I saw a rat on my way out tonight, the size of a rabbit, with traditional worm-like tail. It was sneaking up on an elderly asian gentleman when I leapt out and startled it. The beastie ran off into the canal.
Could be a metaphor or like a simile, god know, but I'm in a foul mood, thoughts of fire racing through ma heid.
Not 100% sure where I'm heading to, my net connection was down so I couldn't check, The Grosvenor in Brixton, never been there before, nearest underground station was Stockwell as far as I can remember. Maybe the London Paper/Lite/Metro can help...
Hmm, decisions, there's also a gig at the Windmill tonight and I know how to get there. So the choice is:- indiepop band I missed at Indietracks off of Bowlie or Glasgow band I missed in Glasgow. Hmm, which is more likely to draw traffic to this site? Cos really it's dying off and I can't really be arsed if no one else can.
No one at Stockwell had heard of the Grosvenor, in my best saaf Landan accent:-
“Here, mate, d'ya knah a 'pab called the Grosvenor?”
“Nevr 'eard of it,guv'”
So I headed south to Brixton, stopping to pick up a Time Out on the way..
Christ, the MonoTaxi and Horowitz gig is so low on the radar they're not even in Time Out's listings, even I got into the listings and I haven't told anyone the name of the band.
My eyes glaze over, I drifted to 2005 and let l'espirit d'Agoona guide me to the Windmill, a photo of Magic Tea, a wrong turn and I'm there.
The place hasn't changed much, maybe just a lick of paint and through the crowd a familiar face, its '97 again and I'm doing guard duty with Cathouse Dave, I spy Alec from Nemis, a smile spreading across his face as he sees me, and I know I've come to the right gig.
On stage is an angry young man, busker rather than troubador, out of tune guitar, not very musical, but there's a rare passion in his songs. If only he wasn't so nervous. I reckon he could be Noughts and Crosses.
Okay dear readers, a short note on my history with the Windmill. After my success in the sell-out debut Bowlie AllDayer in '04 I was subsequently banned from that internet messageboard in March '05 for calling Twitch a pain in the neck, such horrendous personal abuse isn't tolerated thre, so I headed to the second Bowlie Alldayer in August '05 as an outcast, mightily pissed with with the girl for being a pain in the neck, with David Kitchen the messageboard admin, and the whole Bowlie community for their disloyal silence on the injustice. By the end of the night, I'd missed the Flyers and was sat out back chatting with Twitch, buying each other drinks and really pissing off her boyfriend.
2007: David Kitchen was told my secret re-registered internet alias and booted me off the messageboard about nine hours ago. Bunch of cunz the lot of them. If only Jockrock was international.
So I'm sat at the bar, where Kattparaden and her boyf were last time and on stage is a wonderful chap, with an uncertain confidence, sings melodic stuff, love-ish songs, slurring slightly and a kind of Damon Albarn look in his eyes. Jay Jay Pistolet
People talking loudly all around me, I wish they'd hear the beauty in this guy's songs.
Crikey, third act on stage have brought their friends and family along. I hope they stay around for the headliners. A lanky speccy lead singer with guitar, wearing a white vest. The nu-punky sound is a little refreshing, as is the “wah-ooh, wah-hoo” backing vocals and its always a pleasure to see violin on stage. There's a little Fratellis to their sound and The Kaiser Chiefs too,
Hmm, they're from Coventry, called Honeytrap.
There's a chap at the front of the crowd taking some rather neat looking photies, I hope he knows that they don't count unless they're on Flickr within 12 hours.
Hmm Honeytrap sound a little too much like The Levellers, I sense them bringing on a digereedoo soon. There's only one way of life and thats your own.
The rest of the crowd realy liked them, and some fellow scribbler called Tom or possibly Mark.
Pop Up take to the stage, female drummer who I swear a friend of a friend used to go out with, lead singer in a green hoodie with the hood up. They start off quiet and BallBoysy, folk in the crowd to the left talking amongst themselves.
The band soon rock out and some cun with his bleached bird squeeze in front of me and start waving his hands in the air, oblivious to the vacant space in front of the band. I retreat to further back, hiding behind a pillar where I saw Thom Flyer stood once.
The singer chap reminds me of the guy who played the eighth doctor.
Crikey this crowd are noisy amongst themselves.
Nice fast paced songs, sound like Ballboy, Akira and some others.
Some refreshing swearing at the crowd. You know, just before they came on I heard a girl on the table behind me say “... Glasgow – eww” Bunch of cunz, the lot of them Londoners. Decent tunes from the band, how could I have missed them for so long? Same way I missed Miss The Occupier I guess.
Oh dear god, its 23:40, I'm in Brixton, the underground's shut, I'm 10 miles from home and I'm mighty hungry. Could this be the end of your eager gig reviewer?
I need a wee.