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satyricaLast Monday we had our rescheduled Book Group, meaning I had actually finished Ursula Le Guin's The Dispossesed, which everyone seemed to enjoy having read and, importantly, gave us plenty to talk about. Afterwards I dashed up to the 100 Club for a gig: I wished I'd got there sooner as the support I wandered in halfway through, The Starlight Magic Hour, were sprawling (9 musicians on stage at one point), a bit Fat White Family-ish and glorious. Yowl were another support, who were brutal but mesmerising, and there was also a performance poet, Thick Richard, snarling out rhymes between acts. I was there for Phobophobes, who I'd seen just once before and enjoyed, and are another populous and hypnotising alumnus of the South London scene.
On Tuesday I headed out to a different kind of gig: The Wombats at Alexandra Palace. It's quite a rarity for me to go to such a big venue these days and I'd forgotten the feel of it in many ways, I was also surprised to see how young the crowd were, given the Wombats must have been around a good decade or so, but it was reassuringly reminiscent of the excitable gig-going of my youth. The support were Night Cafe who were endearing if slightly lost in the space, but the Wombats had no trouble mastering it, abetted by computer-graphic backdrops and industrial-sized confetti canons, whilst the sweaty crowd struggled to stay on its feet (one song had to be stopped twice); the only negative was making some pretty bad travel choices, trying to outwalk the crowds, on my way home.
I had an evening in on Wednesday then N came over for dinner and a DVD the next night. We headed into the City to see The Mithraeum that's been reinstalled where it was discovered, in the basement of the Bloomberg Building. It's a smallish set of remains but they've put a lot of effort into presenting it and providing it with context which made it well worth visiting. We headed more centrally, saw a little Degas collection that the National Gallery was exhibiting, had some lunch and poked round some shops before heading our separate ways.
Having stayed in Friday night, I was out early on Saturday: the plan was to meet my gig-buddy J and the friends who we had gone to Macka B with for a Reggae Brunch at Fest (which used to be Proud) in Camden. J's friends had vanished and he ended up an hour late, mssing the rum punch, but we went in and had the food together: it was okay but not quite our thing, I thought they'd be more of a dance floor but it was more excitable people dancing at or between their tables, so we bailed up to the Monarch and carried on drinking there until some friends of J's turned up and we headed off to separate gigs. Mine was to see Tankus the Henge over at Nambucca, supported by The Lodgers who I'd seen for the first time recently and enjoyed, so it was great to catch them again. PFW had come with some friends and Tankus put in a two-hour set which, as one of the friends commented, was more like one continuous show than a collection of discrete songs; lots of new material too, which was good to see.
I'd got myself home okay but was pretty spacey for most of Easter Sunday, including when I trekked over to Clapton in the afternoon for a friend of N's birthday drinks: we stayed for a few hours but headed back to his to leave the drinking to carry on in earnest. Today we wandered down through town to try to find things that were open, poking around bits of Spitalfields before going to the Another Kind of Life exhibition at the Barbican, which I really enjoyed: small exhibitions from a dozen or so different photographers who chronicled people living on the margins of society (gender non-conformity and teenage alienation were well-represented, as were the 50s through to the 70s), some of it was very powerful and if one little section didn't grab you, the variety meant that it was likely that the next one would. Back home now: M is up North for Easter so enjoying having the flat to myself.
On Tuesday I headed out to a different kind of gig: The Wombats at Alexandra Palace. It's quite a rarity for me to go to such a big venue these days and I'd forgotten the feel of it in many ways, I was also surprised to see how young the crowd were, given the Wombats must have been around a good decade or so, but it was reassuringly reminiscent of the excitable gig-going of my youth. The support were Night Cafe who were endearing if slightly lost in the space, but the Wombats had no trouble mastering it, abetted by computer-graphic backdrops and industrial-sized confetti canons, whilst the sweaty crowd struggled to stay on its feet (one song had to be stopped twice); the only negative was making some pretty bad travel choices, trying to outwalk the crowds, on my way home.
I had an evening in on Wednesday then N came over for dinner and a DVD the next night. We headed into the City to see The Mithraeum that's been reinstalled where it was discovered, in the basement of the Bloomberg Building. It's a smallish set of remains but they've put a lot of effort into presenting it and providing it with context which made it well worth visiting. We headed more centrally, saw a little Degas collection that the National Gallery was exhibiting, had some lunch and poked round some shops before heading our separate ways.
Having stayed in Friday night, I was out early on Saturday: the plan was to meet my gig-buddy J and the friends who we had gone to Macka B with for a Reggae Brunch at Fest (which used to be Proud) in Camden. J's friends had vanished and he ended up an hour late, mssing the rum punch, but we went in and had the food together: it was okay but not quite our thing, I thought they'd be more of a dance floor but it was more excitable people dancing at or between their tables, so we bailed up to the Monarch and carried on drinking there until some friends of J's turned up and we headed off to separate gigs. Mine was to see Tankus the Henge over at Nambucca, supported by The Lodgers who I'd seen for the first time recently and enjoyed, so it was great to catch them again. PFW had come with some friends and Tankus put in a two-hour set which, as one of the friends commented, was more like one continuous show than a collection of discrete songs; lots of new material too, which was good to see.
I'd got myself home okay but was pretty spacey for most of Easter Sunday, including when I trekked over to Clapton in the afternoon for a friend of N's birthday drinks: we stayed for a few hours but headed back to his to leave the drinking to carry on in earnest. Today we wandered down through town to try to find things that were open, poking around bits of Spitalfields before going to the Another Kind of Life exhibition at the Barbican, which I really enjoyed: small exhibitions from a dozen or so different photographers who chronicled people living on the margins of society (gender non-conformity and teenage alienation were well-represented, as were the 50s through to the 70s), some of it was very powerful and if one little section didn't grab you, the variety meant that it was likely that the next one would. Back home now: M is up North for Easter so enjoying having the flat to myself.
