Summer has always been a typical one for me. A time to sit around and do fuck all for a long period of time, with brief intervals of shifts at work, nights out and festivals. However for the past 2 weeks I have had no offers for work and as a result have been resorted to lying flat on my back watching Sky sports news on what seems like a loop, as they report how nothing is happening in this summers transfer market. Now usually I have a great distaste for this, I get bored very easily and I can at times find myself wondering around the house, aimlessly, talking to myself or making poor attempts at the washing up or even just staring at a facebook page. In extreme cases it can lead to almost unrecoverable bout of demotivation and alcoholism, which are both demoralising and expensive. But these last weeks I think I have mastered the art of doing nothing and being practically unemployed, and here’s my guide….
First of all it’s very hard to justify having time off when you have no practical hobbies, especially in my case when my only valid activity is probably wanking. So to counteract this I have got myself into a routine which involves watching several episodes of a popular American TV series mixed in with a few hours of Xbox. For all of last week I nailed Boardwalk Empire- a nicely layered, prohibition period, drama starring Steve Buscemi in the lead role, and playing snippets of L.A Noire, which was then replaced this week by continuing on with the Wire and clocking up my world ranking on Fifa. I have found that the rotation of xbox and TV throughout the day keeps the mind refreshed and reduces boredom of either medium as well as giving you a sense of achievement by the end of the day, that have you have completed several goals, and as a result are more enlightened.
Now when your at home on your own for almost 10 hours a day, things can get a little lonely, you start to crave human interaction and when this gets mixed with boredom and one of man’s favourite pass times (watching porn) this can lead to the dreaded sexual frustration! Now being a life long single man that I am and have been, relying only on brief fly by night ‘no-strings’ relationships and drunken one off’s with strange, usually equally bored birds. I’ve never really had that luxury of having that person on speed dial who I can go and waste a day in bed with. Recently however I think I have overcome this, and the answer is in 2 things that are actually better then the company of women anyway-Music and books. Another routine, usually in the evenings, I will sit down with my book whilst either listening to the radio or a few of the artists on the lineup of the ATP gig that I’m going to this weekend. The mixture of in-depth book and new sounds can completely take your mind of that nagging feeling coming from your cock, like it is whinging about not being entertained by some new brass’ mouth. This again leads to a great sense of achievement and enlightenment, and can lead to facebook updates about new bands that you like and long threaded discussions on the book you’ve just clocked.
Some other practical and helpful ways of keeping your mind from turning on you are tasks as simple as cleaning the house or cooking a meal, even tasks as simple as the washing up or cooking a meal can keep the people that you are living with in the peace of mind that you are doing something constructive with your day. Also visiting other unemployed friends can also be a lovely pass time as it is comforting to be in the company of people in the same boat as you, also helping these other unemployed friends with task’s round their house. The other day I visited a couple of friends in Brixton, and even helped Josh paint his bedroom, which left me with the thought that this is how you do unemployed properly. Also if you haven’t already, sign on to every benefit you possibly can. Even if your quite sure they probably wont give it you, just try it’s free money at the end of the day. Also all the information you have to end up digging out to give to them is a good time killer in itself, and lying to your jobs advisor every couple of weeks gives you food for fantasy’s like being a world famous con man.
So that’s how I’ve been keeping myself occupied for the past fortnight or so, and I must say it’s actually been quite nice. The getting out of bed at 2 in the afternoon and not going back till 4 o’clock the next morning is one of them nostalgic routines that remind me of school holidays, and I’m finally getting round to doing stuff that I said I would do. Although I could go and have a full 5 day a week job at the restaurant that Jem works at…. This would be the sensible thing to do. But for now I am happy lying here doing fuck all thank you.
Friday 22 July 2011
Thursday 7 July 2011
Glastonbury 2011
I’ve been a lazy bastard recently! I have neglected the blog, granted a lot of that was due to university deadlines having to be met. But otherwise I just haven’t been bothered to write anything. I made an attempt at a Premier league review, but I’m going to postpone that until I can write a preview for the next season. And I was also going to write a blog on the history of my sexual exploits, but then thought that would be too much of a depressing and vulgar experience to put you all through. So I suppose I’ll try and drag out a Glastonbury based blog before all the facebook photo’s get overtaken by some other festival I end up going to in the not too near distant future and Iplayer take all the performances offline, which I find is a bit like taking the Christmas decorations down in January. But anyway, this year was one to remember!
After missioning around in London for hours we finally arrived in the Glastonbury car park for 4 o’clock Tuesday night (or Wednesday morning whatever you prefer) by 8 o’clock we were in, by 8:30 it was raining, by around 9ish we had the tents up. Wednesday’s are always a bit of a blur at Glastonbury, usually due to lack of sleep from the night before- in this case next to none. And the impending stress of getting in and setting up and getting settled etc. Weather did brighten up though and had a nice walk around the site with Rosa, pretty sure the weather was fine for the rest of the day. Got really drunk then met up with the Plumstead boys in the evening I think. The homebrew had been tested and I gave it a resounding thumbs up, later though people were telling me it gave them frequent visits to the long drops. I get absolutely blind drunk, blow a score on food and have a vague memory of wondering away from Northern Al at the stone circle and being guided back to the camp site by the other half and Heide. Apparently my Bob Dylan renditions, sung in the style of the man himself went down a treat.
Woke up on Thursday morning to the sound of rain, fell back asleep, woke up again and it was still raining, only this time even heavier then before. I can’t sleep so I watch The Other Half and Heide sleep for an unsettling amount of time. But can’t help be entertained by some of Josh’s hand and mouth movements whilst he slumbers. From what I can remember the weather turned out to be really nice, and the view of the festival from our campsite was absolutely beautiful. We spend most of the time sitting around the campsite pouring booze down our thirsty throats and contemplate actually leaving for a bit of food. Me and Sarah then split to have a look at Shangri-la and catch a cool Danish, Bulkan, Punk band called Tako Lako. A lovely start to the weekends proceedings. Evening had then settled and it was soon time for Bangface, the mud was thick and squelchy but not acting as a problem. But before any of this we head over to the stone circle dressed as robots for the robot invasion organized by Liam and Ian, it's an absolute resounding success, with about 50 robots at its peek, some of which had put an incredible amount of effort. There was even generations of families there, grandparents, kids and grandkids. A nice start to the evening. So night falls and I neck a pill then very shortly spew it back up again, unfortunately it was half digested and cant be salvaged from the bile, I then quickly lose the effects, but stay to watch a damn fine Teknoist set, then bugger off to go watch Hobo With a Shotgun at the cinema tent, and mange to catch up with Dave along the way. Came out of the film with a great sense of satisfaction as it were the bollocks. At this time I have settled into the festival and get that tranquil sense of comfort that I am at Glastonbury and everything is fine.
It’s Friday and the festival has officially started, the forecast says it’s due to piss it down. No fear though we all have waterproofs. First act of the weekend is Emmy the Great, who I have seen more times then other artist at that particular festival. I was dubious at first about putting a folk act on in a dance tent which already has a reputation for having dreadful sound, unfortunately my reservations are correct and the first half of her set is marred by absolutely shocking sound levels, she manages to salvage a fair set though, even though it’s her older stuff that is the best performed. Me and Heide split to Shangri-la to catch Molotov Jukebox, although I get the times wrong and we end up there an hour early-it’s raining by this point I might add. I am cheered up immensely by the site of 2 barely dressed birds dancing on their own in this one particular field to a pretty good Dub DJ, me and Heide grab a drink, then set off for a little wonder until Molotov come on. Have a glance at Bloc 9 and confirm how impressed I am by it- A to scale sized council estate block with a London Underground Tube sticking out the top of it. Molotov Jukebox open to 4 people, us 2 and the 2 birds who were already there. “Hello nearly nobody” says the gorgeous Natalia Tena. Before then proceeding with a spicy set which made us forget about the rain, and made passers by stop and have a boogie to.
Don’t remember much of the rest of the day, although we find out that Radiohead have been confirmed as the special guests for the Park stage, and myself, The other half, Heide, Kush & Ness all head over at an attempt to relive the magic set that the half of them did last year. Unfortunately this wasn’t to be, an overwhelming amount of people meant we stood at the back, loitering. We count our loses and head over to the Other Stage to await the mighty Primal Scream, but catch a bloody impressive Mumford and Sons set. I reflect back to 4 years ago watching them for free at the Macbeth, and remind everyone several times that I liked them before they were famous, the site of thousands of people dancing and dosey-doing in the mud and rain fils me with an unbelievable festival spirit, and I can’t help but sing and dance along to ‘The Cave’. I scoff half a bag of mushrooms and shove a pill up my arse. The 5 of us get a nice spot for Primal Scream. It starts raining heavily. Primal Scream blow us all away with a performance that included the masterpiece album Screamadelica followed by 3 classics. Primal Scream prove yet again that even after 25 years of racking out records, it’s experience they perform with live instead of age. Bobby Gillepsie also proves he is one of the best front men around and that the best Rock n Roll band of the festival are headlining the Other Stage instead of the Pyramid. Loaded and Come Together prove to be the best songs of the whole set.
I lose the others during a trip to the toilets, after standing around looking like a lost child for around 15 minutes, I munch off the rest of my evenings dose of liberty caps and make for the Strummervile stage alone.
On the way I catch a whiff of an exotic sound coming from the Greenpeace stage, it is ofcourse the lovely Molotov Jukebox again, with an almost entirely different set. I gain some sort of sexual gratification from Natalia thrusting with a accordion, then carry on my adventure in the pissing rain, cup of tea in hand. It is now that I get one of my most simple of magic moments. At the time I found the ridiculously long one way system was down to my perception of time and distance being totally bent. However I walk through the rain alone with my head up with a sense of complete content. My head is completely clear and my thoughts are positive and creative. It is by far the most peaceful I have ever felt within myself for a very long time and one of the very few times that I am pleased with my own company, I find the whole experience incredibly therapeutic and cant take the smile from my face as I continue with my Friday night. I arrive in Shangri-la and poke my head into Club DADA to see that the Correspondents are tearing the place apart as per usual. But I trot on over to the Strummervile campfire, where Beans on Toast is off his head and serenading us with festival classics. His 2 new tunes prove that his song writing skills are developing more as he gains age, and ends with a beautiful low tempo version of ‘This Side of The Fence’. It’s the only time I catch the most charismatic performer on the festival circuit. I poke my head into Bez’s Acid House, but can’t help but run in for a massive stomp. It’s by this point I notice that my moves are the best in the house, and end up spending an hour throwing shapes to some phat Acid House. Another quick whiskey and I head back for some much deserved rest, not before finding Tom ‘the nonse’ back at the Torquay campsite and grab a cup of tea before bed.
Saturday comes! The day when I chuck the rule book out and get as busted as I can physically muster. Usually with an abundance of Psychedelics and booze, this year is no acception. Myself, my 2 tent mates, as well as Sarah and Sam started with a lovely cider session, where we roamed the greenfields, making penises out of clay, generally acting like the beautiful drunken bastards that we are. A quick nip back to the tent to pick up supplies followed by a trip to the Dance village to see Dreadzone, the effects of the acid we necked a few hours ago is failing to show its face so I neck another pill and by this point and I’m very drunk. Sarah and me then leave an incredibly drunk Heide in the capable hands of The Other Half and make our way to see golden oldies Pentangle. It’s nice to finally see them, but the acoustic tent has this habit of being just a little bit too quiet sometimes. We grab a beer and stick around for Nick Lowe, who I have recently fell in love with. And for no use of a better word he is ‘nice’ to the full extent of the definition. Pure professional easy listening, delivered with warming charm. We leave after half an hour unfortunately to catch Mumford and Son’s do a set at the Strummerville. I get a call from Ian asking whether I saw Pulp do the special guest set at the Park, this pisses me off not because I missed Pulp, but made me wonder that if the organisers could book two acts like Radiohead and Pulp, why not just get them to headline? Instead of putting Coldplay and fucking Beyonce on top of the bill, and having 30,000 people re-enact the Hillsborough disaster on a tiny stage. But anyway along the way I compliment Sarah on her fast paced determination to get through a festival. Mumford are running late, we hit a few shots of tequila, bump into Bez, wait for a little longer but then split to catch Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry. We arrive at the Glade stage a little early, and they are playing dub step, but it takes us about a minute to remember that the Chemical Brothers are playing just meters away. We catch the last 20 minutes of a hench set that makes me dance myself into the mud. Then over to an incredibly impressive ‘Scratch’ Perry, where I discover that I am probably the best dancer on the whole farm, and that the whole of the Glade stage is full of the finest hardboddies that Glastonbury has to offer, so much so it nearly distracts me from the excellent set.
