There was this girl outside Sleazy's, I think she is my ex-wife's neighbour. Late last night after the Plimptons show I was trying to explain to the ex-wife my fears that maybe going to 14 gigs a month isn't healthy, the sign of a diseased mind.
I could actually see 4 or 5 decent mainsteam acts for the amount I spend on nameless crap local bands, English twee and Swedish Kids with Handbags.
Tonight's mob, The Swedish Polarbears, I might have seen in Liverpool at the IPO Festival if I'd been paying enough attention.
On the right is they have an indie rock android in a red t-shirt on rhythm guitar andd I think they may be a Teenage Fanclub tribute act.
For the fifteen people here tonight I might continue to development my theory about live music. I'm not a music journo, I a chap who goes to too many gigs and they're all so flawed. Tonight and last night oh so empty, Sunday night such poor sound, the noisy blandness of all of Saturday's bands, Friday was the best, but even they were a handful of quality and well-loved bands who'll never bother the pop charts and will be lucky if record sales get into four figures for all the thousands of pounds they've poured into their band over the years.
Everyone who's doing this, the bands on stage and waiting in the wings, the promoters and bookers stood bearded on the door, the venues, the photographers, the fanzine writers, the bloggers, we do it all for so little reward. Heck some of us don't even enjoy it. If this blog gets more than a 100 hits in a day I cream myself. If the band breaks even on hiring the venue, its a success, regardless of the bus fare, van hire or plane ticket.
There's got to be a way to make this better, more rewarding, more lucrative.
On stage the Polarbears sound great, perfect harmonies, soaring lead guitar, crashing drums and cartoon character looks.
But none of it matters.
Ooh, punkiness, they sound like Ash now, or maybe Weezer or Lit, I wish it were fourteen years ago now.
And songs called "Norman Blake" win over the crowd, but for the ten paying punters, kts hardly worth it, the band are great, I sob, but this is so wrong by no fault of their own. Is it my fault for not bringing anyone else along? Robbie got me to come, the Swedish Polarbears had emailed him to come. God knows about the guy from Jeremy Beadle's Big hand sat on his own opposite. But it was down to me to bring someone else, to keep the chain going. I should have pleasd with the ex-wife a bit more.
After they shuffle off stage, me and Robbie head upstairs, I can't face seeing Skeleton Bob again, my heart is so far out of it.
Review
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