www.betika.co.uk
It really is this time. Tomorrow we collect the Master of all Masters and take it to the pressing plant, we've got the proofs of the artwork back and it all looks lovely.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
Well actually...
www.betika.co.uk
...it turns out that it isn't quite finished! It has become clear on repeated listenings that we have rather over-egged the ending of "Love, let me not hunger" with unnecessary massed harmony vocals that make it sound a bit like Boney-M, which seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time, so a last-minute remix is in order. As luck would have it, we have a day to spare, so this shouldn't set us back at all, it just means that some of us will have to spend an extra evening in the studio tonight, and after 841 days, one more is nothing! Barring some unforeseen disaster, the whole album should be mastered by the end of tomorrow, which will make it a doubly special day as it's also Carolyn's birthday. And it's Imogen's the following day, and Martin's a few days after that, so Betika will be mostly partying hard this week!
If you'd like to see the toll these celebrations are going to take on people who are already nearing the point of mental exhaustion, come down to Fruit on Old Christchurch Road on Sunday night (2nd July), where an acoustic-based micro-Betika will be playing some songs. Also playing on the night will be Jar and Men Diamler, both hailing from Bristol and currently on tour around the south doing good and interesting things, and also Farther, Nicky Hann, Glen Ross and Pete Read. They will all be good, and we will most likely be in a shocking state. I think it's going to be a lot of fun. Imogen will be playing the double bass!
...it turns out that it isn't quite finished! It has become clear on repeated listenings that we have rather over-egged the ending of "Love, let me not hunger" with unnecessary massed harmony vocals that make it sound a bit like Boney-M, which seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time, so a last-minute remix is in order. As luck would have it, we have a day to spare, so this shouldn't set us back at all, it just means that some of us will have to spend an extra evening in the studio tonight, and after 841 days, one more is nothing! Barring some unforeseen disaster, the whole album should be mastered by the end of tomorrow, which will make it a doubly special day as it's also Carolyn's birthday. And it's Imogen's the following day, and Martin's a few days after that, so Betika will be mostly partying hard this week!
If you'd like to see the toll these celebrations are going to take on people who are already nearing the point of mental exhaustion, come down to Fruit on Old Christchurch Road on Sunday night (2nd July), where an acoustic-based micro-Betika will be playing some songs. Also playing on the night will be Jar and Men Diamler, both hailing from Bristol and currently on tour around the south doing good and interesting things, and also Farther, Nicky Hann, Glen Ross and Pete Read. They will all be good, and we will most likely be in a shocking state. I think it's going to be a lot of fun. Imogen will be playing the double bass!
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Not all booze and flying!
www.betika.co.uk
I'd like to make it clear that in spite of appearances (see last two blogs), we are in fact working very hard on getting the album finished, and not just getting drunk on exotic booze and swanning around in light aircraft. The Vicious McGinty was in fact invented while we were mixing the new improved version of "By Default", and Martin did all of his bits ages ago, so he's lucky enough to be free to do whatever he wants. Spare a thought for Gary, Carolyn and myself though, next time you're enjoying the sunshine, or having a drink with friends in the pub, or just going to bed when your mind and body tell you that it really is time you got some sleep. Spirits have been up and down over the last week, there was a bit of a lull around thursday / friday when I became quite despondent and short tempered and Carolyn and I almost had a row by accident (but didn't), but having gotten By Default finished on saturday, and after getting a decent amount of sleep over the weekend, things seemed to have swung to the opposite pole by last night. Last week's sighs, groans and mock-foetal misery-balls had been replaced by near maniacal laughter at our own stupid jokes, and rolling around with same, which I was incredibly glad of. We now have two songs left to sing and mix, then the whole thing goes off to be mastered and then manufactured. And then we'll be like prisoners freshly released from a lengthy sentence, marvelling at how much the outside world has changed while we've been inside, eyes agog at all the new technology and fashions, terrified of how we're going to cope outside the strict but dependable framework of the prison routine; without the rules and regulations that have taken away the need and the ability to think. So many decisions we'll have to make for ourselves! do we try to go straight? or do we re-offend?
I'd like to make it clear that in spite of appearances (see last two blogs), we are in fact working very hard on getting the album finished, and not just getting drunk on exotic booze and swanning around in light aircraft. The Vicious McGinty was in fact invented while we were mixing the new improved version of "By Default", and Martin did all of his bits ages ago, so he's lucky enough to be free to do whatever he wants. Spare a thought for Gary, Carolyn and myself though, next time you're enjoying the sunshine, or having a drink with friends in the pub, or just going to bed when your mind and body tell you that it really is time you got some sleep. Spirits have been up and down over the last week, there was a bit of a lull around thursday / friday when I became quite despondent and short tempered and Carolyn and I almost had a row by accident (but didn't), but having gotten By Default finished on saturday, and after getting a decent amount of sleep over the weekend, things seemed to have swung to the opposite pole by last night. Last week's sighs, groans and mock-foetal misery-balls had been replaced by near maniacal laughter at our own stupid jokes, and rolling around with same, which I was incredibly glad of. We now have two songs left to sing and mix, then the whole thing goes off to be mastered and then manufactured. And then we'll be like prisoners freshly released from a lengthy sentence, marvelling at how much the outside world has changed while we've been inside, eyes agog at all the new technology and fashions, terrified of how we're going to cope outside the strict but dependable framework of the prison routine; without the rules and regulations that have taken away the need and the ability to think. So many decisions we'll have to make for ourselves! do we try to go straight? or do we re-offend?
