldies' heavy set (most of the early singles in amongst the most recent album tracks, and - happily for me - a final surge through Blue Straggler. Why aren't they curating? Why didn't they curate five years ago? Too British and female, would be the evident answer. Next on the same stage you gotta stick aroud for Clinic: I'd seen them several times a few years back, but not at all recently, but the wait was worth it for the evening's full surgeon's outfits, and nugget after nugget of concise organ-cushioned guitar pop, Walking With Thee and The Return Of Evil Bill included, tune upon tune. The downstairs was at total capacity for them, and got way hot, so afterwards I tracked the others down upstairs in the main hall, and we slumped by the walls for the early part of The Black Keys, who did an admirable job of sounding like a two-man Led Zeppelin, but were hamstrung by, well, sounding like Led Zep. So it was time to make the intelligent choice of going back downstairs for The New Pornographers, finding Rachel and her pal there once more (Lisa Tsk Tsk! was there too, but I didn't get a chance to say hi). The few New Pornographers songs I'd heard had been all fine, but I still wasn't quite expecting just how shiny and happy every single track (sometimes aided by the guy from Destroyer) was gonna be: so cheery, so tuneful, so life-affirming! What a group! After which, The Shins upstairs (who I'd not really connected with last time I saw them there) were a bit of a comedown: sure they payed similarly upbeat and clappy pop gems, and they had (for the first time I recall at ATP) a full audience for the greater part made up of young women, but their songs didn't win over my crew as instantly as the New Pornographers had done, and soon the chalet-mates were tiring (energy or interest-wise) and we collectively agreed to head back to our chalet, where we had a few more drinks, and Dean & Rufus at last broke out the acoustic guitars for a run through one another's songs. I could've stayed up, but I was facing an early start back to work on the first bus the next morning again (and I did make it, by the way), so eventually I turned in, leaving everyone to finish off the night at their own pace. Beauty.
The rest of the week played out with little let-up. Tuesday was Revolver time: Carolyn came over, and we went along George Street to the bar for Dean's session. He was playing with Jim this time, once again in two sets. Hayley Savage was out for a rare set of her heart-stopping acoustic songs; Rufus got up for a bit of his full-throated soul-blues; and, for a change (as Bonj was absent) Dean backed Matt on some Regular John tunes, successfully too. Kim sat down with us and Reuben; Caroline and Michael discussed her recent party with Lisa and Helen; Christa and Alice did a fine job of adding the "Whoooos" to Matt's rendition on Mexico; we chatted about ATP with Marcus; other friends turned up; Dean & Jim played sets now made up for the greater part of new, non-second album Rumiko songs (maybe for the Dean &amp; Jim album?); the bar stayed open later than usual; drink was drunk.
On Thursday, I started this blog entry with a pint of beer at home: then Jamie texted me down to the Gritti Palace for a drink. I met him and Reuben en route, outside Reu's house, and once there we hooked up with Wookie and Kim, and sat down with Maya and her friends. Pretty much the first thing Maya asked me was if I was Dj Indie Stu (doh!). She'd remembered there was an electric cellist playing at Poor Boy's Cafe in Queens Road that evening, which jogged my memory into realising Bela Emerson was playing in town tonight, so I helped her insist we all go. We wandered up there, gaining and losing friends on the way (and passing Jonathan and his pal going in the other direction); paid Erika on the door, and fitted ourselves inside (it was busy!) what turned out to be a superb venue. We were quite late arrivals, and had missed the opening act, and Bela was onstage, creating intricate but edgy sound pictures from her electric cello, saw, and myriad loop and effects boxes. I knew of her work via Chris Cook and the Spirit Of Gravity collective, and was very pleased not only that she was playing in Hastings, but that I'd coincidentally been given the chance not to miss the gig. Kath was amongst the crwod, and Step strolled by walking his dog: he seemed pleased and suprised to briefly witness the live music - surely (literally?) right up his street. Richard got to the venue after Bela had finished, but we were all very refreshed and very happy that he made it at all. Being vibrantly drunk, I was happy to (re)introduce myself to both Erika and Bela (and other, random, people), and eventually we all headed out back down Queens Road into town, improvising chirpy couplets of song in a 60's/Christian style ("Steve Marriott/Judas Iscariot!" etc). Oh, my!

2006-05-17T19:59:00.000Z

Rushed round in a panic on Friday morning, trying to get myself ready for All Tomorrow's Parties. Dragged self and bags to Hastings Station and joined Lee and Carolyn on the train. Took a while for me to relax, but by the time we were waiting for the 711 outside Rye Station on a scorching afternoon I felt much better. Down to Camber, I sorted out the wristbands, we bumped into Rufus (their chalet already settled in with beer and cake), then got ourselves sorted in our rooms (which I reckoned to be possibly the most distant chalet from the auditorium there is). Headed over and into the Downstairs stage, catching David Dondero and his death-filled yet rather twee songs of life around different cities in the States. We went Upstairs for Country Teasers, who Lee had been looking forward to, but they were too nihilistic for us to really enjoy (and not as clever as they thought they were: I was reminded of the guys holding court in Student Union bars with their 'controversial' opinions). Good mid-80's Fall sound though, opening cover of All Tomorrow's Parties itself (does some act or other always play this? I remember Violent Femmes having a go on the Chapman Brothers' Nightmare Before Christmas, and read that Lou Reed himself played it at one of the US events). Ah, they were quite funny, but had seemed to take as their primary Fall influence the opening lines of The Classical, which leads to dangers of easy misinterpretation. So we went back Dwnstairs again for Mark Pickerel, about whom I know nothing, but he did have Bruce Brand filling in on the drums for the jaunty country/power-pop sort of songs: plus the weekends' unexpected guest (very unexpected!) Wreckless Eric, coming onstage at the end for a run through of (what else?) Whole Wide World, with Pickerel taking over the drums, due to Brand's upcoming Upstairs commitments. Wreckless Eric struck me as the Melvyn Hayes of New Wave, but I was still made-up that he was there. Upstairs, and Brand was onstage again in Holly Golightly's band (ATP finally getting some Kent, well, Medway, action). I didn't really get into her set though, which was a shame, 'cos I'd been quite looking forward to it, but it just came across too mannered and dispassionate. Oh well, time for some dinner and chalet-drinks. At last, the Scilly Isles contingent (Paula, Dolby and Clare) arrived, so there was some inital socialising to get sorted. Back later, and The Scientists are on Upstairs: the bands' solid sound churning along over post-Suicide simplicity. Good enough, but we were going back Downstairs for Comets On Fire's all-out guitar/echo-loop psychedelia. They weren't quite as full-on as whenever it was I last saw them at ATP: there's more variation in sound and tempo, and pauses between songs now, but it was more than enough to twist some of our friends' mushroom-addled brains. Upstairs, Black Mountain were churning out heavy riffs of Sabbath rock, with some lightness provided by the occasional addition of some Pink Mountaintops players not otherwise in both groups. They did it for me far more than The Flesh Eaters were doing it ramalama style for a thin crowd Downstairs, so I stuck around up there, and got the drinks in in time for Mudhoney. Oh God, they're so on it still! Just an absolute fury of guitars, hair and energy; and pretty much a blast through anything you could hope to hear, including virtually all the great singles (well, I'd have liked Let It Slide, but nearly there..). And how's this for an encore: a rumble through When Tomorrow Hits, the Mark Arm throws in a Wire line "That's a Lowdown" and it's a pumelling In 'n' Out Of Grace, complete with way-extended drum solo (the world's only worthwhile drum solo, as you know). And then, just 'cos they've got a minute or two, Hate The Police. I'm not an American, but I still say Fuckin' A! Pub, then chalet, and time to crash.
Saturday morning, and we're all watching Tarnation on the ATP channel in the chalet. It's creator, Jonathan Caouette, is onsite filming an ATP documentary: we encounter him in passing several times over the weekend - hope we make the cut! Bands aren't starting for a while, so I take a trip over to the others' chalet, where Rufus, Deano, Tom, Matt and Plum are pulling themselves together from the exertions of last night's Mudhoney mosh-pit, except for Bonj, who's still out for the count. Go back, and our fantastic friends from Scilly have dragged the table out into the sunshine and prepared a load of pasta for everyone. Time to start drinking again! Off back to the Auditorium, and Downstairs we go see Imaginary Folk, a quartet playing very quiet, probably improvised, instrumentals for strings, trumpet, electronics and samples (the whole of Ain't No Sunshine got in there at some point). They found a fan in Paula at any rate. A complete contrast next, and Services: two men, some old-school synths and drum-programs, and much jumping and yelling from the singer. Punk Sparks. Their finest moment came at the very end of the set, after the music, when the excitable singer left the stage and 'the quiet one' stepped forward, put his foot on the monitors, and took a sip of tea out of a Pontins-chalet teacup. That's rock 'n' roll. We went Upstairs, and Hundred Eyes were falling completely flat: their singer's sub-Corporal Klinger, fake-sheik outfit prompting audience scorn, and distracting from their rather pedestrian rock theatrics. The band all seemed to know it too: "This is our last songs, it's called White Supremacy", oh whatever. Still, time for Ex-Models Downstairs: true inheritors of that much-abused (currently in the UK) post-punk sound: compacting the nuances into extending threshings of jagged rhythms and noise. All back to the chalet for a drink and some Doctor Who, then back along and Upstairs for Oneida. I'd been looking forward to them on the basis of many glowing CTCL/PlanB write-ups, and they didn't disappoint: drum-heavy and crushing art-rock, and that much-anticipated "LightLightLight..." (repeat for the next fifteen minutes) song as a finale. Downstairs for Blood Brothers, mewling and yelping like a newborn puppy on a hot tin roof. Their ferocious hardcore whistled through me and syringed my ears, making TV On The Radio back Upstairs a rather duller band than I expect they'd have been in another context: their widescreen reaching (in that Dave Fridmann vein) being acceptable rather than mind-blowing. So it's back Downstairs for Liars, and yet more drum-heavy action: luckily I was in the mood for rhythm, and their occasional doubling-up on two kits, along with the shapes thrown by that Angus singer guy (I didn't expect it, but he really, really is exceptionally tall - you may have heard!) were the whirl and flash. And Blood Brothers jumping back onstage for an unexpected nuclear-assault on Territorial Pissings: yes! Could've been a fine full-stop to the evening's music, but there was still Yeah Yeah Yeahs Upstairs, and, sorry though I am to bring you the news, they were a total damp squib. So many indicators in the last year (dalliances with the fashion industry, time-out to soundtrack adverts, that hugely disappointin comeback single), but yeah, they've lost it. The new songs are all plodding and lifeless, the older songs (Pin, a particularly irritating Art Star, and - the final straw for me - Miles Away) were overplayed for maximum stadium-rock, Karen O-as-icon, effect. And there was at least one extra session musician stage-left filling in gaps in the sound (gaps would have been good!) with more guitars, keyboards etc (at least, he seemed to be, but of course Yeah Yeah Yeahs are supposed to be a three-piece band so, unlike the Talent, he suffered without his own spotlight, banished to the wings. It takes a lot of the wrong effort to make a band hate them even when they're playing the songs from when they were good, but the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (despite putting on the best line-up of the weekend) pulled off that unfortunate feat. So it was down the pub way before the end, and conciliatory beer and dancing, and a trip to the Regular John/Rumiko Jr chalet before bedtime.
Lastly (for this weekend anyway) and we reached Sunday, still bearing up. The weather had finally started to turn a bit greyer, but we all did the right thing and trotted down to the beach in the morning for a stroll right along towards the estuary, cutting back inland near the end, and hiking ourselves over the dunes, back to Camber. Settled ourselves back indoors for The Big Lebowski, then everyone except Clare and I went out for swimming, strolling etc, whilst the two of us caught the genius of the Buckshot Boys Go To ATP (Slint year) comedy show. I texted Rufus a heads-up, 'cos it was so their humour, but when I went over to their chalet straight afterwards, they'd missed it, due to hungover inertia. Stuck around for the tail-end of Sun Ra's Space Is The Place movie, then got back to mine for more generous pasta meals courtesy of the Scilly mob. Today was finally a let-up from the hardcore thrills of the preceding days, and a heavily folk lined bill. We went along Downstairs for Danielle Stech-Homsy: pretty-enough music-box melodiousness, but a bit vapid really. Upstairs for Tarantula AD's instrumental soundtracking: again, it was ok but not much memorable. Bat For Lashes came on Downstairs, and were pleasant enough, despite obvious Bjork and Catpower overtones (sorry, but those influences hadn't been transcended yet). We stopped off for a quick ub drink, then were swiftly back Upstairs, where Metallic Falcons were a bit more interesting in that they reminded me very much of Cranes, so that was at least a suprising sound to hear again. Espers followed, and I think I was getting a bit out of it by then, 'cos their shoegazey-psychedelics didn't really connect. Time for time-out back in the chalet, and an attempt at finishing off some of that extra food and drink, before returning for more music. I opted for Jandek out of real curiosity, and got rigourously improvised, loose and harsh songs from the (on this occasion) three-piece. All those years of seclusion seemed to have been spent honing the main man's avant-garde ear and guitar-playing: I was absolutely riveted, finding occasional ways in to the barbed soundworld. Back Upstairs afterwards, and the folk was back in full, faint effect. I could barely hear what Vashti Bunyan and her group were performing from the back of the hall, so eventually I stopped chatting and headed stagewards, in time to hear some gorgeous chiming tune, which turned out to be the final song, a wave and they were gone. By this point, another unexpected visitor, Paul (sneaked past past-caring doorstaff at Plum's suggestion) had turned up, and everyone gave Ramblin' Jack Elliott a go Downstairs. I was restless though, and there was too much rambling, not enough song for me, but then I'm not big on trad folk anyway. So I went back Upstairs and had lengthy chats with Carolyn and Clare, until it was time for Devendra Banhart's band. I was expecting a quiet end to the day, but the group went for a joyous upbeat sound, generously dragging a punter out of the front row to sing his own song for everyone (made that feller's weekend, no doubt), at which point we decided to join our friends by the bar to the right of the stage, and experience the rest of the gig side-on. We drunk a lot, Devendra stripped off (he's a sexy whippet of a hair-bear), most of us cut the rug too, and cheered our fine weekend's adventures. We all decided to continue to spread the love outside the auditorium afterwards, cheering and applauding the punters as they filed out the building (poeple really seemed to be into that!) before we got a bit clapped-put, and headed back to the boys' chalet of music, where Deano, Bonj, Rufus and Paul passed the guitars round and played their own songs instead. Lee and Clare had both knocked it on the head already, but me, Carolyn, Dolby & Paula sat and drank and cheered them on, 'til we felt too tired to stay too, and had to eventually stumble chalet-wards ourselves.
And once again, it was first bus back to Bexhill and work for me.
Little time to rest-up back in the Old Town afterwards though, 'cos Tuesday evening quick;y brought most of us back together for Bonj's birthday celebrations at Smugglers. I headed down with Paula, Dolby and Carolyn, and Carrie and Tom followed-on as soon as they were ready. The bar itself was short-staffed and a bit short of all the necessary beers, and Simon reluctantly had to put hmself behind the bar to keep things going. A shame for him then, but otherwise it was a packed and good-natured night. We hooked-up with Crystal, and chatted to the various Regular/Rumiko boys milling around. Deano & Bonj took the stage first, with an acoustic run-through several of Dean's newest songs. Bonj stayed on, and was joined by Adam (the latter-Heaters guitarist) for a few tunes (including covers of, um, Howard Jones and Gomez!), but with the crowding it was difficult to work out who was playing what when. Adam finished the set solo though, I think, and then I was massively pleased to find The A Team were setting up. Loads more friends were arriving all the time, some of whom were totally unexpected (Reuben - who's got me a Mumm-ra 7" - a few of them made it too, Murray, Richard Hart, Christa & Paul, Heidi, Helen Driver, Helen & Caroline, Plum, Sarah Evans, Alice, Jamie, Rob, Joe & Kate, the Gorilla crew, Wookie, Chuckie, Jonny, it was that kind of night). The A Team's schtick is TV/film themes, and so the band (Rufus, Pablo, Bill, Matt Jukes) made varyingly successful stabs at Knight Rider, Mindar, Ghostbusters, Cagney & Lacey, Thundercats, Grange Hill etc: good plan! Rumiko Jr came on for what felt like a lengthy set of popular favourites - I jumped up and turned the bloody telly off halfway through, and got Simon to dim the lights, 'cos the atmosphere up 'til then had been getting too distracting. Leaving a friend or two to try their chance of pulling that evening, I headed down the front and up onto the pool table in time for a thrashing Regular John set, which struck me as containing several songs I'd not heard ever before. But also by this time I was jabber-jabbering away to Crystal, Carolyn, Reuben et al, so things gradually began to escape me. Tim, eventually in the early hours, to take our leave in the end, and get people back to out current near-Guesthouse for sleep. Soon be time for more ATP too...

