www.betika.co.uk
It's a week late, but I felt the seasons change today. It was still raining constantly, but the rain today felt somehow summery, whereas the rain last week had a distinct wintery edge to it. The wind was against me, but blew away some brainal cobwebs and left something far more useful in their place.
The bushes were thick with birds.
Carolyn did a cool thing today.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Listening
www.betika.co.uk
We are listening. I am lying on the floor, I have my head in the bass drum, because there is a pillow in it, and a pillow is a good place for a head. Carolyn is sitting on a chair nearby, her face pressed against a microphone, the microphone is pushing her top lip up on one side, so she has an Elvis sneer. It looks a bit odd, but I don't mention it, I guess she must like the way it feels, who am I to judge? We hear a word that we think might be out of tune, we look at each other, and know that we're going to have to sing this song AGAIN.
We are listening. I am lying on the floor, I have my head in the bass drum, because there is a pillow in it, and a pillow is a good place for a head. Carolyn is sitting on a chair nearby, her face pressed against a microphone, the microphone is pushing her top lip up on one side, so she has an Elvis sneer. It looks a bit odd, but I don't mention it, I guess she must like the way it feels, who am I to judge? We hear a word that we think might be out of tune, we look at each other, and know that we're going to have to sing this song AGAIN.
Car Games, The 'hoof, The best thing ever
www.betika.co.uk
Chris, Imogen, Carolyn, Lee Dutch and Nic Beard drove up to see Deerhoof at The Scala on Monday. I find it always helps on resonably long journeys such as these to have a few car-based games to help pass the time - an old favourite is "car!dog!car!", the rules of which are fairly simple; If you see a dog, shout "Dog!", and thereafter, when you see a car, shout "Car!", each and every time you see a car, until such time as you see another dog, at which point you shout "Dog!", and remain silent until you see another dog, at which point you shout "Dog!", and begin shouting "Car!" again. And so on. This game works best if one of the occupants of the car is easily annoyed by repeptitive shouting that if driving along a busy road quickly begins to resemble the sound of a colony of seabirds. It can get quite exciting if you're approaching a motorway where there's going to be an awful lot of cars but almost certainly no dogs - will there be a dog, or won't there? Oh God, please let there be a dog!.
On Monday we concocted a slightly more advanced game, based on car makes. Chris, Imogen and Lee were in a white Peugeot, and Nic, Caz and I were in a pretty much identical car somewhere on the same motorway, but we didn't know whether they were ahead of us or behind. Just in case we passed them, or vice versa, to make it clear who was in the better car, we decided that every time we saw a Peugeot, we'd act as if we were having the best fun in the world EVER, rolling our heads back with laughter and sipping imaginary cocktails. This evolved to encompass other manufacturers, for example if we saw a Ford we'd pretend to be having an argument ("Look, there's a Ford!", "NO IT ISN'T!!!"), if we saw a Mitsubishi one of us would pretend that the others had kidnapped them, and if we saw a BMW we'd attempt to affect a Thousand-yard Stare. We were pretty bored.
The 'hoof were absolutely stunning, and I got to proplerly enjoy their set this time, unlike the show at The Fiddler in Bristol last year where I spent half the gig in the loo with digestive issues, and felt pretty cheated as a result, so I got some unfinished business-type closure-joy too, if you know what I mean. Though that was of little signifigance next to the monumental happiness brought about in me by the four people up on the stage. The way they play together is somehow jaw-droppingly tight AND sloppy, a lot like the Magic Band I guess, but where Beefheart can be unsettling and sometimes a bit disturbing, everything Deerhoof do is filled with humour and warmth, but not humour in a cheesy way, or a clever-clever Frank Zappa way. Maybe in a Japanese way? Anyhow, I don't think there's another band I've ever seen or heard that has simultaneously done that. Or done it so well at least. I said hello to Greg the drummer briefly afterwards, he looks a lot like Tim from The Office, but I didn't say so, or ask him if it was deliberate. Very nice bloke. I got him to sign an autograph, then I gave it to him to keep, so he'd never forget who he was. Oh, and we bumped into the guitarist from Stout, who was there at the creation of the Pink Hulk cocktail at the Joiners, we thanked him, and learned that his name is John.