Monday, June 19, 2006
From the Betika Cocktail Companion: The Vicious McGinty
www.betika.co.uk
Small measure of "Green" - a 30% syrupy liqueur that Gary got in Majorca last year that tastes aniseed-y and a bit menthol-y, a bit like Pernod but more like cough medicine. You might know what it's actually called - do let us know!
Ginger Beer
Hot Chilli Powder
PP3 9v Battery (IMPORTANT! THIS MUST BE FLAT!!! If you use a new one it may result in burns!)
1) Mix the Green and the Ginger Beer together in a small tumbler.
2) Dab a small amount of chilli powder on your tounge with a finger.
3) Take a sip from the glass. Swallow slowly.
4) Dab the terminals of the flat battery on your tongue.
Your mouth will now be full of sensations, and will probably be feeling all the emotions at once.
5) Repeat steps 2 onwards until glass is empty.
6) Repeat steps 1 onwards.
As with all of these recipies, Betikorp takes no responsibilty for whatever state you end up in if you choose to make use of the above information, and the subsequent mess you make of your life.
This drink is named in honour of Lawrence McGinty, the ITN Science Correspondent.
Small measure of "Green" - a 30% syrupy liqueur that Gary got in Majorca last year that tastes aniseed-y and a bit menthol-y, a bit like Pernod but more like cough medicine. You might know what it's actually called - do let us know!
Ginger Beer
Hot Chilli Powder
PP3 9v Battery (IMPORTANT! THIS MUST BE FLAT!!! If you use a new one it may result in burns!)
1) Mix the Green and the Ginger Beer together in a small tumbler.
2) Dab a small amount of chilli powder on your tounge with a finger.
3) Take a sip from the glass. Swallow slowly.
4) Dab the terminals of the flat battery on your tongue.
Your mouth will now be full of sensations, and will probably be feeling all the emotions at once.
5) Repeat steps 2 onwards until glass is empty.
6) Repeat steps 1 onwards.
As with all of these recipies, Betikorp takes no responsibilty for whatever state you end up in if you choose to make use of the above information, and the subsequent mess you make of your life.
This drink is named in honour of Lawrence McGinty, the ITN Science Correspondent.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Tired Now
www.betika.co.uk
I did a Murray Walker on myself last night. Carolyn was saying how tired the recent spell of intense Betika activity has made her, and I rather flippantly told her that she was probably going to bed too early. I've been going to bed as it's getting light, then getting up and going to work or to do Betika stuff, and so far (after about two weeks) I've felt pretty good, if perhaps slightly removed from the real world. Today I do not feel so good. We spent last night trying to get my vocals right on "Thunderstorm", and I was having real trouble with my nasal passages, probably due to hayfever. We did take after take after take until I literally couldn't sing any more and Caz couldn't keep her eyes open (I took a nice photo of her sleeping on the drumkit, she looks very peaceful yet extremely uncomfortable). I had a relatively early night (asleep by 12.30), but was woken far too early by..................a Thunderstorm! Initially, my thoughts were that this was a sign from God that I should get up and record yet more singing, but my body strongly disagreed, and the resulting tug-of-war between the two left me in a semi-waking state for far too long. Eventually I slipped into one of those horribly realistic dreams about getting up and going to work, only to find that I worked in a wizard school and could fly by ever so gently lifting both feet off the ground and floating upwards.
I may have slightly Murrayed myself in my last post too, when I said that cabin fever had yet to set in. I've found myself becoming concerned - borderline obsessed to be honest - with Carolyn's claim that sometime she's not thinking about anything. On occasions she'll just stare vacantly into space, often looking thoughtful, sometimes troubled, and I'll ask her out of curiosity or sometimes concern what she's thinking about, and she'll reply "nothing". Now I know what you're thinking: Everyone does that, and when they say "nothing", they just don't want to talk about whatever is on their mind. But Caz insists that this isn't the case, and that she really isn't thinking about anything. And that concept terrifies me. I never stop thinking, and I couldn't if I wanted to, my thoughts come in a constant high-pressure stream that can't be turned off. I've tried that Zen meditation technique where you think of a candle and blow it out, and all that happened was my heart stopped beating and my corpse had to be re-animated by evil (aren't they all?) scientists. I've tried using mantras to block out other thoughts, but always they creep back in. To me, the idea of the absense of thought is like the concepts of infinity or death, impossible to properly get my head round. When Carolyn says she's been not thinking of anything, it's like someone telling me that they haven't been breathing for the last ten minutes, or more sinisterly, it has echoes of Charles Manson's assertation that he had no conception of remorse (When asked in a documentary if he was sorry for the murder of Sharon Tate, he replied "Charlie don't know what sorry is" - the look in his eyes said he meant it). It's like something important is missing, and I'm growing paranoid that she might be some kind of psychopath. Or a closet Zen master. Either way, I'm starting to look at her like Homer and Mr Burns looked at each other after they got buried in that avalanche.