2006-05-12T08:22:00.000Z

I got our housemate Kirsty to come down to Revolver with us on Tuesday, for the first time, to see Dean & Jim play. We bumped into Jamie outside: she remembered him from when he used to be in Catnip, which was impressive (she recognised Bill for the same reasons when he arrived later). Lou & James were there, and I gave her the Star Wars Spudtrooper Mr Potato Head I'd picked up at work earlier: he funny. There was a few other irregular friends of ours turned up that night too: Caroline was there with her friend Becca; both Socky & Harry Holmes came along too, on a visit, so we caught up on all the latest Militant Minds news (fortunately, there was some). Christa, sitting with Helen, was being uncharacteristically quiet, but I didn't ask why: mind you, I was sitting with Carrie & Tom a lot of the evening, and didn't get much chance to talk to them either. Kim turned up with a friend or two, but I think he felt he'd got off to a bad start socailly with us, 'cos he led a bunch of our mates off to Gritti Palace fairly soon (to Mr Twangy's open-mic night, I expect). It was a rare evening in that only Dean & Jim were playing, but they still split the gig up into two lengthy sets of old and new and very new songs and a handful of the usual covers too. Marcus, with Lisa, and Rufus were holding up the rest of the Rumiko social end, and Michael made it down eventually. Rob Sample and Sarah were celebrating, I think, finishing work at Revolver, and had made face-masks (of Sarah's eyes) to distribute amongst the crowd, which got a bit MalkovichMalkovichMalkovich surreal (see photo on Dizzy Tiger Message Board) at times. Joe and Kate turned up, and I think managed to get some "Monkey!" (ie. The Basement Song) action going. Reuben, Chuckie, and many other familiar regular faces, made it along during the evening, and I think I finished up redistributing the contents of Kim et al's abandoned drinks into my & Wookie's glasses (mmm, class). The next day I was sick as a dog full of phlegm, but there you go.

2006-05-05T20:39:00.000Z

Though I was fairly tired, I still went along to Brass Monkey last Friday, 'cos I had quite high hopes for the Kubicheck!/Motorettes/Regular John gig there, having read a fair bit of good press about the former in the NME this year. The evening wasn't particularly well-attended, which may have been 'cos people were saving their energies for the Bank Holiday ahead, or maybe it just wasn't much of a draw. Carrie & Tom were on their way back from London on the train, with the intention of coming along, and they'd bumped into Reuben on it, though he failed to make it along to the Monkey in the end, for a change. I was quite enjoying the djing, and was able to identify the occasional song (such as Lightsabre Cocksucking Blues by McClusky, though by the end of the evening I'd heard that particulary track 4 times, so there obviously wasn't much effort going on there), and chatting to various members of the John, along with their friend Tom, Del, Rufus etc. Regular John played a mostly fierce set quite early on, going down pretty well with the crowd (most of whom were friends anyway). Tom & Carrie and Marcus managed to make it along towards the end of the set, at least. I wasn't expecting a great deal from The Motoretts 'cos I didn't like their name, so when we got some fairly posed, sub-Maximo Park, polished-up post-punk, I wasn't massively suprised, or particularly disappointer, though their version on I'm On Fire was utterly unnecessary (compared to many superior covers: The Guana Batz and, especially, Electrelane, come to mind). But I did start getting a bit sulky (we all did) by their assuming of particular sounds and poses as an act, rather than as a genuine activity. Unfortunately, Kubicheck! were not much more impressive, definately attempting to pull similar moves in a hope of jumping on the post-Futureheads (whose album has been oout for a good couple of years now...) bandwagon. I'm not saying either group was rubbish, and at least they seemed friendly, happy and funny (Kubicheck! calling themselves "GeorDie-vision" was pretty self-aware), but the realisation that a label/locality/scene I'd read-about as being exciting/independent/DIY etc was just another bunch of styled gravy-train chasers was a massive disappointment. I had a great evening, but when I got home I deleted my Myspace page to keep myself out of the homogenously bland social club that the post-Myspace 'Indie' scene has become.
Saturday brought the grass-roots entertainment of Alfie Bernardi's birthday at Smugglers: the annual event that is Neil Young Day. When I got there, Felix was onstage, with an accurate Neil Young vocal pastiche, a bass player, and a very young lad on impromptu-drumming. During the evening I thought I'd be able to remember who played which songs, but even by the next day this memory was eluding me, though Felix certainly did My My Hey Hey (Into The Black), or whatever it's called. A few of our friends were amongst the large crowd (Reuben, Jonny Russel, Rufus, Christa, the Regular John/Gorilla crew), though they were ahead of me on drinks, the day having kicked-off during the afternoon. One or two other blokes did a song or two, and Paul Phillips made a great stab at drumming for one of them (not his usual instrument at all). Tim Hoyte turned up in time for a couple of songs (Harvest, Old), but the main portion of the evening was for the grouping of Alfie (vocals/guitars), Paul (vocals/guitars/pedal steel), Rufus (bass) and Leicester Ben (drums), thrashing out all the songs you'd know (Cinammon Girl, Cortez The Killer, Don't Cry No Tears, et al), sometimes really-focussed, sometimes suitably ragged. Caroline, Lisa, Marcus, Helen amd Deano turned up late, having been doing the 1940's dance thing in St Leonards, and in (approximate) period clothes too. Dean (in his airline pilot's uniform, which is a bit more 60's BOAC, I reckon) was able to get up onstage for a bit of Neil-action too, though even-later arrivals (Jonathan Martin, Richard Hart etc) were just too-late to play. The night really slid-away from that point, with lots more drinking, play-fighting and horseplay, photos of which are making their way all over the internet this week.
Sunday's lone musical moment came unexpectedly courtesy of recent Univeral signings Wild Designs (formerly Lazycreek) who turned out to be playing The Cutter during the afternoon, when I'd gone out for a quick pint with my ex-Council colleagues Roschenda and Carolyn. Though we only really heard the soundcheck and the start of their grunge-rock set (though the 2nd song was a cover of Eight Days A Week..), before the women moved on to The Standard, and I hung out at home ' for Crystal to arrive, before popping back to the FILO in the evening.
Bank Holiday Monday started with pissing rain, dampening the Jack In The Green procession, which me, Carrie & Barney, Kirsty & Ben, watching from our yard. Fortunately the weather cleared-up to bring another glorious day of sunshine, in time for the festivities on the West Hill. Carrie & Barney went up there, but I hung-on at home for Carolyn and Lee to get over from Brighton. By the time they arrived, it wasn't worth going up to Hastings Castle (first time I've missed that for years), 'cos there was an afternoon gig at Smugglers to attend (there was also a laudable anti-BNP gig at Heroes that same afternoon & evening, but we couldn't fit this with our timings, unfortunately: sticking mentions of it on the Dizzy Tiger sites was the best I could do). Regular John had first turn at Smugglers, and it was odd seeing them rocking-out in the bright daylight, but they really went all guns blazing at their set, which was good, 'cos Lee and Carolyn hadn't seen them play before, and had come from Brighton specifically 'cos they knew they'd get the chance to catch them at last. Everything was extra-energetic (the soloing, the feedback sections), though Pete was slightly hampered by a borrowed kit. Gorilla came next, dressed the part for 1972, as were their freinds who came in during their set, which impressed our visitors (Gorilla and their gang can't be accused of faking or irony, they really live this life 24/7). So, of course, it was Sabbath stoner-rock power-trio power all the way! The third form of rock for the afternoon (file under Punk) was courtesy of Trenchfoot UK, who may have played the "No-one likes us, we don't care" card too-early, as they did lose a fair few crowd memebers before they'd managed to start playing. It's an odd juxtaposition: belligerent punka attitude coexisting with real 'Spread The Peace' musical intentions. Their version of Gangsters has been mentioned previously, but I was stuck when they announced a song as a Sex Pistols cover, 'til they got to the chorus and I recognised it as Silly Thing (don't get that many post-Rotten Pistols covers around these days)! It was all a bit too comical this time, the afternoon pub audience not being up for the pogo-polemic, but Trenchfoot seem to thrive on audience-antipathy, so they probably had a fine old time regardless. Towards the end, we headed round the corner to Scoffers for much-needed veggie burgers and chips, and then stayed out accumulating friends, first at the Pig In Paradise, then eventually down the Basement for another messy drinking-session... There's a pattern emerging here!
A little later in the week, we briefly noted how fine life in town can be sometimes, when Carrie, Tom, Caroline & I made the short walk across the Old Town towards The Stag for Jamie's birthday, passing by Lianne Carroll in Porters, more jazz from a group in the Jenny Lind, and into bluegrass-folk in The Stag itself.
Finally, it was Other Words in Bar Blue last night, which I went along to even though my involvement has lessened now that Tara's been able to source better gear for the performers. Tim and Richard (also compering, of course) supplied some of the music (Tim fitting covers of For The Benefit Of Mr Kite, Harvest and Alabama Song between two originals, as well as backing Caragh breifly; Richard performing a couple of his songs with guitar, but also reading the lyrics to one good new song as poetry rather than singing them - they worked well that way too). A handful of regular poets and rappers took their turns too (I don't tend to know the names), to mixed effectiveness, and I was glad I made it along again this time, though I mostly sat and watched, rather than socialise (though Reuben, Wookie, Helen and Jamie all made it down). but my money ran out as the poetry came to an end, so I said my goodbyes at that point, and stepped out into the exaggerated orange of the streetlights.

2006-04-26T10:16:00.000Z

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.

2006-04-19T10:10:00.000Z

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.

2006-04-14T14:05:00.000Z

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!

2006-04-09T14:40:00.000Z

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...

2006-03-31T08:11:00.000Z

Tuesday brought a really busy Revolver gig. I went down with Carrie, and I just felt the time was suddenly right again to lift the suspended state I'd put Dizzy Tiger in, so I texted that news out to some of the others. We were joined shortly after by my workmate Crystal, then Kim and Lethwyn, and finally Tom. Dean & Bonj went on first and, the odd bum-note aside, played a good opening set of some of Dean's slower songs. Two-thirds of Regular John were there: Lee chatted about their near-completely recorded album, and Matt & Bonj played another strong set of reinterpreted John tracks, with a clever version of Hyeshin to finish. Rufus played a handful of his soul songs, as Kim tried to interest us all in a bagful of half-empty bottles of after-shave he'd decided to throw out. People kept turning up, and at different points I must have said hello to Reuben (who was ill), Jonathan, Chuckie, Joe & Kate, Helen and her sisters and friends, Paul Phillips and Wookie, I think (it blurs). I tried to persuade Kim to go up and do some songs, but then Dean & Bonj were back on for a climactic second set. I got Dean to bring Kim up afterwards to do Chicken In A Box, which as a result became anticlimactic, as Kim knew. He then improvised a couple of songs, one of them apparently being about how bent I am, which was nice. Everyone dispersed to different bars afterwards, though I ducked-out and headed home to crash.
The following evening I didn't expect much to be going on, so I'd got a bottle of beer and turned in for the night. But then Reuben, who was feeling a bit healthier, rang to say Tim Hoyte was supposed to have a gig at Gritti Palace. Once Reuben had got there he texted me to confirm it, so I got up again and headed down to the Pier. By the time I got there, I basically caught Tim's second set of the evening, and the bar was really full with a great atmosphere to walk into, out of the rain. Reuben was with Richard Hart, Paul was at the bar, Tara was in a corner, and while I was there Helen Driver, Christa & Matt Jukes, and evenutally Jamie all turned up. Tim's songs (a mix of new stuff, and ones he reckoned were old but that he hadn't performed for a while, so they felt new to me) were all quite lengthy and dreamy, and he dropped in a couple of covers too (Neil Young and Gomez, I recall), though he failed to honour Richard & my requests for various Sham 69 numbers. We just all hung around after for ages, chatting about general stuff, until it was looking like time to move on. Again, I declined to carry on in another bar, and, because of the heavy rain, ran all the way home, soaked.

