Sunday, 27 May 2007

Stars Of Aviation, With The Owls, Pocketbooks, Pete Green, Maia Hirasawa - Buffalo Bar

The reason given for me being at this gig tonight is "I was just passing and it looked interesting," followed by "oh, I'm not staying," and if pushed, some quote from xkcd about having adventures for the sake of it rather than same old same old.

Drive 400 miles for some gig, some bands I've never heard of? you bet.

This adventure in London is less alcohol fuelled than the last time and more measured. I'm on my way to Liverpool see, for Saturady night's Plimptons gig, part of the International Pop Overthrow Festival.

And that, your honour, is why I'm standing in a quiet corner of the bar in the Buffalo Bar in Highbury for something to do with Fortuna Pop.

Crikey, as the place fills up there's a chap here who looks just like MJ Hibbett, truly there's no escape from LNFG. Seconds after being spotted he come over and says hello, jolly nice chap. Hmm, more people saying hi, this is awkward, taking about twenty seconds too long to recognise people off of the internet in real life.

First on stage is a troubador called Pete Green, was the guy in Fleetwood Mac also the same name? Its not the same chap. Rather jolly songs, Similar to Hibbett I reckon, but seen through a different looking glass. Songs like "I haven't got a MySpace, cos MySpace fucking sucks" and "Share your kit" about snotty hipster bands with all the gear and no idea. Jolly stuff.

Pocketbooks are on next, oop, the guitarist noodles the lead line from Fleetwood Mac's The Chain, Maybe it was that Pete Green. Please imagine I came up with a snide comment about the band. They were really good, a fourpiece, two keyboards, glokenspiel, guiatar, drums, bass, instrument swapping. Belle and Seb-esque boy/girl harmonies, really tight drumming, almost drum machine-ish. The girl had the neatest bob hair I've seen since Bis.

An acquaintance, Paul points out people in the crowd, someone from the Duloks, Maia from Hello Saferide, various promoters I ought to know and folk from Amelia Fletcher bands, she ought to do something about bank charges.

The first two acts were promoting new singles released on Atomic Beat Records, Paul bought them on seven inch and seemed jolly impressed.

On stage next are a dapper two piece, called The Owls, swapping guitar and bass between each other.

A wee bit dour, and rather jarring dischordant guitar.

When the Pocketbooks were on the crowd seemed restless between songs, but with the owls they did even get that courtesy.

A girl walks by who bares a striking resemblance to Natasha Smith from school, or more honestly, Uma Thurman from Pulp Fiction.

So, looking at posters advertising other gigs here... bands I've never heard of sponsored by corporate entities such as Diesel, LaCoste and Cafe2U. Crikey.

Aw man, now there's hundreds of people on stage. The Stars of Aviation, sound like Aberfeldy, all of them seemed to be armed with egg-shakers and I'm convincedt the singing chap is called Eliot, but Paul assures me he simply cannot be, much like the end of American Psycho.

They spent a good ten minutes trying to get the audience to sing along to some song in French, that wasn't singing, that was just a load of drunk peopleshouting.

"A bit too... something" says Paul, maybe too twee indie. Some of the songs were nice and jaunty, but well, others were slow and sleepy and too easy listening.

Oop, as a secret bonus, that Maia girl, from Sweden, is going to play a set with her band and I snap my own photies. I love her dimples and her theatricalness and enthusiasm and the pleading in her voice with these really personal sounding songs about friends and MySpace. And the way she stomps, rocks and reels.

There's to be DJs and music and dancing, so I leave.

An hour later, I feel regret, after the bands I could have chatted merrily from people from way back when, firming up viewer/creator relationships, offering my services as nationwide music distributor and Ivan Lendil Music head honcho. Shit, just engaging would do. Instead I bungled a hug and noddled farewell awkwardly before barging and my way out in terror.

400 miles, I have complete control over my actions, its my feelings that require more work.



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