I wonder what the longest time is that two people have been confined in a small space with only each other for company? Probably in orbit, or on a remote lighthouse. I wonder how long it took before they started having these kinds of thoughts?
Nearly finished now (me and IT).
I did a Murray Walker on myself last night. Carolyn was saying how tired the recent spell of intense Betika activity has made her, and I rather flippantly told her that she was probably going to bed too early. I've been going to bed as it's getting light, then getting up and going to work or to do Betika stuff, and so far (after about two weeks) I've felt pretty good, if perhaps slightly removed from the real world. Today I do not feel so good. We spent last night trying to get my vocals right on "Thunderstorm", and I was having real trouble with my nasal passages, probably due to hayfever. We did take after take after take until I literally couldn't sing any more and Caz couldn't keep her eyes open (I took a nice photo of her sleeping on the drumkit, she looks very peaceful yet extremely uncomfortable). I had a relatively early night (asleep by 12.30), but was woken far too early by..................a Thunderstorm! Initially, my thoughts were that this was a sign from God that I should get up and record yet more singing, but my body strongly disagreed, and the resulting tug-of-war between the two left me in a semi-waking state for far too long. Eventually I slipped into one of those horribly realistic dreams about getting up and going to work, only to find that I worked in a wizard school and could fly by ever so gently lifting both feet off the ground and floating upwards.
I may have slightly Murrayed myself in my last post too, when I said that cabin fever had yet to set in. I've found myself becoming concerned - borderline obsessed to be honest - with Carolyn's claim that sometime she's not thinking about anything. On occasions she'll just stare vacantly into space, often looking thoughtful, sometimes troubled, and I'll ask her out of curiosity or sometimes concern what she's thinking about, and she'll reply "nothing". Now I know what you're thinking: Everyone does that, and when they say "nothing", they just don't want to talk about whatever is on their mind. But Caz insists that this isn't the case, and that she really isn't thinking about anything. And that concept terrifies me. I never stop thinking, and I couldn't if I wanted to, my thoughts come in a constant high-pressure stream that can't be turned off. I've tried that Zen meditation technique where you think of a candle and blow it out, and all that happened was my heart stopped beating and my corpse had to be re-animated by evil (aren't they all?) scientists. I've tried using mantras to block out other thoughts, but always they creep back in. To me, the idea of the absense of thought is like the concepts of infinity or death, impossible to properly get my head round. When Carolyn says she's been not thinking of anything, it's like someone telling me that they haven't been breathing for the last ten minutes, or more sinisterly, it has echoes of Charles Manson's assertation that he had no conception of remorse (When asked in a documentary if he was sorry for the murder of Sharon Tate, he replied "Charlie don't know what sorry is" - the look in his eyes said he meant it). It's like something important is missing, and I'm growing paranoid that she might be some kind of psychopath. Or a closet Zen master. Either way, I'm starting to look at her like Homer and Mr Burns looked at each other after they got buried in that avalanche.
I wonder what the longest time is that two people have been confined in a small space with only each other for company? Probably in orbit, or on a remote lighthouse. I wonder how long it took before they started having these kinds of thoughts?
Nearly finished now (me and IT).
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Too cold now for shorts
www.betika.co.uk
Just got in from a marathon mixing session that saw us tick three more "DONE" boxes on the album master tracklist. Listening to what we'd done on the car stereo on the way home, it all sounded to these ruined ears like big lovely pop music, which is good, because if it didn't after all the time that's been spent on it, I think I'd have to walk into the sea fully clothed and keep going until I couldn't go any more. Even the songs that had previously been causes for concern and planters of seeds of doubt seem to be good now, it's amazing what you can acheive just by being anally obsessive about small details. Spirits remain high generally, and Betikabin-fever has yet to steal over Gary, Caz and myself, despite our having spent pretty much every spare minute of the last....god knows how long in one another's company. Carolyn did nearly smash her flute to pieces against a guitar amp today mid-overdub, and also punched me a bit, but this was because she was arguing with herself, and not me at all, I think.
This week we have mostly been recording people who play in orchestras. I have learnt two interesting things about Gary;
a) He likes to stroke bumblebees.
b) He chews milk.
