overlap

Last week I had the great joy of going to see Jake Shillingford, a gig I nearly missed and only found out about due to the previously mentioned use of my pics elsewhere on the web. It did initially seem a good opportunity for Going Out (capital letters, handbag, pretty shoes, etc) and I gave it some thought before deciding that the combination of a new venue in a town I know offers certain difficulties in finding somewhere sensible to park added up to too many different new variables, and you may imagine that in such circumstances just driving in the first place comes with a slightly heightened state of paranoia anyway. Which is how I ended up especially grateful that I hadn't when I was on the receiving end of the most concerted bit of road rage behaviour I've had in ages. Quite why my doing 60mph is such an affront to someone's impatience that it's more important to get close enough behind me that the number plate is no longer visible than it is to use the motorway's two empty lanes outside me to overtake is anyone's guess. Turning up in a city centre on a thursday night before the easter weekend, full of pretty young early twenty-somethings, I was only a tiny bit jealous of those milling around doorways in a state lubricated/liberated from the self-possession that, er, anyway, moving swiftly on. A free gig is always going to be a bit of a lottery. It was this that convinced me to go for that show rather than the one a little further away, but I didn't know quite what to expect. This was perhaps the first gig I've been to in ages where I've been so acutely aware of being roughly twice the age of half the crowd, and as you might expect, there was a lot of people chatting with their mates while some guy with a guitar (and an omnichord) played in the background rather than an audience that might properly be described as fans. I caught the last song or two of the support act, who may or may not have had a load of mates crammed into the pub basement, but it was really nothing special. Jake hasn't toured in eight years, according to his own website, which was another reason I didn't want to miss a chance to not have to go all the way to London to see him. This was largely the same set as in December, some solo songs and some My Life Story songs ably accompanied by Toni Krause on the keyboard. Despite the frustrations of the collectively shouty indifference around the room, and I imagine the slight nerves of this being the first show of a tour, there must have been a dozen or so people who were actually there specifically to see Jake rather than there because they happened to be drinking and chatting there. In the circumstances it was a very good show rather than a great one, but especially good for getting thirty seconds to have a brief chat and shake hands with the man himself, get a CD signed and so on. And being heavily influenced by the fan gene, I'll almost always prefer that bit of personal contact to being able to wear something slightly prettier. There's some stuff I've put on youtube added below, so you can see for yourself exactly what it was like but seeing Jake doing some of those songs is always going to be a pleasure, and being part of even a handful of people straining to sing the ba bu-bahbu-bah-bah-bu-bu-bah brass lines on Strumpet is always an uplifting experience. If You Can't Live Without Me Then Why Aren't You Dead Yet? Sparkle - Jake (and flaming crowd!) * from Written Large – Jake Shillingford

Labels: gigs, Jake Shillingford, My Life Story

Keeping up to date everywhere isn't something I've managed, and flickr is a bit ahead of this, so that'll tell you more about where I've been. Just about to head out the door for two of the last three gigs, and then I'll be home to hibernate through the rubbish telly season. The next one I've not got to yet has a complicated tale of shifting travel arrangements, which got changed for the final time just before I left. Having reason to go to TCR to pick up another ticket for next April and so avoid yet more outrageous "booking fees", I treated myself to a walk along Oxford Street for the full seasonal shopping nightmare experience. I made a brief stop to take a quick tour of Selfridges acreage of cosmetics counters, somewhere I've never been before and blow me if that wasn't an eye-opener of the kid being given the keys to the sweets warehouse experience. Then I did what anyone sensible would do in the circumstances, and walked out to Shepherds Bush. It amused me greatly to walk in to find the fantastic Duke Special album being played, and Jake came on and did a few acoustic numbers - Butterfly Wings is just beautiful, and some of the other stuff lends itself to that stripped back style really well. I ran into someone I e-know just before My Life Story came on, to comedic non-recognising effect, and then we watched another storming set of fabulous shiny pop music, with strings and brass and all manner of wonders. Especially Jake's shiny silver suit, and his high kicks. On the offchance a certain someone who was on the left side of the balcony reads this, I have two words - 'sports bra'. My Life Story provide the sort of uplifitng pop experience that should be on the national curriculum, or available on the national health or something, and the only down side for me was not being able to be there with the friend in whose company I've seen them previously. I guess it's true what they say, you can't uneat the apple, but I still want to say thank you. And thanks to Jake and band for another great show. Jake and stool.

Labels: gigs, Jake Shillingford, My Life Story

In the early hours of this morning I got back from the Big City, having seen the triumphant return of My Life Story to the stage, and enjoyed the experience of cycling and drving in the capital's traffic; it has been a very long time since I drove inside the North Circular, and I won't be upset if the next time is as long away again. I'm no stranger to riding in traffic, and it doesn't hugely bother me, but driver behaviour where the average motor speed is 6mph is unsurprisingly desperate - the chances taken, the driving through red lights at will, the forcing oneself out into static traffic with no regard to impeding all other traffic and bringing everything to a halt is staggeringly widespread. That gridlock is not a daily occurrence can only be down to the patient few. As a one-off it was an amusing and educational diversion, but I'm at a loss to understand how anyone can live with that on a daily basis. Especially when alternative options exist that make this sort of sight a regular alternative to the back end of the non-moving car in front.

Labels: gigs, music, My Life Story, pop