Left the house fucking furious, the anger and passion in my veins, it would shade Steppenwolf and Heathcliff both. I can't escape from whatever feelings, emotions and memories are in my head, I can only distract myself.
Three possible gigs tonight, Tasty Fanzine at The Good Ship, The Gresham Flyers at The Buffalo and The Getaways at Catch. Of the fist, I'm not sure of the connection with Tastyzine, but despite the gig being walking distance, I don't want to endorse that product, of the second, there is no way on earth being there tonight could ever improve my mood.
Wondering about how the 42 day vote went in parliament today, and why are terrorists special. What about psychopaths and serial killers, folk who really enjoy murdering people, acting on their own , they could claim a higher death toll, are they exempt from being held for 42 days without charge? What if they really like killing people.
Christ, my hands shaking almost too much to write.
Only one viable option for tonight, The Getaways. How did they even get on my radar? Last.fm barely registers them. The internet has them playing lots of gigs, but only two songs on their myspace page, none for download. I'd doubt their very existance if not for Jaz's review.
Hey, anything to take my mind away from what's rattling my nerves.
Gah, racing out of Old Street underground, almost crashed into my first girlfriend from ten years ago, my first heartbreak. Eye contact, shock and I sprinted away.
Doors had just opened when I arrived, its quiet and the guiness I asked for looked like no guinness ever should, black straight from the tap and no visible head. I suspect this is the sort of London bands gig that MJ Hibbett was talking about last night.
Crikey, every girl in the venue has exactly the same accent.
Its an hour after the advertised doors time and nowt is doing yet. Nearby there's a girl with a BBC branded tape recorder and mic. What the hell do I have to do for my MacGuffin?
Carlotti on first, a five piece, Keamy from Lost is the lead guitarist and singer, Pete Townsend or Wee Patrick on rhythm guitar, Count Fuckular from Extras on bass, keyboard player and drummer tucked away. Rather fine mod blues, Joe Kane and The Getset Go would appreciate. They really kicked into high gear halfway through with the epic 'Faceless Angels', scaling Mansun-like heights, and I could barely believe my eyes when the Keamy pulled out a mandolin for their last song.
I never saw Nathan Barley, but there are people here dressed up kind of funny, weird hair and stripey tops. Who actually won the art school wars of the mid-decade.
You know when you meet a really angry guy in the pub, but you realise he's not really angry, just dead enthusiastic, then later you find yourself next to him in a stolen car, ram-raiding an out of town Marks n Spencers cos you'd mentioned your gran needed new clothes, The Getaways would be playing on the radio.
Rhythm guitarist looks like he only narrowly missed getting into the Bejing Olympics rowing team, there's always London 2012.
They were more rhythmy than the first band, sounded a little like Northern Uproar, the leery harmonies and swaggery guitar.
Towards the end a baldy bloke jumped on stage, waving a fist in the air and singing along before smashing pint glass into the space in front of the stage.
A little honesty here perhaps, there's about half as many people were for The Getaways than for Carlotti. Cuter dancing girls by the side of the stage, mind.
The Pretty Suspects singer looks more like the chap from The Mighty Boosh than the guy last night. Snarly John Lydon Sex Pistols vocals but with more New York / New Wave soaring guitars. It was more a like a party than a fight, especially when yer man leaps into the crowd with his microphone.
The crowd at the front seems shorter and there's a little too much mincing to the cameras for my tastes.
On last are The Black Lies. All leather jackets and white T-shirt and too fucking derivative. Maybe just a fraction more derivative than the rest of the evening's bands, but in the space in front of the stage there are two guys dancing, making shapes for real, but the sort of dancing I do when I'm taking the piss.
The crowd look the oldest I've seen all night. It's weird the way the crowd varies over the course of the evening, different folk for different bands.
Black Lies look like this band we supported once at Glasgow Cally, I can't for the like of me remember their name, but they went on to the success of having their album reviewed in Q magazine.
The Pretty Suspects
The Black Lies