I head back to the tent to wake up Heide, and then the other half quickly joins us where we make an attempt to catch Shoplifting for Jesus at the Strummerville stage. Although the one way system had other ideas and we was herded like cattle around for over an hour, which led me to the conclusion that the festival may benefit from reducing it’s capacity, but it doesn’t matter though, im coming up on a pill and remind The other half and Heide how much I love them, and how lucky Hedie is to be sharing a tent with the two of us. We arrive at Shangri-la in full swing; Shy-FX & the Ragga Twins supplying the tunes, incredible lazers and visuals on the walls of the place, atmosphere in full Saturday night Glastonbury mode, couldn’t help but turn to Heide and announce how absolutely blown away I was by the whole effort put into the place. A reoccurring feeling that I get every year from that area and makes me remember why I pay 200 quid for the pleasure of going. The rest of the evening consists of us dicking around and soaking up the atmosphere, pop into the Acid House to see Larry Love on stage MC’ing, although listening to him shouting ‘ACCCIIIDDDDD’ over a Dub step tune is quite disturbing so we leave. I have my cool moment of the festival, when asked what I would like to drink ‘Lagar or Cider?’ my reply is ‘I’ll have a whiskey actually. Straight, no ice.’ To which a random bystander compliments me with a hearty ‘respect!’. I feel like I could go home happy. The evening ends as the sun rises, and I tell Josh that we would do our naked walk Sunday night, a decision that even at the time I knew would be fatal. We get to bed, suck a few balloons and have a cuddle before passing out.
Get woken up on the Sunday by the beating hot sun, so much so that my attire consists of just my satin shorts, but also means that it’s perfect weather for a bit of bare foot action, although i notice that my left ankle has swollen to almost twice the size of my right, although i feel no pain, i get the impression its going to hurt next week. I don’t have many plans for the day, get as drunk as humanly possible, see Paul Simon, and then catch the Streets later on. Not before a starter at the Glade for Cassette boy followed by The Correspondents. Cassette boy are their usual entertaining selves, then The Correspondents wow an absolutely rammed Glade stage, which leaves me to think that my predictions of them teetering on the edge of greatness may very well happen before the end of the summer. I stick a pair of shoes on and smack a robe over my already burning shoulders, get caught short at the campsite and end up using a piss bottle, only to find that my piss is the colour of a malt whiskey. 'I haven't drunk any water in nearly 48 hours' I think. I then make an attempt to get into the Leftfield tent but it’s too rammed, so we decide to stop by the Brothers tent to load up, then make our way over to Paul Simon, which is my first and only trip to the Pyramid stage all weekend. The set is a nice summers afternoon set, a lot of lying down nodding our heads, before having a bit of a dance to ‘You Can Call Me Al’ other then that a few recognisable Graceland tracks. Nothing that rivals previous ‘Legends slots’ such as Ray Davies and Tom Jones the year previous to that. I’m almost entirely out of cash and getting pretty burnt and agitated in the afternoon heat. I head back to the tent to wake Heide and The other half up but they aint having none of it. So I snort a line of K and wait for Rosa so we can go see the Streets. The sound isn’t amazing for them, but there is a nice mix of old and new material and Mike Skinners pulls off a good one man show. They don’t pull of a blinder by any sense of the imagination, and it’s easy to tell that their time as an act is coming to an end very soon. A sign of the times and nothing lasts forever.
I split from Rosa and head off to Croissant Neuf stage to catch the Sunday night headliner-Neville Staple. An incredible set from an incredible performer, 60 odd years old and still skanking around on stage pulling out all the hits. An ideal way to finish a damn fine festival, I catch up with Rosa, Ian, the Nonse and Pritchard. We stroll around the after hours areas until my knee can’t take it anymore. I pop a valium and head back to the camp site. I realize that I have missed the opportunity to walk around Glastonbury naked, but I wouldn’t say the festival has bee a failure by any sense of the imagination.
The next day we end up leaving with more booze then we came in and I get my hands on a lovely pair of Timberland boots. We go home.
Overall a festival for the archives, the rain and mud helped the atmosphere I thought- separated the lightweights from the ravers. The lineup was fantastic with minimal clashes, my comrades who I served with were their usual amazing selves and without sounding too much like a poof I enjoyed a sense of moderation to my festival, and for once the following week I didn't end up suffering from any mental breakdown like i usually do, but instead had to deal with physical aftermath of wading around in thick mud off my head, and walking around in the blazing sun in just a pair of satin shorts. But I have to say even though this one has made its way into my top 5, I am looking forward to the break next year, for financial, phsyical and tolernce reasons more then anything, But I know by June i'll be having withdrawals.
See you in 2013 I suppose.
After missioning around in London for hours we finally arrived in the Glastonbury car park for 4 o’clock Tuesday night (or Wednesday morning whatever you prefer) by 8 o’clock we were in, by 8:30 it was raining, by around 9ish we had the tents up. Wednesday’s are always a bit of a blur at Glastonbury, usually due to lack of sleep from the night before- in this case next to none. And the impending stress of getting in and setting up and getting settled etc. Weather did brighten up though and had a nice walk around the site with Rosa, pretty sure the weather was fine for the rest of the day. Got really drunk then met up with the Plumstead boys in the evening I think. The homebrew had been tested and I gave it a resounding thumbs up, later though people were telling me it gave them frequent visits to the long drops. I get absolutely blind drunk, blow a score on food and have a vague memory of wondering away from Northern Al at the stone circle and being guided back to the camp site by the other half and Heide. Apparently my Bob Dylan renditions, sung in the style of the man himself went down a treat.
Woke up on Thursday morning to the sound of rain, fell back asleep, woke up again and it was still raining, only this time even heavier then before. I can’t sleep so I watch The Other Half and Heide sleep for an unsettling amount of time. But can’t help be entertained by some of Josh’s hand and mouth movements whilst he slumbers. From what I can remember the weather turned out to be really nice, and the view of the festival from our campsite was absolutely beautiful. We spend most of the time sitting around the campsite pouring booze down our thirsty throats and contemplate actually leaving for a bit of food. Me and Sarah then split to have a look at Shangri-la and catch a cool Danish, Bulkan, Punk band called Tako Lako. A lovely start to the weekends proceedings. Evening had then settled and it was soon time for Bangface, the mud was thick and squelchy but not acting as a problem. But before any of this we head over to the stone circle dressed as robots for the robot invasion organized by Liam and Ian, it's an absolute resounding success, with about 50 robots at its peek, some of which had put an incredible amount of effort. There was even generations of families there, grandparents, kids and grandkids. A nice start to the evening. So night falls and I neck a pill then very shortly spew it back up again, unfortunately it was half digested and cant be salvaged from the bile, I then quickly lose the effects, but stay to watch a damn fine Teknoist set, then bugger off to go watch Hobo With a Shotgun at the cinema tent, and mange to catch up with Dave along the way. Came out of the film with a great sense of satisfaction as it were the bollocks. At this time I have settled into the festival and get that tranquil sense of comfort that I am at Glastonbury and everything is fine.
It’s Friday and the festival has officially started, the forecast says it’s due to piss it down. No fear though we all have waterproofs. First act of the weekend is Emmy the Great, who I have seen more times then other artist at that particular festival. I was dubious at first about putting a folk act on in a dance tent which already has a reputation for having dreadful sound, unfortunately my reservations are correct and the first half of her set is marred by absolutely shocking sound levels, she manages to salvage a fair set though, even though it’s her older stuff that is the best performed. Me and Heide split to Shangri-la to catch Molotov Jukebox, although I get the times wrong and we end up there an hour early-it’s raining by this point I might add. I am cheered up immensely by the site of 2 barely dressed birds dancing on their own in this one particular field to a pretty good Dub DJ, me and Heide grab a drink, then set off for a little wonder until Molotov come on. Have a glance at Bloc 9 and confirm how impressed I am by it- A to scale sized council estate block with a London Underground Tube sticking out the top of it. Molotov Jukebox open to 4 people, us 2 and the 2 birds who were already there. “Hello nearly nobody” says the gorgeous Natalia Tena. Before then proceeding with a spicy set which made us forget about the rain, and made passers by stop and have a boogie to.
Don’t remember much of the rest of the day, although we find out that Radiohead have been confirmed as the special guests for the Park stage, and myself, The other half, Heide, Kush & Ness all head over at an attempt to relive the magic set that the half of them did last year. Unfortunately this wasn’t to be, an overwhelming amount of people meant we stood at the back, loitering. We count our loses and head over to the Other Stage to await the mighty Primal Scream, but catch a bloody impressive Mumford and Sons set. I reflect back to 4 years ago watching them for free at the Macbeth, and remind everyone several times that I liked them before they were famous, the site of thousands of people dancing and dosey-doing in the mud and rain fils me with an unbelievable festival spirit, and I can’t help but sing and dance along to ‘The Cave’. I scoff half a bag of mushrooms and shove a pill up my arse. The 5 of us get a nice spot for Primal Scream. It starts raining heavily. Primal Scream blow us all away with a performance that included the masterpiece album Screamadelica followed by 3 classics. Primal Scream prove yet again that even after 25 years of racking out records, it’s experience they perform with live instead of age. Bobby Gillepsie also proves he is one of the best front men around and that the best Rock n Roll band of the festival are headlining the Other Stage instead of the Pyramid. Loaded and Come Together prove to be the best songs of the whole set.
I lose the others during a trip to the toilets, after standing around looking like a lost child for around 15 minutes, I munch off the rest of my evenings dose of liberty caps and make for the Strummervile stage alone.
On the way I catch a whiff of an exotic sound coming from the Greenpeace stage, it is ofcourse the lovely Molotov Jukebox again, with an almost entirely different set. I gain some sort of sexual gratification from Natalia thrusting with a accordion, then carry on my adventure in the pissing rain, cup of tea in hand. It is now that I get one of my most simple of magic moments. At the time I found the ridiculously long one way system was down to my perception of time and distance being totally bent. However I walk through the rain alone with my head up with a sense of complete content. My head is completely clear and my thoughts are positive and creative. It is by far the most peaceful I have ever felt within myself for a very long time and one of the very few times that I am pleased with my own company, I find the whole experience incredibly therapeutic and cant take the smile from my face as I continue with my Friday night. I arrive in Shangri-la and poke my head into Club DADA to see that the Correspondents are tearing the place apart as per usual. But I trot on over to the Strummervile campfire, where Beans on Toast is off his head and serenading us with festival classics. His 2 new tunes prove that his song writing skills are developing more as he gains age, and ends with a beautiful low tempo version of ‘This Side of The Fence’. It’s the only time I catch the most charismatic performer on the festival circuit. I poke my head into Bez’s Acid House, but can’t help but run in for a massive stomp. It’s by this point I notice that my moves are the best in the house, and end up spending an hour throwing shapes to some phat Acid House. Another quick whiskey and I head back for some much deserved rest, not before finding Tom ‘the nonse’ back at the Torquay campsite and grab a cup of tea before bed.
Saturday comes! The day when I chuck the rule book out and get as busted as I can physically muster. Usually with an abundance of Psychedelics and booze, this year is no acception. Myself, my 2 tent mates, as well as Sarah and Sam started with a lovely cider session, where we roamed the greenfields, making penises out of clay, generally acting like the beautiful drunken bastards that we are. A quick nip back to the tent to pick up supplies followed by a trip to the Dance village to see Dreadzone, the effects of the acid we necked a few hours ago is failing to show its face so I neck another pill and by this point and I’m very drunk. Sarah and me then leave an incredibly drunk Heide in the capable hands of The Other Half and make our way to see golden oldies Pentangle. It’s nice to finally see them, but the acoustic tent has this habit of being just a little bit too quiet sometimes. We grab a beer and stick around for Nick Lowe, who I have recently fell in love with. And for no use of a better word he is ‘nice’ to the full extent of the definition. Pure professional easy listening, delivered with warming charm. We leave after half an hour unfortunately to catch Mumford and Son’s do a set at the Strummerville. I get a call from Ian asking whether I saw Pulp do the special guest set at the Park, this pisses me off not because I missed Pulp, but made me wonder that if the organisers could book two acts like Radiohead and Pulp, why not just get them to headline? Instead of putting Coldplay and fucking Beyonce on top of the bill, and having 30,000 people re-enact the Hillsborough disaster on a tiny stage. But anyway along the way I compliment Sarah on her fast paced determination to get through a festival. Mumford are running late, we hit a few shots of tequila, bump into Bez, wait for a little longer but then split to catch Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry. We arrive at the Glade stage a little early, and they are playing dub step, but it takes us about a minute to remember that the Chemical Brothers are playing just meters away. We catch the last 20 minutes of a hench set that makes me dance myself into the mud. Then over to an incredibly impressive ‘Scratch’ Perry, where I discover that I am probably the best dancer on the whole farm, and that the whole of the Glade stage is full of the finest hardboddies that Glastonbury has to offer, so much so it nearly distracts me from the excellent set.
