A colleague of mine is face blind. If she meets someone that she knows out of context, she will not recognise them. This could be friends, or immediate family. When she watches television, she gets so confused about the characters that she has to be reminded of who is who.
I had that problem when I watched ‘The Departed’. To me Matt Damon and Leonardo DiCaprio look very similar. In The Departed they both play policemen, who are in a very similar situation. As Leonardo says himself “These characters are two sides of the same coin in a lot of ways. They come from different backgrounds, but they could have easily made choices the other character made.” To me they were ONE character.
I can watch the same actor in two films on the same day and have absolutely no idea that one man or woman is playing two different roles. I can spend hours with someone, but when they come up to me and say ‘hello’ in a different environment, I can fail to place them. Am I face blind? No. I am just plain stupid.
In doing a face blindness test, with the handicap of being interrupted by a telephone call mid-flow, I got 95% of the answers right. The average is 85%. I actually have great facial recognition skills.
Prosopagnosia Test
I think I just concentrate on character so much, that I fail to pay attention to the face before me. I must learn to stare!
“You haven’t got a spot on the end of your nose; I’m just trying to remember your face”.
Fabpants Recommends: The Strange Death of Liberal England - Forward March. I am revisiting it as I type. It's providing immense pleasure. A 2007 treat. They were amazing at Latitude too.
Wednesday, 28 May 2008
Tuesday, 27 May 2008
The Motherfucking Death Set
I cannot begin to articulate how excited I get whilst listening to The Death Set; The Motherfucking Death Set.
In your eye, weapons fly
Don’t even try to feel our size
Wonder why the people cry
The Motherfuckin DeathSet
I have just listened to their full-length album for the first time and I am rushing from tip to toe. I’m speeding my pants off like a cheetah on coke. No drugs are involved. I dare you to stop my relentless smile. I motherfucking dare you.
I’m still pissed that The Death Set came to Brighton while I was in East Africa. How could I enjoy seeing the world when I knew that I was missing The Motherfucking Death Set? How? "How?" I ask you. "How?" I’m great at letting stuff go; it's one of my best talents. But not this; not this. I just can’t let it go.
The Death Set’s electro-indie punk kicks the fine arse of Le Tigre’s ‘Deceptacon’ right of the planet; with a gleeful bastard of a booting. They’re completely and utterly fucking ace. The Death Set’s assault on every molecule in the body is psychotically fantastic. If you don’t agree, then I pronounce you non-existent. You are nothing a thousand times over. You’re not even a stone, a vacuum or an atom. You are NOTHING.
We go around the world and we do what must be done. All anyone has to do is listen to The Death Set; The Motherfucking Death Set. Make your day and do it today.
Fabpants Recommends: The Death Set: To (EP), Rad Warehouse (EP) and Worldwide (Album). Listen to ‘Intermission’ first. It’s under two minutes long and it won’t motherfucking kill you. Just try to tell me that you don’t want more. No, don't. If you do, I will not be responsible for my actions. I WILL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS.
In your eye, weapons fly
Don’t even try to feel our size
Wonder why the people cry
The Motherfuckin DeathSet
I have just listened to their full-length album for the first time and I am rushing from tip to toe. I’m speeding my pants off like a cheetah on coke. No drugs are involved. I dare you to stop my relentless smile. I motherfucking dare you.
I’m still pissed that The Death Set came to Brighton while I was in East Africa. How could I enjoy seeing the world when I knew that I was missing The Motherfucking Death Set? How? "How?" I ask you. "How?" I’m great at letting stuff go; it's one of my best talents. But not this; not this. I just can’t let it go.
The Death Set’s electro-indie punk kicks the fine arse of Le Tigre’s ‘Deceptacon’ right of the planet; with a gleeful bastard of a booting. They’re completely and utterly fucking ace. The Death Set’s assault on every molecule in the body is psychotically fantastic. If you don’t agree, then I pronounce you non-existent. You are nothing a thousand times over. You’re not even a stone, a vacuum or an atom. You are NOTHING.
We go around the world and we do what must be done. All anyone has to do is listen to The Death Set; The Motherfucking Death Set. Make your day and do it today.
Fabpants Recommends: The Death Set: To (EP), Rad Warehouse (EP) and Worldwide (Album). Listen to ‘Intermission’ first. It’s under two minutes long and it won’t motherfucking kill you. Just try to tell me that you don’t want more. No, don't. If you do, I will not be responsible for my actions. I WILL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS.
