You are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand

Published on Fri 20 Nov 2009

So, I got persuaded to give The Mountain Goats another go, after they didn't really impress at End of the Road last year. I'm very pleased I did - there were loads of technical hitches when I saw them which ruined the moment, but I don't think they really had a chance in a big echoey tent anyway. The music is upbeat and not amazing in general, but what sets them apart are the quite unbelievably dark lyrics. For example they appear to have a whole album about a married couple who begin to hate each other so move to a new town to try and make a new start, and end up drinking themselves to death. And they say I'm depressing. It's genius though - as the music is so jaunty, I reckon 90% of people wouldn't even notice what's going on. You have to admire that.

Anyway, I managed to have one fairly relaxed week, but this one's been pretty intense again, and wasn't helped by beginning with a game of squash that very nearly killed me. I'm still not moving particularly well. I've never been quite so exhausted. I'm playing the guy again on Tuesday. I nearly followed it up by seeing Ralph McTell, but had to go back to work. It's a shame, because while I can't stand Streets of London, he's done lots of really rather good stuff, and seeing him play the theme tune from Tickle on the Tum would leave me one less ambition.

On Tuesday night I finally managed to see Manchester Orchestra, after the UPS induced misery of missing out when they last played. It was worth the wait. I'd not been to Heaven Under The Arches before, and the journey was made easier by the revelation, earlier in the day, that Trafalgar Square and Leicester Square are, in fact, right next to each other. Does everyone's knowledge of London just consist of a series of 100m circles around tube stations? Anyway, it's an ace venue built, as the name suggests, under a railway arch - the stage is nice and high, and the sound is excellent. The support band were called Talons, which led to a bit of confusion, because someone had looked them up online and found a totally different band, that they were looking forward to seeing. 

I sympathise with people who have to share names - that conductor guy who pinched mine before I was even born is winning the last.fm profile picture battle - if you fancy going and voting the old one of me back, that'd be ace. And someone tried to sell me a £1m yacht complete with mooring in Spain today because my email address is the same as another (evidently richer) Paul Goodwin's email address apart from one character. It was a good conversation. I replied (as I always do when people email me about conducting/buying houses in the Chicago area/German art galleries/buying houses in the Reigate area/attending geology conferences in Melbourne/the British Handball League thinking I'm someone else) saying "I think you've got the wrong email address", and he, brilliantly, replied saying, "sorry. Would you be interested in a boat anyway?" (it made me think of the toaster out of Red Dwarf). I asked about pricing, and when it turned out to be £1m said it'd take me a few weeks to raise the funds. We'll see where it goes.

I digress. This particular Talons were a doubly befiddled instrumental post rock type act from Hereford who were really quite enjoyable at the time, but I don't know how far out of my way I'd go to see them again. There were two guitarists too, one of whom was pretty amazing, and one of whom seemed to mostly be there because the rest of the band didn't want to speak to the audience. A lot of the tunes seemed to be a series of riffs that didn't really join together very well, but a couple of them (mostly when they let the guitarist take the lead) were very good.

Manchester Orchestra were brilliant. Their second album is one of the biggest sounding records ever I think, and, somehow, it was even bigger live. And, due to some weird cosmic coincidence that does make me wonder if I am the centre of the universe after all, they did a brief cover of one of the more depressing Mountain Goats songs that I'd been listening to all day. I'm not hugely familiar with their first, but there wasn't a song I didn't really enjoy. The keyboard player/second drummer guy was really going for it, even when he didn't have anything to do and I'm debating growing a massive beard like the singer. It didn't even matter that they didn't play my two favourites for some reason, and the show ended really early, I think because there was a club after. I assume there must have been anyway because there was a toilet attendant, and there is no way that it would be worth his while sitting watching a crowd of mainly students with hats, massive beards and no money for tips flood a urinal for 3 hours. I actually felt sorry for him by the end of the night and gave him a couple of quid in exchange for half a piece of blue kitchen roll. I kind of like this recent trend for London gigs finishing early - there can't be many better feelings than sitting on the 11.15 with a Maccy D's and a can of Red Stripe, having watched a great gig, knowing that the train will only stop at a couple of places and you'll be in bed by half past midnight rather than 2am.

On Wednesday night I went to London again to see Dar Williams at The Borderline, who I've gone on about more than enough on here over the years. There were various minor celebrity spots beforehand - Zac Efron was giving a brilliantly insincere interview outside the premiere of Orson Welles with the backing of a crowd of screaming girls (though I guess we only heard him rather than see him - we did catch a glimpse of the leading lady, but I dunno who she is) and (apparently) Ed Giddins and some minor TV presenter pinched the spare chairs round our table at the pub while we were waiting for Andy. I was a bit worried about the gig, because I've not bought anything that Dar Williams has done this century - she started getting a bit polished and writing about "issues" a bit more often and heartbreak a bit less often, but her first two albums are two of my all time favourites, and that puts quite a lot of pressure on a live show. The support act was a Proper Support Act - perfectly acceptable I guess, but completely unmemorable. However I did notice she was Canadian and that her surname was Hanson. I wondered which of the brothers she was in a previous life. Looked most like Taylor. I do often wonder how they find these people though. I know at least 3 Canadian singer/songwriters personally who are streets ahead of her. Are there people who aim to be ok, but completely unable to upstage anybody so that they can get the decent support gigs?

I needn't have worried about Dar. It was really, really, really lovely. Even the songs from later albums that I wasn't so keen on were great played solo. And we got Iowa and If I Wrote You (turns out I have been getting the chords right...). Those, and The Babysitter's Here made me well right up - that seems to be happening a bit recently, mostly, it seems, when I see people that I liked way back when. If we'd have got February it would've been perfect. As brilliant as a lot of the songs are, the other great thing about Dar Williams is that she's absolutely adorable - so clever, enthusiastic, and so still caring about saving the planet. If I was 10 years older, and 5 times as attractive...

I'm catching her up though - yesterday was my birthday. We knocked off work a bit early, went on a bit of a pub crawl, and I managed to win a game of chess for the first time in ages. Didn't do so well at pool. Did do some excellent quiz machine work. 32. That sounds like an ok age actually. Like an age a real person would be. Surely it can't be as rubbish as the last few, though I suspect say that every birthday and New Year. Hmm that reminds me - I still haven't managed to see a number plate with a 32 on.

I've been watching Later with Jools Holland because The Decemberists and The Low Anthem are on it. They'll have to be pretty bloody good to be worth sitting through that Annie Lennox and David Gray duet. I feel a little bit dirty. And oh wow, Corinne Bailey Ray was just awful. Blimey. Come back Dar Williams' support act, all is forgiven.