Saturday, October 09, 2010

Saturday 9 October 2010

Saturday 9 October 2010

Thanks to the fucking idiot(s) next door in 15 Hollytree Court slamming both doors when it returned at 1AM this morning unfortunately my night’s sleep was somewhat disrupted to say the least.  It was also a subtly warm and claustrophobic night, all bad things.

When I eventually give up on trying to sleep the time is 7AM which means time to catch the news on the BBC.  There is no news, another mention of Gamu and not much else.

Just after 8AM I head out towards Sainsburys, making sure to slam my door in petty response to the antics of 1AM.

Today I do not even know why I am making this journey.  Certainly I have to buy the Saturday newspapers but beyond that I think my trip to Asda last night has pretty much sorted me out.

Regardless, after a minor annoyance at the hands of a car/driver seemingly unable to indicate, I am promptly snapping up treats and goodies at a time when I could possibly be doing/living without them (for healthy intention).  Even worse I actually find myself considering buying milk and ultimately do find myself buying bread.  I have done so well in cutting out these bloater materials from my diet this summer.

Swiftly I get home before 9AM with the world apparently at my feet and supposedly my oyster.  Unfortunately however I feel exhausted, which is truly ridiculous and pathetic considering I had a day off work yesterday.

There is no Danny Baker on Radio Five this morning and as Suggs steps in as his replacement there really isn’t much to encourage me to continue listening.

From here I watch the second episode of An Idiot Abroad with Karl (Pilkington) now dealing with the elements of India.  When I mentioned liking this show to Racton yesterday he swiftly dismissed it as being xenophobic (or so he had been told) but as the joke is relentlessly at the expense of Karl it is difficult to see it that way.  That said the episode does make India look awful.

I would really like to write today as I have a busy October ahead which will offer little opportunity to catch up but its just not there.

Frustratingly the day begins to fast disappear.  What a waste.

Into the afternoon I finally spew out some decent writing, closing and finishing three particularly troublesome entries that have been labouring and lingering over.  Things are finally moving forward.

As things get dark I take a break by picking up the Sex PistolsThere’ll Always Be An England” DVD with view to watching the extras of the band going around their old haunts in London.  The majority of what I see is mostly Steve Jones and Paul Cook wandering around Soho and Denmark Street before eating pie and mash in Shepherd’s Bush and all the way through they come over very, grumpy old men with Jones even leaning into some kind of Ray Winstone territory.

Before I get to the extra of John Lydon driving around modern London atop a red double-decker bus time runs out on me and I have to get going and head out to the latest Dear Air Live gig Lee is putting on tonight at Slack Space.  In some quarters today it is John Peel Day so this feels like an appropriate thing to be doing/attending at this time.

A visit to Slack Space requires a journey to the rough side of town.  I really do not enjoy coming to this place at night time as it conjures up many negative memories and images for me.  And there are the external stories and the reputation in general.  This can be a harsh realm.

When I arrive at Slack Space a video of Jonathan Meades documentary on Surrealism is playing out on the makeshift screen centre stage.  Its funny stuff featuring a strange turn from Christopher Biggins who has turned into some kind of rent an oddball these since his I’m A Celebrity bit a few years ago.  As the documentary comes to a close during the credits I spot the name Simon Darlow as having done the music.  Can I not got anywhere without Buggles haunting me?

 By this point the night is still early in proceedings and people are light on the ground so soon my arrival/appearance is noticed as I get into some brief conversation with Lee.  It would appear that DOOMSDAY APOCALYSPE SPECIAL has not made it to the show and like a true stressed promoter he is mentally weighing up his options and alternatives.

From here on the screen now begins the famous video of The KLF burning one million pounds.  It feels like some kind of metaphor for proceedings.

The first music act of the night is DAN MERRILL AND THE FLOWERS OF EVIL who stood in the centre of the room expertly tears into a set of live violin being played/performed against a dense and varied selection of various electronic backing tracks of musical collisions.  It is a true cacophony that lives up to the band moniker as it all gets expertly executed.  This is how you modernise the classic with style and grace remaining respectful of both eras.

Next up is JM BOWERS who sports the look of latter day Bill Murray with a dry attitude to match.  As he sits behind a desk his set appears to consist of him tweaking what appear to be car batteries in search of scolding white noise.  As his music motions like a generator collectively our ears begin to ache as he batters the audience’s senses.

It then all comes to an end abruptly as a deafening silence replaces his cluster.  Those of us that have remained (and not sought refuge elsewhere) applaud as if this is the climax of the set but with a rather peeved reaction JM BOWERS responds with suggestion that this end has actually come from technical issues and problems instead of a natural conclusion.

Eventually he gets up and running again with he metal machine music but gradually he begins cutting out again before finally giving up with the tempered announcement “its not me”.

Once the dust settles (and I suspect some apologies are made) onscreen arrives some video stuff from DOUG BAYNE, an Australian filmmaker with a subversive bent.  Disturbing the generic he comes over as a dangerous, dangerous man likely to upset those weak willed around him.  Amongst the selections are his Doritos adverts that feature the chips and dip doing some very strange and unappealing things.  Pranks ahoy.

THEE CRUMB quickly follows churning out an electronic big beat set from behind his laptop.  Should I admit that the set is a few minutes into existence before we clock that is had actually started.  Regardless it makes for an exciting turn in a zone where nobody is dancing at a time where so much violence in this music is being suggested.  The blocks that drop on proceedings are hard to ignore once swallowed.

By now DOOMSDAY APOCALYPSE SPECIAL has finally arrived and when they eventually set up and kick off it is now only the strong that remain.  With the first shot of pummelling distortion it is obvious from the off that they are to be an amazing proposition.  I have waited a long time to witness this.

For years now DOOMSDAY APOCALYPSE SPECIAL have possessed something of a legacy having performed a set of astonishing sets around 2003 and then promptly disappearing off the face of the earth.

Tonight the three of them churn out a fuzzy wall of noise that makes their instruments growl in the style of Earth when they meant it and Melvins when they were their noisiest.  They have no drummer, they need no drums.  Instead they have a gruesome looking monster with a box of tricks warping proceedings while in the middle the guitar player is as dirty as can be.  There is also a bass player who tries to keep up but ultimately becomes lost in the shuffle.  This is not much about rhythm, its music about trajectory.

The set once in full flow is painfully relentless and causes people to stick their fingers in their ears while Lee puts toilet paper in his.  Regardless at the close of proceedings those of us that remain in Slack Space have excitingly ringing ears.

Then that is it.

With the offer of free CDs on the table I make out like a bandit as I grab a DOOMSDAY APOCALYPSE SPECIAL disc in addition to a solo CD by their bass player’s band Happy Garden.  These items maintain their spirit of ugly and rough.

At this point some serious shouting begins kicking off outside the Slack Space door as the realities of Saturday night hit home and the real world returns/resumes,

From here I bid farewell and drive home elated that I had options of something to do tonight that was not X-Factor.  That’s one up on the majority of the population.

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