The journey home, punctuated by the traditional Fleet Services toilet-break, was spent trying to remember what Terrence Trent D'Arby's hits were (after Caz or Nic started whistling "Wishing Well" for some reason), and trying to remember who recorded "We don't have to take our clothes off" around the same time, because I always thought it was TTD'A, but recently learned that it wasn't. (Google has just revealed that it was Jermaine Stewart, not Jackson on Greer, as was suggested somewhere round Virginia Water).
I've finished a new song this week, it's called "The best thing ever", and it's the closest thing I've ever written to a lovesong. By this I mean it includes no direct biological references, merely allusions of a similar nature.
Chris, Imogen, Carolyn, Lee Dutch and Nic Beard drove up to see Deerhoof at The Scala on Monday. I find it always helps on resonably long journeys such as these to have a few car-based games to help pass the time - an old favourite is "car!dog!car!", the rules of which are fairly simple; If you see a dog, shout "Dog!", and thereafter, when you see a car, shout "Car!", each and every time you see a car, until such time as you see another dog, at which point you shout "Dog!", and remain silent until you see another dog, at which point you shout "Dog!", and begin shouting "Car!" again. And so on. This game works best if one of the occupants of the car is easily annoyed by repeptitive shouting that if driving along a busy road quickly begins to resemble the sound of a colony of seabirds. It can get quite exciting if you're approaching a motorway where there's going to be an awful lot of cars but almost certainly no dogs - will there be a dog, or won't there? Oh God, please let there be a dog!.
On Monday we concocted a slightly more advanced game, based on car makes. Chris, Imogen and Lee were in a white Peugeot, and Nic, Caz and I were in a pretty much identical car somewhere on the same motorway, but we didn't know whether they were ahead of us or behind. Just in case we passed them, or vice versa, to make it clear who was in the better car, we decided that every time we saw a Peugeot, we'd act as if we were having the best fun in the world EVER, rolling our heads back with laughter and sipping imaginary cocktails. This evolved to encompass other manufacturers, for example if we saw a Ford we'd pretend to be having an argument ("Look, there's a Ford!", "NO IT ISN'T!!!"), if we saw a Mitsubishi one of us would pretend that the others had kidnapped them, and if we saw a BMW we'd attempt to affect a Thousand-yard Stare. We were pretty bored.
The 'hoof were absolutely stunning, and I got to proplerly enjoy their set this time, unlike the show at The Fiddler in Bristol last year where I spent half the gig in the loo with digestive issues, and felt pretty cheated as a result, so I got some unfinished business-type closure-joy too, if you know what I mean. Though that was of little signifigance next to the monumental happiness brought about in me by the four people up on the stage. The way they play together is somehow jaw-droppingly tight AND sloppy, a lot like the Magic Band I guess, but where Beefheart can be unsettling and sometimes a bit disturbing, everything Deerhoof do is filled with humour and warmth, but not humour in a cheesy way, or a clever-clever Frank Zappa way. Maybe in a Japanese way? Anyhow, I don't think there's another band I've ever seen or heard that has simultaneously done that. Or done it so well at least. I said hello to Greg the drummer briefly afterwards, he looks a lot like Tim from The Office, but I didn't say so, or ask him if it was deliberate. Very nice bloke. I got him to sign an autograph, then I gave it to him to keep, so he'd never forget who he was. Oh, and we bumped into the guitarist from Stout, who was there at the creation of the Pink Hulk cocktail at the Joiners, we thanked him, and learned that his name is John.
The journey home, punctuated by the traditional Fleet Services toilet-break, was spent trying to remember what Terrence Trent D'Arby's hits were (after Caz or Nic started whistling "Wishing Well" for some reason), and trying to remember who recorded "We don't have to take our clothes off" around the same time, because I always thought it was TTD'A, but recently learned that it wasn't. (Google has just revealed that it was Jermaine Stewart, not Jackson on Greer, as was suggested somewhere round Virginia Water).
I've finished a new song this week, it's called "The best thing ever", and it's the closest thing I've ever written to a lovesong. By this I mean it includes no direct biological references, merely allusions of a similar nature.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
Joiners Photos
www.betika.co.uk
There are some rather good photos of Betika playing at The Joiners last night here, courtesy of Skott Wallis of The Hat / Lounge / Blind Voyeurs / Tex La Homa / Monkey Head Transplant fame. I particularly like the way he's mostly taken pictures of me!
