This secondhand living just won't do
May. 10th, 2005 08:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ventaI had a plan for the weekend. At least I thought I did. But then it turned out quite differently.
My plan was first derailed mid-week last week when I received a mail from Mean Fiddler, telling me that I'd won a pair of tickets to see Don Blackman at the Jazz Café. "Who?" you cry. Well, to be honest, I had no idea either, I'd just entered a bunch of Mean Fiddler competitions off last week's mailshot in a fairly indiscriminate manner.
However, I was heading down to London anyway to visit ChrisC, so we rearranged our evening slightly and met in Camden. After all, if someone's nice enough to give me free gig tickets I'm nice enough to go.
The Jazz Café is a little (only a little, mind you :) more upmarket than the venues I'm used to. It has a small tables-and-chairs area where you can listen and sit and chat (away from the large "STFU During Performances" notice blazoned down the pillar near the stage). It even, if you are that way inclined, will provide you with a table in the gallery from which you can watch the gig while you eat dinner. It does, however, have frankly scabious toilets.
It also, on Friday night, had about seven musicians (including Don Blackman, who's not a small guy) jammed onto a tiny stage. This is including three sets of keyboards and a piano.
The music is something I'm a little vague about, as it's a species that is way out of my ken. I suspect that in describing it the words "funk" and possibly "groove" would be involved. It featured a lady whose main job seemed to be wailing, and lots of repetative base lines, and half-spoken-half-sung lyrics.
It's definitely not the sort of stuff I'd listen to usually, but for an occasional visit on a friday night it was interesting, if not completely enthralling. Intellectually, I'll listen to it but I can't imagine ever getting wholly involved in that style of music.
It seems that Blackman is touring in the UK, and this band has been put together for the purpose - he claimed only to have met them the day before when he arrived in the country. If anyone has any idea how that works - would the band work together usually, or be separate session musicians ? How much is improvised, and how much would they have learned in advance ? - then please tell me.
I've walked through Neal's Yard a number of times before, and never really noticed the Rough Trade shop. It's slightly hidden, you go into a skateboard shop and then down a spiral staircase in the middle of the floor. Or, as was the case on Saturday lunchtime, halfway down the staircase, run into a jam of people, and then sit on the stairs to watch Herman Dune playing a short free gig.
Rough Trade is an amazing place. It's tiny. It's graffiti'd. It has that proper, dog-eared, scruffy look of a genuine independent record shop. You'd expect it to be owned by some strange, furtive, beardy bloke called Keith, not to be attached to an international name like Rough Trade.
You see, any big, corporate firm can buy a small shop, put up lots of posters, artfully graffiti the walls, and try to look all indie. But that's not what's happening here. Rough Trade is the genuine article: did you notice above that I said we were sitting on the stairs ? When is the last time a venue let you do that ? In among the piles of flyers and paper posters, one of Herman Dune was quietly having a fag, leaning against the water machine. A water machine ? In a record shop ?
All I can say is that if Rough Trade is faking it, it's doing it damn well.
So, I sat myself down among this casual sea of indie bonhomie (and never have I seen so many pairs of canvas Converse in one place) to listen to Herman Dune, about whom I knew absolutely nowt. When you read a poster on the wall which describes the band you've come to see as a "paris based swedish / swiss trio" you begin to wonder what you've let yourself in for. When you realise they have beards and at least one ukelele, then it's time to start considering escape routes.
Sadly, my escape was blocked by, er, more people, so I sat down to grin and bear it. And you know what ? They were absolutely delightful. Casual, offbeat, antifolk-style melodies about everything and nothing with beautifully lo-fi percussion (two bongos and a tambourine). I even forgave them (just!) the ukelele.
Peering through the iron of the staircase, I pointed out a darkhaired woman sitting cross-legged in the corner. "Is that Dianne Cluck?" (another antifolk singer, who has the most amazingly distinctive voice and sings rambling songs about love and leaves and light and loss). Towards the end of Herman Dune's set, she joined in singing with them, still sitting cross-legged on the floor (which instantly solved the problem of whether it was her or not).
I liked the music, Herman Dune go on my check-out list. But more than anything I liked the casual, laid-back, intimate atmosphere of forty-something people lounging around in a record shop politely and interestedly watching some people play some fairly odd music.
