An Exercise in Irrelevance

I had cause to go doctors recently; I thought, I’d try the new drop-in centre that they have opened in town. It was fine, for the record, although I can’t really see the difference between this and a normal doctors. Well, with the exception that they don’t have the appointments fiddle (we guarentee to give you an appointment with 48 hours, but not giving you an appointment which is further away).

Next day, I get a call from my own doctors — were they phoning up to send me a get-well soon. No, of course not, they were phoning up to sign me off; the receptionist seemed quite irritated that I had been to the drop-in place, and had great pleasure in telling me to seek a new doctor.

The problem was, of course, that I have moved, so I am "now no longer in their area". Yeah, but I only go to the doctors once every couple of years, on average, and I move on average about that often. So, theoretically, I would have to register with a new doctor about as often as I want to see one; hardly surprising, then, that I can’t be assed to register at all.

Originally published on my old blog site.

Been looking forward to Jolie Holland for a while; I think her records are superb, from the Be Good Tanyas onward. Her strange, wierd vocals seem to work; Mexican Blue is stunning song, which leaves me lost everytime I hear it.

I guess this is a lot to live up to. Last nights gig missed by a mile. The support, who’s name I forgot, was poor; nice voice, but the songs were crap, and the performance shambolic. This was replicated by the main act; she treated the audience like they were the wall-paper at her own private practice session. The band spent lots of time talking to each other; they had to tell poor jokes while she tuned up, which took ages. And she needed it; the first three songs were played with an out-of-tune guitar, that was mixed up loud enough that you couldn’t hear her voice anyway.

God knows, I’m not a performance fascist; I like things relaxed, I don’t mind raw and I’m not a technical freak. But a live performance is just that — a performance; if you can’t be bothered, then you shouldn’t be there.

Originally published on my old blog site.