Gig Review: Little Joy in This Town

Gush gush gush. That feels better.

The week just gone. It started with a supermarket singsong – tum te tum – there was a moment that my legs were not my own – eek – and it ended somewhere lewd – oh Emily, not again.

An extendable glow stick willie, held aloft by two squishy ‘happy birthday’ balls broke the finish line. Willie, balls, balloons and sticks, suck on this. Ah, push it. Push it real good.

Oooh, baby, baby. Baby, baby.

Yeah. You know how it goes.

Adorned with American corporate logos and a drawing of the Stars and Stripes defaced with 'God Fuck America', a right sight I must have looked. The bright glowing penis grew ever longer and forcibly invaded space. I’m not sure if that’s a metaphor or not.

Yesterday, making fresh marks on a new calendar, I established that I’ll be celebrating many Saturdays this year. And on the sixth day, we will celebrate the anniversary of life. Mine comes in March. A nod's as good as a wink to a blind bat and all that. Pick a Saturday, send a card.

For the anniversary of Brown, I was on Nurofen Plus. It almost did the job. Pleasure and pain can live side by side, each on its own path. It's been a funny old week.

Out of contract, the victim of a funding crisis endemic to the charity sector, I've been taking what I can get. Jobs, invites and holidays alike. Take them while they’re there. Spend while you can. The future’s white; the future’s so bright it’ll melt your eyeballs.

In the inpatients hospital, in town and in the impoverished east, I am covering anyone on holiday, sick or with money to spare. People on locked wards or in the community alike have had me this week. I’m everywhere; clocking up saddle time as my feet spin me across town and my income stays, for the moment, intact.

The cycling’s not to blame for my out-of-leg experience. That was pure nerves. The tension of ten people taking on a new challenge, myself included, stole my limbs. Performing one from last, the atmosphere became part of me.

Smiling I took my place and made words. I didn’t collapse and sentences formed.

All the same, it took three hours for the after effect of fear to stop pulsating around my body.

I fear that fear is contagious.

In another place, and at another time, it could be quite different.

I may tell you about SafeTalk one day, when I’m a fully certified trainer, with three deliveries under my belt. Another route to another income. I need them all.

I charge too little for my self-employed work and I’m clinging onto my employer like a desperate leach. It’s hard to leave a job that you love. Only the lonely, ever the depressed, often the angry, and sometimes the psychotic, you are welcome to my guidance. You and all the rest. I’m surprisingly mentally stable, yet to become a one in four. Actually, I'm not surprised, but you might be. ***One in four of us will experience a mental health problem at some point in our lives.

Little Joy, Audio Live Lounge, 15th January 2009

I cannot express the great honour I felt to see Little Joy, this Thursday, in a tiny toilet circuit venue. This is the band that, according to Glastonbury Festival’s true lovechild, Emily Eavis, made THE best album of 2008.

Fabrizio Moretti has undisputedly proven himself. He is a man of taste, talent and rhythm. Little Joy’s debut is the best work that any of The Strokes have produced since 'Is This It'. At times, the tracks serve to remind me of the finesse that 'that band' once had, circa 2001. The songs are tight and Rodrigo Amarante’s singing style is easily comparable to Julian Casablancas’. Yet, it's not a one-directional feast of middle-class urban indie jangle. Instead, it draws on global sun-soaked influences from Brazil and further afield.

Live, they are far better than The Strokes. I saw the latter’s stiff stage performances and I know.

We are welcomed with a soft and beautiful acoustic number, sung in Portuguese. Evaporar is the last track on the album, and the first track of the night. Setting the tone for an enchanting evening, Rodrigo Amarante captivates the room.

Since the day I first heard her voice, Binki Shapiro has reminded me of Nico. Remember 'These Days'? “I've been out walking, I don't do too much talking”. I love that song so very much.

As Binky Shapiro sings 'Don’t Watch Me Dancing' or 'Unattainable', a black and white image of Nico forms in my mind. Shapiro’s voice needs little accompaniment. It’s a delight to behold. As the sounds of 'sshhhhh' dampens down the drunken 'I’m just here to see a famous person' crowd, the rest of us float adrift on her every word.

Download MP3: Nico – These Days (courtesy of theyellowstereo.com)




Download MP3: Little Joy – Unattainable (courtesy of mineorecords.com)




Like true indie bands on tour, the support act ‘The Dead Trees’ and ‘Little Joy’ are as one. The Dead Trees members gradually appear on stage, until a super band stands before us. It works. It sounds fantastic. The Dead Trees? They were promising. If they drop the guitar masturbation and tighten up their songs, they could be quite something. At times, I was impressed.

Fabpants Recommends: In the summer of 2007, I had the great pleasure of seeing ‘Hello Saferide’ at Latitude Festival. This winter, I have spent much time listening to their 2008 release ‘More Modern Short Stories from Hello Saferide’. Here's a little sample for you:

Download MP3: Hello Saferide - 2008 (courtesy of keenplan.kilu.de)