Light soon. Bed now.
D
Just got in from a marathon mixing session that saw us tick three more "DONE" boxes on the album master tracklist. Listening to what we'd done on the car stereo on the way home, it all sounded to these ruined ears like big lovely pop music, which is good, because if it didn't after all the time that's been spent on it, I think I'd have to walk into the sea fully clothed and keep going until I couldn't go any more. Even the songs that had previously been causes for concern and planters of seeds of doubt seem to be good now, it's amazing what you can acheive just by being anally obsessive about small details. Spirits remain high generally, and Betikabin-fever has yet to steal over Gary, Caz and myself, despite our having spent pretty much every spare minute of the last....god knows how long in one another's company. Carolyn did nearly smash her flute to pieces against a guitar amp today mid-overdub, and also punched me a bit, but this was because she was arguing with herself, and not me at all, I think.
This week we have mostly been recording people who play in orchestras. I have learnt two interesting things about Gary;
a) He likes to stroke bumblebees.
b) He chews milk.
Light soon. Bed now.
D
Monday, June 05, 2006
Betika in a Nutshell
www.betika.co.uk
There's a review here of our lunchtime slot at the Larmertree Party at Salisbury Arts Centre about a month ago, which is concise, accurate and extremely favourable.
There's a review here of our lunchtime slot at the Larmertree Party at Salisbury Arts Centre about a month ago, which is concise, accurate and extremely favourable.
Friday, May 26, 2006
News and Whathaveyou
www.betika.co.uk
a) Betika, back to full fitness in the Imogen arm department, are playing the Joiners in Southampton tonight! Today, incedentally, is Friday 26th May. We won't be playing anything new, just old things, but greeted like long-lost freinds, with vim, vigour and lovelovelove, the things with which an old friend should be greeted. That's all we can offer really. Skill is right out of the question, but who needs it when you have the kind of glue that holds us ( that's us and us, AND us and you) together? No fucker, that's who.
2) AaaaaaaaaaaaTttttttttttttttttttPppppppppp! Were you there? Wasn't it good?
Friday was mostly guitar solos, culminating in Dinosaur Jr, but never mind - Broken Social Scene!
Saturday was sublime end-to-end, can't even remember half of what I saw, largely due to mine and Caz's strict 2-standard-drinks-per-hour booze reigime, which lasted way, way beyond sunrise. I think it may have been 14 hours, plus extras to take away the taste of the chilli powder we dabbed on our tongues in the name of science, in order to find out what bits of our tongues did what, you see? (About a centimetre back from the tip does spicy). Boredoms were staggering, Dungen (pronounced Doonyen, thay said) were a revelation (albeit from 1971), Joanna Newsome has stolen my clogged-up, jerky heart away forever, may I never get it back. Camber Sands is not called so for nothing, for grains of it got everywhere, between indie gymnastics in the Pontins playground and passing out in a sanddune at stupid AM (post Newsome, an adrenalinatastic brush with a Wierdo Indie Knifeman and many, many hours of Real Hard Dancing), my pockets are still full of the stuff and I didn't even take these trousers with me.
Sunday I don't remember much, missed the Delicate Hammers in-chalet gig due to body having gone way beyond maximum endurance. Electralane were pretty special, and then nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. And then somehow I got home, enriched to the max by R Kelly and his "Trapped in the closet" nonsense. I urge you to steal this particular cultural artifact into your life using internet file-robbing tools. Or maybe buy it from amazon.usa
iii) Keep 30th June free in your diaries! There will be a Betika party then, and I hope that you can come.
a) Betika, back to full fitness in the Imogen arm department, are playing the Joiners in Southampton tonight! Today, incedentally, is Friday 26th May. We won't be playing anything new, just old things, but greeted like long-lost freinds, with vim, vigour and lovelovelove, the things with which an old friend should be greeted. That's all we can offer really. Skill is right out of the question, but who needs it when you have the kind of glue that holds us ( that's us and us, AND us and you) together? No fucker, that's who.
2) AaaaaaaaaaaaTttttttttttttttttttPppppppppp! Were you there? Wasn't it good?
Friday was mostly guitar solos, culminating in Dinosaur Jr, but never mind - Broken Social Scene!
Saturday was sublime end-to-end, can't even remember half of what I saw, largely due to mine and Caz's strict 2-standard-drinks-per-hour booze reigime, which lasted way, way beyond sunrise. I think it may have been 14 hours, plus extras to take away the taste of the chilli powder we dabbed on our tongues in the name of science, in order to find out what bits of our tongues did what, you see? (About a centimetre back from the tip does spicy). Boredoms were staggering, Dungen (pronounced Doonyen, thay said) were a revelation (albeit from 1971), Joanna Newsome has stolen my clogged-up, jerky heart away forever, may I never get it back. Camber Sands is not called so for nothing, for grains of it got everywhere, between indie gymnastics in the Pontins playground and passing out in a sanddune at stupid AM (post Newsome, an adrenalinatastic brush with a Wierdo Indie Knifeman and many, many hours of Real Hard Dancing), my pockets are still full of the stuff and I didn't even take these trousers with me.
