I want a guy in the London area, he must be crazy and Sagittarius
Goodness, I'm behind the times. Last week featured no LJ-writing, largely because it did feature (at various times) piling over to Cheltenham and back, one night with almost no sleep (no idea why), getting lost in some woods (mildly embarrassing, very small woods), a certain amount of having to pretend to be a grown up and then unexpectedly finding myself having to speak extempore to a lecture-theatre full of students (ulp). Plus a lot of frantically rushing from point A trying not to be late to point B.
However, a week last Friday I went to a very exciting gig.
I had only recently discovered Public Service Broadcasting - a band which makes music out of chopped about antique public service broadcasts - when ceb posted on her LJ that they were playing a gig at The British Library. It was in conjunction with the Propaganda exhibition they've got on, and wasn't terribly expensive, and was a day I could manage, and did I mention that Public Service Broadcasting are amazing?
So, I shot down on the train from Reading and collected CEB and ChrisC in the Library courtyard, and ventured in. The foyer was decked with huge blue, red and black banners with giant gold stars, and uniformed Party officials issued us with passports on the way in. Slogans everywhere advised us that Party members had more fun, and that it was our duty to enjoy ourselves.
One could collect stamps from Party officials in one's Party passport to demonstrate that fun was being had. Have you been observed dancing? Get a stamp. Drinking? Get a stamp. Talking to someone you don't know? Get a stamp. Are we having fun yet?
Actually, yes :)
The British Library had really thrown themselves into the decorating, and the uniformed Party officials (presumably a selection of London's finest out-of-work actors) actually did a remarkably good job of causing actual fun (and a lot of synchronised dancing) under their pretext of Enforcing Fun In The Name Of The Party. We drank pop, and ate a ludicrously red cupcake, and danced on the stairs and generally jollied around. Then one of the Party officials popped up with a giant bundle of glittery hula hoops and did a fantastically camp but actually very impressive show with them. All good fun.
Public Service Broadcasting[*] trundled on stage, surrounded by banks of antique tellies and backed by a big screen. They look like a selection of young geography teachers from a poorly-funded 1950s film, all cord trousers, poorly-ironed shirts and chunky glasses.
When I first heard their music on CD, I thought it was the sort of thing that couldn't possibly be performed live. Wrong. One drummer, one operator-of-twiddly-knobs-and-camera and one bloke who plays guitar, banjo (aargh!) and another set of twiddly knobs. And a keyboard. They all wore earpieces, so I'm guessing they might play to a click-track, but they manage to synch their music, their chopped up bits of film, and their instruments to the video footage behind them beautifully.
And - having rejected them for BAYD a few times as being brilliant, but not boogiesome - I was surprised to see a hefty chunk of The British Library[**] jumping up and down wildly. Various Party officials waved flags from balconies, and danced, and continued to ensure fun was being had. The set began with a shower of Party flyers being dropped on to the audience: well-produced, nicely-printed Party slogans in the Party colours of red, blue and black. It ended with a smaller shower of poorly-photocopied anti-Party flyers being dropped, placards waved, and the wavers being dragged off by Party officials.
People stuck around and danced, and we wandered about and eventually found the cutting-and-sticking table where CEB and I did colouring and cutting out and making of badges. I didn't actually go round the exhibition - it would have been a rather rushed and short trip. So on CEB's advice, I shall be going back to have a proper look before it ends.
[*] This name is far too long to type out each time, but if I abbreviate to PSB it makes me think I'm writing about the Pet Shop Boys.
[**] The front man of Public Service Broadcasting doesn't speak on stage; he has a selection of pre-recorded clips in BBC English driven from various keys on the keyboard. Including things like "It's lovely to be here at..." and, on a separate key, "The British Library". Having heard it delivered in emphatic BBC tones, heavily trumpeting the "British" part, I feel that's probably now how I'm always going to deliver the phrase "The British Library".
If you haven't met Public Service Broadcasting, I do urge you to check out their album. Suitable for fans of the Avalanches, experimental music, or actual Public Service Broadcasts. Or WWII-era culture in general.