Saturday, 24 May 2008
Winners Like Us
“You have won 2 tix to SLEEPING ROUGH.” It’s everybody’s dream. How many of us get the chance to take a dirty sleeping bag into a grimy shop entrance and freeze to death each night? Not me; never! Last night, I got a text saying I had won. Yippee. Yippee. Yippee.
What am I talking about? Why am I happy? I get cold in a summer breeze. I would die out there. If you ever want to kill me, just shut me out in the cold.
Thank The Pixies that 'Sleeping Rough' is a series of “violently poetic, visceral, funny Australian plays”. Well, Crisis ‘the homeless charity’ likes them. What do I care? I’ve won eighteen pounds worth of free tickets for some real live theatre action; not even amdram.
It’s going to be a brilliant day. It’s ‘The International Buskers Festival’ in town and I have free tickets to see a play. Come nightfall, I'm going to see the band that wrote “For Lennys Own Pleasure”. And when darkness is all we have, I’ve been invited to an unpretentious club night to leap around the room.
After the week, I’ve had, what with a birthday party, a leaving do and a brilliant barbecue, I should be lying in bed. It’s all far too exciting. I am going to attempt to save my tomato plants from the aphids and then enjoy the wonderful world that surrounds me.
Tomorrow, I get to see my friends in Coventry. Fan-bloody-fastic
Fabpants Recommends: Dean & Britta – Back Numbers. 'You Turned My Head Around' is quite simply an amazing track.
What am I talking about? Why am I happy? I get cold in a summer breeze. I would die out there. If you ever want to kill me, just shut me out in the cold.
Thank The Pixies that 'Sleeping Rough' is a series of “violently poetic, visceral, funny Australian plays”. Well, Crisis ‘the homeless charity’ likes them. What do I care? I’ve won eighteen pounds worth of free tickets for some real live theatre action; not even amdram.
It’s going to be a brilliant day. It’s ‘The International Buskers Festival’ in town and I have free tickets to see a play. Come nightfall, I'm going to see the band that wrote “For Lennys Own Pleasure”. And when darkness is all we have, I’ve been invited to an unpretentious club night to leap around the room.
After the week, I’ve had, what with a birthday party, a leaving do and a brilliant barbecue, I should be lying in bed. It’s all far too exciting. I am going to attempt to save my tomato plants from the aphids and then enjoy the wonderful world that surrounds me.
Tomorrow, I get to see my friends in Coventry. Fan-bloody-fastic
Fabpants Recommends: Dean & Britta – Back Numbers. 'You Turned My Head Around' is quite simply an amazing track.
Monday, 19 May 2008
Do You Read Me?
For many years now, I have been making an effort to write clearly. I’m far from perfect, but I do endeavour to make my writing easy to read. I like to use an array of words, but in manageable units that aren’t too taxing on the mind.
My sentences used to be tiresomely long. Paragraphs would follow the pattern of unsettled mind; a mind that entertained a myriad of thoughts simultaneously. I couldn’t get past the need to express my ability to connect everything; in one single sentence. School teachers would complain. I was told that my writing was convoluted. ‘Convoluted’ is a beautiful word. I had no idea what it meant. I’m not sure that they did either.
I went to a rural school. I learnt many ‘facts’ that I later discovered were false teachings. Some false teachings take years to expose. For instance, I was taught that ‘maybe’ must always be two words. Red pen on my exercise book always tore them apart. In 2008, the truth came out. ‘May’ and ‘be’ hate me. I denied them their right to be bedfellows for 28 years. MSEnglish is now my master.
In some ways, MSEnglish resembles my old teachers. It too hates long, convoluted sentences and, like a schoolmistress, it seems to take great pleasure in highlighting all mistakes in red. I am sure that it gets it wrong sometimes too.
Academic papers are needlessly complicated. They are so hard to read that – for the most part – only students and other academics read them. It’s not clever to write in a manner that no one understands; it’s ridiculously stupid.
After years of working in academia, and suffering from a case of ‘severe highfalutin overload’, I decided that I could never read an overcomplicated sentence again. My brain simply shut down at the thought of it.
On my journey towards a rejection of academia, I started to break every part of my writing down; shorter sentences, shorter paragraphs, and increased punctuation.
Now, it comes a little easier.
Here are my blog’s readability test scores:
Gunning Fog Index 8.74
The Gunning-Fog index is a rough measure of how many years of schooling it would take someone to understand the content. The lower the number, the more understandable the content is. So, if you started school at 4, by the age of 13 you’d be happy reading my blog.
