Live music is great. There’s no two ways about it. Naomi and I popped up to that fine establishment The Lamb last Wednesday for a catch up and happened upon an open mike night which was superb. Although all the acts were just person + guitar they all managed to find their own sound within the same acoustics and as well as someone dropping in a predictable (yet comforting) Levellers tune (“15 Years”) someone did a great cover of “Sleazy Bed Track” by the Bluetones.
On Friday, after a wee snifter of absinth, I caught a bus from Welland into Worcester (yes, you did read that right) to see Marc and his band The Steaming Heads play a set at the fabled Marrs Bar. Marc had mentioned that he’d be on stage from 9:00pm in his heads-up e-mail and the bus got me in to Worcester at nearer twenty past so I was annoyed that I’d missed a brace of ditties. I needn’t have worried as I came in to find an electro/rock/funk act in full throw, sounding somewhere between the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Cooper Temple Clause, and they were really going for it. By ten Marc showed up, having been absent up until now because he’d been watching the football in the pub. Marc had a few seconds spare to say hi before he clambered into some dungarees and a beret, grabbed his bass and began plucking the familiar chords of the Cajun/bluegrass version of U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”. This has to be heard to be believed. I stayed until I had to run for the last bus from Crowngate back to Welland (yes, you did read that right) which meant that I had to miss the second half of the set. It also meant that I got home though so that was alright. Unfortunately, shortly after selecting my White Stripes playlist on my iPod for the journey home (fitting I thought) and getting on the bus, my three pints caught up with me and the resulting need for the toilet tortured me for the entire journey home (a full forty minutes due to the bus going via Hanley Swan AND Upton). I leapt from the bus at my stop and vaulted over the church wall. Had I realised that the ground on the other side was considerably lower than the pavement I probably wouldn’t have jumped with quite so much urgency. After picking myself up I was able to relieve myself against the wall. Unfortunately a couple of giggling girls chose that exact moment to walk past along the pavement and catching the sight of the top of my head and a pair of furtive eyes beneath it, they squealed and ran off. I would forever be known to them as that guy who likes to hide out in church yards and pee. The graveyard was much harder to leave than it had been to enter and I had to contend with brambles, branches and other nasties and after emerging I looked like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards; the fact that I’d dragged myself through the hedge in question didn’t make any difference. Despite the unusual finish to the evening it had been a good night though. My next adventure will be a night out with Dom. Wish me luck!