Good Work, Skott!
There are some rather good photos of Betika playing at The Joiners last night here, courtesy of Skott Wallis of The Hat / Lounge / Blind Voyeurs / Tex La Homa / Monkey Head Transplant fame. I particularly like the way he's mostly taken pictures of me!
Good Work, Skott!
A Very Bad Thing
www.betika.co.uk
First off, a massive thankyou to everyone who came to see us at The Joiners last night, I hope we were worth making the journey for and you enjoyed the other bands as much as I did. Sadly, grim tidings lay in wait for us as we left the stage - a text came from France via Chris with the news that Imogen had broken her wrist in a skiing accident. It is with some shame that I must confess that my first concern was that our bass player wouldn't be able to play for a while, rather than that my friend had hurt herself, a product I think of my increasingly obsessive one-track Betika-head. The delay between the two was only a nanosecond though, there is still a human being in here somewhere! The text said that she was being kept in hospital overnight, and I immedeately had visions of her being alone in a vast, icy Victorian dormitory ward patrolled by a grim French Matron, hopefully the reality of the situation was slightly more modern and less starchy. I wonder if French hospital food is better than ours in the way the rest of their cuisine supposedly is? I'll have an answer on that mid-next week I guess.
Big thankyou also to Hubcap, normally the overseer of Betika recordings, who provided bass-guitar cover last night in Imogen's holiday absence, and who may now find himself doing more of same while broken bones are mending...Poor Imo :(
First off, a massive thankyou to everyone who came to see us at The Joiners last night, I hope we were worth making the journey for and you enjoyed the other bands as much as I did. Sadly, grim tidings lay in wait for us as we left the stage - a text came from France via Chris with the news that Imogen had broken her wrist in a skiing accident. It is with some shame that I must confess that my first concern was that our bass player wouldn't be able to play for a while, rather than that my friend had hurt herself, a product I think of my increasingly obsessive one-track Betika-head. The delay between the two was only a nanosecond though, there is still a human being in here somewhere! The text said that she was being kept in hospital overnight, and I immedeately had visions of her being alone in a vast, icy Victorian dormitory ward patrolled by a grim French Matron, hopefully the reality of the situation was slightly more modern and less starchy. I wonder if French hospital food is better than ours in the way the rest of their cuisine supposedly is? I'll have an answer on that mid-next week I guess.
Big thankyou also to Hubcap, normally the overseer of Betika recordings, who provided bass-guitar cover last night in Imogen's holiday absence, and who may now find himself doing more of same while broken bones are mending...Poor Imo :(
Monday, March 13, 2006
Further Pictures
www.betika.co.uk
There are some pictures online of the gig we did last week with HaHa Party People and Flipron, taken once again by Paul Savine. Click here to see us pulling hilarious sex-faces and ape-like action poses!
There are some pictures online of the gig we did last week with HaHa Party People and Flipron, taken once again by Paul Savine. Click here to see us pulling hilarious sex-faces and ape-like action poses!
I have seen the future...
www.betika.co.uk
...and it doesn't have any electricity in it! We (that is to say Imogen, Carolyn and I) had something of a revelatory experience last night when we had the pleasure of playing at an acoustic night in Bristol that was so acoustic there weren't even any microphones. It must be stressed that this was in no way due to some oversight on the part of the organisers; it was a brilliantly concieved and executed event that harked back to some mythical golden age of making-your-own-entertainment.
The venue was a packed cafe (Cafe Delight on Gloucester Road, recipent of the big fat Betika seal of approval food-and-drink wise!), which didn't have a stage or any kind of designated playing area, so the people playing just found themselves a little bit of space amongst the audience and did their stuff - far and away the most intimate gig I've ever done. As we arrived (after the usual "I think we're lost!" / "Where do we park??" hastles) Jar was starting her set, and immedeately the brilliance of the concept of a totally acoustic night became apparent. Jar's music is so incredibly slight and minimal - just voice and a few notes picked out on glockenspiel, violin or guitar - that even the slightest murmur of conversation from the opposite end of the room would have smothered it completely. But every person in the place sat in complete and utter silence and hung on every word and every note of every song. Have you ever had that thing where you're lying awake late at night, and every tiny little noise that the house makes sounds like burglars breaking the door down? Exactly the same thing happened, the tiny little sounds coming from Jar's glock filled the silent room like the chiming of miniature churchbells.
