An Exercise in Irrelevance

It has been a long, long time since my last gig review. As this blog is mostly professional now, this is perhaps not such a bad thing. I did half write a review of Roy Harper and Joanna Newsome in Sept last year, but it never got posted. Don’t think I have been to gig since then. Still onwards.

I’ve been a fan of June Tabor for a long time, particularly her album with Martin Simpson even if it does have terrible cover art. Despite this, and the fact that she lives pretty close to my home town, I’ve never seen her live. Her music is dark and eclectic, her voice rich. Combined with the Oysterband’s tendency to do strange adaptations folk-style it was destined to be an interesting gig. The music is something like gothic folk if that is not a contradiction in terms. While singing, June Tabor comes as a foreboding presence on stage. Between songs though, she’s entertaining, witty and light, which was a bit of a relief.

The gig was fantastic. Her voice is as excellent live as on record, with adding prescence. She adds to the music by, erm, explaining what it is all about (this can be something of a problem otherwise). The evening was well managed, moving from gentle and quieter music to end-of-evening barnstormers. It was good to be listening to live music again.

But one thing I didn’t understand. Why does Ray Cooper stand on a box while playing bass? He’s already the tallest.

Last night was my first time at the Cluny 2, which used to be the Round, as some of the signs inside still claim. It’s not round any more, having a conventional stage. There is still noise from the Cluny 1 upstairs and the occasional flushing of toilets; I guess that they can’t complain about this anymore.

The support was Naomi Sommers. Pretty standard format, really, one woman and a guitar. She has a lovely voice, rich and warm which made the show. Some of her songs are pretty strong (“February”); some were less good, but no bad ones. Enjoyable.

Eric Taylor, I’ve not seen before. He also has a great voice, supported by some excellent finger-picking. His stage presence is dark and melodramatic. He’s also a bit nuts; songs were separated by repetitious and rambling talks about, well, something. Most of it didn’t really make sense. Combined with the increasingly cold Cluny 2, it was all a bit much, so I skipped the encore. Entertaining, in parts, but not entirely satisfying.

There is a mystery behind Brains SA; what exactly does it stand for? Among those who know, it is universally revered as skull attack. I’ve reasonably fond of it, but tonight, perhaps, I finally understood how it came by it’s moniker.

After getting home, following several pints, I was suddenly struck by a desire to listen to Jimmy Sommerville; there is, of course, no sanity or logic to this at all, but there you have it. Now, of course, his pop sensibilities are well known, but I remember, like a folk memory hidden deep in my brain, “For a friend” released shortly, perversely after “Never Can Say Goodbye”. No dancy pop tune this, but an elegiac ballad to a friend lost to the virus of the 80s. I think I only heard it twice before it disappeared; but I remember it was wonderful.

A quick search of spotify led me to his latest collection, digital only, called “Suddenly Last Summer”. The most bizarre, wonderful collection of songs, covers, with an odd twist. “Hanging on the telephone” as folk ballad; “Hush” with a mandolin solo.

I have my own ideas and opinions about the future of music. And as a sometime, occasional performer myself, I do care about musicians. I want them to be earning a living. I don’t know if Lily Allen is right, or whether the internet will be the death of middleman, to the benefit of us all. But, for myself as a consumer, the ability to gain instant gratification, to listen to such strange, marvelous music that surely I would never have remembered to buy, even if it had been available in a store has to be great thing. I don’t know for sure how musicians of the future will make money; but, I live in hope. Are there enough people like my, acting on a strange impulse, to make it worthwhile. But musicians have something to sell, something that people value; there must be a business model hidden in there somewhere.

The record companies and Pop Idol, well, that’s a different issue. Few people will mourn their passing.

SA, indeed.

Beginning of term, so I guess it’s not too much of a surprise that I haven’t blogged for ages. Life does get slightly swamped by work at this time of year; yesterday, I was so tired after working at full-tilt for two weeks that I even took most of the day off.

Anyway, I realised that I’ve been missing out on films that I have watched, so I thought to do a quick, condensed review here. All of them films that I’ve been looking forward to, but only 1 managed to fulfil its promise.