I head back to the tent to wake up Heide, and then the other half quickly joins us where we make an attempt to catch Shoplifting for Jesus at the Strummerville stage. Although the one way system had other ideas and we was herded like cattle around for over an hour, which led me to the conclusion that the festival may benefit from reducing it’s capacity, but it doesn’t matter though, im coming up on a pill and remind The other half and Heide how much I love them, and how lucky Hedie is to be sharing a tent with the two of us. We arrive at Shangri-la in full swing; Shy-FX & the Ragga Twins supplying the tunes, incredible lazers and visuals on the walls of the place, atmosphere in full Saturday night Glastonbury mode, couldn’t help but turn to Heide and announce how absolutely blown away I was by the whole effort put into the place. A reoccurring feeling that I get every year from that area and makes me remember why I pay 200 quid for the pleasure of going. The rest of the evening consists of us dicking around and soaking up the atmosphere, pop into the Acid House to see Larry Love on stage MC’ing, although listening to him shouting ‘ACCCIIIDDDDD’ over a Dub step tune is quite disturbing so we leave. I have my cool moment of the festival, when asked what I would like to drink ‘Lagar or Cider?’ my reply is ‘I’ll have a whiskey actually. Straight, no ice.’ To which a random bystander compliments me with a hearty ‘respect!’. I feel like I could go home happy. The evening ends as the sun rises, and I tell Josh that we would do our naked walk Sunday night, a decision that even at the time I knew would be fatal. We get to bed, suck a few balloons and have a cuddle before passing out.
Get woken up on the Sunday by the beating hot sun, so much so that my attire consists of just my satin shorts, but also means that it’s perfect weather for a bit of bare foot action, although i notice that my left ankle has swollen to almost twice the size of my right, although i feel no pain, i get the impression its going to hurt next week. I don’t have many plans for the day, get as drunk as humanly possible, see Paul Simon, and then catch the Streets later on. Not before a starter at the Glade for Cassette boy followed by The Correspondents. Cassette boy are their usual entertaining selves, then The Correspondents wow an absolutely rammed Glade stage, which leaves me to think that my predictions of them teetering on the edge of greatness may very well happen before the end of the summer. I stick a pair of shoes on and smack a robe over my already burning shoulders, get caught short at the campsite and end up using a piss bottle, only to find that my piss is the colour of a malt whiskey. 'I haven't drunk any water in nearly 48 hours' I think. I then make an attempt to get into the Leftfield tent but it’s too rammed, so we decide to stop by the Brothers tent to load up, then make our way over to Paul Simon, which is my first and only trip to the Pyramid stage all weekend. The set is a nice summers afternoon set, a lot of lying down nodding our heads, before having a bit of a dance to ‘You Can Call Me Al’ other then that a few recognisable Graceland tracks. Nothing that rivals previous ‘Legends slots’ such as Ray Davies and Tom Jones the year previous to that. I’m almost entirely out of cash and getting pretty burnt and agitated in the afternoon heat. I head back to the tent to wake Heide and The other half up but they aint having none of it. So I snort a line of K and wait for Rosa so we can go see the Streets. The sound isn’t amazing for them, but there is a nice mix of old and new material and Mike Skinners pulls off a good one man show. They don’t pull of a blinder by any sense of the imagination, and it’s easy to tell that their time as an act is coming to an end very soon. A sign of the times and nothing lasts forever.
I split from Rosa and head off to Croissant Neuf stage to catch the Sunday night headliner-Neville Staple. An incredible set from an incredible performer, 60 odd years old and still skanking around on stage pulling out all the hits. An ideal way to finish a damn fine festival, I catch up with Rosa, Ian, the Nonse and Pritchard. We stroll around the after hours areas until my knee can’t take it anymore. I pop a valium and head back to the camp site. I realize that I have missed the opportunity to walk around Glastonbury naked, but I wouldn’t say the festival has bee a failure by any sense of the imagination.
The next day we end up leaving with more booze then we came in and I get my hands on a lovely pair of Timberland boots. We go home.
Overall a festival for the archives, the rain and mud helped the atmosphere I thought- separated the lightweights from the ravers. The lineup was fantastic with minimal clashes, my comrades who I served with were their usual amazing selves and without sounding too much like a poof I enjoyed a sense of moderation to my festival, and for once the following week I didn't end up suffering from any mental breakdown like i usually do, but instead had to deal with physical aftermath of wading around in thick mud off my head, and walking around in the blazing sun in just a pair of satin shorts. But I have to say even though this one has made its way into my top 5, I am looking forward to the break next year, for financial, phsyical and tolernce reasons more then anything, But I know by June i'll be having withdrawals.
See you in 2013 I suppose.
Sunday 24 April 2011
Last year I wrote a blog about the end of my teenage years, which to my surprise had people who I didn’t knew even read this thing come up to me and tell me that they enjoyed it. So leading up to my last big birthday before they get depressing (21) I thought I’d do a blog on some of my mates. To be quite honest 20 was a bit of a nothing age for me, but I have realized recently that it is a year to reflect and discover what kind of person I really am, and I say that with the least lamest intentions possible.
But anyway on assessing what type of person I am I have come to the conclusion that I am very much a bloke; My religion is football, I enjoy binge drinking, vote Labour, watch hardcore porn, my favorite authors are Nick Hornby and Brett Easton Ellis, my favorite actors are Paddy Consindine and Ray Winstone, favorite bands are Oasis, The Smiths and The Specials and my favorite songwriters are Morrissey and Neil Young, I have a flutter now and then and do enjoy the casual bit of drugs… If you put all that information into a search engine the first link will be ‘BLOKE’ which to be quite honest is a label I am quite happy with. I’m quite happy with the person that I’ve become, a few issues to deal with and several areas that need improving; I make excuses to buy booze, I pretty much give several bookmakers my money every weekend, I’m emotionally crippled and so very, very lazy, I’m knocking 21 and I’ve never had a proper bird, I’m far too angry for how easy I’ve got it and I really should take life a little more seriously then I already do. I could potentially be so much more then I am, but then again a lot of us have that issue init?
I have also recently conceded that the world is fucked and will end very soon. All the signs point to it, the planet is getting hotter, the world is getting over populated, and the oil is running out, economies are shrinking; the rainforest is failing at an alarming rate, there are bombs in the hands of idiots, and many different countries are plummeting into madness, also money is controlling absolutely everything. I have absolutely no faith for the future and I struggle to find any reason why I would possibly want to bring a child into this world to deal with the mess that my generation will eventually leave them to clean up, even if there is a world left at all.
But through my first 21 years on the planet I have been truly blessed with the discovery of some noticeably incredible people, 4 of which I would like to give a special shout out to. Now there are obviously several of my friends who don’t need mentioning in a blog to know how much I appreciate their patience with me; I live with one of them, I married another, he then ran off with another favorite person who was also my bridesmaids (which I found strangely pleasing), several down in Surrey who I don’t see as often as I like, a life long one who I really miss but I will let her dick around at university for now and I’m sure we will pick up from where we left off in a year or two, and then there’s that other guy who I met in a toilet, who gives me the feeling that know matter what happens we are going to be on this ride together for the whole way. There also the ones who stuck with me through them school years who I really don’t see as much as I should. Then there have been the inevitable friends that I have had to wave goodbye to, the ones from college that I spent many happy memories with, and the friends I have lost over things as petty as women and money, and to the rest who know who they are. And at the risk of sounding gay I would like to give a special shout out to four blokes who I have more of an admiration and respect for then simply a friendship with.
4 blokes with at least 10 years experience on me, and with this they have taught me a lot in their own particular way. I ‘spose I shall start with who I met first and that was of course Ian, who I met at the first Bangface weekender. He ploughed out of his room at 11 o’clock on a Saturday morning, said hello to everyone, then proceeded to make mojito’s for himself and everyone in the chalet for breakfast, there was around 8 of us in the chalet, so one for each person and 8 for himself. By the end of the weekend I had already given him the name ‘topshelf’ Ian. One of the main strengths I see in Ian is his attention to detail, precise organization and a constant touch of class. Take last years Glastonbury for example, on the lead up I was looking for a printers to print me a Bangface flag but none of them replied, Ian just whipped one up the night before, then when we got there I lost my wallet whilst walking around in the car park, I was awoken in the morning to Ian knocking on the car window waving my wallet in front of me, even on the way back he stayed awake in the car whilst I was nodding off at the wheel, got us to pull over and baught me a relentless and a sausage roll. This is just a short list of little acts of genius that make the geezer up. Even last year I was given the great honor of being invited to his wedding with his equally amazing wife Rosa, even then when I was supposed to head from the reception back to a hostel I was staying in, he chucked me the key to the spare room at the hotel they was staying in. He’s a true milkman of human kindness as well as a walking cocktail bar and at times evil genius.
The second in my list of outstanding contributors goes to a geezer who I always used to bump into at the toilets of the Electrowerkz, but then would get to know better through many after parties in Woodford, I am of course referring to the aptly named Big Scottish Dave. Purposely built for both partying and destruction, a chat in a pub with Dave is like having a conversation with a talking encyclopedia, anything from music to politics, activism, physics and history, Dave has enough knowledge of it to keep you drawn in for hours. However all this is eclipsed by the geezers casual acts of human decency. When me and Jem was moving house he took a day out to drive the van and help us get all of our stuff from each of our houses. The organizer of our Bangface chalet, supplier of booze and nos and never short of a laugh, he even cycled to and from Glastonbury from London. A journey I would never even dream of attempting. I’d imagine if I was ever to climb up a mountain Dave would probably carry me the last 10,000 feet and I’d probably end up doing it quicker. He tea bagged me once on my Birthday and the picture has become folklore. I retaliated at Glastonbury and pictures exist, but out of respect for the geezer the people who need to see have seen it, and I dont think it even exists anymore.... Unfortunatley
This then leads me onto the one and only James ‘Jean Simmons’ who I technically first met whilst in a K-hole in the casualty corner of the Electrowerkz but first properly met at around the same time I met Dave. Another machine built purposely for partying. The man who usually supplies the party treats and at times is also the most organized-disorganized person I know. You’re at a party and you need a particular lead or adapter for a lead, he’ll have it. You ever fancy a line, drop, bomb or smoke of something, he’ll sort you out. A well-spoken, artistic genius who has over the years introduced and recommended me endless amounts of books, music and films. I’ve ended up at many after parties with the geezer, and traveled the country attending many raves with him. He’s also been the director of many great trip movies I have had, and never fails at great hosting when we go on a pilgrimage down to his home in Portsmouth for a do. He’ll hate me for saying this, but James is a true English eccentric in every sense.
Finally there is Alan, the other half of another one of my favorite people (Dominick). I first met Alan at the Electrowerkz (appears to be a pattern emerging here) whilst thanks to Jean, I was grooving on one of the most mental trips I have ever experienced. At first I didn’t realise he was Dom’s fella and ended up being quite embarrassed of the bumbling incoherent mess I was. Alan has a bit of an Ian complex to him, they are quite similar in how constantly organized and quietly assertive they both are. Just like the 3 other blokes Alan enjoys his partying and never fails to generously supply the goods and I do often tease Alan on being such a classy bastard. A damn fine producer of music and bursting with general great ideas, I am actually quite chuffed Dom introduced me to such a gent and also like Ian, Alan has proved to me the rewards that come with hard work. All for of the blokes actually share similar traits. All genuinely modest in their talents, all incredibly selfless, all would go out of their way to complete a favor for someone, all 4 of them in their own rights are unsung genius’, and all 4 of them I hope to have some similarity to when I reach their stage in life. The four of them are examples of Gods different concept ideas, not necessarily meant for mass production but just examples of what the human race is capable of.
So there’s my tribute to 4 of the examples of my special select of people that I’ve been lucky enough to test the patience of. As for the rest of my mates… I’ve met quite a number of people in my 21 years in life, a lot of them are alright, most of them are dicks and I have had to trawl through a lot of shit to find the people I would consider a chosen family now. I sometimes even worry that I’m pushing my luck and often try to avoid having them question why they would possibly want to be associated with me just incase they end up buggering off. So despite my skepticism about the sinking ship that is the world I am pleased I’ve got a perfect crew to go down with. And I’m sure that when the apocalypse eventually comes, we will all be dancing in some field not giving a fuck about the impending doom that awaits us.
I do have plenty of goals to achieve now I have reached this stage in life. There are degrees to earn, careers to start, loves to discover, moments to get lost in, countries to travel to, instruments to master, languages to learn, friendships to form and a life to live. The best is yet to come really. But whatever happens I’m pretty sure it’s going to be one hell of a joy ride. So whether you’re with me all the way for it, or if our paths fork off somewhere along the way, enjoy yourself and if your buying mines a Guinness thanks.