As well as knowing about Herman Dune, ChrisC also whipped from his sleeve at the last minute a Zombina and the Skeletones gig in Kentish Town on Saturday night.
I've not been to the Bull and Gate before (I don't think), and was expecting something whose name I know so well to be rather more than a pub with a back room. Still, it's quite a nice back room, and they appear to have TV screens installed in the bar with live footage (properly edited from multiple cameras, too!) of who's on stage. I've been a big fan of Zombina since accidentally falling over them 18 months ago. When they played at Whitby last year I told everyone who would stand still long enough to go and listen to them (and most of you ignored me, didn't you ? Fools.)
However, at the time we arrived, there was a different band on stage. A sort of country-sounding version of the Coral (complete with double bass) who sang songs about withheld telephone numbers and finished with a resounding version of She'll Be Coming Round The Mountain. They were extremely entertaining - sufficiently so that I'm prepared to forgive them their banjo (the banjo player was actually quite a fine picker, too) - so if anyone hears of Tramp Attack playing near them, get yourselves down there.
Zombina and the Skeletones - who I described at the weekend as "Hammer-horror rock'n'roll", and I think I'll stand by that - confused me by managing to play a set almost entirely comprised of songs I didn't know. They'll have been getting on with stuff since their first album, then.
They really do have everything - catchy tunes, daft lyrics, fake blood, people who can sing (and break out into three and four part harmony surprisingly regularly), people who can play their instruments, a female drummer, and a keyboard player who can improvise, silent-movie-style, while the rest of the band faffs. They remain great, and I even bought myself a nice Zombina t-shirt.
Of course, just as I was leaving work on Friday, the unexpected happened. A second mail from Mean Fiddler: I'd also won a pair of tickets to see Stuck Mojo on Sunday evening. Note to everyone: enter Mean Fiddler competitions - they seem to have tickets coming out of their ears. Second note to everyone: do not do so quite so wholeheartedly as I did unless you want a very full weekend.
Followng a theme you may have spotted, I've never been to the Borderline before, either. The first thing I noticed on entering was that it wasn't going to be air-conditioned. The actual venue is underground, and standing at the top of the entrance stairway you could actually see the steam rising from the room below. Saunatastic.
Stuck Mojo are very firmly in the Not Music I Listen To category, they're an American band whom a quick google on Friday evening placed as "rap metal crossover". I'm not big on rap and I'm not big on metal - I did seriously consider completely ignoring my free tickets.
Which just shows how much I know. I ambled in in time to catch most of Stuck Mojo's set, and actually enjoyed it immensely. I'm not saying I'm a new convert and that I'll be buying all their albums, but for a live set by an unfamiliar band it was rather remarkable.
The band's frontman (I'm using the term loosely, as they really have two, but lets call him that) raps, and the guitarist (the other plausible frontman-candidate) sings (sometimes simultaneously). Plus they invited various extras onstage as guest musicians and vocalists, and it all had an incredibly friendly atmosphere.
At one point the frontman singled someone out from the crowd "You - I don't know your name - come up here and freestyle with me". I assume it wasn't a random person (maybe a vocalist from one of the support acts?), but he hopped up on stage and launched in. This is not a scene I'm familiar with, so maybe I'm just being credulous, but if this was as unrehearsed as that suggests, it was impressive; the band providing a metal-guitar-style framework, and two guys rapping together and separately over the top.
This gig also featured probably the most violent mosh-pit I've ever seen. Most-pits don't scare me, even if they do feature people pinging out at high velocity, but in this case I was seriously concerned for the health and safety of those in it. I'd usually be happy to join a mosh pit; you wouldn't have caught me venturing in there. Yet, as ever, there was the paradoxical friendliness: one of the guys hurling himself about most violently suddenly appeared in front of me a couple of songs later, passing a pint of water round the people he'd been piling into.
It did seem, overall, an unexpectedly lighthearted gig. In between songs the two frontmen joked and took the piss out of each other (and the audience) and, despite suffering a bit from tired-old-jokes, were actually genuinely funny. The Borderline is a small place, the stage felt close enough to touch and everyone was laughing togther. When I eventually broke back out into the breathable air of Charing Cross Road, I was surprised at how much I'd enjoyed it. One to chalk up to experience, and maybe a little more understanding of why people listen to screaming metal guitar noise.
