The Fog

Loaded Dog, 26th November 2005

All of my old university pals were there; vodkaslut, Bulmersbabe, real ale boy, whiskeydiva, minesalager, and fanofthebitter. We hadn’t been all together for quite some time now, and in an ideal world, the setting would be a bit more conducive to such a large scale reunion. However, the Loaded Dog, a lately refurbished pub come lounge bar (shag pile carpet, cheesy mood lighting) in the east end would have to do, and we all soon settled into a night of dodgy (or dog-rough) cover music (pretendy Clash) and pleasant conversation. The flow of conversation was somewhat impeded however by the unnecessarily dim lighting and extraordinarily loud background music between the bands' sets. Call me old-fashioned, but I do actually like it when I can hear myself think, and when my friends’ genial banter is audible more than 5% of the time. The choice of actual music was fine- I’m as big a fan of ‘Love will tear us apart’ as any eighties miserabilist, but turn it down a notch please! Overall, it was a bit like trying to read semaphore in the middle of a ‘London particular’ what with the single candleflame we were allowed possession of. Oh well, at least there was gin; oh yes, and lots of it. So much so that I had to stay over at vodkslut’s because I didn’t have the energy to crawl home. Bad GSG!

Up for it

23rd November 2005 – Water Rats Theatre, Kings Cross

Hey there, so last night I had a bit of wild time with an unplanned excursion to the Water Rats Theatre in Kings Cross. On the agenda were the similarly named Shitdisco (according to some sources you don't pronounce the T but this seems unlikely) and Eskimo Disco. The former were the main focus of mine and vokdaslut’s attention, although I hadn’t actually listened to their 'Disco Blood' single, only read a couple of glowing reviews in contemporary musical magazines. However, equipped with my limited arsenal of disco-based knowledge, I readily agreed to go along when cidertramp pulled out due to illness.

Armed with a desire to have an enjoyable evening, down a few gins, and frequent a venue which I’ve never been to before, I ventured forth full of unexpected joie de vivre (for a Wednesday night!) and enthusiasm. When we did arrive, the venue was rather insalubrious (shabby chic) but full of decadent Victorian glamour; the chandeliers and paintwork has seen better days but you could imagine that it was once a notable establishment. In any case, the architecture wasn’t what we came for, and we readily, after a couple of drinks, got down to the business of trying to listen to some music.

Unfortunately for the bands, and for us as it turned out, the place was half empty and those that were in attendance were rather of the ‘colourful character’ persuasion. A particular mention goes to the audience member (I choose my words very carefully), who saw fit to dance around half-cut and half-naked through most of Shitdisco’s set. The battle for the microphone which ensued during a gutsy performance of ‘I know Kung Fu’ ensured a place in my affections for the lead singer, as he showed what he was made of (not literally like the audience member in question) by sidestepping the interloper and reclaiming what was rightfully his. To observe his rumpled accountant demeanour (Rowland Rivron mixed with a splash of Robert Downey Jnr?) before the incident you wouldn’t have thought he had it in him, but, hey, people surprise you sometimes, and also they are from Glasgow so should be used to that sort of thing. Anyway, after the drunken ejit was ejected, the rest of the set was brilliant and I had a fab fab time.

Eskimodisco were equally good, although rather more on the um, well, gay side. The leader singer’s voice was incredibly high and donnasommerish, which I had read about, but was still surprised by in person. ‘The final countdown’ rounded off their set, which made this blogger go all nostalgic for the actual eighties rather than the pretendy eighties which we’re experiencing now. At one point, when the voice synthesisers starting to kick in I did start having flashbacks to a Chromeo gig I mistakenly wandered into a few months back, but that was only a minor hitch in an otherwise entertaining evening. I don't think I've ever been a gig which was quite so nuts and bolts before, but hey, it was an adventure, and that a good thing in my book. The wierder the better.

Cribs ahoy

ULU, November 3rd 2005 & Somerset House, July 12th, 2005

The cribs are one of my favourite bands, and I've just found out from vodkaslut that I'm going to see them again when they support Franz Ferdinand at the Alexandra Palace in December- yippee. I first saw the Cribs at a Somerset House gig many moons ago (well, in July), supporting Bloc Party, and was much taken with the northern minstrels, despite their obviously unwashed state. Since then my opinion has been confirmed by another entertaining gig at the ULU on November 3rd. If anything Ryan Jarman is a little too crowd-friendly- crowd-surfing, bleeding gums, copious lager drinking; it all adds up to a near-riotous reaction from the fans. But still they are intrinsically likable, and the hilarious 'walking stick around the neck' type exit made by Ryan at the ULU (when he refused to leave the stage), as well as their gritty, down to earth demeanor on stage, only endeared them to me more. It was definitely one of my top gigs of the year- and a great round-off to my birthday celebrations. And did I say that I bounced up and down during one of the songs? I am thirty seven years old and I was jumping around like an idiot, thanks to the Jarman trio. I love the cribs, and I don't say that often. "I like you because you're strange", they sing, well I like them for the same reason, and I advise everyone to try and get to see them whenever they can.

Gin soaked girl goes to the cinema

'The beat that my heart skipped' is a wonderful French film by director Jacques Audiard, who has updated an earlier film 'Fingers' from 1978. Going to see this film is one of those serendipitous spur of the moment things initiated by my friend vodkaslut. Everything works amazingly well- getting to the cinema (Odean Covent Garden, by far the best Odean in London because it's comparitively cheap and show a preponderance of Indie flicks), meeting up (just as I'm about to get the tickets vodkaslut turns up); and finally the film.

The film is about a young man (typically French, a bundle of nervous energy and internal conflict) who can't decide between a life of crime as an aspiring property-magnate come bully-boy, and a life of culture and artistry as a concert pianist. His loyalties are constantly divided and he finds it difficult to commit 100% to anything. His love life is equally complicated and he oscillates between the affections of his best friend's wife, the girlfriend of a gangster associate of his father, and his glacial Chinese piano coach. It's a difficult problem which may people will identify with I think!

One of the most interesting things about the film is the relationship between the father and son- Tom and his father have a passionate and highly-strung relationship which brings both parties into mortal danger. They love each other, but at the same time, the relationship is poison. The ending sees Tom come to terms with his past but resists giving the audience everything tied up in a neat package. However this is good from GSG's point of view as it's good to see a film where the audience isn't pandered to like a needy child.

Anyone who's ever had a disturbed night's sleep just before an important exam/interview/audition will also empathise with the main character as his old associates try to wreck his newly acquired sense of tranquility and drag him away to evict some squatters the night before his big chance to break free. My enjoyment of this part of the film was however spoilt by an inconsiderate, um, fellow patron, who's mobile phone lit up like a cannon at at the crucial moment- I HATE people who don't turn off their mobiles in the cinema. I'm using the word HATE here with forethought and intent.

Highly recommended.