But anyway on assessing what type of person I am I have come to the conclusion that I am very much a bloke; My religion is football, I enjoy binge drinking, vote Labour, watch hardcore porn, my favorite authors are Nick Hornby and Brett Easton Ellis, my favorite actors are Paddy Consindine and Ray Winstone, favorite bands are Oasis, The Smiths and The Specials and my favorite songwriters are Morrissey and Neil Young, I have a flutter now and then and do enjoy the casual bit of drugs… If you put all that information into a search engine the first link will be ‘BLOKE’ which to be quite honest is a label I am quite happy with. I’m quite happy with the person that I’ve become, a few issues to deal with and several areas that need improving; I make excuses to buy booze, I pretty much give several bookmakers my money every weekend, I’m emotionally crippled and so very, very lazy, I’m knocking 21 and I’ve never had a proper bird, I’m far too angry for how easy I’ve got it and I really should take life a little more seriously then I already do. I could potentially be so much more then I am, but then again a lot of us have that issue init?
I have also recently conceded that the world is fucked and will end very soon. All the signs point to it, the planet is getting hotter, the world is getting over populated, and the oil is running out, economies are shrinking; the rainforest is failing at an alarming rate, there are bombs in the hands of idiots, and many different countries are plummeting into madness, also money is controlling absolutely everything. I have absolutely no faith for the future and I struggle to find any reason why I would possibly want to bring a child into this world to deal with the mess that my generation will eventually leave them to clean up, even if there is a world left at all.
But through my first 21 years on the planet I have been truly blessed with the discovery of some noticeably incredible people, 4 of which I would like to give a special shout out to. Now there are obviously several of my friends who don’t need mentioning in a blog to know how much I appreciate their patience with me; I live with one of them, I married another, he then ran off with another favorite person who was also my bridesmaids (which I found strangely pleasing), several down in Surrey who I don’t see as often as I like, a life long one who I really miss but I will let her dick around at university for now and I’m sure we will pick up from where we left off in a year or two, and then there’s that other guy who I met in a toilet, who gives me the feeling that know matter what happens we are going to be on this ride together for the whole way. There also the ones who stuck with me through them school years who I really don’t see as much as I should. Then there have been the inevitable friends that I have had to wave goodbye to, the ones from college that I spent many happy memories with, and the friends I have lost over things as petty as women and money, and to the rest who know who they are. And at the risk of sounding gay I would like to give a special shout out to four blokes who I have more of an admiration and respect for then simply a friendship with.
4 blokes with at least 10 years experience on me, and with this they have taught me a lot in their own particular way. I ‘spose I shall start with who I met first and that was of course Ian, who I met at the first Bangface weekender. He ploughed out of his room at 11 o’clock on a Saturday morning, said hello to everyone, then proceeded to make mojito’s for himself and everyone in the chalet for breakfast, there was around 8 of us in the chalet, so one for each person and 8 for himself. By the end of the weekend I had already given him the name ‘topshelf’ Ian. One of the main strengths I see in Ian is his attention to detail, precise organization and a constant touch of class. Take last years Glastonbury for example, on the lead up I was looking for a printers to print me a Bangface flag but none of them replied, Ian just whipped one up the night before, then when we got there I lost my wallet whilst walking around in the car park, I was awoken in the morning to Ian knocking on the car window waving my wallet in front of me, even on the way back he stayed awake in the car whilst I was nodding off at the wheel, got us to pull over and baught me a relentless and a sausage roll. This is just a short list of little acts of genius that make the geezer up. Even last year I was given the great honor of being invited to his wedding with his equally amazing wife Rosa, even then when I was supposed to head from the reception back to a hostel I was staying in, he chucked me the key to the spare room at the hotel they was staying in. He’s a true milkman of human kindness as well as a walking cocktail bar and at times evil genius.
The second in my list of outstanding contributors goes to a geezer who I always used to bump into at the toilets of the Electrowerkz, but then would get to know better through many after parties in Woodford, I am of course referring to the aptly named Big Scottish Dave. Purposely built for both partying and destruction, a chat in a pub with Dave is like having a conversation with a talking encyclopedia, anything from music to politics, activism, physics and history, Dave has enough knowledge of it to keep you drawn in for hours. However all this is eclipsed by the geezers casual acts of human decency. When me and Jem was moving house he took a day out to drive the van and help us get all of our stuff from each of our houses. The organizer of our Bangface chalet, supplier of booze and nos and never short of a laugh, he even cycled to and from Glastonbury from London. A journey I would never even dream of attempting. I’d imagine if I was ever to climb up a mountain Dave would probably carry me the last 10,000 feet and I’d probably end up doing it quicker. He tea bagged me once on my Birthday and the picture has become folklore. I retaliated at Glastonbury and pictures exist, but out of respect for the geezer the people who need to see have seen it, and I dont think it even exists anymore.... Unfortunatley
This then leads me onto the one and only James ‘Jean Simmons’ who I technically first met whilst in a K-hole in the casualty corner of the Electrowerkz but first properly met at around the same time I met Dave. Another machine built purposely for partying. The man who usually supplies the party treats and at times is also the most organized-disorganized person I know. You’re at a party and you need a particular lead or adapter for a lead, he’ll have it. You ever fancy a line, drop, bomb or smoke of something, he’ll sort you out. A well-spoken, artistic genius who has over the years introduced and recommended me endless amounts of books, music and films. I’ve ended up at many after parties with the geezer, and traveled the country attending many raves with him. He’s also been the director of many great trip movies I have had, and never fails at great hosting when we go on a pilgrimage down to his home in Portsmouth for a do. He’ll hate me for saying this, but James is a true English eccentric in every sense.
Finally there is Alan, the other half of another one of my favorite people (Dominick). I first met Alan at the Electrowerkz (appears to be a pattern emerging here) whilst thanks to Jean, I was grooving on one of the most mental trips I have ever experienced. At first I didn’t realise he was Dom’s fella and ended up being quite embarrassed of the bumbling incoherent mess I was. Alan has a bit of an Ian complex to him, they are quite similar in how constantly organized and quietly assertive they both are. Just like the 3 other blokes Alan enjoys his partying and never fails to generously supply the goods and I do often tease Alan on being such a classy bastard. A damn fine producer of music and bursting with general great ideas, I am actually quite chuffed Dom introduced me to such a gent and also like Ian, Alan has proved to me the rewards that come with hard work. All for of the blokes actually share similar traits. All genuinely modest in their talents, all incredibly selfless, all would go out of their way to complete a favor for someone, all 4 of them in their own rights are unsung genius’, and all 4 of them I hope to have some similarity to when I reach their stage in life. The four of them are examples of Gods different concept ideas, not necessarily meant for mass production but just examples of what the human race is capable of.
So there’s my tribute to 4 of the examples of my special select of people that I’ve been lucky enough to test the patience of. As for the rest of my mates… I’ve met quite a number of people in my 21 years in life, a lot of them are alright, most of them are dicks and I have had to trawl through a lot of shit to find the people I would consider a chosen family now. I sometimes even worry that I’m pushing my luck and often try to avoid having them question why they would possibly want to be associated with me just incase they end up buggering off. So despite my skepticism about the sinking ship that is the world I am pleased I’ve got a perfect crew to go down with. And I’m sure that when the apocalypse eventually comes, we will all be dancing in some field not giving a fuck about the impending doom that awaits us.
I do have plenty of goals to achieve now I have reached this stage in life. There are degrees to earn, careers to start, loves to discover, moments to get lost in, countries to travel to, instruments to master, languages to learn, friendships to form and a life to live. The best is yet to come really. But whatever happens I’m pretty sure it’s going to be one hell of a joy ride. So whether you’re with me all the way for it, or if our paths fork off somewhere along the way, enjoy yourself and if your buying mines a Guinness thanks.
Saturday 5 March 2011
An ode to a motor
Today I sold the Pussy Wagon for scrap. A day that has been inevitable for the past few months, mainly down to the faltering engine, screaming fan belt, and clonky control which have made it a choir to drive. I remember when I first bought the beast, 400 quid off a geezer in Streatham with the money I got from a tax rebate. A little Citreon AX with an abnormally high bite point on the clutch, a flickery indicator and a reverse gear that just wouldn’t stick into place, needless to say I fell in love straight away.
Now a lot of people always ask “pfft, why is it called The Pussy Wagon?” this is mainly for 2 reasons, one of which can be traced back to its first road trip, a ride down to Brighton for the Regime at The Volks, I left the keys with Lewis and Emily whilst I went into the club, when the night had finished I was walking back to the car and saw the 2 of them shagging in the back seat. I stood there and watched for a bit, chuckled to myself, then went and disrupted them before I became aroused and the whole situation got weird. Then the second was my then good friend Anna and her girlfriend, whilst picking them up from Victoria station one night, (one of the many taxi jobs I did in that car) and whilst driving them back to Kings Cross the two of them started going at it on the back seat. There was no nudity or full on sex but it was close enough to confirm that the car certainly made the birds wet. Lewis has now been in a relationship with Emily for a couple of years now thanks to that night and I don’t talk to Anna anymore thanks to her bird being a bitch, but I wish them both the best. I myself never had sex on that back seat, but I did once bowl round Epsom Downs one summer afternoon whilst receiving oral sex, probably the most dangerous drive I ever did.
Many of my favorite memories in that car have been trips to festivals, one trip down to Camber Sands for the Bangface weekender I gave Nanja a lift who had traveled all the way from Holland, she said it was the best trip to a festival she’s had, and the motors best ever performance was when I drove Jem and Ian down to Glastonbury, busting down the A303 at no less then 90MPH the whole way and doing Hammersmith to Glastonbury in 2 and a half hours. The trip to Secret Garden Party was the only time the Wagon ever broke down on me. A hole in the pipe that connects the radiator to the water tank formed a whole and I had to get the AA out, a fee that I never paid and as a result has got me black listed from the AA. My most favorite journey in that car was also the longest one, that I also did on my own. A 4 and half hour trip to Torquay for Ian and Rosa’ wedding, A beautiful summers evening, ploughing down the 303 nearly crashing every 10 minutes because I was so distracted by the countryside, whilst listening to Dreadzone albums.
Apart from that minor annoyance of a break down, until recently the only other pain in the arse I was ever given whilst driving was a flat tire on the way back from Portsmouth one weekend. I could only pull over on a bend, which proved to be extremely dangerous, especially when 16 wheelers were having to dodge us. When the Motorway maintenance people showed up, they escorted us onto the hard shoulder, on my way there on the bend I pulled over into the outside lane and an oncoming Range Rover very nearly took me and the Wagon out, but fait had other ideas. The motorway maintenance people were dicks, but I wont give them the pleasure of being talked about.
I did have some lucky moments in that motor, one in particular was when me and Lauren went to the pub one night, then on the way back to hers pulled over on the downs to smoke a spliff, on the way back I did my usual speed of 40 but unfortunately an unmarked filth car was behind us and reminded me that the speed was 30. I was breathalysd and despite my 3 pints of Guinness and bottle of Becks just an hour earlier I was somehow under half the limit. Even on inspection of the car, which had empty nos canisters, roach ends and half empty booze bottles in (due to a trip to Glade the weekend before) I was still let off with just a warning.
They say you always remember your first car as your best one. I think they are right, despite the horrible performance, broken boot, horrible steering which made a 3 point turn feel like turning in a tank, knackered speakers that would peak horrible, a car radio that was increasingly getting worse by the day and scratches and dents all up the side, most of which caused by other cars on me. It never failed to start on them frozen mornings, and got everybody to every destination safely and soundly. The Wagons last road trip was a successful one to Bristol, but even then it was showing signs of wear as it drained the petrol at an alarming rate. From London to Brighton, Portsmouth, Bristol, Wales, Glastonbury, Reading, Torquay, Salisbury or Northampton, every journey I can remember being bliss. My next motor may be a better performer but it will never have the same character and will never have the privilege of the title of Pussy Wagon. I brought that car with 53,000 miles on the clock, I left it after just under 2 years of service with 68,000 on it.
R.I.P
The Pussy Wagon
1995-2011
Now a lot of people always ask “pfft, why is it called The Pussy Wagon?” this is mainly for 2 reasons, one of which can be traced back to its first road trip, a ride down to Brighton for the Regime at The Volks, I left the keys with Lewis and Emily whilst I went into the club, when the night had finished I was walking back to the car and saw the 2 of them shagging in the back seat. I stood there and watched for a bit, chuckled to myself, then went and disrupted them before I became aroused and the whole situation got weird. Then the second was my then good friend Anna and her girlfriend, whilst picking them up from Victoria station one night, (one of the many taxi jobs I did in that car) and whilst driving them back to Kings Cross the two of them started going at it on the back seat. There was no nudity or full on sex but it was close enough to confirm that the car certainly made the birds wet. Lewis has now been in a relationship with Emily for a couple of years now thanks to that night and I don’t talk to Anna anymore thanks to her bird being a bitch, but I wish them both the best. I myself never had sex on that back seat, but I did once bowl round Epsom Downs one summer afternoon whilst receiving oral sex, probably the most dangerous drive I ever did.
