A gig that ended past 11pm proved my old lady tendencies again. With varying excuses of wanting to get the last train or the last tube home, we all left Koko before 80s matchbox even came on. I even managed to remain reasonably sober, having only one small vodka before I left, 2 at the venue and then sneakily ordering a straight lemonade rather than another vodka lemonade as my last drink of the evening.
Les Incompetents were on first and completely spoilt the only thing I found fun about them – their mystery. So far I’ve been to about 800 gigs where they’re on the bill but until last night had never actually got to see them play. It was fun not knowing, thinking maybe there was a little corner of the London indie gig scene that we’d yet to discover that may reveal itself to be some beautiful gem. By not ever seeing them play we were acting on some kind of restraint, holding it back for a rainy day. It turned out they weren’t so much of a gem – 6 lads, who all looked a bit hill billy similar. Now I feel I can look out my window and picture London as a giant heaving mass of skint bands, throw some band names at me and chances are I will have seen them. I don’t feel I can look out my window and wonder about what new bands may be hiding in the flat opposite me. Les Incompetents were the last shred of blissful ignorance I had in the gig scene world. Now I just feel geeky and that I probably go to too many gigs.
My geekdom hadn’t got so deep that I’d seen Black Wire and Neils Children before. Both were good, Black Wire being possibly the better of the two. Neils Children were giants of men, with brilliant colour themed clothes and huge hair. They’ve been supporting Art Brut on their last tour, something I can’t really imagine. They’re much more structured and heavy than Art Brut. I expected something less rigid and more flamboyant. Their rigidity wasn’t a bad thing however, they certainly knew what they were doing. I think also, with a night like Koko when people play £8 to get in, they don’t want the drunken, falling around the stage stuff, so more professional bands like Neil’s Children go down well. The audience have glammed up for the night and don’t want to feel like they’re back at the Rhythm Factory again.
I imagine only four things are ever spoken about Black Wire:
1. They are responsible for the Rock N Roll Idiots’ set staple “hard to love, easy to lay”
2. The lead singer has the largest feet you will ever see
3. They have no drummer – just a drum machine
4. They clearly never eat
I’ll add a fifth in that they’re really really really really good. I’d like to say terribly good, but mr swish keeps ridiculing me for using words like terribly, just cos he’s a scouse scally.
I suspect every blog across London has posted something along the lines of “its so sunny, its put me in such a good mood, it makes me want to cover babies in rose petals and sing about the sky…etc.” I guess one more can’t hurt. Yesterday was spent in the park with friends, giving me my first chance to lie down on the grass in the sun. Today I parked my kitchen chair in the balcony again in my vain attempt to get an tan at the same time as doing my dissertation but have realised I’ll only geta tan on the front half of my body. This may be a problem.
Tonight the swish is having what he calls a party, what most others would call a night in front of the hifi (and/or tv) with booze and drugs. I’m being sent on a mission to go and get mushrooms from my local costa. I am being a good girl, I have work in the morning at 9 and so am maybe supping a little gin but that’s about it.
But for now I am going to tidy my room, find some sunglasses I want to buy in Topshop then insist on finding a pub with a beer garden. Anyone know of any in central London? Preferably near to either oxford street or Great Portland Street.