Flesch Reading Ease 68.20
The result is an index number that rates the text on a 100-point scale. The higher the score, the easier it is to understand the document. Authors are encouraged to aim for a score of approximately 60 to 70. Perhaps I should become an author.
Flesch-Kincaid Grade 5.39
Like the Gunning-Fog index, it is a rough measure of how many years of schooling it would take someone to understand the content. On this scale, if you started school at 4, you’d be happy reading my blog by the age of 9 or 10.
If you want to test your website’s readability, you can test it here:
Test Your Website's Readability
Thanks to My Geek, I very recently (5 minutes ago) discovered this option in MSWord 2007:
Start, Word Options, Proofing, Show Readability Statistics, OK, F7 or Spell-check.
Enjoy!
Fabpants Recommends: Dan le Sac vs Scroobius Pip - Thou Shalt Always Kill (Knifehandchop Remix). Knifehandchop is brilliant. Check out Dan le Sac vs Scroobius Pip's album 'Angles' too. It's thoughtful, funny and includes a fantastic take on self harm and suicide in more than one track. Is this the middle class version of Skinnyman?
My sentences used to be tiresomely long. Paragraphs would follow the pattern of unsettled mind; a mind that entertained a myriad of thoughts simultaneously. I couldn’t get past the need to express my ability to connect everything; in one single sentence. School teachers would complain. I was told that my writing was convoluted. ‘Convoluted’ is a beautiful word. I had no idea what it meant. I’m not sure that they did either.
I went to a rural school. I learnt many ‘facts’ that I later discovered were false teachings. Some false teachings take years to expose. For instance, I was taught that ‘maybe’ must always be two words. Red pen on my exercise book always tore them apart. In 2008, the truth came out. ‘May’ and ‘be’ hate me. I denied them their right to be bedfellows for 28 years. MSEnglish is now my master.
In some ways, MSEnglish resembles my old teachers. It too hates long, convoluted sentences and, like a schoolmistress, it seems to take great pleasure in highlighting all mistakes in red. I am sure that it gets it wrong sometimes too.
Academic papers are needlessly complicated. They are so hard to read that – for the most part – only students and other academics read them. It’s not clever to write in a manner that no one understands; it’s ridiculously stupid.
After years of working in academia, and suffering from a case of ‘severe highfalutin overload’, I decided that I could never read an overcomplicated sentence again. My brain simply shut down at the thought of it.
On my journey towards a rejection of academia, I started to break every part of my writing down; shorter sentences, shorter paragraphs, and increased punctuation.
Now, it comes a little easier.
Here are my blog’s readability test scores:
Gunning Fog Index 8.74
The Gunning-Fog index is a rough measure of how many years of schooling it would take someone to understand the content. The lower the number, the more understandable the content is. So, if you started school at 4, by the age of 13 you’d be happy reading my blog.
Flesch Reading Ease 68.20
The result is an index number that rates the text on a 100-point scale. The higher the score, the easier it is to understand the document. Authors are encouraged to aim for a score of approximately 60 to 70. Perhaps I should become an author.
Flesch-Kincaid Grade 5.39
Like the Gunning-Fog index, it is a rough measure of how many years of schooling it would take someone to understand the content. On this scale, if you started school at 4, you’d be happy reading my blog by the age of 9 or 10.
If you want to test your website’s readability, you can test it here:
Test Your Website's Readability
Thanks to My Geek, I very recently (5 minutes ago) discovered this option in MSWord 2007:
Start, Word Options, Proofing, Show Readability Statistics, OK, F7 or Spell-check.
Enjoy!
Fabpants Recommends: Dan le Sac vs Scroobius Pip - Thou Shalt Always Kill (Knifehandchop Remix). Knifehandchop is brilliant. Check out Dan le Sac vs Scroobius Pip's album 'Angles' too. It's thoughtful, funny and includes a fantastic take on self harm and suicide in more than one track. Is this the middle class version of Skinnyman?
Friday, 16 May 2008
Who's Amongst the Pigeons?
It’s no secret that I like cats. I’m the nutter that speaks to every cat that sits on the street. Earlier this year, I rescued a cat that had been living at the RSPCA for eight months. I like cats. Okay!