My plan was first derailed mid-week last week when I received a mail from Mean Fiddler, telling me that I'd won a pair of tickets to see Don Blackman at the Jazz Café. "Who?" you cry. Well, to be honest, I had no idea either, I'd just entered a bunch of Mean Fiddler competitions off last week's mailshot in a fairly indiscriminate manner.
However, I was heading down to London anyway to visit ChrisC, so we rearranged our evening slightly and met in Camden. After all, if someone's nice enough to give me free gig tickets I'm nice enough to go.
The Jazz Café is a little (only a little, mind you :) more upmarket than the venues I'm used to. It has a small tables-and-chairs area where you can listen and sit and chat (away from the large "STFU During Performances" notice blazoned down the pillar near the stage). It even, if you are that way inclined, will provide you with a table in the gallery from which you can watch the gig while you eat dinner. It does, however, have frankly scabious toilets.
It also, on Friday night, had about seven musicians (including Don Blackman, who's not a small guy) jammed onto a tiny stage. This is including three sets of keyboards and a piano.
The music is something I'm a little vague about, as it's a species that is way out of my ken. I suspect that in describing it the words "funk" and possibly "groove" would be involved. It featured a lady whose main job seemed to be wailing, and lots of repetative base lines, and half-spoken-half-sung lyrics.
It's definitely not the sort of stuff I'd listen to usually, but for an occasional visit on a friday night it was interesting, if not completely enthralling. Intellectually, I'll listen to it but I can't imagine ever getting wholly involved in that style of music.
It seems that Blackman is touring in the UK, and this band has been put together for the purpose - he claimed only to have met them the day before when he arrived in the country. If anyone has any idea how that works - would the band work together usually, or be separate session musicians ? How much is improvised, and how much would they have learned in advance ? - then please tell me.
I've walked through Neal's Yard a number of times before, and never really noticed the Rough Trade shop. It's slightly hidden, you go into a skateboard shop and then down a spiral staircase in the middle of the floor. Or, as was the case on Saturday lunchtime, halfway down the staircase, run into a jam of people, and then sit on the stairs to watch Herman Dune playing a short free gig.
Rough Trade is an amazing place. It's tiny. It's graffiti'd. It has that proper, dog-eared, scruffy look of a genuine independent record shop. You'd expect it to be owned by some strange, furtive, beardy bloke called Keith, not to be attached to an international name like Rough Trade.
You see, any big, corporate firm can buy a small shop, put up lots of posters, artfully graffiti the walls, and try to look all indie. But that's not what's happening here. Rough Trade is the genuine article: did you notice above that I said we were sitting on the stairs ? When is the last time a venue let you do that ? In among the piles of flyers and paper posters, one of Herman Dune was quietly having a fag, leaning against the water machine. A water machine ? In a record shop ?
All I can say is that if Rough Trade is faking it, it's doing it damn well.
So, I sat myself down among this casual sea of indie bonhomie (and never have I seen so many pairs of canvas Converse in one place) to listen to Herman Dune, about whom I knew absolutely nowt. When you read a poster on the wall which describes the band you've come to see as a "paris based swedish / swiss trio" you begin to wonder what you've let yourself in for. When you realise they have beards and at least one ukelele, then it's time to start considering escape routes.
Sadly, my escape was blocked by, er, more people, so I sat down to grin and bear it. And you know what ? They were absolutely delightful. Casual, offbeat, antifolk-style melodies about everything and nothing with beautifully lo-fi percussion (two bongos and a tambourine). I even forgave them (just!) the ukelele.
Peering through the iron of the staircase, I pointed out a darkhaired woman sitting cross-legged in the corner. "Is that Dianne Cluck?" (another antifolk singer, who has the most amazingly distinctive voice and sings rambling songs about love and leaves and light and loss). Towards the end of Herman Dune's set, she joined in singing with them, still sitting cross-legged on the floor (which instantly solved the problem of whether it was her or not).
I liked the music, Herman Dune go on my check-out list. But more than anything I liked the casual, laid-back, intimate atmosphere of forty-something people lounging around in a record shop politely and interestedly watching some people play some fairly odd music.
As well as knowing about Herman Dune, ChrisC also whipped from his sleeve at the last minute a Zombina and the Skeletones gig in Kentish Town on Saturday night.