Many of my favorite memories in that car have been trips to festivals, one trip down to Camber Sands for the Bangface weekender I gave Nanja a lift who had traveled all the way from Holland, she said it was the best trip to a festival she’s had, and the motors best ever performance was when I drove Jem and Ian down to Glastonbury, busting down the A303 at no less then 90MPH the whole way and doing Hammersmith to Glastonbury in 2 and a half hours. The trip to Secret Garden Party was the only time the Wagon ever broke down on me. A hole in the pipe that connects the radiator to the water tank formed a whole and I had to get the AA out, a fee that I never paid and as a result has got me black listed from the AA. My most favorite journey in that car was also the longest one, that I also did on my own. A 4 and half hour trip to Torquay for Ian and Rosa’ wedding, A beautiful summers evening, ploughing down the 303 nearly crashing every 10 minutes because I was so distracted by the countryside, whilst listening to Dreadzone albums.
Apart from that minor annoyance of a break down, until recently the only other pain in the arse I was ever given whilst driving was a flat tire on the way back from Portsmouth one weekend. I could only pull over on a bend, which proved to be extremely dangerous, especially when 16 wheelers were having to dodge us. When the Motorway maintenance people showed up, they escorted us onto the hard shoulder, on my way there on the bend I pulled over into the outside lane and an oncoming Range Rover very nearly took me and the Wagon out, but fait had other ideas. The motorway maintenance people were dicks, but I wont give them the pleasure of being talked about.
I did have some lucky moments in that motor, one in particular was when me and Lauren went to the pub one night, then on the way back to hers pulled over on the downs to smoke a spliff, on the way back I did my usual speed of 40 but unfortunately an unmarked filth car was behind us and reminded me that the speed was 30. I was breathalysd and despite my 3 pints of Guinness and bottle of Becks just an hour earlier I was somehow under half the limit. Even on inspection of the car, which had empty nos canisters, roach ends and half empty booze bottles in (due to a trip to Glade the weekend before) I was still let off with just a warning.
They say you always remember your first car as your best one. I think they are right, despite the horrible performance, broken boot, horrible steering which made a 3 point turn feel like turning in a tank, knackered speakers that would peak horrible, a car radio that was increasingly getting worse by the day and scratches and dents all up the side, most of which caused by other cars on me. It never failed to start on them frozen mornings, and got everybody to every destination safely and soundly. The Wagons last road trip was a successful one to Bristol, but even then it was showing signs of wear as it drained the petrol at an alarming rate. From London to Brighton, Portsmouth, Bristol, Wales, Glastonbury, Reading, Torquay, Salisbury or Northampton, every journey I can remember being bliss. My next motor may be a better performer but it will never have the same character and will never have the privilege of the title of Pussy Wagon. I brought that car with 53,000 miles on the clock, I left it after just under 2 years of service with 68,000 on it.
R.I.P
The Pussy Wagon
1995-2011
Sunday 23 January 2011
Part 3: Festivals, Present day and Conclusion
Shortly after my first Bangface, I was already looking forward to attending my first Glastonbury festival. Having already opened my eyes to excessive drug use, new music and social interaction over the past couple of months I was understandably very, very excited. For those of you who went to Glastonbury in 2007 you’ll know that from early Friday afternoon (when I arrived) all the way to Monday, it rained constantly turning the whole site into a quagmire. I didn’t so much mind this, I thought that it wouldn’t be a proper first Glastonbury if there wasn’t a bit of mud and treated the whole scenario as a baptism of fire. I remember the lineup that year being what mainly drew me in. One of the main memories I have of the weekend include waiting for ages for Arcade fire to start and strategically buying 2 pints of lagar to save having to leave the crowd to get another one ofcourse. However after slugging back the 2 pints and the band were just coming on, nature called and since I had just stood through one set of an act that was awful and had secured myself I really sweet spot, I decided that in the spirit of things I should just piss myself, and in doing so filled my boots and warmed my feet up quite nicely. After an absolutely awesome Arcade Fire set I decided to go on a Friday night stroll having a look at all the headliners since I couldn’t decide which one to choose from, I don’t think there will be many opportunities to see the Arctic Monkeys, Damian Marley and Bjork all in the space of a couple of hours of each other. Later on that night at a mates campsite I emptied my piss filled boots over his spot and said it was water… The following evening was qually as eye opening. I stood at the G-stage just to watch Bong-ra and ended up staying for Shitmat, Scotch Egg and Noisia all of which I hadn’t heard of before but was blown away by them all, I then ducked out to go see the Killers who I quite liked at the time. This was also the night however that I was to experiment with LSD for the first time, leaving me curious to venture further down the rabbit hole of the human consciousness. The following day I remember seeing Shirley Bassey, The Manic Street Preachers and The Who. The whole weekend was an eye opener, I’d fallen in love but didn’t realize how strong the love would be, and from that weekend on I was officially addicted to festivals.
Looking back on that first ever festival, I would of done it again completely differently. I focused too much on the music and getting wasted that I nearly missed the true sense of festivals. Over the next couple of years I was to learn the true description of a great festival. The following year I went to Glastonbury on my own, a strange experience which I’m glad I’ve done, I had some great memories and saw some amazing sets (Kings of Leon on the Friday, Elbow, Hot Chip and a truly memorable Massive Attack set on the Saturday) But the whole time whilst walking around and talking to people I couldn’t help thinking that although I was having a good time I really wanted my mates to be there with me to. But this was the weekend I discovered Beans On Toast, who is now one of my favorite artists.
Now its going to be a bit tricky to give all my festival highligts because I will literally be here all day, I suppose if I could give a brief run down I shall say that Glastonbury, although not without its flaws (size, price, dwindling music policy) is the best festival to go to in this country. It embodies everything festivals are to deliver. It transports you to another world for a week, a whole years worth of organization for just 5 days, the effort, the art, the unlimited options of things to do, the diversity of the music and sheer epicness of it all. Glastonbury has also been the setting for some of the best live sets I’ve ever seen; Blur, Bon Iver, Massive Attack, Christy Moore, The Who. And even for people who I wouldn’t usually go see play at all Tom Jones, Shirley Bassey, Rolf Harris, Bjork, Ray Davies.
To get anywhere close to something of the standard of Glastonbury you have to go to small or medium sized festivals for a similar vibe and organization. Secret Garden Party is nice, like the all the little parts of Glastonbury you spend most of your time seeing condensed into one site. A beautiful location, a truly friendly and divers crowd, and the music policy is quite quaint as well (a lot of gypsy-step, folk and traditional festival favorites to keep me entertained). Also despite the whole festival being a Bedales and Italia Conte student’s wet dream, it fails to be pretentious at all, I also had another highlight from Beans On Toast there, who performed 3 times one of which being one of the best live sets I’ve ever seen from someone. Then there’s Glade, which is always a lovely intimate affair. A pure mix of brilliant tunes, fun times with the chosen family and hefty hedonism, An offshoot from Glastonbury’s Glade stage, I’d consider it the Electronic equivalent to the mother of festivals itself. It’s had a few issues these recent years, but will be back this year just as good as ever I should imagine. Then of course there is a new lovely little festival discovered last year called Boomtown fair. A tiny little 3,000-person community, filled with a top dollar Ska, Punk and Reggae lineup including Nevile Staple and Toots and the Maytals. A short affair that only really kicks off on the Saturday, but lovely and intimate and only 60 quid! Then of course there is the ‘commercial’ festivals… I went to Reading to see Radiohead one year, I have always resented Reading, mainly from school days were it seemed that all the wankers in my year would all seem to go, and any other twat at a party or a night out seemed to be going. I always had this image of it being filled with students away from mummy and daddy for a weekend, celebrating their exam results… I was right. As soon as I walked through the gates onto the campsite someone kicked a bottle at me then laughed, other items chucked in my direction over that day included toothpaste, food and cups of what was probably piss, at a friends campsite I listened in disgust as the congregation bragged about how he spat in a girls hair who walked passed, and how later on that night they was all going to deliberately anti-social. I dropped a tab of acid which luckily wasn’t that strong otherwise I would of spent my entire time there pissed off and incredibly aggy. However despite being surrounded by fools there was 2 moments of beauty. I dropped my wallet with EVERYTHING in it, and a couple chased me up the path to give it back to me, and then when I lost my phone the geezer ran through the phone book trying to contact people so he could give it back. I rung the phone and met up with the geezer who said “be careful in future man the next person might not be so nice” Unfortunatley I had no beer and no spliff to give him so just gave him a cuddle and ‘nice one mate’, all this whilst the whole campsite was setting fire to each others tents and acting like animals, it showed that there is still some sign of decency even at the shit festivals. Radiohead were amazing and I got to meet Frank Turner which was nice. However having an arena and campsite area split, booze restrictions, average sound, a location which is literally just a field next to Reading town centre, horrible people and mainly horrible NME style music, makes Reading easily the worst festival I’ve ever been to. No diversity, no atmosphere, no effort. Melvin Benn is the Alan Shugar of festivals.
When ask why I love festivals so much I sometimes fail to project all the emotion behind my reasoning. For one it’s the sheer Englishness of it all… Camping out in the unpredictable, British elements, getting leathered in a field, listening to music is something that even our ancestors in medieval times can relate to. America can’t do it properly, and Europe lack the amount that we hold. But a more in-depth reason behind my love for them is that in this cold, loveless and unfair world we live in I find comfort and sanctuary in escaping to the great British countryside for a weekend, to sleep with the elements and live in small sectioned off communities with genuinely lovely people from all different backgrounds and countries, listening to amazing music, testing my bodies limits to how much alcohol my my liver can filter and how many drugs my brain will allow me to play with, in an environment where there aren’t really any boundaries or laws. I often get humor from people getting caught at the gates at festivals with enough drugs to put them away for 12 years, and escape with confiscation and a slap on the wrist. I can forget entirely about the real world and truly be myself in this little bubble protected by a 12-foot fence. There’s always that poignant moment on the Monday’s when I arrive back in London, seeing people talking on mobiles, people rushing to work and reading newspapers reporting on all the fucked up stuff that nobody really wants to talk or think about, and I say to myself “It shouldn’t be like this”. I’ll bring my kids up at festivals when the time comes to it. Teach them how to use the Diablo’s and the devil sticks, and show them the importance of community, music, art and human decency in society which are all vital lessons to learn in this unforgiving world we live in.
I suppose now I shall have to touch on the present day… the whole reason I started to attempt this mammoth entry was that I was so inspired by the return of Godspeed You! Black Emperor that I thought I’d reflect. However its been the past 12-18 months where I have truly used live music to its full effects. My knowledge of genres which I first discovered when I started to go to gigs I have built on and seen my heroes. In folk I have gone one to see Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, , Frank Turner and Beans on Toast several times. I even consider Beans on Toast to be the most influential musicians of modern days. Acts which I assured myself I would see before I’d die of before they split up; The Pogues, Primal Scream, Leftfield, Alabama 3, Christy Moore, and of course Godspeed… All were exceptionally amazing gigs, also my regular attendance at such venues like the Jamm and the Hootenanny keep helping me discover amazing new bands such as The Correspondents, Molotov Jukebox, Ta mere and Lazy Habits. To the new rave nights which have gained more popularity since the demise of Bangface. Earblender giving us the Gabber, Breakcore and Happy Hardcore, Jungle Syndicate giving us the Jungle and ALAN giving us the atmosphere it once had. But also a special thanks to Heidie who shares my flair for live music, and gave me a new passion for searching for new bands… All cracking evenings spent in good company and without her I would still be that bloke standing in the corner on his own, because all of his mates were busy tonight and couldn’t come with him. Thanks for taking the time to hang out with me.
Now for the point… If there is actually a point, why do I spend most of my time and money on tickets to events of live music? Many of the reasons I think I’ve already explained, I suppose I should probably give a list of some of the best live acts I’ve seen… But it’s impossible, and doesn’t matter anyway, through all of the gigs I’ve been to and all the festivals I’ve attended even if the act playing has been awful I have still felt something. In real life I am a bit of an emotional cripple who doesn’t express his feelings to anyone, but there have been moments where I have cried in a huge group of people, felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, or totally forgotten everything I was worried about, or felt a love for the people, even strangers around me so strong I just couldn’t help but give them a hug. It’s the moments like that when I actually feel quite happy to exist that makes it all worthwhile.
Looking back on that first ever festival, I would of done it again completely differently. I focused too much on the music and getting wasted that I nearly missed the true sense of festivals. Over the next couple of years I was to learn the true description of a great festival. The following year I went to Glastonbury on my own, a strange experience which I’m glad I’ve done, I had some great memories and saw some amazing sets (Kings of Leon on the Friday, Elbow, Hot Chip and a truly memorable Massive Attack set on the Saturday) But the whole time whilst walking around and talking to people I couldn’t help thinking that although I was having a good time I really wanted my mates to be there with me to. But this was the weekend I discovered Beans On Toast, who is now one of my favorite artists.
