I don't normally talk about current affairs and stuff, because frankly I couldn't give a toss about anything that doesn't directly affect me, but am I the only one who thinks this whole Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand thing is really depressing? Is everyone in this country actually really stupid or is it a media lie? The global economy is going to shit, there's an American Presidential election on Tuesday, and everyone in the public eye is standing around like a bunch of primary school children one hand over their smirking mouth the other pointing and going "UMMM - you were naughty" at a kid who's hidden someone else's pencil case. How is it that journalists have the power to lose people their jobs simply by pretending to be outraged about things? I think they should make it so that the opinion of anyone who is pathetic enough to make a complaint about something on the TV or radio is immediately discounted. Take away their vote or something. And that goes double for anyone who complains about something they've not even seen or heard. I'm only half joking.
I went to the Folk Club open stage last night and actually went through with it this time. I had a small argument on the way with a bus driver who denied that the stop I've got off at every other time I've been to the Golden Hind has ever existed, but the nearest one that hadn't been got at by the Ministry of Truth wasn't too far away so it was ok. I played Alabaster because I got nervous (and I forgot a line! As if I've not played that song a million times), and then "This Place Is Dead Anyway" which I'm starting to like a lot, even if it isn't really sad enough to be a song of mine. My guitar was horribly out of tune though - I got all flustered out in the back room while the guys before me were on and just made it worse and worse. I'm not leaving home without my tuner again. My friend Kate finally conquered her irrational fear of the Folk Club and was ace. I sometimes wonder how they choose which folk singers get famous. The night was also notable for featuring my third conversation about Dream Theater this week, all with different people and none of which I've started.
On Wednesday I went to see Ani DiFranco at The Forum. We'd got in there nice and early because Chris and Ashley who I was with didn't want to miss the support act, Hammell on Trial. It turned out that since Ani DiFranco is responsible for everything, the support acts, unlike at most 3 act gigs, went on at a sensible time, so we were stood around for quite a long time, but the venue managed not to totally run out of beer this time (though they were down to Tuborg by about half 9).
First up was Anais Mitchell. Nice songs, nice (if a bit cutesy) voice, nice guitar, nice face. Very Nice. I didn't like it much. I'm sure she'll be popular with the older audience, as cute young ladies who do Nice things always are. I was surprised to see her on her own at the back at one point. I expected her to be surrounded by a group of 45 year old blokes in denim jackets. The DiFranco audience is predominantly female I suppose. Which is fine with me - the gents was like a desert. In the sense that you could walk for miles in there and never see any evidence of civilisation. There was quite a lot of water about obviously.
Hammell on Trial went on straight after and was a different matter entirely. Big cynical loud mouthed guy in his 40s or 50s from New York doing right on almost-but-maybe-not-quite comedy songs. Hmm, that doesn't sound good does it, but it was ace. Anyone who can get a thousand people shouting "Fuck it!" at the same time is alright with me. There's a half a chance I'll go and see him again on Tuesday at Dingwalls, but I've been to London enough lately I think.
I didn't know how much I'd like Ani DiFranco - I've got "Not a Pretty Girl" and it's quite good (not her best I suspect) but I've heard bad things about the new one. I did see her at Glastonbury ages ago, and seem to remember thinking it was good (she was very intense) if a bit filled with brass. Anyway, long story short, it was excellent. I found this youtube video (from the actual gig I was at) of her singing my favourite song of the night
I'd not heard it before. I think you can actually hear my jaw dropping about halfway through.
I've not reviewed a gig with the I-Spy scoring system for a bit, so here goes.
I've debated whether the mandatory -1 for use of the word vibe applies when it's "vibes" and referring to a vibraphone. I think it probably doesn't, so the total adjustment is +1, which gets added to my score of 8/10 for enjoyment (it would've been 9 but there was a lull in the middle where she played new songs, which aren't as good. That's not some "old song new song prejudice" - I don't know most of the old songs either).
I got back really late because they were running rail replacement bus services on both lines back to Cambridge. Good thinking lads. And we had to spent 5 minutes in Stevenage waiting for said bus. Cruel and unusual.
On Thursday I was in London again at a preview screening of the new Bond film at The Electric cinema in Portobello Road. I know I complain about work a lot, but it's really cool when this kind of thing (and the Champions League game the other week) happens. The cinema is ridiculously plush - leather seats with enough space that you can totally straighten your legs (the seats further back have footstools!), and each seat has a built in drinks cooler (with complimentary mineral water and popcorn). Despite all this, the thing that seems to have impressed me most (apart from all the free booze) is the fact that they served us scotch quails' eggs. I enjoyed the film a lot, as I always do with films, especially in the cinema (I'm so fussy about music and so easily pleased by films) but the general reaction seemed to be bemusement. As usual I took full advantage of the networking opportunity I had been afforded, ignored the fact that it the guest list was essentially me, Ciaron and loads of people from the national press, and spent 30 minutes after the film listening to the relationship issues of a BT employee whose name I can't remember.
I think the transport network has something against me recently, the amount of close calls that have gone against me and unnecessarily complicated and expensive journeys I've had to take. We were shafted by the Hammersmith and City line taking 45 minutes to cover 20 minutes worth of line and despite a heroic (some might say Bond-like) dash across Kings Cross we missed the train we were aiming for by about 30 seconds. They were doing the replacement buses again and, despite there being quite a lot of peole who wanted to go to Cambridge hanging about in the cold outside quite a few empty buses, wouldn't take us until the next train that was meant to connect with a bus came along an hour later. We couldn't face standing in Stevenage for that long so got a taxi. Extravagant, but worth it.
My plans for the weekend are to watch the Cambridge game, roast a leg of lamb (and attempt not to eat it in one go), watch the Liverpool game, do a gig with The Morning People and finish off yet another new song (something seems to have flicked a switch in me a couple of weeks ago - I hope it lasts, and that these songs are actually good).