I've not been to the Bull and Gate before (I don't think), and was expecting something whose name I know so well to be rather more than a pub with a back room. Still, it's quite a nice back room, and they appear to have TV screens installed in the bar with live footage (properly edited from multiple cameras, too!) of who's on stage. I've been a big fan of Zombina since accidentally falling over them 18 months ago. When they played at Whitby last year I told everyone who would stand still long enough to go and listen to them (and most of you ignored me, didn't you ? Fools.)
However, at the time we arrived, there was a different band on stage. A sort of country-sounding version of the Coral (complete with double bass) who sang songs about withheld telephone numbers and finished with a resounding version of She'll Be Coming Round The Mountain. They were extremely entertaining - sufficiently so that I'm prepared to forgive them their banjo (the banjo player was actually quite a fine picker, too) - so if anyone hears of Tramp Attack playing near them, get yourselves down there.
Zombina and the Skeletones - who I described at the weekend as "Hammer-horror rock'n'roll", and I think I'll stand by that - confused me by managing to play a set almost entirely comprised of songs I didn't know. They'll have been getting on with stuff since their first album, then.
They really do have everything - catchy tunes, daft lyrics, fake blood, people who can sing (and break out into three and four part harmony surprisingly regularly), people who can play their instruments, a female drummer, and a keyboard player who can improvise, silent-movie-style, while the rest of the band faffs. They remain great, and I even bought myself a nice Zombina t-shirt.
Of course, just as I was leaving work on Friday, the unexpected happened. A second mail from Mean Fiddler: I'd also won a pair of tickets to see Stuck Mojo on Sunday evening. Note to everyone: enter Mean Fiddler competitions - they seem to have tickets coming out of their ears. Second note to everyone: do not do so quite so wholeheartedly as I did unless you want a very full weekend.
Followng a theme you may have spotted, I've never been to the Borderline before, either. The first thing I noticed on entering was that it wasn't going to be air-conditioned. The actual venue is underground, and standing at the top of the entrance stairway you could actually see the steam rising from the room below. Saunatastic.
Stuck Mojo are very firmly in the Not Music I Listen To category, they're an American band whom a quick google on Friday evening placed as "rap metal crossover". I'm not big on rap and I'm not big on metal - I did seriously consider completely ignoring my free tickets.
Which just shows how much I know. I ambled in in time to catch most of Stuck Mojo's set, and actually enjoyed it immensely. I'm not saying I'm a new convert and that I'll be buying all their albums, but for a live set by an unfamiliar band it was rather remarkable.
The band's frontman (I'm using the term loosely, as they really have two, but lets call him that) raps, and the guitarist (the other plausible frontman-candidate) sings (sometimes simultaneously). Plus they invited various extras onstage as guest musicians and vocalists, and it all had an incredibly friendly atmosphere.
At one point the frontman singled someone out from the crowd "You - I don't know your name - come up here and freestyle with me". I assume it wasn't a random person (maybe a vocalist from one of the support acts?), but he hopped up on stage and launched in. This is not a scene I'm familiar with, so maybe I'm just being credulous, but if this was as unrehearsed as that suggests, it was impressive; the band providing a metal-guitar-style framework, and two guys rapping together and separately over the top.
This gig also featured probably the most violent mosh-pit I've ever seen. Most-pits don't scare me, even if they do feature people pinging out at high velocity, but in this case I was seriously concerned for the health and safety of those in it. I'd usually be happy to join a mosh pit; you wouldn't have caught me venturing in there. Yet, as ever, there was the paradoxical friendliness: one of the guys hurling himself about most violently suddenly appeared in front of me a couple of songs later, passing a pint of water round the people he'd been piling into.
It did seem, overall, an unexpectedly lighthearted gig. In between songs the two frontmen joked and took the piss out of each other (and the audience) and, despite suffering a bit from tired-old-jokes, were actually genuinely funny. The Borderline is a small place, the stage felt close enough to touch and everyone was laughing togther. When I eventually broke back out into the breathable air of Charing Cross Road, I was surprised at how much I'd enjoyed it. One to chalk up to experience, and maybe a little more understanding of why people listen to screaming metal guitar noise.
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no subject
Date: 2005-05-10 07:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-10 10:23 am (UTC)Now, I've just got to remember whether DevIn Townsend ever produced any of their albums...
no subject
Date: 2005-05-10 12:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-12 12:14 am (UTC)You, sir, should be this week's designated hero for such a delightful phrase.
no subject
Date: 2005-05-12 01:32 pm (UTC)