I wake too often to a thumping head, a reeling stomach and the sight of last night’s make up still caked on my face. If only drinking just wasn’t so much fun.
Today’s delicate state was caused by yesterdays massive over exertions. Moving CDs about for 9 hours, and grudgingly having to put Akon at number one in the album charts (despite its current single sounding like a ringtone) left me a little worse for wear. Stinking of sweat, dust and plastic I rushed home for takeaway Chinese and a very speedy bath. Thnakfully the Pleasure Unit is only a few doors away from my flat and today hosted another all dayer for Tsunami charities.
I got there just in time to see the Art Goblins who I’d been assured would be more shambolic than ever. And after their set at the Elbow Rooms a few months back when they couldn’t keep their drummer conscious to play to their audience of fifteen people, I was expecting the worst.
It was an odd experience, again another empty room, but this time some level of sobriety from the band. It was a short acoustic set. Quite fun – These Animal Menswear and Fuck the MSP still sounding great but completely overshadowed by the fantastic While My Keyboard Guitar Gently Weeps.
Video Club were up next and I was a little sceptical, almost on the verge of going home. Being on my own at the gig I kept necking vodkas and by now was thinking that just slowing down before Frog was a good idea. But I kept being assured that Video Club were worth seeing and how right they were. I was not expecting to hear electronic disco filth. They were just fantastic. Matt, their singer extraordinaire, is a very sexy little man, and dances like a beast. I was totally won over by their set, so much as to sing their praises to my Glen Miller loving flatmates. They weren’t so keen surprisingly. Idiots. They don’t know what they’re missing. Fuck Har Mar – Video Club all the way.
A man who I was told was something to do with David Devant appeared on stage in a cape next. He could sing well. But I have no idea who he was and was pretty dull really, especially when he took the cape off to reveal a striped polo shirt.
Over the last few months this LJ has been an account of how angry I get at missing Ciccone but now all this can change. I had my Ciccone live cherry popped once and for all. I love Ciccone. Rebekah is gorgeous and their set totally lived up to my hopes after listening to their album almost non-stop. They did covers of Willy Mason’s Oxygen and Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. Yum yum yum. The confetti girls had run out of their paper scraps and by now had taken to scooping it up off the stage and re-throwing it. Not a classy look but I still love them.
Back home I went for a diva style costume change, a little (lot) more drinking and convincing mr swish into going to frog. And maybe a smidgen of listening to Britney.
Frog was empty but i did get the singer of Nine Black Alps for Popstar Feets But only just, I was too drunk to work my camera and the photo I’ve got pretty much misses most of his shoes and instead is more of a Popstar Legs photo. It did mean I missed out getting the shoes of the lovely lovely Paula Chalets with my battery dying after only one photo that night. She is so nice and MUST send me a photo of her shoes when she finds a camera.
Frog was empty, with the exception of Mr Swish I don’t think anyone knew who the Roger Sisters were. Probably for the best, they sounded like they’d only ever listened to Rapture’s House of Jealous Lovers and only ever watched Sonia videos. Boring.
As usual, age caught up on us and we decided to leave early with a stomach full of dodgy cocktails from pitchers and cheap whiskey. I had a really nice night though, met tonnes of lovely people at the Pleasure Unit, the rock n roll idiots have stopped playing Hounds of Love and I feel very happy, blissful and full of smiles.