Today, I’d like to introduce you to another kind of cat. In some ways this cat ain’t so different. There are those standard qualities: independent, secretive, a keenness to hide away in comfortable corners, and most importantly, oh so adoring of attention on his own terms. Did I say ‘his’?
To be honest, no one is quite sure who it is that masquerades as the cat that you will soon adore. It could be Britney reborn for all I know. Some say that the feline presence is a secret front for Moby, Apex Twin or Mylo. I get confused. The internet is raging with arguments, and I don’t have to time to follow them all.
I do know this: the crazy cat has not only become a MySpace sensation and Blogger fodder, they have also had oodles of airplay on Radio One, with Rob Da Bank, Tom Robinson, and Mary Anne Hobbs, all in on some hairball groove-time action.
If you’re slow on the uptake, and this is news to you, be slow no longer. It’s time to get:
Amongst the Pigeons.
Does Moby live in Brighton? Does Mylo or Aphex? I think not. FatBoy Slim sure does. Where the cat's identity is concerned, your guess is as good as mine.
Fabpants Recommends: M Ward’s ‘Transfiguration of Vincent’ and the film ‘Eagle Versus Shark’. The same cover of 'Let’s Dance' features in both.
Today, I’d like to introduce you to another kind of cat. In some ways this cat ain’t so different. There are those standard qualities: independent, secretive, a keenness to hide away in comfortable corners, and most importantly, oh so adoring of attention on his own terms. Did I say ‘his’?
To be honest, no one is quite sure who it is that masquerades as the cat that you will soon adore. It could be Britney reborn for all I know. Some say that the feline presence is a secret front for Moby, Apex Twin or Mylo. I get confused. The internet is raging with arguments, and I don’t have to time to follow them all.
I do know this: the crazy cat has not only become a MySpace sensation and Blogger fodder, they have also had oodles of airplay on Radio One, with Rob Da Bank, Tom Robinson, and Mary Anne Hobbs, all in on some hairball groove-time action.
If you’re slow on the uptake, and this is news to you, be slow no longer. It’s time to get:
Amongst the Pigeons.
Does Moby live in Brighton? Does Mylo or Aphex? I think not. FatBoy Slim sure does. Where the cat's identity is concerned, your guess is as good as mine.
Fabpants Recommends: M Ward’s ‘Transfiguration of Vincent’ and the film ‘Eagle Versus Shark’. The same cover of 'Let’s Dance' features in both.
The Sea is Cold
I swam in the sea on Saturday. In case you plan to do the same; it’s incredibly cold. I suggest some canoeing and a lovely barbecue to follow. Perfect.
Fabpants Recommends: Marissa Nadler's 'Songs III: Bird on the Water' is so beautiful that it breaks my heart whilst simultaneously mending it.
Fabpants Recommends: Marissa Nadler's 'Songs III: Bird on the Water' is so beautiful that it breaks my heart whilst simultaneously mending it.
Keep Calm +++ Thrill Factor Overload +++ Keep Calm
Films by homeless people rock!!! Last weekend, I went to see five short films made by local homeless people. Last weekend, The Odeon screened five short films made by people that have lived on the streets. How amazing is that? Instead of living round the back of the Cineplex, they’re making great films to show within it.
Have you ever heard of Ray Saxby? I'd never heard of this musical hall veteran either. What an absolute gem. As well as being the star of his own short film, he gave a stunning performance at the end of the showings. Mark Little, aka Joe Mangel, found it hard to follow Saxby's dazzling song and dance routine. Ray Saxby may have found himself homeless, but his showbiz spirit cannot be dampened. He’s a complete and utter natural.
I was most touched by watching the films about the First Base Day Centre. I refer people to Brighton Housing Trust all the time. I work in mental health, and housing issues are horrendously common. As I watched the films, I was warmed to see services flyers pinned to notice boards in the background; they are the same service flyers that I have pinned up above my desk. They were on the big screen at the Odeon.
“I was there yesterday”, I said nudging My Geek as a Brighton Unemployed Centre and Families Project leaflet hovered in the corner of the screen. It was stupidly exciting.
The characters presenting the Day Centre's facilities were just so warm and friendly that I felt inspired. We got to see regulars carrying bundles of washing, going for hot showers, recycling for charity, using the kitchen facilities and cheekily challenging the filmmakers to a game of snooker. Of course, Rax Saxby was there; merrily tinkling away on the Centre’s piano.
If you want to know more, check out the First Base Arts Project website.
I almost forgot to say, there was brilliant short film called ‘The Bike’ starring a ghost bike. I want a ghost bike when I’m dead.