2006-03-26T17:10:00.000Z

The Gilded Palace Of Sin promoters had finally bitten the bullett and booked Rumiko Jr as support act to the Loose Recordings groups that were coming to Brighton. Last Thursday, I finished work and got the train straight from Bexhill to Brighton, bumping into (formerly Crazy)Joe and his partner Kate on the platform at Lewes. We headed up to the Hanbury Ballroom from Brighton Station on foot: I've been that far into Kemp Town a couple of times before, but forgot what a long way it was. I kept wanting to ask "Are we nearly there yet?", and if I'd not been with the lovely couple I'd have had to try and get directions, 'cos I'd have been sure I'd have gone past it (I've got lost looking for bars and pubs in St James'/Kemp Town most of the previous times I've been there in fact, and it's a straight road!) But we passed Michael and arrived eventually, meeting Adam Diabo and a friend outside. Paid to get in, but Marcus ran over and sorted me out with a late guestlist place, which was handy (£3.10 for a pint?) Paul and Carolyn were already there, as were Alfie and his partner, and Leigh had driven the band over with Maya on board. It's a very attractive venue, and there was a fair crowd, so things were looking quite hopeful for the evening. Rumiko started up with Broken Vessel, I got some drinks in, and Lisa and Helen made it in. After a song or two I decided that it would be politer to stand up (as most of the audience already were), as it quickly became clear that the group were gonna go down well. It helped that they all played very tight and strong, and the sound was great; furthermore they'd picked out a set from the old and the new albums without any covers (too little time), so good move. I recall Sweep The Ashes Away, On A Hinge and Carve My Way, and by the time New Found Lonely Friend came along Paul had stood up and joined me too. In a generous and smart move, Alfie had joined the band to add his harmonica for this song (his first appearance onstage with them for over a year, as far as I remember, since leaving the group), and he stayed on for the concluding We Get Lost. It's fair to say they went down brilliantly, as the Gilded Palace Of Sin compere, and the headlining bands, all acknowledged onstage. They were followed by Roger Dean Young & The Tin Cup, playing very bluesy Tom Waits-styled country, and The Corb Lund Band, who were a much more cheerful goodtime country act. I'd got steadily and happily pissed by then, yammering away to Paul and Carolyn about all our various problems (or lack of them) in turn. Paul headed off for an earlier bus, leaving Carolyn to follow on when it was time for me to get to the station. Maya (whose place on Leigh's van had been taken by Lisa and Helen) left with us, and (due to drunkeness) the three of us seemed to be down by the Pavilion in an instant. Carolyn jumped on a bus, and Maya and I part-ran up tho the station and got on the Seaford train. We chatted the journey back, me partly to keep myself awake so we didn't miss the connections, though I soon found out that Maya was far more sober and able to get us home without the aid of forcing out conversation. I walked her to the top of the West Hill, then made my way down the other side to my place. This had been, at last, my first chance all year to get out of Hastings and Bexhill, and I'm really glad that when I finally did it was for such an excellent night out. As for the group's perspective on the evening, and to find out how well their subsequent London debut went on the Saturday (I stayed home for that one, would've been too much extra trouble to make the gig in a fit state) see, for example, the Dizzy Tiger Message Boards. Here's to more rock-action...

2006-03-20T20:55:00.000Z

I've decided to continue this Blog for a while longer, though it gets boring sometimes forcing myself to try and write stuff, so I may drop it again at a later date. Anyway, I've got along to a few things since I last posted, the first of which was a late-booked Rumiko Jr gig at Brass Monkey a couple of weekends ago. Paula was visiting from the Scilly Isles that weekend, which was fortunate timing, 'cos it pretty-much guaranteed that everyone would be able to meet up at the gig. I went over to Caroline's flat to meet them both beforehand, and after a fair few drinks we all headed into town. It was a bit early for the Monkey, so we went into The Pig for a few more drinks first, though not much was happening there really. Outside in Robertson Street we ran into Tim Hoyte, Jamie, Karen, Wookie, and a few of the others, and certainly by the time we were all in the Monkey, Reuben, Helen, Lisa, Helen and loads of our friends were about. After their gig up in Heroes that evening, Regular John made it along too, as did much of Mumm-ra, who seems to be out & about more recently, so it was a real all-bands together night. Unfortunately, my poor mood from earlier in the day was (as I knew inside would happen) worsened the more I drank, and I was feeling quite down and out of sorts by the time Rumiko started playing. Though Paula was able to talk me round quite well, the evening ultimately proved the point that the quality of a group's performance is very closely linked to the individual witness' mood. Several people I spoke to that night, and in the following week (including Jamie and Tim) though Rumiko were tight and on blinding form; but I kept noticing the missed cues and songs that fell apart at the end. Undeniably, there were too many (three) covers played though, especially seeing as Dean indtroduced the first of them with the, quickly patently false, assertation that "We don't play many covers..." Mind you, it was a late start for tha band, and they do like a drink too (we all like a drink!). The rest of the night degenerated into Regular John horseplay, as they ran about stickering everyone with, um, stickers! Mine were still attatched the next morning.
The following Tuesday brought some restoration of confidence with Dean's Revolver session, again backed by Bonj, and with another Matt & Bonj performance in between Dean's two sets. The Regular John chaps are improving their acoustic version of the band every time they appear at Revolver now, and were really fierce. Dean and Bonj zipped through loads and loads of newer Rumiko (and yet-to-become Rumiko) songs, and our table (including Christa, Kim, Wookie, Reuben, Jamie) had a fine old time messing about. Jamie was supposed to be keeping his attendence at Revolver that night to a minimum, due to house-moving commitments, but he kept reappearing, stop-out!
At the end of the week, I put in an appearance at the private view of the new group exhibition at St Mary In The Castle's SoCo Gallery (at the invitation of Dave Arnold, who was exhibiting), though I kept myself to myself, and only stopped to chat to the Flying Marrows boys while I was there.
The Saturday finally came around with Rashamon supporting man-of-the-moment Nathan Fake, along with Uneven Dots, at Harpers. I went down at 9:00 and caught up with Lee, who was pretty nervous about the evening, for several reasons. We also chatted to a guy called Joe who'd come over from Eastbourne especially for this show, as well as the Unven Dots fella, and Nathan and his friend/collaborator Vincent. Michael and Caroline had joined us by the time Lee started up, and though he was playing an excellent set of largely new material, there were evident problems with the clarity of the sound. Lee finished up, and was putting the distortion's cause down to the PA, when Uneven Dots began with a set of crystal-clear electronic gorgeouness. So Lee had to blame himself for his own sound after all! Michael and Caroline had headed-off after Lee's Rashamon performance. but Rufus had joined us by then, and eventually both Reuben and Jamie made it along too. By the time Nathan Fake was beginning, I was getting very sleepy, and as a result I nodded-off through the main central part of his/their set, The bits I did hear, at the start and end, were fine enough though, but the effects-box-abuse was too much for my tired ears by then. Once he'd finished his encores, I was ready to go, so Lee picked up his fee from Tim Prochak (who was generous to a fault all evening, good on him), and we both dragged ourselves back to the Old Town (Lee was tired too, as Rufus had been in fact). It's fair to say that things between Lee and I had been a little strained on occasion during the last year (and things such as me disappearing during the Four Tet gig there, last time I was supposed to be putting him up) can't have helped, but it does now feel that we're all on an even keel with one another again. There's always new and unrelated problems to cope with, and life's too short to hold onto such awkwardness. So, onwards! Again!

2006-03-06T12:20:00.000Z

To get things ready for last week's Other Words, I had to pick a mic and amp up from Michael & Caroline's flat on the Wednesday, and walk them back to my place in the Old Town. After work on Thursday I had to go up to the flats again, get the mic stand off Duncan, and take it over to Tara's. Then I went back to the Old Town to get changed and fed, and had to carry the mic and amp back along the seafront to Bar Blue to rendezvous with Tara and Richard. It was as I was making that walk that I realised how worn out I've got recently trying to get all this Dizzy Tiger stuff done. Other Words itself was quite fun, a really mixed bag of (mostly) poets this time, and both Kim, Jonathan and Richard performed again. But a few pints and a brandy wasn't helping me, so I switched to water, and even then I was falling asleep as it got beyond midnight. And, apart from when I was talking to Wookie, Reuben etc, all I could think about was how long I've been running the label on my own for now, and whether I really want to be or even should be running one anyway when sometimes I think it'd be better just to step away into the background, 'cos by now the local scenes seem to be running themselves just fine. I couldn't stay awake, so I left all the gear in the charge of Tara and Bar Blue, and headed home. At work the next day, I just decided during the afternoon that, rather than do anything as drastic as axeing the label completely, I'd just put it in a state of suspension, so I went downstairs to the staffroom and texted the news to a handful of people on my phone. When I got home, I'd decided that I'd keep most of the websites going (though I may not do this blog any more after this, I'm not sure), at least until I've managed to get through the various pro & con thoughts in my head. The rest of the weekend was spent at the Electric Palace twice (for Radio On and Dig!), at a party at Rufus & Bonj's new flat, and down the FILO for the quiz. My head is fucked from drink, illness and stress, so hopefully that'll clear up soon, and I'll be able to work out what it is I should be doing. I'm hoping that won't take too long, 'cos I do want to keep the label going, but at the moment I need this break. I think most of my friends can understand this. Nobody's fault but mine!

2006-03-01T10:20:00.000Z

February has been so wet and cold, I've been so hard up (not entirely through paying bills, but 'cos we've been paying for our ATP tickets too), and, in the last few days, have had brief spells of having colds and food poisoning, so cumulatively there's not been a lot of socialising going on. So, despite feeling very very rough, I determinedly went along to Revolver on Tuesday for Dean's fortnightly gig. Fortunately, after last time's Valentine's aberrations, this night's gig only co-incided with Shrove Tuesday, so things could get on more normally. I went for the super-strong Leffe beer option (a half, then a pint, was all that I needed to be warm). Dean went first, backed by Bonj again (as was everyone this evening, which was brave of him), with a bunch of new songs; typically, some were being performed for the very first time, and even Bonj hadn't heard them. There were a few exceptions, they rattled through Here Comes Your Man Again, and opened with the now-familiar All The Lovers (title courtesy of bar-staff request) which is becoming a real favourite, especially 'cos it's sparseness reminds me of those precious early Donkey Kong gigs at the Jenny Lind, where you could hear a pin drop (but more usually a dropped pint). I went online for a bit so Reuben could check if anyone had bid for him on Ebay (courtesy of The Heaters' Muz, who's evidently getting tired of blues-rock, and has started pimping his friends out as well). Matt & Bonj whipped through some Regular John songs, much more successfully than the previous gig (and I've just realised I ought to have mentioned that to them at the time, 'cos I wasn't too enthusiastic previously when Matt asked me my opinion afterwards); then Rufus took over Matt's chair for a few of his blues/soul songs too. Rufus was also unsuccessfully trying to purchase an ATP chalet online during the evening; not sure who he's intedning on bringing with him when he's successfully bought it, but keep your eyes to the Dizzy Tiger message boards, or go see him in the bookshop maybe?). Jonathan managed a few songs with Bonj then, though by this point Kim was getting very feisty, and ribbing most of us at our table (which also included Jamie, Pete Regular-John and his girlfriend, and a couple of other people who I see out a fair amount, but who's names have escaped me just at the moment). Jonathan mainly had to put up with good-natured, but probably irritating, heckling from that guy who hangs out at the Anchor all the time, but he coped with it. Finally, Dean and Bonj thrashed out a few more of the uptempo quickies off the next Rumiko album (at least, they're on there if the latest Rumiko mail-out is correct), and I slumped in the corner full of illness and Leffe, watching near-horizontally. Everyone was heading on to see The Heaters and Josie at the Brass Monkey, or possibly Richard at Harpers (and if Richard would remember to text me when he's got these gigs, as he keeps meaning too, I'd have known for sure whether he was on or not), but I went home and got under extra bedding and slept.

2006-02-16T12:13:00.000Z

I've had to give a few gigs a miss over the last couple of weeks, 'cos we're all still in post-Christmas recovery, but I did manage to get it together for the Club Apotheosis one at Harpers last Saturday, 'cos our friends Rashamon and Same Actor were playing. I'd met Lee, his new guitarist Nathan and his girlfriend down the Pig earlier, and handed Lee all the copies of the new Rashamon ep on my label, so that he could try and flog some at the gig. Gave it a couple of hours at home while they soundchecked, then joined everyone down there later on. Sat around with the bands and Michael and Caroline. Richard Hart also tunred up, but the over-friendly drunken man put him off staying, so I think he took refuge downstairs for the evening. Chris did his set first, starting off as Same Actor (technically his beat-less set), but eventually piling on the sounds and ending up more of a Hot Roddy one. It went down well with the handful of people who'd read about this gig online, or seen it in the paper, so that was pleasing. Louisa and a friend of hers made it down later in the evening, in time for Lee's Rashamon set: now with more vocals, bass, guitar, and all sorts of extras, partly from Nathan, and a bit more from Chris guesting too. People danced, or staggered about. Lee kept doing one-more-encore (more on a whim, I don't think there were many actual requests). Stayed late, chatted very drunkenly to Louisa etc (though they may have been more drunk then me..); Lee and his lot headed back to Brighton, and I got Chris back to mine to stay over, so he could go back to London more easily the next day. A little later in the week, it was Deano & Bonj on Valentine's Day down Revolver: good stuff, but a short set: more new songs, and Bonj really filling in well now. Bonj also did a few acoustic Regular John songs with Matt, and though they'd have sounded better with full-on electric amp action, it was good to hear the songs in a different style. There was another guy playing requests afterwards too, and me and the others who were out (including Carrie & Tom. Tara & Jackie, Kim, Reuben, Lisa & Marcus, Helen (Lisa & Helen brought us a packet of Love Hearts - cool!), Caroline, Simon the former Regular John manager, etc) stuck it out for different amounts of time, but rather than take anyone up on the offer of another drink, I went home when my money ran out. That's about all I've got to say, I'm afraid, and anyone who was out with us either night will know I've missed a few details out (but not massively relevant ones): not a bad Valentine's day mind you, but otherwise it's been somewhat of an awkward week. We go on though.