Now its going to be a bit tricky to give all my festival highligts because I will literally be here all day, I suppose if I could give a brief run down I shall say that Glastonbury, although not without its flaws (size, price, dwindling music policy) is the best festival to go to in this country. It embodies everything festivals are to deliver. It transports you to another world for a week, a whole years worth of organization for just 5 days, the effort, the art, the unlimited options of things to do, the diversity of the music and sheer epicness of it all. Glastonbury has also been the setting for some of the best live sets I’ve ever seen; Blur, Bon Iver, Massive Attack, Christy Moore, The Who. And even for people who I wouldn’t usually go see play at all Tom Jones, Shirley Bassey, Rolf Harris, Bjork, Ray Davies.
To get anywhere close to something of the standard of Glastonbury you have to go to small or medium sized festivals for a similar vibe and organization. Secret Garden Party is nice, like the all the little parts of Glastonbury you spend most of your time seeing condensed into one site. A beautiful location, a truly friendly and divers crowd, and the music policy is quite quaint as well (a lot of gypsy-step, folk and traditional festival favorites to keep me entertained). Also despite the whole festival being a Bedales and Italia Conte student’s wet dream, it fails to be pretentious at all, I also had another highlight from Beans On Toast there, who performed 3 times one of which being one of the best live sets I’ve ever seen from someone. Then there’s Glade, which is always a lovely intimate affair. A pure mix of brilliant tunes, fun times with the chosen family and hefty hedonism, An offshoot from Glastonbury’s Glade stage, I’d consider it the Electronic equivalent to the mother of festivals itself. It’s had a few issues these recent years, but will be back this year just as good as ever I should imagine. Then of course there is a new lovely little festival discovered last year called Boomtown fair. A tiny little 3,000-person community, filled with a top dollar Ska, Punk and Reggae lineup including Nevile Staple and Toots and the Maytals. A short affair that only really kicks off on the Saturday, but lovely and intimate and only 60 quid! Then of course there is the ‘commercial’ festivals… I went to Reading to see Radiohead one year, I have always resented Reading, mainly from school days were it seemed that all the wankers in my year would all seem to go, and any other twat at a party or a night out seemed to be going. I always had this image of it being filled with students away from mummy and daddy for a weekend, celebrating their exam results… I was right. As soon as I walked through the gates onto the campsite someone kicked a bottle at me then laughed, other items chucked in my direction over that day included toothpaste, food and cups of what was probably piss, at a friends campsite I listened in disgust as the congregation bragged about how he spat in a girls hair who walked passed, and how later on that night they was all going to deliberately anti-social. I dropped a tab of acid which luckily wasn’t that strong otherwise I would of spent my entire time there pissed off and incredibly aggy. However despite being surrounded by fools there was 2 moments of beauty. I dropped my wallet with EVERYTHING in it, and a couple chased me up the path to give it back to me, and then when I lost my phone the geezer ran through the phone book trying to contact people so he could give it back. I rung the phone and met up with the geezer who said “be careful in future man the next person might not be so nice” Unfortunatley I had no beer and no spliff to give him so just gave him a cuddle and ‘nice one mate’, all this whilst the whole campsite was setting fire to each others tents and acting like animals, it showed that there is still some sign of decency even at the shit festivals. Radiohead were amazing and I got to meet Frank Turner which was nice. However having an arena and campsite area split, booze restrictions, average sound, a location which is literally just a field next to Reading town centre, horrible people and mainly horrible NME style music, makes Reading easily the worst festival I’ve ever been to. No diversity, no atmosphere, no effort. Melvin Benn is the Alan Shugar of festivals.
When ask why I love festivals so much I sometimes fail to project all the emotion behind my reasoning. For one it’s the sheer Englishness of it all… Camping out in the unpredictable, British elements, getting leathered in a field, listening to music is something that even our ancestors in medieval times can relate to. America can’t do it properly, and Europe lack the amount that we hold. But a more in-depth reason behind my love for them is that in this cold, loveless and unfair world we live in I find comfort and sanctuary in escaping to the great British countryside for a weekend, to sleep with the elements and live in small sectioned off communities with genuinely lovely people from all different backgrounds and countries, listening to amazing music, testing my bodies limits to how much alcohol my my liver can filter and how many drugs my brain will allow me to play with, in an environment where there aren’t really any boundaries or laws. I often get humor from people getting caught at the gates at festivals with enough drugs to put them away for 12 years, and escape with confiscation and a slap on the wrist. I can forget entirely about the real world and truly be myself in this little bubble protected by a 12-foot fence. There’s always that poignant moment on the Monday’s when I arrive back in London, seeing people talking on mobiles, people rushing to work and reading newspapers reporting on all the fucked up stuff that nobody really wants to talk or think about, and I say to myself “It shouldn’t be like this”. I’ll bring my kids up at festivals when the time comes to it. Teach them how to use the Diablo’s and the devil sticks, and show them the importance of community, music, art and human decency in society which are all vital lessons to learn in this unforgiving world we live in.
I suppose now I shall have to touch on the present day… the whole reason I started to attempt this mammoth entry was that I was so inspired by the return of Godspeed You! Black Emperor that I thought I’d reflect. However its been the past 12-18 months where I have truly used live music to its full effects. My knowledge of genres which I first discovered when I started to go to gigs I have built on and seen my heroes. In folk I have gone one to see Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, , Frank Turner and Beans on Toast several times. I even consider Beans on Toast to be the most influential musicians of modern days. Acts which I assured myself I would see before I’d die of before they split up; The Pogues, Primal Scream, Leftfield, Alabama 3, Christy Moore, and of course Godspeed… All were exceptionally amazing gigs, also my regular attendance at such venues like the Jamm and the Hootenanny keep helping me discover amazing new bands such as The Correspondents, Molotov Jukebox, Ta mere and Lazy Habits. To the new rave nights which have gained more popularity since the demise of Bangface. Earblender giving us the Gabber, Breakcore and Happy Hardcore, Jungle Syndicate giving us the Jungle and ALAN giving us the atmosphere it once had. But also a special thanks to Heidie who shares my flair for live music, and gave me a new passion for searching for new bands… All cracking evenings spent in good company and without her I would still be that bloke standing in the corner on his own, because all of his mates were busy tonight and couldn’t come with him. Thanks for taking the time to hang out with me.
Now for the point… If there is actually a point, why do I spend most of my time and money on tickets to events of live music? Many of the reasons I think I’ve already explained, I suppose I should probably give a list of some of the best live acts I’ve seen… But it’s impossible, and doesn’t matter anyway, through all of the gigs I’ve been to and all the festivals I’ve attended even if the act playing has been awful I have still felt something. In real life I am a bit of an emotional cripple who doesn’t express his feelings to anyone, but there have been moments where I have cried in a huge group of people, felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, or totally forgotten everything I was worried about, or felt a love for the people, even strangers around me so strong I just couldn’t help but give them a hug. It’s the moments like that when I actually feel quite happy to exist that makes it all worthwhile.
Friday 21 January 2011
Part 2: Folk to Rave
One night whilst lying in bed and living out the ritual of reading whatever book I was on at the time and listening to John Kennedy’s ‘Xposure’ show on XFM, a radio show which has had a profound effect on my listening and the gigs I have gone to. I’ll talk about that in the next paragraph, but I’ll carry on with the story for now… this particular evening on the live sessions was a London based lady of a bout 21 years at the time called Emmy the Great, and the first song she performed was a poignant yet beautiful tune called ‘Edward is Dedward’. I honestly think that this was the first time I’d properly listened to folk music and it sure weren’t the last. When I explored more into this London based music scene. Or “anti folk’ as it was properly, but not officially know. I never really liked the name because it had an elitist sentiment to it. Being that it wasn’t meant to be considered folk at all. But it had acoustic guitars and fiddles, and all the songs were stories so I can’t see how it couldn’t be considered folk.
Ah yea I’d like now to take a bit of time to give an over due thanks to the outspoken John Kennedy. Since I was discovering ‘alternative’ music post John Peel and pre Myspace (or atleast I wasn’t aware of finding music via this medium yet) John Kennedy was the music guru that was to help shape my music tastes. The Xposure show even to this present day is on Xfm at 10-2 on weekdays and like John Peel, or Mark Lamarr, John Kennedy will play anything of any genre he is given, providing it isn’t usually played during peek hours. It has been the catalyst for my music tastes and some of the artists and bands I heard for the first time include: Frank Turner, Bon Iver, Dan Le Sac Vs Scroobius Pip, Florence and the machine, Mumford and Sons, Noah and the Whale, Joanna Newsom Jeremy Warlmsley, Willy Mason, The Teenagers, Laura Marling and even bands that I wasn’t particularly fond of like Foals, The Maccabee’s and Crystal Castles, aswell as endless amounts of great punk, electronica and digital hardcore. His nights at the Barfly were a monthly thing for me, and he was a lovely bloke who always took time to have a chat.
That’s the ode done with now back to the gigs. After the revelation of hearing a new genre I took it upon myself to go out and see it live. Unfortunatley though, none of my friends really liked it that much and I had to go to most of the gigs on my own, (My mate B however joined me for a few gigs) There was a few crackers that stand out for me. One particular being Noah and The Whale’ single launch at The Enterprise in Camden, with Laura Marling and King Charles as support, now I don’t know if any of you have ever been to The Enterprise, but your bedroom is probably bigger, so it was bloody packed, it was also the gig that made me lose a lot of respect for Laura Marling. After the gig I went to do my usual courtesy of saying ‘nice one’ to the band, but instead of a thank you back, I got a dirty look, to which I replied ‘charming’ which was met with a ‘fuck off’ reply. Laura you make some pretty nice tunes, but you’re a total bitch. One thing I found funny about that gig is that almost exactly a year later, Noah and The Whale, re-released that single and held a free gig at the much larger Roundhouse across the road.
Now you may be wondering why I keep mentioning Emmy the Great but don’t explain why she is so amazing, so here are some reasons… I used to chat to her online through the medium of Myspace (remember that thing) just about what gigs she’s playing and general music stuff, and then when I first saw her live at the Ben and Jerries festival after her set she took the time to come and have a chat with me and stuff, the same with all her other gigs as well. Even after her debut album came out and she got all-famous and that, toured round the world a couple of times and was probably able to quit her day job, she still recognized me and took the time to have a proper chat. But it was an invite to her E.P launch at The Macbeth that was to seal her as a proclaimed Queen of folk. She managed to put together a superb lineup which included Noah and the Whale, Mumford and Sons, Lightspeed Champion, Stars of Sunday League, Florence and the Machine (when her act involved her and a man with a guitar) and Slow Club, aswell as herself of course, there was also cake and E.P handouts, all for free! I look back at that lineup and wonder what the price of it would be today as pretty much the majority of it have gone on to be superstars.
I thoroughly enjoyed my time knocking around at folk gigs. It was all so very traditional, getting pissed in intimate venues with all the names on the bill, sitting on the floor whilst watching people perform, friendly and genuinely interesting people, classy birds and some truly inspiring music. There were very few downsides to it; sometimes the venues were too small, and I found people talking through some of the lesser-known acts really rude. It’s a shame that I now have to pay about 30 quid if I want to see these acts again, however Emmy still remains modest and is currently running a pledge scheme to release her new album off, which involves fans being able to pay a bit of money to fund the new album in return for signed albums, postcards and opportunities to be in the new video, and even a living room gig. It don’t get much Indie then that. These days however I am one of them ‘I liked ‘em before they were famous’ wankers, which I think is down to a lot of the bands having their albums get the studio treatment and lose its original rustic feel… However I think I may also just be a wanker.
On June 12th 2007 I think it was, I went to the Electrowerkz on recommendation from a geezer named Tree, that I got talking to there a month earlier “You should come to the Bangface nights here, if you like this you’ll love them”. At the time I didn’t think much of it, I didn’t know it, but that night was to be the night that I fell in love with raving. The loud repetitive music, the endless smiling, welcoming faces in the crowd, the drugs, the individuality of the people, the fact that anyone had the chance to get up there and play tracks to a roaring crowd, the sheer fuck offness of it all. I finally found what I was looking for in a music community. I remember me and Lauren taking our first great pill at The Mass and as a typicial 17 year old pill honeymooner would do, went round hugging everybody telling them that we loved them. Although it wasn’t until the following April that I was to consecrate my marriage with rave culture and electronic music, when the two of us went to the Bangface Weekender….