At last I have written a will; an eight worded will. “I want a ghost bike when I’m dead.” You get all the news here first.
Fabpants Recommends: 'Pete and the Pirates' album 'A Little Death' breathed life into this blog entry.
Have you ever heard of Ray Saxby? I'd never heard of this musical hall veteran either. What an absolute gem. As well as being the star of his own short film, he gave a stunning performance at the end of the showings. Mark Little, aka Joe Mangel, found it hard to follow Saxby's dazzling song and dance routine. Ray Saxby may have found himself homeless, but his showbiz spirit cannot be dampened. He’s a complete and utter natural.
I was most touched by watching the films about the First Base Day Centre. I refer people to Brighton Housing Trust all the time. I work in mental health, and housing issues are horrendously common. As I watched the films, I was warmed to see services flyers pinned to notice boards in the background; they are the same service flyers that I have pinned up above my desk. They were on the big screen at the Odeon.
“I was there yesterday”, I said nudging My Geek as a Brighton Unemployed Centre and Families Project leaflet hovered in the corner of the screen. It was stupidly exciting.
The characters presenting the Day Centre's facilities were just so warm and friendly that I felt inspired. We got to see regulars carrying bundles of washing, going for hot showers, recycling for charity, using the kitchen facilities and cheekily challenging the filmmakers to a game of snooker. Of course, Rax Saxby was there; merrily tinkling away on the Centre’s piano.
If you want to know more, check out the First Base Arts Project website.
I almost forgot to say, there was brilliant short film called ‘The Bike’ starring a ghost bike. I want a ghost bike when I’m dead.
At last I have written a will; an eight worded will. “I want a ghost bike when I’m dead.” You get all the news here first.
Fabpants Recommends: 'Pete and the Pirates' album 'A Little Death' breathed life into this blog entry.
Sunday, 11 May 2008
Reading Books in the Sun
Empire of the Sun is not a book about Empires. Empire of the Sun is a book about a boy; a boy to inspire us all.
Empire of the Sun is a glorious book about adaptation, survival and how we interpret the world about us.
It’s hard to put into words how tremendously inspirational I found this book to be. Without an ounce of self pity, the lead character rationalises and logically adapts to society at its very worst.
He concentrates on his two great loves; loves that carry him through what could be the most horrendous days of his life. One is with him every day, in the skies, on the ground and in the excited thoughts that run riot in his head. The other is far out of reach. Only by surviving is there a chance of seeing and touching the other again.
One brings joy to his daily existence and the other brings hope for the future. Both loves are kept alive by strength, resilience and a fantastic force of will.
The book could be about the worst years of a person’s life. It could wallow, complain and leave you miserable. It doesn’t.
It leaves you inspired to touch, taste and smell all of the best bits of the world about you. It makes you want to learn about everything and to love, love, love.
I love Empire of the Sun. It’s a beautifully written tour de force. J G Ballard I salute you.
Empire of the Sun is a glorious book about adaptation, survival and how we interpret the world about us.
It’s hard to put into words how tremendously inspirational I found this book to be. Without an ounce of self pity, the lead character rationalises and logically adapts to society at its very worst.
He concentrates on his two great loves; loves that carry him through what could be the most horrendous days of his life. One is with him every day, in the skies, on the ground and in the excited thoughts that run riot in his head. The other is far out of reach. Only by surviving is there a chance of seeing and touching the other again.
One brings joy to his daily existence and the other brings hope for the future. Both loves are kept alive by strength, resilience and a fantastic force of will.
The book could be about the worst years of a person’s life. It could wallow, complain and leave you miserable. It doesn’t.
It leaves you inspired to touch, taste and smell all of the best bits of the world about you. It makes you want to learn about everything and to love, love, love.
I love Empire of the Sun. It’s a beautifully written tour de force. J G Ballard I salute you.
Monday, 5 May 2008
Bank Holiday Magic
I have never seen Brighton seafront as busy as it’s been this weekend. Summery weather has made a sudden arrival, it’s a bank holiday, and everyone wants a piece of it. I feel like I’ve been at a festival all weekend, with the glorious luxury of my own wonderful bed to go home to.
And I have been. The Brighton Festival started this weekend, as did the Fringe. Brighton Festival is the biggest arts festival in England, and the Fringe is the second largest in the world. Woo hoo.