2006-02-04T21:23:00.000Z

Oh, it's been such a long and busy week: here's bits of what I can remember:
Last Saturday, down Smugglers for Tom Waits Day (celebrating Simon Shaw's birthday: the theme being everyone must cover Tom Waits songs, an idea cribbed from Alfie's annual Neil Young Day celebrations). I'd forgotten it was on, and had resigned myself to a night in, when Reuben rang and reminded me. By the time I got there, I only caught the sole songs by Regular John (minus Pete, sitting it out), before the ad-hoc group conceived by the birthday man himself (I don't know the feller, by the way) settled in for the long-haul of the rest of the evening. My familiarity with Tom Waits' oeuvre (I said oeuvre!) isn't strong, so I recognised only two or three of the more obvious tracks (Heart Of Saturday Night, Downtown Train...), which the group (some musicians I recognised and could put names to, some I couldn't) played them in a rather bluesy, laid-back way, which is entirely fair, though I'd have enjoyed less classicist performances, and maybe some more of the junkyard-styled clatter of the bits and pieces of Tom Waits' later stuff that I've encountered. So I stayed mostly getting drunk up the back of the pub with Regular John, Rufus, Dean etc, which was damn funny. Whole bunch of disparate other people out (Wookie, Jamie, Karen, Tara, Emma Foster, Reuben - failing to make it around the corner for Seasick Steve at Brass Monkey, and more). Stayed a fairly long while, but it was gonna become a heavy drinking night, and my internal dipstick let me know that I really needed to get home rather than hang around too late.
Tuesday was Dean at Revolver, accompanied by Bonj, as Jim is holidaying in Australia. Fabulously, Jim rang Dean's mobile halfway through the gig, so the crowd were all able to shout "Hello Jim" down the line to him, and he there and then mentioned to Dean that he'd decided to extend his trip from a fortnight to six months. See you in August then, Jim! Bonj performed an admirable job of filling in Jim's place on many old and new songs, including a repeat run through Here Comes Your Man, and one or two other covers (eg Blister In The Sun). Michael and Caroline were sitting with me, and Michael was able to point out that a lot of the songs Dean is now playing are actually earmarked for a Third Rumiko Jr album (thy've almost finished recording their second), leading to the possibility of two new Rumiko lps this year, if all goes very very well (only a possibility!). Matt was also along to support his Regular John bandmate, and stepped up for a few brief songs himself (finishing with Lemonheads' Being Around), and Jonathan managed to fit a few of his own in a bit later too. Kim, Rufus, Reuben etc were all present, in fact the evening was much better attended than last time (and I've forgotten several of my friends who were there I'm sure), though as Caroline pointed out at the end, she was eventually the only woman there (apart from the bar staff), which is unusual for Revolver, but there you go.
Thursday was time for the next Other Words, so I was in a bit of a rush early in the evening. I'd seen Nat and Bill Lambie when I'd passed by St Mary In The Castle earlier, as they were helping prepare for the private view of a photographic exhibition (including some of their work) which is running there for the next month. I saw them again when I met Tara there a little later, and handed her the remaining Other Words flyers that she wanted to hand-out. It was busy there, lots of recognisable faces, but I was conscious that I was at a private view that I hadn't actually been invited to, so I was happy to go on ahead to St Leonards to get things sorted in time for the poetry. Despite a miscommunication mishap up at The Cloisters, I was able to procure a mic, stand and amp from Duncan (many thanks!) and get them down to Bar Blue in time to meet Tara outside. Rather than performing from the middle of the bar, Rachel who works there had set up a stage by the front windows, so I arranged the gear the best I could, and waited around with Tara and Kim for Richard to arrive so that the evening could begin. It had just reached the point where Tara was asking me to fill-in for him when, fortunately, he turned up, so we were soon underway. It turned out to be a very lengthy evening this time, and again much better-attended than the previous occasion (all the flyering, postering, word of mouth and articles in the Hastings Observer, The Entertainer etc, and various people's online promoting, had clearly made a difference). Some of those who took turns at the mic included the guy from Colonel Mustard, Kim, Richard, Jamie, Erika Smith, Caragh (previously referred to on here as Cara - I get things wrong..), Debbie Delux, Kate Sedgwick and (headlining, though many others continued to step-up for more turns after) Dave Arnold. All of whom managed worthwhile sets of differing poetic or musical styles, though the evening gradually degenerated into a very lengthy coda of quite drunken near-karaoke singing turns (the final, ensemble performance of Suspicious Minds may be the most ragged vocal performance I've ever heard..) And, an unexpected burst of egotism from one contributor apart (hands were shaken afterwards, so we'll allow it to rest at that), it was a wonderfully well-played evening. By the end, I was getting very tired, and had started drinking all the jugs of iced water that had been left for the poets (which they didn't touch, the boozers) in order to sober myself up in time to drag the musical gear away, whenever the evening was gonna end (I didn't want to call time on the performances myself, cos the longer everyone was willing to speak, the more could be added to the Sara Lee Trust collection jars, but beyond 1am I ended up having to politely request some kind of cessation of activites soon, as I really needed to get away and get some sleep before the next day's work). Fortunately, everyone else was so far gone they were running out of steam too, so we struggled free evenutally. Said it before, but it's worth coming down for...

2006-01-24T21:07:00.000Z

Uh, to re-iterate: yes, this is my online diary, but it's really only here to relate my gig-going, adventures with the record label, etc (music stuff!); it's not the diary of my bloody work, or my love-life, or anything else... Rest easy, people, I don't even keep a private pen & paper diary of that stuff. It's here to remember things like the other night: last minute realisation that I was missing Glass Eye down at Smugglers. Popped my head into the Music Exchange and said hello to Dean, Rufus, Bill and Marcus (preparing to record/rehearse the Rumiko band), and Dean gave me swigs of wine: he was already pretty merry. Then next door to Smugglers: Pete O'Mant (who was there) is no longer organising Glass Eye - he's passed that responsibility on to Mr Colin Bailey, composer of humourous songs. By the time I got down there Sunday evening, I was at least in time to see Tim Hoyte starting up. He seems to be on an entirely new set of material, post-The Nothing Machine, of charming and rather lengthy songs, so it'll be good to hear the studio versions of some of them, eventually. I was sitting with Helen and Reuben, and was suprised to see Rooth and her sister Laura there, 'cos I don't see them much at all any more (Rooth moved to Wales), so that was quite a pleasant event. Zoe Koney (now organising the Listen events, over at The Rooms in St Leonards) played next: I'd not seen her before (as far as I could recall), and she was fine and fun: probably a bit emo if I'd been listening more closely, but I liked her. Jonathan turned up to play, but seemed to miss his slot, and didn't get onstage while I was there. Richard ended up with quite a lengthy set in the end, though by this point he was battling against fairly indifferent drinkers. Jamie made it down and joined us all after a while. Then Trenchfoot UK started up: two-frontpersonnned (male & female) old-school (older than me...) punk-rock, in the street-political style, proper shouting, laughing, pogo-fun. They covered Special AKA's Gangsters at the end too, nice one. Christa got down with friends, checked I was having a Satanic birthday party later in the year (Yes! I will). Nelson King followed on, with an accompanying musician (though I can't remember what the other guy was playing): kinda-bluesy guitar work, decent enough songs, no problem. But it was getting late, and that means bedtime for lightweights, so off I stumbled.

2006-01-20T12:25:00.000Z

It'd only been a few weeks since their last gig there, but for a while on Tuesday evening it looked like Deano & Jim were gonna be playing for only me, and Emma at the Revolver bar. They put off playing for a while, and I even went on Myspace to send a bulletin to get any of the local slackers away from their screens and down the pub. Eventually Del appeared with a couple of friends, and Rufus and Bonj made it along, and then Reuben, Wookie, Kim and one of his friends wandered in. 'Cos they started late, Deano & Jim didn't play for a particularly long time, but amongst the songs it was good to hear New Found Lonely Friend again at last, and the one or two untitled new songs (well, they've probably got titles, but I don't know them) sounded wonderful. After one set, it was nearing closing, so they didn't bother with a second bunch of songs. I got into the "Did Courtney Love kill Kurt Cobain?" argument with Bonj (to which the answer is "Of course she fuckin' didn't!"); Sally & Ian showed up in different states of drunkeness; and eventually it looked like most people were heading back to Anna's place after; and out of politeness (as I don't know her too well) I knocked the evening on the head and headed home. Their next fortnightly gig there should be Tuesday 31st Jan, put it in your diaries you tools.

2006-01-17T12:41:00.000Z

Smugglers chaos on Friday: Carrie & I went along to see some of the bands, and when we arrived, a new young group called Blind Image were playing. They seemed to be a bit of an enthusiastic rock band, but it was difficult to tell, 'cos the pub was full of all their friends (there must've been hundreds of them!), snaking out the door and spilling onto the street. We battled our way towards the bar, where Smugglers-hazard #2 was in evidence - barflys! This was a bit of a potentially volatile situation: younger people more used to bargin around The Crypt behaving in exactly the same manner in a serious-drinkers' pub. All it would've taken was one pair of heads-down teenagers spilling the slower, drunker soaks' pints, and it would've been blood and black hair-dye all over the place. Fortunately, the boozers were more interested in arguing amongst themselves, treading on the unfortunate dogs that had been dragged along etc, than in paying attention to the emo-kids scurrying about beneath their eye-level. Once Blind Image had played, their fans all headed off too, leaving a bit more space for Regular John to play. I think they were on borrowed gear, 'cos they were a little more subdued than usual, but still built to a standing-on-chairs racket of a finale. Finally it was The Heaters turn to banish memories of their blues gig last Monday, which they pulled-off with one of the best performances I've seen them do, tight as their trousers! Difficult to tell during the melee, but at least half of Regular John got up and joined them onstage for their last songs, a decent gesture of solidarity, and an unholy cacophany to boot. I spent most of the evening hanging out with Helen and Sally, chatting about the forthcoming ATP, but it was good to see Ros out with her friends for a change too, along with Michael and Caroline (getting the chance to see a proper Heaters gig at last), Reuben, Liam, Wookie, Jamie, Rufus, Tara & Cara, and loads more. I took myself off at a decent time, and had actually got up for work the following morning before the first late-night strays came knocking at my front door...
That Saturday evening brought another Regular John gig, this time at The Tubman (an under-used venue musically, though it hosted the launch of The Candys debut single, and the first Donkey Kong Jr gig, in the past). Those low ceilings play havoc with the bar staff's mohicans! Unfortunately, in clearing the stage area, the staff had piled up all the tables and chairs in the only corner of the pub where you'd have been able to see the bands, so things were pretty cramped. There wasn't a huge number of people out though: Rufus, Dean & Helen, Johnny Russell and jis friends, Wooike, Reuben and Liam: not a lot more. So I couldn't see the band play, but they sounded good; and were followed by Noxious, who were a lot less metal, and a lot more early 90's Seattle, than I'd feared. Nothing enormously special, but the songs were pretty good, and thay played them loudly and well. Hung out with everyone for a while, though they gradually drifted off to toher bars, leaving me, Dean & Helen, and Tara & Bev (who showed up too late for the bands) as last figures standing. I was skint, so when they all went to the Brass Monkey, I headed home. A nice night though.

2006-01-11T21:19:00.000Z

Two contrasting evenings in the Old Town, both ending up at the Dragon.
Monday - Took Nick Verlaine and Melinda (visiting from Toronto) along to the Hastings Arms for The Heaters gig. Carrie came too, Michael and Caroline joined us, as did Kim. Unfortunately, the Hastings Arms books blues gigs on the Monday (that's why they call it Blue Monday there, duh), which The Heaters acquiesed to by generally letting their new guitarist take charge and lead the group through some generic twelve-bar blues stuff. Jack did take lead on a few songs, and they managed to get a few of their own songs played in a stripped-down way, but it was a real disappointment, especially as I think only Carrie and I had seen The Heaters play a full gig before, and I wanted them to be more fun for the benefit of our guests. Tom, Rufus and Bonj all arrived at different points, but when the group took a mid-set break for a breather, we decided to cross George Street and go to the Dragon (George and the Dragon, I've only just got that, is it deliberate do you think?) so we could chat more freely. Still, there's a proper Heaters/Regular John gig at Smugglers this Friday coming, so there's another chance to see them in a fairer context.
Tuesday - Rebecca had very kindly invited me along to the premiere of Chris Petit's new film Unrequited Love (in which she features) at the Electric Palace, so I dressed as smartly as I could manage in the circumstances (not because I expected it to be formal, but because I didn't want to take the piss on what could be quite an special evening for everyone there) and headed up. Said hi to Rebecca and some of the other people there, including Step, grabbed a drink and settled myself discretely in a wall-seat. Petit introduced the film, which was another interesting experiment in digital camera and editing (in the vein of his recent work that I've seen: The Falconer, Negative Space, London Orbital). I'm not gonna get into discussing the actual film here, as I kind-of feel it's not my place to, though it is very good, and Rebecca performs well throughout (if it makes it back publicly to the Electric Palace, or onto television, I'll flag it up on my boards so everyone can get a chance to see it). Afterwards, I passed Vanessa from the college on the stairs, and she invited me along to the Dragon with some of the others for a drink. In fact, the majority of those at the Electric Palace made it along, and so I got a better chance to chat to Rebecca, Nicola and Chris Petit, as well as Vanessa and some of her friends. So I had a great evening, and left the Dragon in a much better mood than my hyper-sensitivity of the previous night.
Smart.