So, Spiderman III. I do enjoy superhero films; plenty of action, add a bit of pathos and some humour; then, you have a food film, especially good for a plane or otherwise. Spiderman I and II were, I thought, great examples. No III was one too far; basically, the plot was too winding, too random; it just felt like a day-in-the-life, a diary of a superhero. Pity. Don’t know why. Perhaps, they just ran out of ideas.

X-Men III is a different kettle of fish; a new director for the final part, and one who did not show the deftness for ensembles that Bryan Singer did. Despite throwing in more characters, despite a “bigger” story and despite behaving with more dramatic events (including killing of half the cast), it just failed. Also confused and random, I wasn’t always sure what was going on, and it didn’t feel like a logical development of the former. Same problem as spiderman essentially.

Son of Rambow. Probably cost 1/10 of the others (or less). Magnificent. Funny, engaging and heart-warming without a hint of tweeness. The characters were lovely, the acting adept and the script very, very funny. If you haven’t watched it, well, just do. And don’t stop for Spiderman or X-Men along the way.

I’ve been meaning to go and see one of the outdoor performances in Jesmond Dene for a while. Last week, I finally got to one — Emma, by Jane Austen, on a lovely, bright friday evening.

The story itself isn’t really up to much. Almost all of the main characters are unlikeable and unengaging; Emma, herself, is an interfering, arrogant and affected snob, with no redeeming characteristics; she barely stands out against the characters who are meant to be unpleasant. Very little happens that is of particular interest; I can’t find it in my heart to be excited about a ball or a picnic. There wasn’t even the consolation of a few tragic deaths; the one funeral is a minor character, and you can’t take pleasure in that. During the big finale it all ends well for Emma who gets hitched; but, I felt sorry for her other half, and what was being inflicted on him.

Despite this, the adaptation and performance by Heartbreak Productions, was excellent. The actors shifted between multiple characters with ease, and then made full use of cheap theatrical tricks to make up for the simple set and small cast. The audience participation was funny without being irritating, and the dropped out-of-character to provide narration and expand on plot lines. They added to this with reflections on the story (“it’s all about women sitting on chairs, arguing about which chair they are going to sit on next”), as well as the occasional, gentle knob gag to keep the blokes happy.

At the end of it, I was insect-infested with a sore neck and backside from sitting on the grass, but had had a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Well worth seeing.

On Saturday, Newcastle was host to an Americana festival; anything with lots of music anywhere is always going to make me happy. In this case, we ended up a music boat; there’s a company that regularly cruises up and down the Tyne, and I’ve long thought it might be fun to give this a go; what better than to combine this with a bluegrass band (the midnight ramblers) and Devon Sproule, who is always good to see. It was a good fun; the cruise itself was entertaining, especially with the weather being so nice. Unfortunately, you couldn’t hear the band from the top deck, but as I’d forgotten my floppy hat, staying atop wasn’t an option anyway. The band were fun; very competant, professional and fluid. Poking around their website, they appear to be part-time, which belies their touring schedule; if it’s still true then their suggestion that they are gaining success as a result of their hard work is no lie. Devon Sproule was great as always, even though she looked rather irritable when she started; performing seems to make her happier. It was a pleasure to see her in a small (floating) venue again, as she is at her best in this sort of venue.

Sunday, was the Sunderland air show. The day was much cloudier, but this worked out well; you could look up into the sky without getting blinded. The aerobatics was exciting, although starting off with the Red Arrows robbed the occasion of it’s climax. Still watching machinery that was designed to kill people leaves me with a slight feeling of unease, particularly when some of it costs upward of 100 million per plane; it’s impressive, but for that price it should be. Still I guess the fundamental problem is that there are only a limited numbers of tricks that a plane can do; one barrel roll is fairly similar to another, even if the planes are different colours. In summary, a good day out, but not sure that I’d want to go every year.

And the trains? Well, took the metro to Sunderland. Pretty weak, but I thought it was a good title for a blog post.