Sunday I don't remember much, missed the Delicate Hammers in-chalet gig due to body having gone way beyond maximum endurance. Electralane were pretty special, and then nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. And then somehow I got home, enriched to the max by R Kelly and his "Trapped in the closet" nonsense. I urge you to steal this particular cultural artifact into your life using internet file-robbing tools. Or maybe buy it from amazon.usa
iii) Keep 30th June free in your diaries! There will be a Betika party then, and I hope that you can come.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Things we have seen lately
www.betika.co.uk
1) Life-sized scrap metal sculptures of two giraffes (parent and child).
2) A buzzard, circling right at the end of my road. Like foxes, they're encroaching more and more into urban areas. I wonder what it is they're eating? Maybe they're raiding bins, or perhaps they swoop down and carry off pigeons?
3) Carolyn saw a pygmy hippopotamus chasing a rabbit round a field for ages. She says she'd like to think that they were friends and were frolicing gayly, but I think she knows deep down that the hippo was intent on biting the bunny in half with it's flip-top head.
4) Guillemots (the band, not the birds). And Joan as Policewoman. Talked to Fyfe Dangerfield (vox and keys) afterwards and tried to explain (with sung examples) how "Trains to Brazil" has one of the top five lip-trembling lyrics of all time, in particular the bit about the pile of telephones starting to shake and ring, which I've always taken as a reference to the 7/7 tube bombings. Like everyone who knew somebody in London that day, I was straight on the phone as soon as I heard the news to make sure they were okay. I can't begin to imagine how it would have felt if those calls had never been answered, as was the case for hundreds of people.
Incidentally, the other songs in the top five are "Mr Bojangles" (where his dog up and dies); "The village green preservation society" ("God save the George Cross, and all those who were awarded them"); "Love will tear us apart" and; "Two little boys". Fyfe quite rightly added "Bright Eyes" to the list (but on no account the Steven Gately version, not ever ever ever.)
ATP this weekend!
1) Life-sized scrap metal sculptures of two giraffes (parent and child).
2) A buzzard, circling right at the end of my road. Like foxes, they're encroaching more and more into urban areas. I wonder what it is they're eating? Maybe they're raiding bins, or perhaps they swoop down and carry off pigeons?
3) Carolyn saw a pygmy hippopotamus chasing a rabbit round a field for ages. She says she'd like to think that they were friends and were frolicing gayly, but I think she knows deep down that the hippo was intent on biting the bunny in half with it's flip-top head.
4) Guillemots (the band, not the birds). And Joan as Policewoman. Talked to Fyfe Dangerfield (vox and keys) afterwards and tried to explain (with sung examples) how "Trains to Brazil" has one of the top five lip-trembling lyrics of all time, in particular the bit about the pile of telephones starting to shake and ring, which I've always taken as a reference to the 7/7 tube bombings. Like everyone who knew somebody in London that day, I was straight on the phone as soon as I heard the news to make sure they were okay. I can't begin to imagine how it would have felt if those calls had never been answered, as was the case for hundreds of people.
Incidentally, the other songs in the top five are "Mr Bojangles" (where his dog up and dies); "The village green preservation society" ("God save the George Cross, and all those who were awarded them"); "Love will tear us apart" and; "Two little boys". Fyfe quite rightly added "Bright Eyes" to the list (but on no account the Steven Gately version, not ever ever ever.)
ATP this weekend!
Thursday, May 11, 2006
In the interest of science...
www.betika.co.uk
...I've eaten Sugar Puffs for breakfast every day for a week. Now not only my wee but my entire life smells of honey until around lunchtime. I'd be interested to see if eating asparagus at every meal would have a similar all-pervading effect, but two possible drawbacks spring immedeately to mind
1. The cost - asaparagus don't come cheap, partly because of
2. It's fabled aphrodisiac properties. There's a risk that the test subject may be transformed into some kind of raging nymhpo and have to face up to all the responsibilities that come with that.
Some of us went to see the Go! Team tonight, and it was 9 out of 10. Kid Carpet wasn't half bad either.
...I've eaten Sugar Puffs for breakfast every day for a week. Now not only my wee but my entire life smells of honey until around lunchtime. I'd be interested to see if eating asparagus at every meal would have a similar all-pervading effect, but two possible drawbacks spring immedeately to mind
1. The cost - asaparagus don't come cheap, partly because of
2. It's fabled aphrodisiac properties. There's a risk that the test subject may be transformed into some kind of raging nymhpo and have to face up to all the responsibilities that come with that.
Some of us went to see the Go! Team tonight, and it was 9 out of 10. Kid Carpet wasn't half bad either.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Penzance
www.betika.co.uk
So many things to write about, so little cohesion in my head! I guess Penzance is a good place to start...
