Its a warm night, crowds outside drinking, I stagger in to catch the last three songs of The Understudies. Four folk on stage, plinky plonk leyboards and out of tune guitar. There's thirty people in the room, the usual Lost Music crowd
The singer chap is yelping and whining a bit, if it was fourteen years ago, they'd make a fine support band.
The penultimate song, being a Butcher Boy cover, I Could Be In Love With Anyone,raises the game a wee bit, but I'm almost glad they finished so soon after i arrived.
Trying to get a drink at the bar pissed me off so much, it wasn't so much that there was a huge queue, just where I was stood at first, some girl in a checked shirt was either getting in a large round or just discussing with about fifty other people what drink she was having, whilst the barmaid just waited and waited. After about 20 minutes I tried moving to a different part of the bar.
Alas, despite the half a dozen barstaff, the middle of the bar seemed to be a barren zone. Two hours earlier I'd been violated at Staples, trying to buy printer ink and post-it notes. Only packs of 10 post-it pads and ten fucking quid for a 13ml cyan cartridge. Its just ink for fucks sake, but still about seven hundred times the price of petrol. Seven hundred times.
In a foul mood abot customer service and as a consumer, so I walked out of The Enterprise and headed into darkest Camden.
Half an hour passed before I felt any urge to catch the rest of the gig.
Plans and Apologies on stage, a five piece with about three too many guitarists. The singer had those big dark eyebrows that girls used to go all googly eyed for last century. There was something of the Malkmus about the lyrics.
Rather pleasant except for the last few songs where the keyboardist/third guitarist was itching to get away to some other engagement. Six quid to get in and they even want to play, fuck that shit.
Second attempt at the bar, similar levels of annoyance, the guy in front of me, halfway through ordering his round realised he had only two quid and after a conference with his mates, shoved me out of the way so some rat-like ginger twat could get a round in instead.
Luckily there was a clear space at the other end of the bar, I quickly got served by a girl wearing exciting tights, but sadly beer in a glass that still had the previous owner's dregs and foam on the sides.
Slow Down Tallahassee, three piece, two rockabilly girls and a chap on guitar. Post-apocalyptic Ken Loach, throbbing images of mathematicians in a hungover Younger Younger 28s effects pedal overdose.
Aw man, really cute photographer girl. I'm going to gave to reshuffle my top five cute photographer girls, sorry Pav.