As my 18th birthday approached I was given a couple of options by my parents over what they’d get me for it. One being that they’d front the money for me and 3 or 4 mates from college to go to Amsterdam for a weekend, or they’d front the money for me and a friend to go to the Bangface weekender, looking back on it I’m quite glad I chose the latter. I found us a chalet space off the Gladtalk forum, and on pure faith hope it would all go through without a hitch. One of the main memories I have of that festival was me and Lauren both coming up off whatever pills it was we had boshed, walking through the chalets taking in the atmosphere and Lauren turned to me and said “this could be the best weekend of our lives” as hokey and gay as it sounds it actually was, and when I get nostalgic about that weekend, I think back and wonder what type of person I’d be today if I hadn’t of gone to that festival. I owe a lot to the culture for shaping me as I am, before I discovered the environment of taking drugs like ecstasy and speed and socilising with people I’d never met before, I was a social cripple who lived the lifestyle of a typical Smiths fan. Stuck in my bedroom not talking to anyone, partaking in nothing social at all (apart from the laughs that me and my old school mates would have). Infact I thought about who my friends were the other day, and I have to say that over 90% of them I have met through either Bangface or other kinds of raves, one of which I’m currently living with, and many of them I couldn’t imagine what life would be like if I weren’t mates with ‘em. All of this I owe to a geezer named Tree. Although its Bangface which I owe my main thanks to, the mash pits, the stupid signs and inflatables, the social melting pot, the epic line ups, the mash pits and to being able to literaly be carried across the dance floor is what made Bangface the best live music experience I've ever had, yea these days it may be 'commercially diluted' and Hidden is a bit of a shit venue, and all your mates dont go any more but I'll still call them nights out the best nights of my life.
I suppose I should fill part of this in with the greatest rave I’ve ever been to (apart from the weekender) had to be the massive ‘sofa-tek’, ‘squatwars’, ‘skumtek’ whatever you like to call it party back in September time I think it was, around 3 years ago now. I remember leaving work on Saturday evening and fancied a rave, so called the Every1sound party line as I religiously did back then. And was greeted by the message of “Tonight is going to be a big one, we have 30 rigs, a huge building…. This one is not to be missed” so obviously after hearing this I gathered up what friends I could and we was on our way. Over an hour of traveling to Acton via bus (which was filled with party goers, a ritual I always enjoy about finding parties) and the building just happened to be the BBC props building, but we didn’t know this at the time. Through the labyrinth of sofa’s, washing machines, lawnmowers and beds, there was a rigs beyond every twist and turn playing tunes from DJ’s from all over the country. Ofcourse to celebrate the situation I ploughed myself with a ludicrous amount of stimulants and wondered around for seemingly ages. I remember one of the main rooms which was from memory about the size of 2 football pitches (but I was tripping) and it had the Every1Sound rig occupying it in all its glory, looked a bit like the Berlin wall. In this room was also a huge pile of books which Lewis commented on the time “was photography” on the pile of books was people passed out, couples embracing, wasted people flicking through them, a few people collecting them… And then it happened, one of the Liberator brothers was on the decks and was playing that Dawn Penn track that everybody knows, this created a momentum of people swaying and singing along, then a huge drop into a heavy techno drum loop sent everybody into a dance frenzy, also prior to this Lewis had just heroically skinned a 12 inch joint which we took to the dance floor, and shared with everybody… it was the rave equivalent of a religious experience. When we left that party I said to the door man “best one yet” to which his reply was “plenty more better to come mate” unfortunately he was wrong, and whilst walking away from what was the best rave I would ever attend, someone through a microwave out a window. Lovely.
As it goes raving has been my favorite pass time in my short life, the friends I’ve made, the places its sent me, the music and the lifestyle have all made me who I am today. They were and still are the best days of my life, I think I’ll stop when I finished, but I know there will be that time when the 808’s and 303’s wont be the friends they used to be and to be quite honest I wont mind.
Ah yea I’d like now to take a bit of time to give an over due thanks to the outspoken John Kennedy. Since I was discovering ‘alternative’ music post John Peel and pre Myspace (or atleast I wasn’t aware of finding music via this medium yet) John Kennedy was the music guru that was to help shape my music tastes. The Xposure show even to this present day is on Xfm at 10-2 on weekdays and like John Peel, or Mark Lamarr, John Kennedy will play anything of any genre he is given, providing it isn’t usually played during peek hours. It has been the catalyst for my music tastes and some of the artists and bands I heard for the first time include: Frank Turner, Bon Iver, Dan Le Sac Vs Scroobius Pip, Florence and the machine, Mumford and Sons, Noah and the Whale, Joanna Newsom Jeremy Warlmsley, Willy Mason, The Teenagers, Laura Marling and even bands that I wasn’t particularly fond of like Foals, The Maccabee’s and Crystal Castles, aswell as endless amounts of great punk, electronica and digital hardcore. His nights at the Barfly were a monthly thing for me, and he was a lovely bloke who always took time to have a chat.
That’s the ode done with now back to the gigs. After the revelation of hearing a new genre I took it upon myself to go out and see it live. Unfortunatley though, none of my friends really liked it that much and I had to go to most of the gigs on my own, (My mate B however joined me for a few gigs) There was a few crackers that stand out for me. One particular being Noah and The Whale’ single launch at The Enterprise in Camden, with Laura Marling and King Charles as support, now I don’t know if any of you have ever been to The Enterprise, but your bedroom is probably bigger, so it was bloody packed, it was also the gig that made me lose a lot of respect for Laura Marling. After the gig I went to do my usual courtesy of saying ‘nice one’ to the band, but instead of a thank you back, I got a dirty look, to which I replied ‘charming’ which was met with a ‘fuck off’ reply. Laura you make some pretty nice tunes, but you’re a total bitch. One thing I found funny about that gig is that almost exactly a year later, Noah and The Whale, re-released that single and held a free gig at the much larger Roundhouse across the road.
Now you may be wondering why I keep mentioning Emmy the Great but don’t explain why she is so amazing, so here are some reasons… I used to chat to her online through the medium of Myspace (remember that thing) just about what gigs she’s playing and general music stuff, and then when I first saw her live at the Ben and Jerries festival after her set she took the time to come and have a chat with me and stuff, the same with all her other gigs as well. Even after her debut album came out and she got all-famous and that, toured round the world a couple of times and was probably able to quit her day job, she still recognized me and took the time to have a proper chat. But it was an invite to her E.P launch at The Macbeth that was to seal her as a proclaimed Queen of folk. She managed to put together a superb lineup which included Noah and the Whale, Mumford and Sons, Lightspeed Champion, Stars of Sunday League, Florence and the Machine (when her act involved her and a man with a guitar) and Slow Club, aswell as herself of course, there was also cake and E.P handouts, all for free! I look back at that lineup and wonder what the price of it would be today as pretty much the majority of it have gone on to be superstars.
I thoroughly enjoyed my time knocking around at folk gigs. It was all so very traditional, getting pissed in intimate venues with all the names on the bill, sitting on the floor whilst watching people perform, friendly and genuinely interesting people, classy birds and some truly inspiring music. There were very few downsides to it; sometimes the venues were too small, and I found people talking through some of the lesser-known acts really rude. It’s a shame that I now have to pay about 30 quid if I want to see these acts again, however Emmy still remains modest and is currently running a pledge scheme to release her new album off, which involves fans being able to pay a bit of money to fund the new album in return for signed albums, postcards and opportunities to be in the new video, and even a living room gig. It don’t get much Indie then that. These days however I am one of them ‘I liked ‘em before they were famous’ wankers, which I think is down to a lot of the bands having their albums get the studio treatment and lose its original rustic feel… However I think I may also just be a wanker.
On June 12th 2007 I think it was, I went to the Electrowerkz on recommendation from a geezer named Tree, that I got talking to there a month earlier “You should come to the Bangface nights here, if you like this you’ll love them”. At the time I didn’t think much of it, I didn’t know it, but that night was to be the night that I fell in love with raving. The loud repetitive music, the endless smiling, welcoming faces in the crowd, the drugs, the individuality of the people, the fact that anyone had the chance to get up there and play tracks to a roaring crowd, the sheer fuck offness of it all. I finally found what I was looking for in a music community. I remember me and Lauren taking our first great pill at The Mass and as a typicial 17 year old pill honeymooner would do, went round hugging everybody telling them that we loved them. Although it wasn’t until the following April that I was to consecrate my marriage with rave culture and electronic music, when the two of us went to the Bangface Weekender….
As my 18th birthday approached I was given a couple of options by my parents over what they’d get me for it. One being that they’d front the money for me and 3 or 4 mates from college to go to Amsterdam for a weekend, or they’d front the money for me and a friend to go to the Bangface weekender, looking back on it I’m quite glad I chose the latter. I found us a chalet space off the Gladtalk forum, and on pure faith hope it would all go through without a hitch. One of the main memories I have of that festival was me and Lauren both coming up off whatever pills it was we had boshed, walking through the chalets taking in the atmosphere and Lauren turned to me and said “this could be the best weekend of our lives” as hokey and gay as it sounds it actually was, and when I get nostalgic about that weekend, I think back and wonder what type of person I’d be today if I hadn’t of gone to that festival. I owe a lot to the culture for shaping me as I am, before I discovered the environment of taking drugs like ecstasy and speed and socilising with people I’d never met before, I was a social cripple who lived the lifestyle of a typical Smiths fan. Stuck in my bedroom not talking to anyone, partaking in nothing social at all (apart from the laughs that me and my old school mates would have). Infact I thought about who my friends were the other day, and I have to say that over 90% of them I have met through either Bangface or other kinds of raves, one of which I’m currently living with, and many of them I couldn’t imagine what life would be like if I weren’t mates with ‘em. All of this I owe to a geezer named Tree. Although its Bangface which I owe my main thanks to, the mash pits, the stupid signs and inflatables, the social melting pot, the epic line ups, the mash pits and to being able to literaly be carried across the dance floor is what made Bangface the best live music experience I've ever had, yea these days it may be 'commercially diluted' and Hidden is a bit of a shit venue, and all your mates dont go any more but I'll still call them nights out the best nights of my life.
I suppose I should fill part of this in with the greatest rave I’ve ever been to (apart from the weekender) had to be the massive ‘sofa-tek’, ‘squatwars’, ‘skumtek’ whatever you like to call it party back in September time I think it was, around 3 years ago now. I remember leaving work on Saturday evening and fancied a rave, so called the Every1sound party line as I religiously did back then. And was greeted by the message of “Tonight is going to be a big one, we have 30 rigs, a huge building…. This one is not to be missed” so obviously after hearing this I gathered up what friends I could and we was on our way. Over an hour of traveling to Acton via bus (which was filled with party goers, a ritual I always enjoy about finding parties) and the building just happened to be the BBC props building, but we didn’t know this at the time. Through the labyrinth of sofa’s, washing machines, lawnmowers and beds, there was a rigs beyond every twist and turn playing tunes from DJ’s from all over the country. Ofcourse to celebrate the situation I ploughed myself with a ludicrous amount of stimulants and wondered around for seemingly ages. I remember one of the main rooms which was from memory about the size of 2 football pitches (but I was tripping) and it had the Every1Sound rig occupying it in all its glory, looked a bit like the Berlin wall. In this room was also a huge pile of books which Lewis commented on the time “was photography” on the pile of books was people passed out, couples embracing, wasted people flicking through them, a few people collecting them… And then it happened, one of the Liberator brothers was on the decks and was playing that Dawn Penn track that everybody knows, this created a momentum of people swaying and singing along, then a huge drop into a heavy techno drum loop sent everybody into a dance frenzy, also prior to this Lewis had just heroically skinned a 12 inch joint which we took to the dance floor, and shared with everybody… it was the rave equivalent of a religious experience. When we left that party I said to the door man “best one yet” to which his reply was “plenty more better to come mate” unfortunately he was wrong, and whilst walking away from what was the best rave I would ever attend, someone through a microwave out a window. Lovely.
As it goes raving has been my favorite pass time in my short life, the friends I’ve made, the places its sent me, the music and the lifestyle have all made me who I am today. They were and still are the best days of my life, I think I’ll stop when I finished, but I know there will be that time when the 808’s and 303’s wont be the friends they used to be and to be quite honest I wont mind.
Wednesday 22 December 2010
Live Music and Me (Part 1)
From Indie to Screamo
This blog is a lot later then planned, a refreshing coctail of being really busy with important things and not having access to the internet has cocked up the timing, I would also like to warn that this first part is a bit ropey and all memories aren’t 100% accurate.