Seven fully functional Betikans, one slightly broken Imogen and a magnificently bearded Nic the Paper Cinematographist clambered aboard a cavernous minibus at stupid o'clock on Good Friday and headed west. Bank holiday traffic! So many roadworks! So many caravans! So many "comfort breaks"! Got chatting to a roadside cafe proprietor called Phil, got some good showbiz catering stories out of him, ended up talking about Johnny Dankworth's frankly bonkers Schoenberg-influenced 12-tone big-band music and hearing tales of late nights in Ronnie Scott's. Made pretty good time past wind-farms and abandoned tin mines, arrived in Penzance mid-afternoon and immedeately sought out a chemists so I could get some painkillers for my horrendous toothache. We decided to find ourselves a nice pub garden to sit in - cue several orbits of Penzance's one-way system before we opted to take a trip out to the charmingly named nearby village of Mousehole (pronounced "Mowzel", I've since been told). It was here that we learned that 6' 6" wide roads + a 6' 6" wide minibus + oncoming traffic = one of those situations where everybody has to get out of their cars and have a conference about what is to be done. We also discovered that Rich Betika is highly skilled in manouvering large vehicles in tight spaces. I'm so glad it was him driving and not me! Eventually we found the perfect pub with a garden overlooking the sea, in a village called "Paul", an idyl so remote that when we piled out of the van the only sound we could hear were those made by birds and insects. It turned out that this was because the pub was shut. Gary said it was the most disappointed he'd been since some childhood FA cup final where whichever team he supported at the time had been beaten so badly it had caused him to lose all interest in the game to this day. Downcast, we piled back into the bus. We found ourselves a pub on the outskirts of Penzance, which turned out to be my favourite kind - a small one that only serves lovely dark brown beer, and spent an hour or so sat outside making Betika-related drawings for Nic to incorporate into the paper cinema. I drew a Sopwith Camel, a fox and a face with a disturbingly blank expression on it, Gary drew an interesting portrait of Kate Moss, I wish I could remember more - I know Martin drew something very elaborate, but I can't think what it was. If I can get the pictures back from Nic I'll scan them and post them here so the keen amateur psychologists amongst you can analyse them and work out which section of the mental health act applies best to us.
The gig in Penzance was fantastic and really strange for the same reasons - not only was the venue (the Acorn Arts Centre) packed, there was also a table of people in the middle of the audience shouting for songs from "Heads smashed in..." era onwards. Long-term Betika fans! If we could, we'd have played everything we were asked to, unfortunately we'd only succeeded in downloading a portion of the repertoire into Gary's already jam-packed head, so we couldn't really deviate from the set we had planned, which naturally included none of the songs that were being requested! We did manage to make one exception - the shouters seemed particularly keen to hear "I've been in an accident", so we retreated to our dressing room, worked out an ad-hoc arrangement and played it for the first time in over two years as an encore. Martin and Gary had never played it, but Gary did produce the recorded version so had a pretty good idea of when to do what, and it turned out pretty good, I think. It felt good, anyway. By the end of the song I was relaxed enough to attempt to sing a high B without breaking into falsetto, not something I'd normally consider behind closed doors, let alone in front of an audience of innocent music fans. But I was taken with the spontaneous urge, and somehow I managed to not only hit the note but hold it. For a couple of seconds it was like I could properly sing. Not something I'm about to do again in a hurry though!
We hung around at the Arts Centre for a few late night drinkies with the crew after the gig before attempting to sneak into our youth hostel without waking the German backpackers with whom we were sharing a dorm. I was wishing I hadn't bothered an hour or so later when, fatigue finally having overcome even chronic dental pain, my slumbers were disturbed by teutonic snoring of Wagnerian volume and resonance. ||: Eventually I got to then point where I was so tired that not even this could keep me awake. But then it was so loud that not even my tiredness could keep me asleep :|| (I have used a device from musical notation here to explain what happened for the rest of the night). The coming of daylight seemed to coincide with the last of my painkillers wearing off and toothache returning with vengance, so I got up and took myself off for a walk around the grounds of the hostel. I took a couple of ibuprofen but they seemed to do nothing so I found myself the softest breakfast the kitchens had to offer before going for a shower, only to find the cubicles occupied by, as it turned out, our German roommates! Did I mention that they both had ridiculously long and shiny hair? The kind sported by extreme melodic power-metal band Dragonforce? Obviously, hair like that needs a lot of washing, conditioning and so on, so my wait was not a short one.
Back in the van and back on the road we found ourselves with the best part of a day to make the journey up to Salisbury for the next gig, so we picked up some tourist information leaflets to see what kind of diversions we could take ourselves on. We settled on making a visit to Perranporth, which has an amazing big surfing beach and proved to be an ideal venue for a game of intra-band 4.5-a-side football. I am not one of nature's footballers, but amazingly not only did my team win 2-1, I also scored one of the goals - an acheivement I will always regard as one of my greatest.
