Its ten past three in the morning and I have just got back from frog. There is barely a cloud in the sky, no wind to speak of and everything is pretty quiet. It shouldn’t be – as I look east from my balcony window I can see streak after streak of lightning in the sky. But no thunder. Its very peculiar. My initial reaction was – ‘oh my god, someones blown up the top of canary wharf’. After about three seconds consideration on it possibly being the apocalypse I’ve settled down to just being happy with learning that sometimes you can get lightning without thunder. Wrecks my basic physics knowledge though.
Today was Frog’s 1st birthday, and to celebrate they had three venues with loads of different bands playing. We chose Nambucca, and saw Dustin’s Bar Mitzvah for the 800th time. They had one new song but aisde from that we all got pretty depressed with knowing every word of all their songs. Dave insulted the audience, fell off the stage and played the fool as usual. Nothing new. I still rate Lucy as one of my favourite songs of the past 356 days though.
I got very lost on the way to Nambucca – its stuck out in the middle of nowhere. I thought I knew where I was going, and had remembered it to be about a fifteen minute walk; but when I ended up in the middle of Tufnell Park I figured I’d gone wrong somewhere. I also really needed to pee, so braved a scummy pub full of men watching football who gave me funny looks as I walked in. to make matters worse it I couldn’t find their toilets quickly and had to wander around looking like a fool.
The Cazals headlined the venue (not Babyshambles as the drunk guy at the bus stop told me). They weren’t much fun, though they probably weren’t helped by the venue being about 90 celsius. The lead singer had very straight hair and a tiny moustache, one of the other band members had a t shirt with a printed tux on it, and another member had a tank top and a bowling hat on. Very strange. They sounded like a more boring version of The Rocks, but to give them their credit, I barely listened and my ears were probably drenched in sweat from the heat anyway.
We almost got killed on the way over to Frog, with Candy spotting an empty glass beer bottle on the stairs on the tube and kicking it down said stairs. She clearly didn’t know her strength and kicked it at the celing, to see it smash into pieces above a man’s head. Oops.
When we got to frog the queue for guestlist was as long as the ordinary queue, so we had to stand around for ages. It seemed that my card of matches that was apparently my press pass wasn’t holding any weight with the always scary bouncers. We did get to talk to the bys from Hoosier Complex though, and they graciously supplied us with chocolate croissant twists and frazzles. yum yum. Their singer had incredibly muscley arms. It seems he doesn’t eat pure fat snack goods every day then. They got their tuition fees paid for to go and spend a year in America playing football. I should try that.
Frog was packed, with silly girls in silly sunglasses elbowing like they’d just discovered their arms bend in the middle. Mystery jets and Vincent, Vincent and the Villains played downstairs but I didn’t venture that far, nor stay late enough for VV&Vs. I did however see Comanechi. I forgot just how much I love them. They are superb. I simply can’t fault them, Akiko has the best hair ever, shes so cute and yet screams like a beast. You want to cuddle her and run from her all at the same time. Nobody paid any attention to them, instead going mad when Rock n Roll Idiots played a Strokes track. ‘you just can’t educate pork’ as my slightly elitist dad would say.
My stomach was a little weak at this point, I kept falling over my feet whilst standing still and I couldn’t find McFly anywhere (not through lack of looking though I should add). Time to go home. We usually get the night bus back to Wimbledon, but with mr swish being home in Liverpool this weekend it was the lovely N8 back to Bethnal Green. The N8 is a shambles, I forget how noisy it is. The best things I heard people say were:
“I have no friends because I’m too much like Chris Morris. He did stuff about kiddie fiddling you know?”
“I’ve just got a Calvin Klein thong on. No bra. You want to fuck me now? But I’m on a bus full of people” (over the phone)
“fuck you and your fucking pigging dirty cunt boyfriend. I’m getting off at Holborn. I got connections at Holborn. I’m getting off at Holborn, you can’t stop me.” (we left Holborn about 25 minutes before this)
“this bus would be much more fun if it was in Puerto Rico”
Tomorrow I shall sleep in, sober up and post about non gig stuff that’s been going on. I’ll also probably remember a tonne of other things about tonight that I’ve forgotten to include now. I’ll also probably throw in a little ‘omfg – riton is teh sex’.