2006-01-08T11:07:00.000Z

No days off. Let's try and get this straight.
Monday - out late (FILO, and eventually back of a restaurant). Agreed to write a pantomime. Of course!
Tuesday - Jonathan Martin's band Katjam (I just don't like that name, sorry) at Revolver. Again, I preferred the early part of the evening, when Jonathan accompanied himself on the out-of-tune Revolver upright piano, but some of the stuff he did with the other two musicians (visiting, dunno who they were, on guitar and bass, also both performed a few of their own songs) was fine too. Who was out? Kim, Wookie, Jamie, Richard, Reuben, Liam, Helen, Christa and Paul. I had to let them go into town afterwards without me, having spent the previous night trawling round pubs and bars after hours with Tara, Richard, Jamie and Wookie, trying to get served. Two nights of that in a row would be undignified! But a fun night, a lot of chatting more than listening I reckon though.
Wednesday - Just popped out briefly to get some stuff off Tara to make Other Words flyers with.
Thursday - Other Words at Bar Blue. 'Cos I like her a lot, and 'cos I thought it would be good if she carried out her plan to get Other Words up and running again, I've been helping Tara get the evening organised. I did the flyers, some online and phone stuff, and grabbed a mic and amp off Michael, and a mic stand off Duncan. It went well! Bit of patchy traditional folksongs earlier (some went a lot better than others), a few other poets and musicians I didn't know, but also Kim did Chicken In A Box and made some poems up on the spot, Jonathan and Step came along and did a few songs each, Claire Hamill turned up and payed a few too, Justin Rhyme (from Word About Town etc) came over from Brighton (especially for the event, I thin, which was good of him) and recited a bit, and Richard (who'd done a great job of compering the evening) played a few songs too. Even some of the bar staff were inspired enough to dig out some old poems and read them out. Bit of a problem with Kim and Wookie getting quite drunk and michevious: I kept trying to shut them up a bit, but later they were taking photos of Reuben and his mate in the back of the bar (some kind of spontaneous Circus Toe photo op) and Kim was making such a noise of it that the bar told them off, oops. Reuben, Liam and a lot of that bunch went down The Crypt after a while, but the rest of us happily stayed late. After we dropped the gear off at Tara's later, a load of us cabbed it down to Smugglers for another drink, though by popular opinion this was a step too far, and I certainly got completely trolleyed as a result, and it showed (a lot of hugs and kissed, I think).
Friday - popped out down the pub late, causing my third oversleep and missing of breakfast in a row.
Saturday - Rufus & Marcus' joint birthday celebrations down Smugglers, so you know it's gonna be a heavy one. Rufus played first, with Steve Hope and Billy Gorilla, doing a bunch of his own songs, and the odd Jackie Wilson and Sly Stone number. My reservations about Hastings lads playing funk went out the window years ago, once I understood the genuine love of the genre they have, and also 'cos they don't take the piss or ham it up or anything, so that's cool. Rumiko Jr had a stint next, really pounding away, though with a lot less gear than the New Year's Day gig, which meant some interesting attempts by Michael to fill the gap (a rolled-up piece of paper pressed into use as a trumpet/kazoo at one point being the most inspired shortcut). Fairly similar, but shorter (the evening started late) to the other night: Totally Confused, The Monkey Songs and Get Up Jake got aired again, along with a mix of both albums (I can remeber Rome, and Some Days, but not a great deal more specifics). Regular John finished the bill, with more guesting from Rufus (piano), Marcus (guitar for their Roadrunner/Hospital cover, I did a bit of the "Radio on" shouts at the end too, 'cos the connection between that, and chatting to Rebecca about the Chris Petit film of the same name earlier in the evening, was too appealing for me to pass-up), and, well, me again (aided by Murray from The Heaters, seizing the opportunity at last) hammering out of time and pitch at the piano for a spontaneous conlcluding trawl through I Wanna Ba Your Dog. I think people enjoyed it, we all had fun at any rate. I took several more photos of the gig for the John, so hopefully these will turn up on their site evenutally. I think a lot of other people who were around that night were up for playing too, but Ewen had to knock the live music on the head after Regular John 'cos it was getting so late (so no Gorilla, for one), but all the revellers (also including , at different points, Lisa & Caroline; Christa & Paul; Ria - a typically brief appearance, Maya, Wookie, Karen, Jonny Russell, Anna White, Matt Jukes, Liam, Richard, Jamie; Tara & Jackie; Colin Gibson, Andy Warren, Claire Hamill, and Simon Bush - unable to stay away from the bar even when he's not working, but then why would you want to be anywhere else?) were well-pleased with the evening. I said just now that all this socialising has been taking it's toll on me this week, but in the end it was Reuben who passed-out on the sofa at the back (as have so many before him: Alfie even wrote a song about it on his album) and had to call Helen out to drive him home when he briefly re-entered conciousness again.
And I've got Nick and Melinda coming to stay later today. Don't think we're gonna be resting yet.

2006-01-02T14:52:00.000Z

All is quiet, on New Year's Day - well not round these parts. Of course, we'd all had a late night on New Year's Eve (most of us either at Deano & Helen's place, or out at the Gritti Palace - to which rounds of applause, bouquets and general hosannas should be raised for putting on an excellent and generous New Year's party). But you can't keep a good scene down, and the afternoon at Smugglers saw the gradual arrival of Rumiko Jr, Regular John, and a supporting cast of fans and barflys, for the nearly traditional New Year's Day knees-up of noise. Simon at the bar - how was he still standing? Ewen too - histories eternal landlord (we could imagine him fitting right in in Tombstone 1881, 1930's Chicago, 50's Soho etc: one man in control of the neighbourhood's drinking patterns, however rowdy they might be). Of course, being just after Christmas, both groups had several new toys (pedals etc) to try out live: in Rumiko's case this also included Michael's eventual debuting of his Kaoss pad (to the slight envy of the John), and Marcus' double feedbacked effects, all promising signifiers for the evening. It's been one whole year since I attempted to put out a Donkey Kong Jr - Live at Smugglers tape as a New Year's present: a move that was nixed by the group then, due to what they saw as substandard performance on the tape (and definite substandard recording quality of the Fisher Price tape recorder): this year, however, I'd used the same tape recorder to prepare a tape called Sacrifice (an audio snapshot/documentary of the Jack In The Green and Bonfire events), which I was able to start handing out at this gig instead. Last year's New Year's Day gig was not only the first that Rumiko jr played under their new name, but also the last that Alfie Bernardi played with them: fortunately his leaving was amicable enough for him to be present this evening, and for him to give me a copy of his fine solo album Stranger (which happens to feature Rumiko's Dean and Rufus amongst it's supporting cast of musicians). I was making notes throughout the evening for a forthcoming short review to be included in Regular John's new Makin' Bones zine, though looking back on them today those notes are a total drunken scrawl, with genuine beer stains over them, yay! Anyhow, the two bands took it in turns with their sets: Rumiko up first with enhanced tunes from Broken Down Whiskey Sound, a few from the next lp, and a raucous White Stripes cover (obviously the raison d'etre of The White Stripes is creating a full sound from limited means, so if you're gonna get a 5-piece band to cover them, there's no point trying to strip it back to sound like there's only two of you. You gotta play up the maximised elements, hence the piling-on of instruments, breaks and solos that Rumiko bring to We Are Going To Be Friends). On the way to the gig I'd passed (in quick succession) our friends Lou and James, then Julian Wallinger, Harry O'Sullivan and their freinds, then Del and his partner, all of whom made attempts to get to the gig during the evening (not all successfully, mind, Del apparantly passed-out at home again); but Lou and James had made in in briefly before the bands started. Fortunately, the various friends who happen to be going out with Rumiko (ie Caroline, Lisa and Helen) soon made it along, so I wasn't sitting there on my own. Karen turned up for a while as well, though had to leave before the bands really started, but the place gradually filled up after then. Regular John took the front of the pub stage for a set drawing largely on their two ep's so far; ever louder, and more prone than before to heading out into freeform Sonic Youth/The Pink Floyd/Led Zep instrumental workouts between songs, though all done with feedback and energy. I've mentally coined the phrase Interstellar Overdraft for these moments. Billy Gorilla exemplified the spirit of support and co-operation by sitting on the floor in front of Pete's drumkit for the second half-of this set, smiling and grinning at the band. That nice bloke fromThe Heaters (Mus, is it?) also valiantly took the front of stage position to view the bands for the evening: he's a proper fan, you know. Reuben and his crew didn't make it down 'til after regular John's set, but fortunately both groups had arranged to play second sets, so any other late arrivals still got their evening's-worth of entertainment. Rumiko Jr's next set kicked off with some kaoss/vocoder augmented random jamming warm-up covers: Walk This Way (the Run DMC version) anyone? And was that Block Rockin' Beats they were attempting (I wanted to show the fact that I know my post-punk onions by shouting "Fuck You GI!" at them afterwards, but realised that, as usual, no-one would know what I was going on about, and since I'd already been hecking them earlier in the evening, I shut-up). Anyway, the second set drew more heavily on the unreleased second Rumiko album songs, with a few more covers chucked in to please the kids (Draggin', Totally Confused, Get Up Jake and, to spontaneously clumsy mass dancing, The Monkey Song, of course), every track ending in a hail of feedbacking guitars and reprocessed Kaoss pad sampling. Roar! The crowd were getting drunk, even Jonathan Martin, possibly against his own judgement, though the most trolleyed had to be the woman from the Kollege Kantina (Hazel) who was bravely going at it barefoot. Liam supplied the rockabilly presence, and all the peolpe who'd helped Regular John out in the studio (Andy Warren, Colin Gibson) were arriving too: it all seemed to be coming together. Matt handed me a camera for Regular John's next set, again mostly drawing on the unreleased songs they're preparing for their album. Bravely, and unexpectedly, Regular John took a spur-of-the-moment decision to unveil their cover of Rumiko's Rome (from the forthcoming split single, no less), and once they'd found their feet they really let fly at it, good move. Things got pretty intense, and at one point only Rufus' swift action prevented a serious accident when one of the PA stacks came crashing down on Bonj's head (protected by Billy's knackered straw hat, and all his hair) and Matt's face (which wasn't protected at all), ouch. We put the PA back together, though the other stack had expired by this point in sympathy. Caught up in the moment, the band played on, joined for The Diplomat by Deano on guitar and Michael on his Kaosspad and synths: full-on electric feedbacking choas. A great philosopher once wrote: All Rock 'n' Roll Is Homosexual, and the Regular/Rumiko love-in certainly added weight to his prouncement. The final song played out in even more mayhem, Rufus adding a bit of maraca from the floor before standing back as both groups collapsed in a storm of amp-abuse, cymbals, sticks and gangly bodies. My ears were fucked, but as far as injuries go, I reckon I got off lightly. The evening just spiralled merrily downhill even further from there, with that feeling that it may be only New Year's Day, but we'd just had one of the gigs of the year, and 2006 really is looking promising for noisy rock action. If nothing else, both Rumiko Jr and Regular John are gonna be dropping fuckin' great new albums this year: both usefully recorded and mixed in the tiny basement by the mighty Rufus - there's gonna be a solid base for a healthy scene to follow through from that. To do this whole thing justice, it'd be handy if we could all jack-in the day-jobs and dedicate ourselves to rehearsing, recording, writing and promoting: not just yet, but it's getting there. Next step along the way: Makin' Bones. Everything else to follow. Have fun!

2005-12-24T22:37:00.000Z

It's Christmas Eve, I've not seen Santa yet, but I am stuffing my face. Apparently my Blog is giving the impression to people that our lives are an endless whirlwind of pubs, bands and the (respective) opposite sex. Curiously, I've tried to keep this Blog mostly about the various gigs and stuff we've gone to, and have avoided putting in all the other random nights out and about, or gone into the to's and fro's of our love-lives. But I was gonna put in a few words about going to the Audiocandy Christmas Party at Brass Monkey on Thursday, and this does cross those lines a little, in that I went home before Regular John played 'cos I found out I wasn't going to be seeing the person I was hoping I was gonna be seeing after all, but that's all anyone needs to know about that. Otherwise, it was a great evening! By the time I got there I'd already had a can of Grolsch and a third of a bottle of Rose wine, which isn't much, but turned out to be enough of a bad combination to set me off on the path of spending the next day throwing up, yay. Popped into the Dragon en route to say hi to Reuben who was djing for Steph Holmes' birthday party masquerade ball, so I got to say hello to Socky and Luce too, which was a bonus, then on to the Monkey. So, Audiocandy: it's Del's brainchild, and he played first, solo, with some backing cds, under the name Midget Bardot (arf). Last time I saw him play solo was years ago at the luanch party for The Candy's Monitor Rock single, when by his own admission he was fairly untogether. But this time, he was really with it, and brought a special treat in the form of a version of the last Burn Burn Burn single (The Weekend's Ashes), backed by Regular John, really ragged but of-the-moment and glorious. Good move all round. Aside form the bands, I remember seeing Caroline, Lisa and Helen, at least I think I did. Also one of the oother Helen's and Sally, and one of the other Sally's and Jo. People gradually arrived, but I didn't really keep track: Wookie, Jamie, Richard, Reuben, but I could be wrong about any of them, it can get to be so confusing. Tara and Cara got there eventually too, all dressed up from the Dragon. Star Scream played after Del: I'd not made any effort to see them before, 'cos it seemed fairly evident to me that the guy's got a Muse-fixation, and they wouldn't be my cup of tea at all. But they were fun, you know? Seemed a good bunch, but I wasn't mad-keen on the free cds they were giving out when I played it the next day. Rumiko Jr up next and playing strong, though Michael was stuck on the floor in the corner with his keyboard looking well peed off. I thought they were doing well, but I was pretty drunk by this point (there's a phrase I may have used on these Blogs before...) and can't pretend I took a hell of a lot of it in. I think they finished with Get Up Jake though: will this do? And that was about that for me. Merry Christmas! x

2005-12-21T13:41:00.000Z

Is it Wednesday? It's all a bit of a blur. Last Thursday I was djing at the Dragon Bar: as usual I spent the first hour or so without any friends there, being very self-conscious and wondering why I let myself do these things. Carrie turned up first though (easy, seeing as she lives round the corner with me), followed a bit later by Caroline and Paula, and eventually Reuben, Wookie, Rob Savage etc. It went alright really, some of the records went down well on Gorilla's table (see the Unpopular Records Played Badly thread at http://dizzytigerstu.proboards58.com for the setlist). Tara came along with Cara and some other friends too, which was good of them.
Friday was catching-up with Roschenda Corby and Carolyn Fouracre on a night out in Bexhill, then Saturday brought the weekend's main event: James Yorkston at Harpers. I went along with Paula (who I'd bought the tickets for as a birthday present) and Jamie; Dean, Rufus, Bonj, Jim ( I think) were there already, Wookie, Richard, Reuben, Rob and Jonathan turned up at different points. Had to watch Mike Prochak and a woman called Pita (who Paula, as a former Hastings nurse, thinks she recognised) perform a few folksongs first, but it was the mighty Yorkston we were impatient for. He rewarded us with nearly two hours (or my clock was wrong) of songs perfomed solo (I'd seen him in a duo at the De La Warr Pavilion, and with the Athletes at All Tomorrow's Parties before), including several covers of friends' (Fence Collective members?) songs, and much of his own stuff, including St Patrick, which at one point in my life became a hugely significant song for me in tragic circumstances (if I ever feel it's appropriate, I'll post up the whole story I wrote about that time on the message boards too), and I was wondering how it would be if he played it, but the sky didn't open up or anything odd (he did say he'd played down The Crypt once before though, which I didn't know, and set me wondering about the songs again...). He also took some requests, and did Away In A Manger for us (though he didn't know the words), and, very unexpectedly, Donna Summer's I Feel Love, which Dean volunteered to sing the high-pitched harmony lines too. It was a very very special evening, yeah.
It's been pubs and parties since then (Filo, Revolver etc), and I think my lovelife is finally looking up, here's hoping. Yay!