And that's what we did in Cornwall. For what happened next, see the entry "Some very kind words" below.
So many things to write about, so little cohesion in my head! I guess Penzance is a good place to start...
Seven fully functional Betikans, one slightly broken Imogen and a magnificently bearded Nic the Paper Cinematographist clambered aboard a cavernous minibus at stupid o'clock on Good Friday and headed west. Bank holiday traffic! So many roadworks! So many caravans! So many "comfort breaks"! Got chatting to a roadside cafe proprietor called Phil, got some good showbiz catering stories out of him, ended up talking about Johnny Dankworth's frankly bonkers Schoenberg-influenced 12-tone big-band music and hearing tales of late nights in Ronnie Scott's. Made pretty good time past wind-farms and abandoned tin mines, arrived in Penzance mid-afternoon and immedeately sought out a chemists so I could get some painkillers for my horrendous toothache. We decided to find ourselves a nice pub garden to sit in - cue several orbits of Penzance's one-way system before we opted to take a trip out to the charmingly named nearby village of Mousehole (pronounced "Mowzel", I've since been told). It was here that we learned that 6' 6" wide roads + a 6' 6" wide minibus + oncoming traffic = one of those situations where everybody has to get out of their cars and have a conference about what is to be done. We also discovered that Rich Betika is highly skilled in manouvering large vehicles in tight spaces. I'm so glad it was him driving and not me! Eventually we found the perfect pub with a garden overlooking the sea, in a village called "Paul", an idyl so remote that when we piled out of the van the only sound we could hear were those made by birds and insects. It turned out that this was because the pub was shut. Gary said it was the most disappointed he'd been since some childhood FA cup final where whichever team he supported at the time had been beaten so badly it had caused him to lose all interest in the game to this day. Downcast, we piled back into the bus. We found ourselves a pub on the outskirts of Penzance, which turned out to be my favourite kind - a small one that only serves lovely dark brown beer, and spent an hour or so sat outside making Betika-related drawings for Nic to incorporate into the paper cinema. I drew a Sopwith Camel, a fox and a face with a disturbingly blank expression on it, Gary drew an interesting portrait of Kate Moss, I wish I could remember more - I know Martin drew something very elaborate, but I can't think what it was. If I can get the pictures back from Nic I'll scan them and post them here so the keen amateur psychologists amongst you can analyse them and work out which section of the mental health act applies best to us.
The gig in Penzance was fantastic and really strange for the same reasons - not only was the venue (the Acorn Arts Centre) packed, there was also a table of people in the middle of the audience shouting for songs from "Heads smashed in..." era onwards. Long-term Betika fans! If we could, we'd have played everything we were asked to, unfortunately we'd only succeeded in downloading a portion of the repertoire into Gary's already jam-packed head, so we couldn't really deviate from the set we had planned, which naturally included none of the songs that were being requested! We did manage to make one exception - the shouters seemed particularly keen to hear "I've been in an accident", so we retreated to our dressing room, worked out an ad-hoc arrangement and played it for the first time in over two years as an encore. Martin and Gary had never played it, but Gary did produce the recorded version so had a pretty good idea of when to do what, and it turned out pretty good, I think. It felt good, anyway. By the end of the song I was relaxed enough to attempt to sing a high B without breaking into falsetto, not something I'd normally consider behind closed doors, let alone in front of an audience of innocent music fans. But I was taken with the spontaneous urge, and somehow I managed to not only hit the note but hold it. For a couple of seconds it was like I could properly sing. Not something I'm about to do again in a hurry though!
We hung around at the Arts Centre for a few late night drinkies with the crew after the gig before attempting to sneak into our youth hostel without waking the German backpackers with whom we were sharing a dorm. I was wishing I hadn't bothered an hour or so later when, fatigue finally having overcome even chronic dental pain, my slumbers were disturbed by teutonic snoring of Wagnerian volume and resonance. ||: Eventually I got to then point where I was so tired that not even this could keep me awake. But then it was so loud that not even my tiredness could keep me asleep :|| (I have used a device from musical notation here to explain what happened for the rest of the night). The coming of daylight seemed to coincide with the last of my painkillers wearing off and toothache returning with vengance, so I got up and took myself off for a walk around the grounds of the hostel. I took a couple of ibuprofen but they seemed to do nothing so I found myself the softest breakfast the kitchens had to offer before going for a shower, only to find the cubicles occupied by, as it turned out, our German roommates! Did I mention that they both had ridiculously long and shiny hair? The kind sported by extreme melodic power-metal band Dragonforce? Obviously, hair like that needs a lot of washing, conditioning and so on, so my wait was not a short one.
