My Kappa Roots, Eagle Owl, The Wee Rogue - Nice n Sleazy

Late again, Do I win a prize? Look, I bumped into a friend from school with her 6 month old baby, intervened in a fight in the street, bumped into a friend from uni who I haven't seen this century and briefly sketched out a business plan to save the concept of 'the record shop'. (exclusive CDs of specially recorded sessions)

On stage is a chap sat with acoustic guitar, with three microphones, with the most delicate music coming out. Songs about maritime disasters on the Isle of Lewis.

Mig's rather jolly idea to have Sunday afternoon gigs at Sleazys. Laid back affairs, where you can have you lunch with a live soundtrack, only £3 in today.

The audience sits enraptured, in silence, you wouldn't get this at The Cottiers. A couple of familiar faces here, well Ceylan once again and entourage, a Glasgow filmmaker, and various hairy people.

I hope there's going to be more people on stage, and I didn't just pay to hear two songs. Ooh, uncertainty.

Pretend cigarette break upstairs and the realisation that "Enumenu" would be a cool name for a band.

Eagle Owl however, is a better name for a scout leader or something. You know gonks, the wee fuzzy mascot thigs with plastic eyes, perched on computer monitors throughout the eighties, the singer / guitarist looks like one of those. Violin, guitar, cello, so its that warm blanket like music, but its just a little unmusical. It doesn't tie together, all doing their own thing and not at the same time.

The overdrive effect on the violin is a nice touch and boy / girl harmonies.

A few songs in and they swap violin and guitar for ukulele and glokenspiel, this is how they ought to have started. Is this a song about having a pet dog?

The final song is a rather rocking track, drum machine, three part vocals, biolin, guitar and cello, shadows of The Levellers and The Staunton Lick. Ceylan is personally shocked that the word "Mother-fucker" is used throughout the song, I think its quite refreshing. If only their other songs were more like this.

Headlining this afternoon is My Kappa Roots. Potentially, its really good, if you ignore the finger noise, the buzzing, the extractor fan, the out of tuniness and the uncertainty, then its okay, but that takes a lot of ignoring. So its warm, delicate and messy, could be better.

There was an instrumental song he wrote, but I think its stretching the concept of writing a song a little far, playing the same combination of noodles today as you strung together last night just doesn't qualify.

You're harsh upon him Christopher. He has the delicate whisper of the night and flaws like the sea. I think his music is mesmerisingly drowsy. His lyrics are sometimes lost in his Fife burr, but if you read them outside of the music, they have a yearning ache. I'm definitely a fan and I feel he stands at the forefront of the 21st century folk music scene.

While Ceylon took control of my notebook, I started thinking about metallic hydrogen. In theory hydrogen could be a metal solid, its just above Lithium in the periodic table, but it would only be a solid in certain conditions, very high pressure and very low temperature. Certain conditions that could never occur in real day to day life.

Similarly, there can only rarely be the ideal conditions for My Kappa Roots to be beautiful in real life, the rest is just theory.

Photie
here

My Kappa Roots, Morgan's Orange, Ceyland, The Owls, Viking Moses - Tchai Ovna

I saw my friend The Photographer just in the street on the way to the Tchai Ovna this evening, she really likes the place, likes the character. In the past six times I've been, after asking for my tea, I've waited patiently but the tea never comes. I had tea here a while ago, yogi tchai, my favourite, but the service, it doesn't serve. I wish it did, I really do, but well, I've give up on my tea ever coming. And for a tea shop, that's kind of bad.

The first act here tonight, My Kappa Roots, played so quietly I couldn't hear anything, guitar and whispers, even with a microphone, it was too quiet and didn't carry to the back of the room.

The final dramatic chord, possibly a 'G', was nice, but nothing special.

The second chap on, Morgan's Orange, was the opposite, a loud brash American, wandering about with his Cat in a Hat guitar. I was going to find nice things to say about him, but...

He seemed rude to the serving folk here, said he wouldn't swear and swore in the next few songs and his guitar was out of tune halfway through and never got fixed.

Sub-Tom Snowball surrealism, ten-a-penny campfire guitarist, too many weird noises, warblings and animal naming.

He held the crowd enraptured with cheeky asides and giggling, a travelling bard of a Ben Folds.

Another sea-change as next up is Ceyland, wee young girl sat up front, nervous with a twelve-stringer and the voice of an angel, doing the wailing thing too and it working. Neat dynamics on the guitar.

I dunno, seemed a bit pastoral, maybe its deepest blues maybe folk, I dunno the describing words. Check out the MySpace and figure it for yourself.

Maybe she could have done with a setlist.

Ooh, the Drive Carefully crew are here, and iamchemist

Not sure who the next chap was, he seemed awkward on stage, I think Ceylan introduced him to me as George, but he could be performing as The Owls. Stood at the front, quiet finger picked guitar, vocals drifting in and out. Neatly finished by ratehr than singing a verse, he explains what happens in it.

Oop, it seems I've stolen someone's seat, at an empty table, they'd nipped out for a half hour long cigarette. Aw man, I think I vaguely know them, ah well, there goes another MySpace Friend.

Oop, three folk on stage now, the first American chap, Ceylan and some deep voiced Nick Cave impersonator. Rather good really, I wish I'd listened to more of Nick Cave's stuff when I were younger. Oop, the guy singing has gone a bit Screamin' Jay Hawkins on us.

I didn't notice at first, but the awkward chap, George, is up playing too, crouched on the floor with a Casio.

Some way behind me, Adam Plimpton and Paul from The Martial Arts are muttering about their forthcoming Easter Sunday Plimptons gig, it should be rad.

Crikey, its all coming together on stage. The first American chap doesn't seem so offensive, awkward George seems comforatble in his role, the girl's wailings are perfect backing for Screamin' Jay. The elctrified acoustic guitar giving a neat drone before the dynamic vocal crescendos.

Paul doesn't seem convinced, "The ghost of Will Oldham would be shaking his fist saying 'it wasn't supposed to be like this'", but then he did get in for free. I thought it was okay even though I paid.