I’ve already been to the Children’s Parade and the beach is awash with buskers, sunbathers and the sweet smell of illicit barbecues.
Last night I went to my first Silent Disco. Hooray for Silent Discos.
It was absolutely phantasmagorical and I danced my fabulous pants off. I got home at 3am, after some post-dancing drinks, happy as Larry and all of that.
Every club in the world should run silently. Why? You can choose between DJs, you can set your own volume level, you can remove the headphones when you want to talk, and, apart from some out of tune sing alongs, and a wee bit of raucous cheering, noise pollution issues are well sorted. Woo hoo. Woo hoo. Woo hoo!
The sunny weather does have one downside. It seems that the BNP like it too. Last weekend we saw a BNP barbecue on Hove beach, and today a rather unlovely group of English Nazi’s were taking a stroll along the ‘Under the Cliff Walk’; topless men with scary tattoos. Let’s forget about them for now.
It’s sunny and I’m seeing four live bands tonight. Did I say 'Woo hoo'?!
And I have been. The Brighton Festival started this weekend, as did the Fringe. Brighton Festival is the biggest arts festival in England, and the Fringe is the second largest in the world. Woo hoo.
I’ve already been to the Children’s Parade and the beach is awash with buskers, sunbathers and the sweet smell of illicit barbecues.
Last night I went to my first Silent Disco. Hooray for Silent Discos.
It was absolutely phantasmagorical and I danced my fabulous pants off. I got home at 3am, after some post-dancing drinks, happy as Larry and all of that.
Every club in the world should run silently. Why? You can choose between DJs, you can set your own volume level, you can remove the headphones when you want to talk, and, apart from some out of tune sing alongs, and a wee bit of raucous cheering, noise pollution issues are well sorted. Woo hoo. Woo hoo. Woo hoo!
The sunny weather does have one downside. It seems that the BNP like it too. Last weekend we saw a BNP barbecue on Hove beach, and today a rather unlovely group of English Nazi’s were taking a stroll along the ‘Under the Cliff Walk’; topless men with scary tattoos. Let’s forget about them for now.
It’s sunny and I’m seeing four live bands tonight. Did I say 'Woo hoo'?!
Sunday, 4 May 2008
Think Before You Speak
I was absolutely delighted when I discovered that both ‘The Good Shoes’ and ‘Peggy Sue and the Pirates’ would be supporting 'The Maccabees’ last night. “I want to see the supports more than the main tonight!” I texted excitedly to a friend.
Needless to say, Peggy Sue and the Pirates are far better suited to small intimate venues than to others. Their ragged beauty can come adrift in vast spaces. The cavernous abyss of venues like the Concorde 2, or the Barfly, serves very few bands well. Their big rooms can accommodate a lot of people, and therein lies their success.
Last night the acoustic Buddy Holly heartbreakers struggled. The charm of their personalities, simple tunes and instantly loveable lyrics, is just too delicate for a venue that reeks of sweat, farts and alcoholic misdemeanours. It hurt me to stand behind a man who continually bad mouthed their performance with short unconstructive criticisms. ‘What a load of shit’, ‘This is god awful’, he grumbled vituperatively. Yes, he was bitterly abusive, wore a long dark coat and reminded me of the Hitler Youth.
“Play ‘Shot of Tuaca’. Play ‘Superman’. Go on. Make this special for me, for them, for everyone.” My thought processes appealed to no one. Instead of being great, Peggy Sue, and her imaginary band of Pirates, were mediocre. This has not altered my great dream of Peggy Sue and the Pirates playing one of my garden festivals. I can’t think of anyone I want to play in a garden of my choice more. Last night was not theirs. Last night was someone else’s. But a garden party could be so, so all Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue. Peggy Sue and the Pirates.
The Good Shoes came in their wake. If you haven’t heard ‘Think before you Speak’, it’s an absolute cracker of an album. The words “Like Jack and Jill, but with Heroin” repeatedly circle around my head. I am enamoured by them; seven words that conjure up such vivid images, I find myself compulsively drawn to their simple sequence.
Before they graced the stage, my friend told me that Good Shoes have been dropped by their label. “The new songs are just no good”, he said. I’ve seen Good Shoes live before; as part of the Great Escape two years ago. They weren’t very good live. As a huge fan of the album, and with the passing of two whole years, I remained optimistic. “I hope they play the old songs and no new ones”, I twittered. They didn’t.