2005-12-14T12:10:00.000Z

It's all been going a bit hectic again. Went out Thursday evening just to give Reuben a couple of ABBA lps to use where he was djing at the Dragon with Rob Savage for a birthday, and thought I'd stay for one drink, which became loads of drinks, and I ended up doing loads of lopsided dancing with Cara (whose birthday it was) and her friends Tara and Jackie (whose name I got wrong all evening), and Karen again, who I think I always make a terrible impression on... Loads of people were out, including Reuben and Rob's usual dj possee of Johnny Russell, Wookie, and Reu's housemates. Jamie turned up later, and when we got chucked out, we wandered about and found ourselves in the Lillie Langtree restaurant, with a woman djing all the records Reuben must've left at home (ie The Birdie Song, Tiger Feet, The Cheeky Girls etc etc), so we danced to them as well. Ended up with the restauranteur singing Strange Fruit to us all, before I staggered home late.
Went out again on the Friday, again only intending it to be brief, to see Jonathan playing at Bar Blue (though I got my venues mixed up, and went to The Rooms first). Reuben and Wookie passed through on their way to wandering around cliffs and abandoned hospitals, but I'd got that out of my system a few years ago, so I stuck in the venue, finding Cara and Tara again, this time with their friend Bev. Jonathan played some good stuff, accompanied by Julian's drum and Yuri's violin. Richard Hart turned up and did a few songs betwenn Johnathan's sets, and I got very drunk with the (already very drunk) women. Lots of other folk turned up and hung out, and Bar Blue stayed open quite late for us, but eventually we ended up going round the corner to the Admiral Benbow for really hectic drinking, shouting, dancing and kissing. I didn't get back 'til gone 3am that time.
Saturday was Reuben and Rob at the Gritti Palace again, and a chance to discover that the Vicki who I referred to on this Blog before isn't the person I thought she might've been, but i still very nice, and shall henceforth be known on here as Ria. Many of the same people were out, too many to list again.
Quiter one at the FILO Sunday with Carrie and Caroline, then down Smugglers on Monday for a Heaters gig with theire new guitarist and drummer. Saw Bonj, Reuben, Jonathan, Wookie, Richard etc all over again, and the consensus on The Heaters seems to be that they're still improving, but aren't quite there yet. Don't think they need to let their new guitarist front a few songs, but there you go, perhaps it's in the contract.
Finally, down Revolver last night for Dean and Jim's spot. Bonj joined Dean for a couple of Pixies covers too, which went well. Paula's back from Scilly for that one, joining me, Jamie, Michael, Caroline and Carrie; Rufus there, Reuben and some of his mates, Jonathan, Kim Billy, Maya, Helen and her pal, all sorts really. Got trolleyed as usal, and got quite laddish in a homosexual way, oops. When I got home I did more stuff online, 'cos I've been very behind the times and gone onto MySpace now, at www.myspace.com/stuarthuggett , which probably isn't a very intelligent thing to do, but I've been getting a bit bored at home, when I'm there. So come and say hello if you want. See you down the Dragon on Thursday, yes?

2005-12-09T13:03:00.000Z

The Nightmare Before Christmas happened last weekend: I went along with Petra, Rita and David. I'll skip anything about trains, chalets, food and drink, and just get onto the bands.
Friday: Jai Alai Savant were a bit of a dub influenced hardcore band, thrilling in places, but some of their tunes were just bad, like Level 42 had written them or something. Battles have signed to Warp - you remember how Tricky Disco was a cartoon alien? Well, if he'd been a cartoon octopus drumming, that's basically Battles. Bleeps, vocoders, bass and complex meshes of rhythms, really fun but difficult to get a handle on as they kept switching direction. Jaga Jazzist were a bit too Mogwai-go-jazz for me. The Locust though - fuckin' hell! You know those dead Martians they excavate from the London Underground in Quatermass And The Pit? Imagine if they had a band, and played hardcore punk strictly for other Martians. The Locust are really fast and short, loads of Moog action, and all dressed as insectoids (in a bit of a Marvel style). Phenomenal they are. Loads of hip-hop downstairs: Subtitle is a rangy feller, spitting and mumbling rhymes over all sorts of stuff he's saved on his laptop (I think he said Aphex was in there somewhere), really endearing too. Dalek are heavy, imposing, very loud, a post-Industrial hip-hop duo (dj & mc). It did get a bit too relentless for me after a while though. Saul Williams was doing the educational hip-hop thing, in the KRS One style: the crowd loved him, but I thought he was the least interesting rapper of the evening just 'cos he's so straightforward.
Went up to see Blonde Redhead play: they're a band I like and saw once or twice before, but tonight I thought they played a really self-indulgent and boring set, no communication with the audience, but none with one another either. I was feeling a bit too Floyd At Pompeii, so went back down for Beans, being backed by a group called Holy Fuck, and he was excellent: really fun and bouncy and tight. Didn't have the energy to wait for Battles second set, or to go see The Kills headline, so I went back to the chalet and slept.
Saturday: Had to be at work during the day, but got back downstairs at Pontins just in time for Mr Quintron & Miss Pussycat. Good timing! He plays synths and organs on a rack designed to look like the front of an old American car, with all sorts of homemade rhythm and light devices spinning around beside him. She dresses in yellow and greens, playing maracas, dancing and shouting along with another woman (un-named!) He loses his sunglasses, suit, and shirt, getting down into the crowd. They play a garage/B52's thing, one moment it's ? & The Mysterians, the next it owes more to early House music beats. You've gotta check them out, there's videos of them doing this with Miss Pussycat's puppetshows out there! Weird War after: they're post_ The Make-Up, and I thought their garage/soul sound was just as good. That man Svenious can move too! Though he was outdone in the performance stakes by the guy from Les Savy Fav, who was all over the place with nappies, wine, water and sweat. They're disco punk rock was exhilirating for a while, but soon my energy began to flag (as did the singers) and I lost interest, partly in the face of such blanket approval from the crowd: they're incredibly popular, and I had no idea. The Mars Volta were curating, and set to play for a long time upstairs, but I couldn't muster any interest to go see them, and sulked in the pub to the djs. Not very good of me.
Sunday - At last a full day in Camber to visit the beach etc. But no record fair outside the pub this year, mainly 'cos it was so wet and cold probably. Gris Gris came on downstairs first, playing psychedelic country rock and beat combo stuff, it was seamless for the most part, and I really liked them, so I may have to end up liking The Grateful Dead now. Holger Czukay had cancelled, and Jai Alai Savant replaced him, so I went and saw Hella play, who were kind of a messy version of The Locust really, with extra hair and synth-abuse. Good and unrelenting weirdness all round. Michael Rother was upstairs as part of a more rock-sounding trio than I was hoping for, only their last track really elevated, the rest all blurred into a one, but not in the way the musicians intended. Damo Suzuki played, backed with a group called Jelly Planet, sometimes full-on fun, sometimes a bit turgid. More on him later. Upstairs for CocoRosie - I knew some of their earlier folky songs, but now they're a trio with a beatboxer, and progressed form their quiet and operatic minitures, through a cover of that Sean Paul (was it?) Turn Me On song, to a final electro double-dutch finale, all three women bouncing up and down and giving it the crowd chanting. Colourful film projections too, over-saturated Care Bear cartoons, glass-painting, dressing up weird and sexy. Antony & The Johnsons headlined upstairs, and were wonderful and charming as you may expect. Bless him for puncturing the reverence and mystique with an improvised vocal about getting some fish & chips too. But we had a final bonus downstairs: Acid Mothers Temple (who'd delayed from earlier) went for total double-drummer wig out, straggly bearded twin guitarists on the monitors, yet more analogue synth abuse too. They were playing fucking brilliantly, and then did the right thing and brought Damo Suzuki back onstage with them for the second half: loads of grizzly men much older than the crowd throwing themselves into the the melee of noise: guitars were smashed, Suzuki banged himself about, eardrums were punctured. Gave me enough oomph to go dancing in the pub for hours afterwards, at last, and I even got through work the next day and down to that evening's Rumiko Jr gig at the Smugglers (louder and faster now, possible keeping-up-with-the-RegularJohns' thing happening) on the lift of the weekend. And then rest..

2005-12-01T04:11:00.000Z

Down Revolver on Tuesday evening for Dean & Jim's usual gig. Bought a few pints with the last of my wages, then Reuben and Jamie obligingly got me some more, yay! Thanks, I'll return everyone's drinks at the Rumiko Jr gig down Smugglers on Monday next. Rufus also played alongside Jim, doing a set between two of Dean's. The woman serving at the bar that night hadn't heard Rufus play before, or seen Dean play outside of the Revolver duo context, so I've hopefully convinced her to come along on Monday to get the full band sound. I discussed with Reuben whether he should set up his own blog, but seeing as he's out every time I'm out, this Dizzy Tiger one would be near identical: he's using it to remind himself what he does every night, so doesn't feel the urge to write his own one yet. After several drinks, me, him and Jamie were doing a lot of drunken debating about the music industry, which might have been a bit alienating to Reuben's friend he'd come along with, so I apologised to her, then carried on ranting. Jamie reckons the 60s Nirvana are way better than the 90s Nirvana: any takers? Jonathan sat with us too, Christa was giving out invites to her birthday celebrations next month, Helen was out with Dean, Rebecca and Anna and their friends were around for a bit, Lethwin and Romily were up in the corner. We're all still getting used to the new liscensing hours, and discovering who's opening til when, and on this night I think Revolver were extended by maybe half an hour or so. There was some background gossip passed on to us by Harvey from Harpers about possible forthcoming acts who could be playing there, which are so exciting that if I only I could be certain they're gonna pull it off I'd be shouting the names from the clifftops! Until then though..

2005-11-30T04:32:00.000Z

As a postscript to the last message: I didn't have a night off in the end, as I went down Smugglers to see Alfie Bernardi playing in support of his new album Stranger. He was cheerful, and had some good new songs. Sat with Caroline & Michael, Dean and Helen. The boys, along with Rufus and, a little while after, Bonj, then went down the basement to record. The rest of us, including Reuben, Jamie, Jonny Russel and Wookie, stuck around and caught the start of a gig by a group who Bonj reckoned were called Liquor And Poker (oh no...) and, going by their set and their sense of humour, he may well have been right. I'll just stick to saying that they had an electric guitar/five-string headless bass/bass saxophone line-up, and I left during their comedy-accented version of Romeo & Juliet (the Dire Straits song, not the whole play, though I might have stayed longer if the latter had been the case), and you can decide if they're the kind of band you might like. I've not seen any of the others since...

2005-11-28T02:07:00.000Z

Over to Eastbourne on Friday for Rumiko gig. Caught train on my own, headed down to Via in Terminus Road, gig was upstairs. Rumiko soundchecking when I arrived. Aside from the band, only other person from Hastings I saw there that night was Katherine Wallinger, who'd gone along for the birthday of a woman who's going out with Simon Skinner, who was promoting the gig. Glad to see Clare Murphy there too, who was also there for the birthday, and was suprised to find a load of her old Hastings friends playing a gig. Hadn't spoken to Clare properly since Dan and Pip's wedding a few years back, so I was really pleased to be able to get back in touch with her. More old friends there too: Adam McNaught-Davis came along partly in his guise as editor of East Magazine, but who was at college with us all way back, and can be heard practising his interview technique on the Duplo compilation Strange Holidays In Techno (double cassette on Coastline Records: still available for anyone who asks for it - every home should have one!).
Tim Williams (still in the country then) played first, and was doing better than when I last saw him down Smugglers. The Late Greats played next, a band signed to Simon's Izumi label, and one of whom was going out with Clare's sister Helen: I remember enjoying them, but I've forgotten what they sounded like already. Adam's flatmate Jamie Jones got a few songs played afterwards, and was fine enough too, before Rumiko Jr headlined with what sounded like a good set... You might be getting the picture that I wasn't really paying too much attention to the music at this point, and you'd be right, 'cos I was drunkenly catching up on things with Clare and Katherine for most of the evening (The Warehouse Dolls was a long time ago...)
I did speak to both Simon and Tim Williams (I think) at different times too, but fuck knows what I was saying. Got the last train home on my own, and nearly passed-out en route, again.

Got the master of the new Rashamon single in the post from Lee the next day, it's one of the best things he's done, a bit of an epic actually, so am looking forward to getting that released. Went down the Dragon in the evening for Reuben and Rob Savage's djing, and got trolleyed with them, Jamie, Wookie, Jonny Russell etc. Michael, Caroline and Marcus were there for a bit too, before they headed to Smugglers: Christa, Anna and Del all swam into focus at some point too. I'm skint now though, so at least I'm getting a night off now...