If you want some listening, try Signal 30 or Spitfire (yes, huskyteer, it is about the plane ;) My personal favourite is probably Night Mail, made out of the 1936 film of the Auden poem, but there isn't a decent version of that on YouTube.
However, a week last Friday I went to a very exciting gig.
I had only recently discovered Public Service Broadcasting - a band which makes music out of chopped about antique public service broadcasts - when ceb posted on her LJ that they were playing a gig at The British Library. It was in conjunction with the Propaganda exhibition they've got on, and wasn't terribly expensive, and was a day I could manage, and did I mention that Public Service Broadcasting are amazing?
So, I shot down on the train from Reading and collected CEB and ChrisC in the Library courtyard, and ventured in. The foyer was decked with huge blue, red and black banners with giant gold stars, and uniformed Party officials issued us with passports on the way in. Slogans everywhere advised us that Party members had more fun, and that it was our duty to enjoy ourselves.
One could collect stamps from Party officials in one's Party passport to demonstrate that fun was being had. Have you been observed dancing? Get a stamp. Drinking? Get a stamp. Talking to someone you don't know? Get a stamp. Are we having fun yet?
Actually, yes :)
The British Library had really thrown themselves into the decorating, and the uniformed Party officials (presumably a selection of London's finest out-of-work actors) actually did a remarkably good job of causing actual fun (and a lot of synchronised dancing) under their pretext of Enforcing Fun In The Name Of The Party. We drank pop, and ate a ludicrously red cupcake, and danced on the stairs and generally jollied around. Then one of the Party officials popped up with a giant bundle of glittery hula hoops and did a fantastically camp but actually very impressive show with them. All good fun.
Public Service Broadcasting[*] trundled on stage, surrounded by banks of antique tellies and backed by a big screen. They look like a selection of young geography teachers from a poorly-funded 1950s film, all cord trousers, poorly-ironed shirts and chunky glasses.
When I first heard their music on CD, I thought it was the sort of thing that couldn't possibly be performed live. Wrong. One drummer, one operator-of-twiddly-knobs-and-camera and one bloke who plays guitar, banjo (aargh!) and another set of twiddly knobs. And a keyboard. They all wore earpieces, so I'm guessing they might play to a click-track, but they manage to synch their music, their chopped up bits of film, and their instruments to the video footage behind them beautifully.
And - having rejected them for BAYD a few times as being brilliant, but not boogiesome - I was surprised to see a hefty chunk of The British Library[**] jumping up and down wildly. Various Party officials waved flags from balconies, and danced, and continued to ensure fun was being had. The set began with a shower of Party flyers being dropped on to the audience: well-produced, nicely-printed Party slogans in the Party colours of red, blue and black. It ended with a smaller shower of poorly-photocopied anti-Party flyers being dropped, placards waved, and the wavers being dragged off by Party officials.
People stuck around and danced, and we wandered about and eventually found the cutting-and-sticking table where CEB and I did colouring and cutting out and making of badges. I didn't actually go round the exhibition - it would have been a rather rushed and short trip. So on CEB's advice, I shall be going back to have a proper look before it ends.
[*] This name is far too long to type out each time, but if I abbreviate to PSB it makes me think I'm writing about the Pet Shop Boys.
[**] The front man of Public Service Broadcasting doesn't speak on stage; he has a selection of pre-recorded clips in BBC English driven from various keys on the keyboard. Including things like "It's lovely to be here at..." and, on a separate key, "The British Library". Having heard it delivered in emphatic BBC tones, heavily trumpeting the "British" part, I feel that's probably now how I'm always going to deliver the phrase "The British Library".
If you haven't met Public Service Broadcasting, I do urge you to check out their album. Suitable for fans of the Avalanches, experimental music, or actual Public Service Broadcasts. Or WWII-era culture in general.
If you want some listening, try Signal 30 or Spitfire (yes, huskyteer, it is about the plane ;) My personal favourite is probably Night Mail, made out of the 1936 film of the Auden poem, but there isn't a decent version of that on YouTube.