Good Shoes had a formula set for the night; old and new songs performed alternately. Their choice was simple and ineffective. The new songs were not instantly loveable, catchy or intriguing, but then the old songs weren’t either. As stated, I wasn’t impressed the first time I saw them. They should have stuck to the old songs; the songs we know and love. They’re that kind of band. You need to know the songs to love them.
Unlike their predecessors, The Maccabees couldn’t put a foot wrong. Playing to a sold out audience in their home town, the crowd was full of high spirits and adoration. The Maccabees, unlike Good Shoes, easily got away with playing one new song after another. While the crowd joyously shouted along to every track from ‘Colour it In’, they listened with unremitting adulation to all others. “Maccabees, Maccabees, Maccabees” came the chant, “We want more. We want more. We want more”. We got more.
At the end of the night, I walked across the road to my friend and his bike. The lyrics working their way around my head remained. “I think I could do better. So arrogant.” Perhaps, the night was won by Good Shoes after all.
I have never been able to establish what my relationship with The Maccabees is. “Perhaps they’re just not dark enough for me”, I said. “They need to go through some hard times”, my friend replied. Neither of us would wish that on anyone.
By the way, I can see no evidence of Good Shoes being dropped by Brille Records. Perhaps that's just a nasty rumour. I can’t say.
Needless to say, Peggy Sue and the Pirates are far better suited to small intimate venues than to others. Their ragged beauty can come adrift in vast spaces. The cavernous abyss of venues like the Concorde 2, or the Barfly, serves very few bands well. Their big rooms can accommodate a lot of people, and therein lies their success.
Last night the acoustic Buddy Holly heartbreakers struggled. The charm of their personalities, simple tunes and instantly loveable lyrics, is just too delicate for a venue that reeks of sweat, farts and alcoholic misdemeanours. It hurt me to stand behind a man who continually bad mouthed their performance with short unconstructive criticisms. ‘What a load of shit’, ‘This is god awful’, he grumbled vituperatively. Yes, he was bitterly abusive, wore a long dark coat and reminded me of the Hitler Youth.
“Play ‘Shot of Tuaca’. Play ‘Superman’. Go on. Make this special for me, for them, for everyone.” My thought processes appealed to no one. Instead of being great, Peggy Sue, and her imaginary band of Pirates, were mediocre. This has not altered my great dream of Peggy Sue and the Pirates playing one of my garden festivals. I can’t think of anyone I want to play in a garden of my choice more. Last night was not theirs. Last night was someone else’s. But a garden party could be so, so all Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue. Peggy Sue and the Pirates.
The Good Shoes came in their wake. If you haven’t heard ‘Think before you Speak’, it’s an absolute cracker of an album. The words “Like Jack and Jill, but with Heroin” repeatedly circle around my head. I am enamoured by them; seven words that conjure up such vivid images, I find myself compulsively drawn to their simple sequence.
Before they graced the stage, my friend told me that Good Shoes have been dropped by their label. “The new songs are just no good”, he said. I’ve seen Good Shoes live before; as part of the Great Escape two years ago. They weren’t very good live. As a huge fan of the album, and with the passing of two whole years, I remained optimistic. “I hope they play the old songs and no new ones”, I twittered. They didn’t.
Good Shoes had a formula set for the night; old and new songs performed alternately. Their choice was simple and ineffective. The new songs were not instantly loveable, catchy or intriguing, but then the old songs weren’t either. As stated, I wasn’t impressed the first time I saw them. They should have stuck to the old songs; the songs we know and love. They’re that kind of band. You need to know the songs to love them.
Unlike their predecessors, The Maccabees couldn’t put a foot wrong. Playing to a sold out audience in their home town, the crowd was full of high spirits and adoration. The Maccabees, unlike Good Shoes, easily got away with playing one new song after another. While the crowd joyously shouted along to every track from ‘Colour it In’, they listened with unremitting adulation to all others. “Maccabees, Maccabees, Maccabees” came the chant, “We want more. We want more. We want more”. We got more.
At the end of the night, I walked across the road to my friend and his bike. The lyrics working their way around my head remained. “I think I could do better. So arrogant.” Perhaps, the night was won by Good Shoes after all.
I have never been able to establish what my relationship with The Maccabees is. “Perhaps they’re just not dark enough for me”, I said. “They need to go through some hard times”, my friend replied. Neither of us would wish that on anyone.
By the way, I can see no evidence of Good Shoes being dropped by Brille Records. Perhaps that's just a nasty rumour. I can’t say.