2005-11-22T05:16:00.000Z

Word About Town, the Hastings literary festival, continued:
Saturday- bunk off the afternoon at work, and head up to the Electric Palace, where Iain Sinclair is discussing Edge Of The Orisin. Marcus joins me in a fairly packed house, for a good couple of hours of reading, rambling and discussion from Sinclair and the audience. A dvd of stills (Sinclair and Renchi Bicknell's photos from their walk) and film fragments (presumably Chris Petit's occasional shots from the same walk, plus old home movie excerpts) are projected behind him for a while as he talks and reads. There was a book-buying and signing thing after the audeince Q&A's, but the only thing that was coming to my mind was that they'd misprinted the key to the map at the front of the book, which seemed a bit facile to bring up, so I left it. Marcus went, I hovered for a moment, then said goodbye to Rebecca and went back to feed the cats. Then I thought that I was missing an opportunity for Rebecca to make an introduction between Sincalir and I (as her and Nicola had suggested they would do sometime when we were at a party a couple of months ago), so I went back up, and tried to see if I could jog Rebecca's memory by mentioning that, at the same party, we were talking about getting the Electric Palace to show Petit's Radio On (one of my favourite films, as I've mentioned on the Dizzy Tiger message boards before). As Rebecca hadn't even remebered that we'd been chatting at the Brass Monkey two days before, I realised that she was unlikely to remember another drunken conversation from a party two months before, so I said goodbye and went home again, feeling a bit of an idiot! Got home, and watched the Stereolab dvd to cheer myself up while I ate dinner.
Reuben texted, as Maya from Trinity Wholefoods had complimentary tickets for Storm In The Castle at St Mary In The Castle that evening, so I headed out there afterwards and met Maya outside. I was whistling a few bars of The Noise Of Carpet to myself, which she identified straight away, which I was pleased and impressed by. Sally (not Helen Rider's friend this time, but Richard Evans' girlfriend - I really ought to get better with people's surnames) had offered a place on the table she was at with Jo and Romily, but when Reuben arrived (late) I sat with him and Maya for the evening. There were three varied and worthwhile acts: Zena Edwards (whose finest moment involved some rapid thumb piano accompaniment (even many years exposure to Ade's Rhodesia: Safari On Sound tourist LP isn't bringing the proper name of this instrument back to my mind, which is pretty naff of me, so sorry folks), Adrian Mitchell (we did one of the Liverpool scene anthologies at school, and I'd independently read, enjoyed and quoted from in University essays his Man Friday novel, and I was really pleased to get the opportunity to see him: though I put the nose of a woman from the Hastings Anti-War Group out of joint, inadvertantly, when I said that the group photo of them that Mitchell had signed for a member currently in prison looked like Do They Know It's Christmas: Part 4) and London group The Irrepressibles ("Franz Ferdinand go classical" said Reuben; "Peter Cook joins the Arcade Fire" said I). Jonathan joined us for a bit, but was having (unfair) humour-issues with the guy from The Irrepressibles homosexuality. Maya, Reu and I bought their cd ep, and chatted to them after: they are a very warm and friendly lot too.
Reuben and I decided to go to Brass Monkey afterwards: Maya had (very fair) sexism issues with the general theme of the evening there and decided not to go, Jonathan declined too. There was a Brixton-and-proud group called Naked Ruby playing that night, which had dictated a Vegas/sleaze/fishnet/casino themed evening: much dressing up as showgirls or Rat Pack members (though I was still dressed for literature events: Reuben looked like he'd stepped out of Bugsy Malone). Naked Ruby were 5 suited guys backing a 50's glam frontwoman who played some mean Link Wray/surf guitar too, and pointed out that, lyrically, as far as she was concerned, Naked Ruby are a feminist group. They'd brought can-can dancing friends along (a chorus line of merely two!), and were back-projecting Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill! Helen correctly identified the Meyer film to confirm my guesswork: she was out with Lisa in full showgirl regalia. Dean was with her too: also out were Helen, Sally, Marcus, Jamie, Matt & Bonj, Christa, Karen (yeah yeah Karen), Del, the Ben Davies/Gary Comber/Julian Wallinger skateboarding axis, lods and lods of people in fact, several of whom I propositioned unsuccessfully at various points of the evening (the day's cultural progress was rapidly slipping from literature reading, downhill to total sleaze by this point). We stayed late enough for the bouncers to want to chuck us out at the end: I was in the process of helping organise some filming by Julian of Regular John at this point (well, if you can't get Chris Petit, you get Julian Wallinger, it seems). Walked Christa back before getting back late.
Sunday was a bit more of the same, with The Book Of Job - The Musical at St Mary In The Castle as part of Word About Town again. I went along with Richard and Sally, Romily and Lethwyn: Sally and her friend Gigi were there too. Reuben, his mum, Carrie & I had seen a preview/precis of the musical in the back room of The Pig last year, with just Simon Clayton and Julia Pipette, but this was the (full?) six-performer version, and it was great fun, if a little bit disconcerting for a Sunday afternoon at some points, as the angel's songs of praise in the context of being in a church made us feel a bit Sunday-School. We all went along to Gritti Palace afterwards for a few drinks, where Reuben and Helen and others also were, and I relaxed deep into the sofas as the bar projected Saving Grace (passable British dope comedy) as part of their Sunday sunset cinema club. Everyone drifted off after the film though, me to raise a glass to Lou on occasion of her new job in The Stag. The evening kind-of fizzled out after then though, so at least I got a decent amount of sleep that night.

2005-11-20T01:53:00.000Z

Thursday - got a bit vexed on the way home from work, and couldn't remember if I could afford to go out or not, but had said to Helen that I'd see her down at Eat @ Claremont for the Egg Box Poets performances, as part of the Word About Town festival. Bumped into her outside, and reluctantly went in, where Sally and Katherine were sitting with her, and spent the next half-hour or so trying to get my sums straight in my head, rather than listening to the poets and songwriters who were on at the time. Once I'd finally worked out that the money I had in my pocket was actually mine, I was able to buy some drinks and relax a lot more. Friends kept turning up who had been out all day for the Beaujolais wine tasting events that some of the bars were doing: several of them were dressed French in the spirit of it all. The performers who I knew were on later in the evening, so some of us stuck around, whilst others headed off earlier to Brass Monkey. Richard Evans was amiably engaging, even though one of the more serious poems he read was about Camilla, which I should have expected really, but didn't, so that was quite a sad reminder. Tim Hoyte played last, and he's really got some very lengthy songs at the moment! They're very good, and his guitar playing is ever-improving, but I was starting to be a bit pissed, and couldn't concentrate fully. Zoe was flyering for the Homegrown gig on 3rd Dec, that I can't get to, but she asked me to put the full line-up on the main site, which I've done. I walked Helen to the Monkey, intending on going home myself, but it turned out to be free, so I went in. Mama Josie, Rufus, Bill, Jim and Jo Brookes were doing a live funk band, and were really tight, and as everyone there was totally trolleyed, I joined in with the dancing to them and the djs, and got fairly more drunk. I can't really remeber much more than drinking, dancing and saying hello to the various people there (Dean & Helen, Reuben, Jamie, Del, Rebecca & Nicola, Tim, Jonatha, Richard: notice how the same names keep cropping up on this diary at the moment?). Just ended up being a top sociable night out really.
Friday - Went down FILO with Carrie early in the evening for a drink before she went to Tom's. I'd resigned myself to going home about 9:00 and watching Children In Need with a beer, but fortunately Reuben texted to offer to pick me up to go to Rye, as Sally and her friend Heather were driving over for a gig there. So that's where I went instead! A minor drawback was that Sally was expecting Reuben to buy her drinks in payment for the lift, but he'd left his cashcard at home, so it fell to me to buy several rounds for them (fortunatley, I'd been paid in cash that day). The band at the Ypres Inn were Eight Miles High: a late 60's covers band featuring Alfie Bernardi, Rufus, Bill, Jo and Paul Phillips. They were quite fun, and like loads of our friends, covered What Goes On near the end of the set (I've still probably not heard the Velvet Underground version, but I've got the Paris Angels cover!) amongst many others (Like a Rolling Stone, etc). It was just nice to be out with two warm women like Sally and Heather, and I had the feeling that Reuben and I were there to make them feel good as well, nice young boys (well, I'm younger than them, if not a boy at all) that we are. Though the only person who took a definite shine to me was some middle aged guy at the bar, who said he recognised me from Hastings. He was very touchy-feely! I was also able to chat to Alfie and Paul for the first time in ages, and remind them that the offer to be on the next compilation still stands. Told Rufus about the James Yorkston gig at Harpers soon, as he was one of the few of my friends who identified St Patrick when I played it in my dj set at the Gritti Palace earlier in the year. Reuben and I left the pub seperately, but still later than Sally and Heather, so both had to do the same run down the hill and round the corner to the car, both afraid that we'd been left behind. But no, they waited, and got us home safe. Thanks all.

2005-11-17T15:44:00.000Z

Monday night: Jonathan Martin at Harpers, with full band. By the time they were ready to play, I'd spent what little money I'd brought, and when they started up I realised that I wasn't actually bothered about being there, so I nipped off. Tim, Jamie, Kim, Richard, Reuben, Laura and her mum, were amongst the crowd who turned up. They stayed, and said it went well, but I prefer Jonathan's stuff when he's playing alone.
Tuesday: Dean and Jim at Revolver. Bunch of the usual folk out and about, quite a nice evening really. Rufus and Bonj very pleased with the results of the Regular John sessions in the basement. Leon, Reuben, Kim, Jonathan, Giles and others all present. Got to closing time, and rather than sit there fancying the bar staff pointlessly, I headed off home, but it was a good one.

2005-11-15T02:33:00.000Z

Been a busy few days, with trips to the FILO, and then Gritti Palace on Saturday evening. Louie ex- of Bronco Bullfrog was djing there, much of the Bronco/Gorilla axis were out, and I spent the time with Reuben, Helen and some of that circle. To Vicky - did you use to go out with Patrick Healy? There's no other easy way to work out if you're the same person I once knew or not! I declined the advances that were being made to me by early Queer On The Pier punters, as I couldn't be bothered to go clubbing for several hours just to get some queer-action that evening. Was a good night out though.
Then on Sunday, the Regular John ep launch party happened down Smugglers last night, and it was a beauty. I'd already spent some time this weekend, in the company of Matt and Bonj, stamping-up the cdrs and assembling the sleeves, so we were all set by the time of the gig. It'd been a bit touch&go 'cos National Snack had been booked by Ewen to play last night, but then he didn't hear from them and they didn't turn up, leaving the evening clear for the rest of us. This was only a slight shame, as one of the women in National Snack is just so...fuckin'..cool, but my fairly lenghty period of spending too much time on my own has at last lifted (for the time being), so I can't complain. Dean and Marcus played first, coming on 'stage' at about 10pm, so we knew it was gonna be a late one. The fellers played a good one, Dean letting rip at the end, though time meant their set was shorter than they were possibly planning on (I think the same applied to Regular John later too..). Special mention (again! But he's enjoying the attention) to Reuben, for fanning the flames of the trumped-up Regular John/Heaters feud (the latter were in attendence once again: say what you like about them, they're definitely loyal gig-goers) with his defaced and altered Heaters t-shirt. I was on cd-selling duty sitting on the pool table. Regular John were full-on again, with this week's suprise cover (except I knew they were gonna do it) of Sonic Youth's My Friend Goo (I was hoping they might alter the words to My Friend Stu for the occasion, but that would've been fairly crap really!), with Matt on screwdrive-in-the-guitar mode. Tey closed with their new-ish lengthy post-punk/prog workout, it's a blinder. Between us, I think Matt and I shifted about fifteen cds at two pound each, so money was made. The first, numbered copy to be bought turned out to be number 37, so if the young chap is reading this: well done! Now insure your copy. It was getting way beyond midnight at this point, as none of the many revellers (there was a seriously good turn-out) wanted to go, but after lenghty drunken chats with Rufus (Regular John are recording with him down the Basement tonight, which everyone's excited about), Dean, Reuben, Christa (bless), Jonathan, Liam (set to record a post- Down On The Farm track for the next Dizzy Tiger comp soon) and Richard Hart (likewise) I had to bow-out in order to get myself any kind of rest before work today.

2005-11-09T03:53:00.000Z

Saturday - went to a housewarming party at Dean and Helen's flat. Was quite fun for a while, but I felt too tired too quickly, and could feel myself starting to get freaked out, so I went home again.
Sunday - Rumiko Jr/Tim Williams gig at Smugglers. Tim was knackered from celebrating his birthday in Eastbourne the night before, and kept fucking his songs up: still quite good though, if not as great as the time he played before. Rumiko, despite having been up all night at the aforementioned party, played a fierce one. Then I got really down and went home again.

Conclusion: I think I took too many drugs once! Oh well...

2005-11-03T05:03:00.000Z

Just a quiet one down Revolver last night, watching Dean and Jim play. The boys done fairly well, but both they (and me by this time) were fairly knackered. Paul and Plum were around right at the start (before heading back to Rye); Bonj, Reuben and Jamie came along at different times, but only a handful of others were about. Reuben wants to start a website and label: do it mate, it's bloody easy! Everyone needed more sleep. Still, parties coming up at the weekend...

2005-11-01T20:38:00.000Z

Spent Sunday evening over at the Regular John pad, sorting stuff out for the forthcoming Dizzy Tiger release of their Defeat All Tigers ep, and had a good time. The ep sounds great, and is definitely the most Rock thing ever to come out on the label. Bumped into Del and (I've forgotten his girlfriend's name, sorry) on the way there: they'd not been sure of the intention of the Burn Burn Burn article in the Hastings Observer last week, but I was able at least to pass on the explanations of his views that John Hill had subsequently emailed me, and to give them my friends' verdicts on it (Michael thought it'd been fairly dismissive: marcus hadn't seen any such tone), which I hope was reassuring for them.
The next evening, I emailed John with details on the ep, and (at the band's request) added another article for him: this time featuring a rather fictionalised account of the night before, in the sub-Steven Wells style. Whether he runs it or not, I'll post it on my message board eventually. Made me laugh anyway.
Then, down to Smugglers for their Hallowe'en gig. Dean and Jim were supporting again, dressed in very fetching airline pilot outfits (they looked like the Associates in fact, but that was unintentional of course). Man, they sounded strong: both are giving it more than ever as Jim's confidence in playing Dean's songs grows (as he's not in Rumiko otherwise, he kind-of comes to the songs from his own angle). And Dean's throat is getting suitably rougher and rougher every gig.
Regular John played one of their absolute stormers (shame Carrie and Tom didn't manage to stick around for it), breaking SIX guitars (well, the strings) and several amps in the process. Even with Dean and Jim's help, they were running out of working gear. At Bonj's request I recorded the gig with their minidisc (with Caroline's help when I needed bar or loo), and we were all glad we did! The set was very noisy, very spread out (random covers of Modern Lovers' Roadrunner segued with Hospital, and even some Screaming Lord Sutch action as Jack The Ripper bled into Hyeshin). The band and crowd were on fine form: The Heaters (who were there) were ribbed mercilessly, as were Mumm-ra and Lazycreek (who weren't) - bitching band rivalry, brilliant! Many of the crowd took a verbal kicking too, we pissed ourselves laughing. Much of Defeat All Tigers got aired too, and publicised. Everyone was out, it seemed, including most of the rest of Rumiko (and friends), Reuben (in Hallowe'en gear again), etc though a lot of people (eg. Jonathan, Richard Hart, Step, Christa) didn't appear 'til very late (I think many had been to see Ojm again, along at the Dragon), but it was getting on a bit by then, and though I was (unusually) wide-awake, I opted to get home 'cos I had much to do.
Before I went to bed, I made John a tape copy of the Regular John release, and the next morning was up at 6am, and out the house by half-past, so I could walk up to the Observer offices at the top of Battle Road and post it through the letter box, for him to receive in time for going to press, hopefulyy. Then I walked back into town, and got the train to work. I'm suprisingly still standing..

