(no subject)
Bleak, whining wind and rain outside, the sort that stirs up sickening
nostalgia. Cream tea tours round obscure seaside towns with the
grandparents. I was only 6,7 or 8, sat on a dead womans armchair with a
desperate gaze stuck to my face, staring out of duck-shit green
coloured window frames. They took me brass rubbing one day. Good times.
My band played some music last weekend. The wheatsheaf was shite, and I
don't like playing there. Never feels quite right. I rubbed my face,
which was covered in water, on some strangers. I doubt they enjoyed
that. It felt incredibly necessary at the time though. An emergency
impressed, mixing up intricate guitar business with some punk-funk
drumming. It's a little hazy, hence my lazy descriptions. I missed
Lapsus that night but saw them in Bristol the next day...
Bristol was better. We played at the junction, a funny shaped rawk pub.
Having arrived early in the day, had a look around Bristol. Funny
place. Got lost a bit. Scared away a drunk. NEXT TIME will take a
camera. There were incidents which I can't begin to explain without
picture evidence. Lapsus Linguae were on first as they had a show up in
Exeter later on. Good stuff. Classical, outlandish goth rock action. Or
something. I missed a few of the other bands. It was an all-day
"noisefest". I remember liking King Alexander but this was a late,
drunk period. I know they are worth hunting down, i'm just not sure
why. Then we played. Much more appreciative audience. Sound was fine
and loud, as we had cobbled together a few more amps and shoved the
backing track through them and the PA. Then I spent half an hour
sitting with an amp, having lost the band, shouting with dan from
hunting lodge. Very drunk, good day yes.