I think our set would have to be the single most enjoyable performance of my life so far - I have to admit to having been a little apprehensive about being placed under such intense scrutiny, but looking around the crowd I found the faces to be friendly and curious, and it turns out that playing and singing are much easier to do when you don't have to worry about microphones and amplifiers and things. We did six songs; "You can call me brother", "Girlshaped", "We will not know peace", "Pink Hulk", "The taming of the shrew" (for the very first time in public) and a version of "By Default" that drew disgusted groans and laughter from the audience in all the right places.
On after us were Vijay Kishore, a man possesed of the loudest and most remarkable voice I've ever heard ("Like an indian Jeff Buckley but like Jeff Buckley in the good Thom Yorke way" would be a lazy but not innacurate way to describe him), and then Francois and the Atlas Mountains Ensemble, who took up half the room with their bodies and their collection of instruments (THREE glockenspiels, two accordians, tenor sax, clarinet, double bass, melodica, a couple of guitars, various percussion and voices), and who filled the air with a rich and glorious range of sounds. We drove the long road home tired but very, very happy. Big thankyou to Theo from Factfans for letting us be a part of such a great night!
More Betika later this week closer to home when we play The Joiners in Southampton on Sunday 19th sandwiched betwen Misty's Big Adventure, Flipron and The Michael Wookey Band. If you would like to go, email us RIGHT NOW!
...and it doesn't have any electricity in it! We (that is to say Imogen, Carolyn and I) had something of a revelatory experience last night when we had the pleasure of playing at an acoustic night in Bristol that was so acoustic there weren't even any microphones. It must be stressed that this was in no way due to some oversight on the part of the organisers; it was a brilliantly concieved and executed event that harked back to some mythical golden age of making-your-own-entertainment.
The venue was a packed cafe (Cafe Delight on Gloucester Road, recipent of the big fat Betika seal of approval food-and-drink wise!), which didn't have a stage or any kind of designated playing area, so the people playing just found themselves a little bit of space amongst the audience and did their stuff - far and away the most intimate gig I've ever done. As we arrived (after the usual "I think we're lost!" / "Where do we park??" hastles) Jar was starting her set, and immedeately the brilliance of the concept of a totally acoustic night became apparent. Jar's music is so incredibly slight and minimal - just voice and a few notes picked out on glockenspiel, violin or guitar - that even the slightest murmur of conversation from the opposite end of the room would have smothered it completely. But every person in the place sat in complete and utter silence and hung on every word and every note of every song. Have you ever had that thing where you're lying awake late at night, and every tiny little noise that the house makes sounds like burglars breaking the door down? Exactly the same thing happened, the tiny little sounds coming from Jar's glock filled the silent room like the chiming of miniature churchbells.
I think our set would have to be the single most enjoyable performance of my life so far - I have to admit to having been a little apprehensive about being placed under such intense scrutiny, but looking around the crowd I found the faces to be friendly and curious, and it turns out that playing and singing are much easier to do when you don't have to worry about microphones and amplifiers and things. We did six songs; "You can call me brother", "Girlshaped", "We will not know peace", "Pink Hulk", "The taming of the shrew" (for the very first time in public) and a version of "By Default" that drew disgusted groans and laughter from the audience in all the right places.
On after us were Vijay Kishore, a man possesed of the loudest and most remarkable voice I've ever heard ("Like an indian Jeff Buckley but like Jeff Buckley in the good Thom Yorke way" would be a lazy but not innacurate way to describe him), and then Francois and the Atlas Mountains Ensemble, who took up half the room with their bodies and their collection of instruments (THREE glockenspiels, two accordians, tenor sax, clarinet, double bass, melodica, a couple of guitars, various percussion and voices), and who filled the air with a rich and glorious range of sounds. We drove the long road home tired but very, very happy. Big thankyou to Theo from Factfans for letting us be a part of such a great night!
More Betika later this week closer to home when we play The Joiners in Southampton on Sunday 19th sandwiched betwen Misty's Big Adventure, Flipron and The Michael Wookey Band. If you would like to go, email us RIGHT NOW!
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