2005-10-30T17:29:00.000Z

No, I didn't put my clocks back either! But then, I went out and got drunk last night...at least I've made it up and out of bed this week. Just.
'Cos last night was the majority of Hallowe'en events around town, and there was stuff going on at The Crypt. But first: this year was noticeable for being the definite point at which the commercialisation of Hallowe'en in the UK took over the (heavily-distorted already) symbolism of the event. The weekend nearest October 31st has become Fancy Dress Weekend for the majority (at least in Hastings last night), with dozens of fairies, cowboys, super-heroes etc It wasn't even that the shops had run short of Hallowe'en costumes, accessories or make-up (they were stuffed to bursting point with displays, making up for the generally slacker-than-usual pre-Christmas period this year), and these costumes hadn't been even slightly varied to make them scary or sinister. So it's student rag-week stuff, essentially, now.
Still, Rufus and Jim, who were playing at Brass Monkey later in the evening, had made the effort and come out as zombies. Reuben had a Beethoven's corpse/Brian May's lovechild things going on (doing the best with what he had around). An initial pint at Tin Tins' (one of the quitest, but best, bars in town - really relaxed) with Michael and Caroline, Lisa and Marcus, was followed by a trip up to the Brass Monkey. Reuben had a bottle of fake blood, which he passed to me so I could do the Wayne Coyne just-been-shot-in-the-forehead look. It was effective enough to pass as a Hallowe'en outfit and get me in at a reduced rate (scarier than my all-black T-shirt, jeans and steel-toe capped boots anyway). We didn't stay remarkably long, and, with Jamie, then went back around to get down The Crypt, though the queue had appeared by this point, and most of the others headed to Smugglers instead. But 15 minutes wait got Reuben and I in, although just in time to miss Burn Burn Burn, which was a major pisser, alleviated by bumping into Ellen on a visit home from University (I'd hoped she'd be coming out, but had no idea if she even knew what was going on at The Crypt that night). We used to work with her: a really good person. But we couldn't really hear each other, so made-do with sign language before her lot went home. Regular John played to an audience of freaky clowns, and though there energy and intent was there, the sound seemed to be too low, or I was just losing my hearing that night after all. Good that both they and Burn Burn Burn were dressed-up too (so much so that I failed to recognise Del in his wig and doctor's coat whenever he passed by and waved).
Another group, called Ego, from Northern Ireland, also played later - a fairly ordinary indie-rock bunch, but they gave it their best. Headed off home eventually, getting accosted once-or-twice by people who though I had a genuine head-injury. Was together enough to step in the bath and get most of the blood off of me (Reuben, Jamie and I had got a bit splash-happy with the bottle, and it was all over my face and chest by the end of the night: fake-blood is sexy, goths got that bit right). Just some left around my mouth this morning, looks more like rouge, and with my pale hungover complexion I look like some Cabaret rent boy. Again.

2005-10-29T14:26:00.000Z

A last-minute opportunity to go to The Nightmare Before Christmas over in Camber this December has left me over a hundred quid down on my wages this week, which is good except I've gotta limit quite which of the many gigs happening over this Hallowe'en weekend I actually go to. Passed-up on DM Bob & Country Jem at the Brass Monkey last night (though Carrie texted during the evening to say how much I'd be enjoying it) in favour of the cheaper, earlier option of Ojm and Gorilla at Smugglers; though we did also get to see a fragment of Enjambre Acustico Urukungolo playing in the foyer of St Mary-in-the-Castle as we passed by (a percussion-focussed international jazz/latin collaboration, featuring Trevor Watts, who we could see blowing away on his saxophone in the corner), which was a bonus. At Smugglers, a series of PA disasters meant a late start for Gorilla, and a lot of violent heckling from the rockers at the bar (they can't help how good-looking they are, but it fucks the old soaks off), which Gorilla took in their stride, funny kids. They only had time to play four long songs int the end, each one an overdriven filth-rock gem in the Sabbath/early (very early) Sub Pop style. Serious guitar soloing, posturing and posing, heavy heavy and humorous. Was watching with Matt and Bonj from the Regular John band, who were headbanging as hard as they could, bearing in mind they were sandwiched up against the jukebox. Ojm (Italian label/tourmates of Gorilla) headlined, and it took me a fair while to get what their intentions were, as every time I though I had them pegged as a straight tribute to some classic rock act, they'd veer off in another direction (they're Black Flag! Led Zeppelin! Sham 69! Thin Lizzy! erm..!) It was only after a cover of TV Eye, when the next song entered a Tom Verlaine-style extended angular solo and a micro-disco drum workout, that I realised that Ojm were intending on chucking every punk/rock element they fancied into a seriously overdriven energy-vortex. The singer was yelling away (in Italian, or very incoherent English) up on a chair with his shirt open, as the guitarist (with total white Hendrix 'fro and paisley shirt) pulled out every trick in the book; until the set degenerated over the course of about 10 minutes as each member gradually slipped away, guitar feeding back loops against the amps, leaving a drawn-out fuzz-heavy climax of subsonic Earth/Melvins destruction between the drums and bass. I had my doubts at first, but Ojm ended up being seriously impressive, and I'm very far from being Rock myself. They're down at the Dragon bar again on Monday night (though I'm forgoing that for Smugglers again), if you wanna try and work them out yourself.

2005-10-24T06:41:00.000Z

Bit of a rough weekend, but I'm actually sober, so here we go.
Yesterday was the day of the much-anticipated Four Tet/Caribou/Russian Futurists gig at Harpers. Met Lee, over from Brighton, at the Pig at 7pm, and had a couple of pints. Rat (who used to play with Infect years ago, and is now in a new band who've not plyed live yet) was there; first time I'd seen him in ages, so that was good. Harpers were late opening, so I took Lee to the famous Smugglers for the first time. Some folk-duo were playing, and I tried to convince him of the fact that the pub is the crucial venue in town at the moment for local musicians. Several of the staff were off-duty and completely trolleyed already (Simon Bush, this means you), and Lee and I left when Kate started yelling at Ewen down one of the microphones.
Downstairs in Harpers then, and they've removed all the draft beer, forcing a switch to bottled stuff (not a good move in the long run, as I tend to avoid strong lagers 'cos they get me too pissed). Joined by Lucy's sister and her friend (Charlie and Lucy didn't come over for the gig, in fact hardly anyone we knew did), and then Dave Valentine. We sat and drank there, and missed The Russian Futurists upstairs, but made it up in time for Caribou, who were phenomenal. Realy good to see them in such a tiny space, though their inspired accompanying films started messing with my head after a while. Unfortunately, I lost track of what was going on by the time Four Tet began, and at some point I registered that I was going to pass out, so I just said goodbye to Dave, went home and crashed. Not a good move, as I'd said Lee could stay at mine, and I hadn't told him I'd gone (he was down the front with the two women, and I thought he would be able to make alternate plans). As it was, he got confused and pissed-off that I'd vanished, and went along to the house afterwards, but couldn't wake me by banging on the door as I was sparked out, so had the double hassle of paying for a taxi back tohis parents' place in Bexhill, and having to wake them in the middle of the night. First I knew of this was when I woke up this morning with several texts on my phone from various people, including Lee. Big apologies there, I seem to be very unreliable at the moment.
Anyway, I actually had My Worst Hangover Ever all day, which was a suprise seeing as I'm 32 now. But seriously, unable to face eating, drinking, moving or talking, and lots of throwing up on an empty stomach. It may have been down to the sausage and chips I'd had from the chip shop the afternoon before, or I may be losing all my alcohol tolerance, but it was horrid. I was feeling really sad about falling out with a mutual friend earlier in the year as well, and was in a really really sorry state. The only thing that stopped me doing something damaging to myself or my property was the knowledge that Everything Feels Worse When You're Hungover, and that I'd give it 'til the end of the day before I abandoned all hope. Had to ignore several texts and emails for stuff from the label (Axis Deer and Flying Marrows were both asking), and also had to pull out of going round Regular John's place to hear the new EP. But eventually, a pizza, some cups of tea and the new New Order dvd compilation pulled me through, and I was able to get down to The Street for the tail-end of Dean and Jim's set. They were supporting Ghostwriter again, who's a one man band from Austin, Texas, and is fantastic every time. Everyone was out for a change, particularly those on the Rumiko Jr axis, and I stuck to coca cola and had a good time of it. But I need to sleep, so I've left people there, and come back and written this. Enough already, bedtime.

2005-10-22T14:49:00.000Z

Thursday evening - stayed in, and got into bed at 11pm to listen to Wrong Music mayhem on Rob Da Bank's Radio 1 programme: Hot Roddy, Ebola, Mully, The Gross Consumer, DJ Scotch Egg and Shitmat. Glad I did as well, genius funny. Reuben had texted to see if people were coming out: though I didn't, he did, and texted again later 'cos he'd come across Tom Chaplin (Keane) playing unannounced in a pub in town. Mentioned here only to show that it's not all private jets and supermodels for them yet.
Friday - First In Last Out with Carrie and Jamie. Beer was drunk.

2005-10-20T19:30:00.000Z

Dean & Jim down The Street last night already. Much the same set as the night before, but a few more covers thrown in to fill out two sets (The White Stripes - We Are Going To Be Friends, The Band - Get Up Jake, Violent Femmes - Blister In The Sun, The Mountain Goats [via Number One Cup] - The Monkey Song, and a final, acapella 'cos Dean's hands were knackered from playing guitar, attempt at They Might Be Giants' Number Three). Lots of people out for a Wednesday (and some fightin going on outside thanks to a bunch of idiots from Yates'). Went along with Carrie, Reuben turned up and taped the set on his walkman, Wookie and Richard Hart arrived later. I wore my new coat (fishtail snorkel parka) with it's enormous jedi knight -style hood. Just a general, fun night. I was in a good mood 'cos I'd managed to get my head straight after 6 months of being messed-up (the clarity occured while I was having dinner round my mum's in the afternoon watching Neightbours, so you never can tell). No-one posted on the message board all day though: it was my day off, so I kept logging on to check, as there wasn't much else happening. Can't think of much else!

2005-10-19T18:42:00.000Z

Went down Revolver last night to see Dean and Jim playing their first gig of the week. Passed that Italian busker outside the bar, gave him some small change as he was chatty and playing in the rain, but decided not to invite him along to the gig in case he's secretly deranged, or something.
Tim kept putting James Blunt on the cd player between sets, fuckin hell.
Dean and Jim on form again, and Dean debuted another new song, which was definately a good 'un, though I can't remember what it went like. I don't know if Reuben's housemate Nick had seen them play before, but he was really into it. Jim reminisced about Go Bear! Go! between sets. He wants to be in a fun band again: any takers? The lad's a guitar hero!
Kim was on the Leffe and playing up in a fairly amiable way, but he reached a point at which he knew he'd drunk too much, and headed home. People are apparently asking him why his url is on the Dizzy Tiger site, and aren't believing that he's doing music as well, so he's hoping we can get the complation out soon. It won't be for a while yet, though.
Matt from Regular John was out, celebrating the conclusion of recording their new ep (for Dizzy Tiger), though it's to be mixed by Colin Gibson still, and all the artwork and funding hasn't been put in place yet. It looks like there might be some work over the weekend to do on this one, plus he wanted me to interview them for the week-after-next's Hastings Observer piece, to go in with whatever John Hill's already writing I suppose - don't know if that's gonna work though, but will try. Helen Rider (who must surely have seen Regular John play several times by now) was asking him if he was in a band, 'cos he looked like he should be (Matt was rockin the Cambridge undergraduate look). He said he wasn't. Matt's best plan for Regular John at the moment has involved emailing (and getting a reply) from Sonic Youth's Steve Shelley, who runs Smells Like Records, with a view to sending stuff to him. Good plan. Much enthusiasm for the Regular John/Rumiko Jr split single to be recorded; they're planning out their version of Rome in their heads at the moment, but the words Lee Renaldo-esque were mentioned, and when Dean and Jim then played the song I could see what they're getting at. Matt also mentioned a number of more technical things about chords and timings, and I just nodded and smiled, as if I had any idea what he was referring too...Don't shatter the illusion - too late!
At one point I tried to move a jar with a candle in it across the table, but it was too hot to touch. I warned everyone else, so Reuben decided to find out for himself, and got burnt too, of course. Later in the evening I probably patronised him at great length with "first time living in a shared house" advice, but I was at the rambling stage of the evening by then. Mind you, Reuben had recently burnt their oven out, so maybe it helped.
Step, Jonathan and Jamie turned up late: too late for me to remember much about what was getting said, other than that everyone is looking forward to Dean and Jim's other gigs down The Street this week, and that Ghostwriter is awesome. Jamie mentioned Tom Waits in this context, so Step started telling me all about Tim Armstrong (Rancid, Epitaph Records etc), who wants to put some of Step's stuff out (I didn't ask if this was old or new material: but apparently he'd funded some of the Mescaleros stuff coming out a few years back, which makes sense). Go Step!
Also that evening: Sophie brought her old Sega Megadrive down for Dean: "The Ultimate Games System" said the box, surely they knew that wasn't going to be true, even when they printed the packaging? Sonic The Hedgehog wagged his finger sternly at us: "Don't be suckered by those lying Sega bastards" he seemed to be warning us.
Josie and Matt Jukes were there too, along with some more of Reuben's housemates, a few blokes in shirts and ties who'd wandered in, and one or two of Dean and Jim's other mates.
I was hoping a woman I'd met there a fortnight ago might be out too, but she wasn't.
That's your lot.

2005-10-16T17:13:00.000Z

Later...