Back at around about May earlier this year All Tomorrows parties announced that Godspeed You! Black Emperor were to reform and curate one of the tenth anniversary festivals, with a statement saying that they would also announce UK tour dates. Then on the week of Glastonbury, I got an email from a website which I put my email address on 7 years ago when I first heard their music with tour dates and ticket news, and forked out 60 quid for a couple in a heart beat. As this gig approaches I have realised this is the first band that I can remember splitting, then having to wait for them to reform to have a chance of catching them live. Which then made me think about my life through live music and my attitude, and love and devotion to music. Through the different social scenes it lead me, the venues I got drunk in and the people I met along the way. This will probably take a while so I’ve taken the liberty of knocking it into several parts. This is my best attempt at a memoir, from The Zutons to Godspeed…
For Christmas 2002 me and my friend Lauren both got tickets to see the Zutons at the Brixton academy for the 23rd of March. At the time my knowledge of music wasn’t vast, my favourite band was as it still is now Oasis and that’s about all I remember. I remember a few weeks before the gig avidly researching the Zutons music and enjoying most of it and when it came to the big day I was quite excited for my first gig. I remember my mum giving us a lift to the Brixton academy, I remember me and Lauren sitting down watching the supports before heading in when the band came on. It was with this set that I suppose I then fell in love with live music. The electric atmosphere, the people jumping around, I also think it was my first experience with people taking drugs around me. After this gig I was hooked. I went home and got on to buying tickets for my next gig, which was to be a band I was quite fond of at the time, who happened to be the Kaiser Chiefs. I bagged a couple of tickets for 20 quid and it was for the now late Astoria. Again I kept having my passion for live music enhanced. A more intimate venue, at the time I found the Kaiser Chiefs to be a very exciting new band. Which I suppose they were considering their now success, despite what my view of them now would be. I’d caught a bug by this point and every bit of pocket money I earned I would save up, and spend it on a ticket to see one of my favourite bands play live. It was also by this point that I had first heard The Libertines and The Strokes, and the whole idea of Indie Rock seemed really good. Solid guitar rifts and cool vocals seemed to me the most flawless kind of music that was around, but it wasn’t until July the following year that I would then attend a landmark gig, which was to be seeing my favourite band Oasis, play at the Southampton Rose Bowl on July the 6th. I remember it being even to this day, the most violent gig I’ve ever been to. Football terrace crowd in a live music atmosphere and the beer was 50p a pint (unfortunately at this age I had no interest in drinking) and considering that 80% of the crowd was male, you could expect that fights were breaking out absolutely everywhere, even to the point where during the gig Noel addressed the crowd by saying “any of you chaved up cunts want to fight, focking take it outside and do it”. There was also many incidents involving Liam slagging off Pete Doherty for Babyshambles not showing up to for their support act. A member of the crowd had an inflatable penis to which Liam shouted “Ah good to see that focking cunt Pete Doherty showed up” After this gig there wasn’t a lot left in the way of milestone events, a Babyshambles gig here and there, a Kasabian gig here, an exciting night out at the XFM Winterwonderland at the Brixton Academy until one Saturday afternoon I was sitting in my room playing a bit of Playstation, listening to my Saturday afternoons intake of radio which XFM used to supply so well, Ricky Gervais and Karl Pilkington, followed by Adam and Joe, followed by Justin Lee Collins (which is what I was listening to) when he played ‘I bet you look good on the dance floor’ by a young band called the Arctic Monkeys, I remember at the time thinking it was one of the best track I had ever heard and instantly became addicted to a bunch of young lads from Sheffield. They were the Oasis of my generation, I paid through the nose to see them on their first full UK tour, bloody good gig it was aswell,. But it was with this love of this band, which was to be the downfall and the start of my disillusion to the entire Indie Rock scene, I had a good opinion of it at first and to be fair I don’t exactly hate it now. The style was cool, the birds were tasty and the people who followed it were more or less really nice. But it was the lack of progression in the music and the plummeting quality of the new bands that diverted my interest. The Arctic Monkeys second album wasn’t that good and by this time I was well acquainted with The Smiths, Manic Street Preachers, The Stone Roses and Radiohead. Whilst the radio was ploughing out shit like Calvin Harris, The Kooks, The Fratelise, It was when a new sub genre called ‘Nu-Rave’ emerged that delivered the final nail in the coffin for my relationship with popular music and when the Klaxons won the Mercury music prize I finally turned my radio off and went looking for music through other means…
As a recap I’d say that by the age of 16 I would have listed my top 5 bands as Oasis, Radiohead, The Smiths, Pulp and The Manic Street Preachers. A long summer had finished and I had just started at college, where I was to become good friends with a geezer called Matt, it was with this geezer that I was to attend my first screamo/metal gig. It was at the Dome in Finsbury park, a small pub venue which didn’t I.D at the bar and had just one security guy. It was an interesting experience I can’t remember much of, however one thing that did keep my attention and that was the energy that the crowd possessed. I have always been a fan of using gigs to blow off steam and go mental and these gigs helped me do that. I was never particularly a fan of the music as such. It all sounded the same to me. Really fast guitar rift and vocals that literally sounded like someone growling, but I suppose that was the point. Anyway for about 8 months all I ever went to was metal and screamo gigs, mainly because that’s were all my mates went and it was always fun to get really pissed and punch a scene kid in the face. A few gigs stood out for me, Suicide Silence at the Underworld, Job for a Cowboy at the Mean Fiddler and many visits to The Peel and The Dome for the unsigned acts. There was however a few flaws with the whole scene, the people seemed very elitist. Their music tastes rarely excelled anything but metal, they were all so immature and if you had long hair, a tattoo and/or a huge plug in your ear you would probably get laid by the unattractive and mostly horrible women on offer. There was no love between the audience, always bitching, constant relationship problems and the respect pecking order came down to how many Myspace friends you had and how old you were… It was also the only music scene were I never met a fellow football fan. I quickly got bored of the whole scene even though at the time I had a lot of fun, the ‘2-step’ dance was one of my favriotes to do at gigs even though I never properly mastered it and being the only person who actually stood out at the gigs was a guilty pleasure. I remember one night in particular I was getting funny looks whilst wearing my huge parker, trackies, a pair of blue tinted sunglasses, swaggering around the Meanfiddler smoking cigs and pretending to be Liam Gallagher. I never shagged a scene girl, looking back on it though I’m not too bothered.
Whilst swinging my arms around, pissed out my head was all good fun I needed something more from live music then I was achieving with screamo, and then one night whilst lying in bed reading and listening to the Xposure show on XFM I listened to a live session with a lovely folk singer called Emmy the Great, I didn’t know it at the time but I was about to become a huge fan of the London Anti-folk scene and got a chance to rub shoulders with artists that are now topping the charts….
This blog is a lot later then planned, a refreshing coctail of being really busy with important things and not having access to the internet has cocked up the timing, I would also like to warn that this first part is a bit ropey and all memories aren’t 100% accurate.
Back at around about May earlier this year All Tomorrows parties announced that Godspeed You! Black Emperor were to reform and curate one of the tenth anniversary festivals, with a statement saying that they would also announce UK tour dates. Then on the week of Glastonbury, I got an email from a website which I put my email address on 7 years ago when I first heard their music with tour dates and ticket news, and forked out 60 quid for a couple in a heart beat. As this gig approaches I have realised this is the first band that I can remember splitting, then having to wait for them to reform to have a chance of catching them live. Which then made me think about my life through live music and my attitude, and love and devotion to music. Through the different social scenes it lead me, the venues I got drunk in and the people I met along the way. This will probably take a while so I’ve taken the liberty of knocking it into several parts. This is my best attempt at a memoir, from The Zutons to Godspeed…
For Christmas 2002 me and my friend Lauren both got tickets to see the Zutons at the Brixton academy for the 23rd of March. At the time my knowledge of music wasn’t vast, my favourite band was as it still is now Oasis and that’s about all I remember. I remember a few weeks before the gig avidly researching the Zutons music and enjoying most of it and when it came to the big day I was quite excited for my first gig. I remember my mum giving us a lift to the Brixton academy, I remember me and Lauren sitting down watching the supports before heading in when the band came on. It was with this set that I suppose I then fell in love with live music. The electric atmosphere, the people jumping around, I also think it was my first experience with people taking drugs around me. After this gig I was hooked. I went home and got on to buying tickets for my next gig, which was to be a band I was quite fond of at the time, who happened to be the Kaiser Chiefs. I bagged a couple of tickets for 20 quid and it was for the now late Astoria. Again I kept having my passion for live music enhanced. A more intimate venue, at the time I found the Kaiser Chiefs to be a very exciting new band. Which I suppose they were considering their now success, despite what my view of them now would be. I’d caught a bug by this point and every bit of pocket money I earned I would save up, and spend it on a ticket to see one of my favourite bands play live. It was also by this point that I had first heard The Libertines and The Strokes, and the whole idea of Indie Rock seemed really good. Solid guitar rifts and cool vocals seemed to me the most flawless kind of music that was around, but it wasn’t until July the following year that I would then attend a landmark gig, which was to be seeing my favourite band Oasis, play at the Southampton Rose Bowl on July the 6th. I remember it being even to this day, the most violent gig I’ve ever been to. Football terrace crowd in a live music atmosphere and the beer was 50p a pint (unfortunately at this age I had no interest in drinking) and considering that 80% of the crowd was male, you could expect that fights were breaking out absolutely everywhere, even to the point where during the gig Noel addressed the crowd by saying “any of you chaved up cunts want to fight, focking take it outside and do it”. There was also many incidents involving Liam slagging off Pete Doherty for Babyshambles not showing up to for their support act. A member of the crowd had an inflatable penis to which Liam shouted “Ah good to see that focking cunt Pete Doherty showed up” After this gig there wasn’t a lot left in the way of milestone events, a Babyshambles gig here and there, a Kasabian gig here, an exciting night out at the XFM Winterwonderland at the Brixton Academy until one Saturday afternoon I was sitting in my room playing a bit of Playstation, listening to my Saturday afternoons intake of radio which XFM used to supply so well, Ricky Gervais and Karl Pilkington, followed by Adam and Joe, followed by Justin Lee Collins (which is what I was listening to) when he played ‘I bet you look good on the dance floor’ by a young band called the Arctic Monkeys, I remember at the time thinking it was one of the best track I had ever heard and instantly became addicted to a bunch of young lads from Sheffield. They were the Oasis of my generation, I paid through the nose to see them on their first full UK tour, bloody good gig it was aswell,. But it was with this love of this band, which was to be the downfall and the start of my disillusion to the entire Indie Rock scene, I had a good opinion of it at first and to be fair I don’t exactly hate it now. The style was cool, the birds were tasty and the people who followed it were more or less really nice. But it was the lack of progression in the music and the plummeting quality of the new bands that diverted my interest. The Arctic Monkeys second album wasn’t that good and by this time I was well acquainted with The Smiths, Manic Street Preachers, The Stone Roses and Radiohead. Whilst the radio was ploughing out shit like Calvin Harris, The Kooks, The Fratelise, It was when a new sub genre called ‘Nu-Rave’ emerged that delivered the final nail in the coffin for my relationship with popular music and when the Klaxons won the Mercury music prize I finally turned my radio off and went looking for music through other means…
As a recap I’d say that by the age of 16 I would have listed my top 5 bands as Oasis, Radiohead, The Smiths, Pulp and The Manic Street Preachers. A long summer had finished and I had just started at college, where I was to become good friends with a geezer called Matt, it was with this geezer that I was to attend my first screamo/metal gig. It was at the Dome in Finsbury park, a small pub venue which didn’t I.D at the bar and had just one security guy. It was an interesting experience I can’t remember much of, however one thing that did keep my attention and that was the energy that the crowd possessed. I have always been a fan of using gigs to blow off steam and go mental and these gigs helped me do that. I was never particularly a fan of the music as such. It all sounded the same to me. Really fast guitar rift and vocals that literally sounded like someone growling, but I suppose that was the point. Anyway for about 8 months all I ever went to was metal and screamo gigs, mainly because that’s were all my mates went and it was always fun to get really pissed and punch a scene kid in the face. A few gigs stood out for me, Suicide Silence at the Underworld, Job for a Cowboy at the Mean Fiddler and many visits to The Peel and The Dome for the unsigned acts. There was however a few flaws with the whole scene, the people seemed very elitist. Their music tastes rarely excelled anything but metal, they were all so immature and if you had long hair, a tattoo and/or a huge plug in your ear you would probably get laid by the unattractive and mostly horrible women on offer. There was no love between the audience, always bitching, constant relationship problems and the respect pecking order came down to how many Myspace friends you had and how old you were… It was also the only music scene were I never met a fellow football fan. I quickly got bored of the whole scene even though at the time I had a lot of fun, the ‘2-step’ dance was one of my favriotes to do at gigs even though I never properly mastered it and being the only person who actually stood out at the gigs was a guilty pleasure. I remember one night in particular I was getting funny looks whilst wearing my huge parker, trackies, a pair of blue tinted sunglasses, swaggering around the Meanfiddler smoking cigs and pretending to be Liam Gallagher. I never shagged a scene girl, looking back on it though I’m not too bothered.
Whilst swinging my arms around, pissed out my head was all good fun I needed something more from live music then I was achieving with screamo, and then one night whilst lying in bed reading and listening to the Xposure show on XFM I listened to a live session with a lovely folk singer called Emmy the Great, I didn’t know it at the time but I was about to become a huge fan of the London Anti-folk scene and got a chance to rub shoulders with artists that are now topping the charts….
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