overlap

After some giving it serious consideration last time I saw them, and after a more recent abortive trip to another gig in roughly the same place, Crowded House in the outdoors seemed like a fine opportunity to get properly dressed up for a saturday night out. I had been planning to wear my new white jeans, but with the recent weather's unseasonal performance, I was holding off buying the wedges and anything else I'd need to go with them until the last minute. Which was just as well, as this longest day was blessed with the sort of showers that make April and November look like desert months. And so it was I ended up with the dark blue jeans and the knee high boots rather than the white jeans. I'm happy aiming for ever so slightly over-dressed, that suits me, and the conditions required my brand new mac-style jacket and my even newer big grey handbag. With several fields full of cars and people everywhere in all kinds of rainwear, the waterproof cape was pressed into action, and I made it inside the arena to catch the last couple of songs by The Delays, having been listening to them and watching them over the fence on my way in. They seemed entertaining enough, good bouncy, poppy fun and lively enough to make the rain seem less oppressive. From my distant vantage point on my new camping chair, I got a decent view of the light show, even if the darkness didn't descend upon us until very late on in the set. I was not absolutely surprised, having seen pictures from previous gigs there, when Neil announced that capacity is 5,000 - a lot of people for me to hide among. There were a number of new songs, some of the familiar banter, and the weather just about held off until they finished. I thought about making an early break for the car, but ended up staying longer - having previously mentioned the way the situation lends itself to paranoia, you may imagine my state of mind when I realised two of Her Majesty's finest were stood behind and to either side of me. At that sort of event, stewards, security personnel, the police and all manner of hi-vis jacketed authority figures abound, though until that point I'd only been aware of them circulating around the arena. I guessed I may as well stay till the end of the encore whether or not they had any intention towards me, and picked up my handbag and chair with some trepidation. The fact I'm home already tells you nothing actually happened, and that they had simply picked that spot to watch the last few songs, but it was with some relief I headed to the car. With 5,000 people to clear the site, you may imagine there are other priorities than harassing someone who is doing no particular harm. Taking fifty minutes to move half a mile to get out of the car park was no fun, especially with the rain coming down very heavily and impatient people jumping around and even pushing the sides of my car. I should say that as well as my fine choice of new jacket and handbag, Diorshow is fabulous mascara for a more dramatic effect. And that I had a fabulous time. * is the first line of the Crowded House song Don't Stop Now

Labels: Crowded House, gigs, make up, shopping, The Delays

Some gigs stand out a mile off, and this was one. As long ago as late June it was first announced that there were some dates scheduled for later in the year, and I was excited to get my hands on a ticket almost as soon as they went on sale. But that wasn't the only thing that caught my imagination. It's been on my mind for a while that it might turn out to be a decent first opportunity to wear my pink jeans until a better opportunity turned up later, but it was still interesting to see how it would have been. My feeling was right on the minimal door attention, and the handbag search ritual would have been a formality. Turning up not long after doors I had plenty of time to consider this further, as well as count up the number of seats with the venue set up that way. Around four thousand people would be interesting territory, but hiding in plain sight in a big crowd is a decent tactic, and in a crowd composed largely of parents with a few kids, there's a reasonable expectation of sensible behaviour, in a way there might not be among a more extremely focused crowd. For openers, Duke Special were their usual selves but a tiny bit lost on a half-audience mostly unfamiliar with their stuff, and constrained by circumstances to an abbreviated set to get out of the headline act's way. Their difficulties mirrored what mine might have been, as I was joined by the blokes seated next to me. At least two of whom spent way too long moaning about the band when they'd have been better staying in the bar if they were determined not to enjoy themselves. And the sort of behaviour they might have put my way in other circumstances is predictably the sort of thing I'm keen to avoid. No big deal, but being right about seated venues having their own hazards is reassuring too. Pete Wilson of Duke Special - best seen in smaller venues, while you still can. Fifteen or so years ago I had the pleasure of seeing headline act Crowded House three times. Once supported by the fabulous Voice of the Beehive, once closing a huge outdoor festival, and once at the absolute height of their fame, which ranks in my top ten gigs ever. With the sad death of Paul Hester, I wasn't sure what to expect this time around. Hester was a great drummer, but also a great character, and a reliable source of japes and gags, the sort of chemistry thing you don't easily replace even with a superior musician. New drummer Matt Sherrod is a good solid drummer, and does nothing out of place. Neil and Nick turn out a load of the sort of ad lib nonsense that I remember Hester for, and rather than a strictly choreographed script, it's a very organic feeling performance. One of the disadvantages of the more sedate audience I mentioned earlier is that characteristic combination of not-yet-Alzheimers, in which the first bars of most tracks produce the unfathomable reaction that goes "Oooh, I recognise this one, so I'm going to ruin the first thirty seconds of it by clapping to show everyone that I recognise it." Fussy complaints aside, they were excellent, especially Mark Hart's electric twelve string guitar playing, and his vocal harmonies with Neil. A two hour set meant there was plenty of value for money, and pretty much everyone should have gone happy.

Labels: Crowded House, Duke Special, gigs

So now I'm back, but not from outer space. Hoping my scratches and scars heal and fade by the weekend, trying to restore the moisture balance in my forehead - that's one of the disadvantages of wearing caps, hats and helmets all too frequently - and trying to plan a haircut into the remaining time available between voluntary commitments and watching some Metal Gods and organising a sparkly outfit or two. It's gonna be a busy week. In other news, Paul Hester's sad death has taken the wind out of my sails a little, to say the least - it's always sad to be reminded how fragile the human condition can be, and especially so when it comes via people who appear to have plenty to live for. Through the thorns and the bushes I hope he was Dreaming of glory Miles above the mountains and plains Free at last

Labels: Crowded House, Paul Hester, pop