Back in the van and back on the road we found ourselves with the best part of a day to make the journey up to Salisbury for the next gig, so we picked up some tourist information leaflets to see what kind of diversions we could take ourselves on. We settled on making a visit to Perranporth, which has an amazing big surfing beach and proved to be an ideal venue for a game of intra-band 4.5-a-side football. I am not one of nature's footballers, but amazingly not only did my team win 2-1, I also scored one of the goals - an acheivement I will always regard as one of my greatest.
And that's what we did in Cornwall. For what happened next, see the entry "Some very kind words" below.
iCast - for fans of "Thunderstorm"!
www.betika.co.uk
Gill Mills, of BBC Radio fame, has included our song "Thunderstorm" in her latest Podcast, available from www.icast.uk.com or via iTunes (do a search for "iCast" in the music store, it's the one with the little green and white picture of an iPod, labelled "explicit"). We're the first track! Gill has also recently done a podcast showcasing the bands on Transgressive records, including the very lovely Ladyfuzz, with whom we shared a stage in Salisbury a few weeks back and whose album "Kerfuffle" gets a regular airing at Betika Towers.
Gill Mills, of BBC Radio fame, has included our song "Thunderstorm" in her latest Podcast, available from www.icast.uk.com or via iTunes (do a search for "iCast" in the music store, it's the one with the little green and white picture of an iPod, labelled "explicit"). We're the first track! Gill has also recently done a podcast showcasing the bands on Transgressive records, including the very lovely Ladyfuzz, with whom we shared a stage in Salisbury a few weeks back and whose album "Kerfuffle" gets a regular airing at Betika Towers.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Monday, April 17, 2006
Some very kind words
www.betika.co.uk
There's a very nice review of the gig we did in Salisbury with the wonderful Ladyfuzz on Saturday here. I was in a funny mood caused by a combination of toothache, sleep deprivation due to toothache and a snoring German, far too many painkillers and plenty of free booze (thanks to the guys at Dirty Boots, who know how to treat a band!) and consequently my inter-song "patter" took the form of a series of increasing outrageous lies. For the record;
* We are not called "Gymkhana"
* Our songs are not "mostly about our love of trotting"
* The third song we played was "Pink Hulk", and not "Dirty disgusting fucking horrible nasty fucking shark", as was claimed at the time.
* "Dogshit on Toast" is not one of the top ten worst meals I have ever been served. We don't really have a song called "Dogshit on Toast", though I kind of wish we did now.
* "Hatred" is not dedicated to the fox that left a tarry stool outside the patio doors of Betika Towers.
* "Thunderstorm" is not the tune played by Belgian Ice-cream Vans. Neither was it a big hit "before most of you were born".
Apparently my lies made Chris laugh so hard he was nearly sick live on stage, which would have made for a truly unforgettable night for all present. Maybe next time. Next time will definitely see Carolyn rapping again, after her impromptu rendidtion of "Buffalo Stance" which we slipped into a semi-planned version of "Devil's Haircut", which we in turn slipped into John Kongos' "He's gonna step on you again". I envisage that some kind of "Rap Off" featuring all seven Betikans will form the centrepiece of our live shows in future.
A fuller account of our Easter micro-tour will follow shortly, when we've reassembled events from our collected memories and gotten our story straight. In the meanwhile, a massive thankyou to everyone we met, from what I remember there wasn't a single person we met who wasn't fantastic and wonderful.
There's a very nice review of the gig we did in Salisbury with the wonderful Ladyfuzz on Saturday here. I was in a funny mood caused by a combination of toothache, sleep deprivation due to toothache and a snoring German, far too many painkillers and plenty of free booze (thanks to the guys at Dirty Boots, who know how to treat a band!) and consequently my inter-song "patter" took the form of a series of increasing outrageous lies. For the record;
* We are not called "Gymkhana"
* Our songs are not "mostly about our love of trotting"
* The third song we played was "Pink Hulk", and not "Dirty disgusting fucking horrible nasty fucking shark", as was claimed at the time.
* "Dogshit on Toast" is not one of the top ten worst meals I have ever been served. We don't really have a song called "Dogshit on Toast", though I kind of wish we did now.
* "Hatred" is not dedicated to the fox that left a tarry stool outside the patio doors of Betika Towers.
* "Thunderstorm" is not the tune played by Belgian Ice-cream Vans. Neither was it a big hit "before most of you were born".
Apparently my lies made Chris laugh so hard he was nearly sick live on stage, which would have made for a truly unforgettable night for all present. Maybe next time. Next time will definitely see Carolyn rapping again, after her impromptu rendidtion of "Buffalo Stance" which we slipped into a semi-planned version of "Devil's Haircut", which we in turn slipped into John Kongos' "He's gonna step on you again". I envisage that some kind of "Rap Off" featuring all seven Betikans will form the centrepiece of our live shows in future.
A fuller account of our Easter micro-tour will follow shortly, when we've reassembled events from our collected memories and gotten our story straight. In the meanwhile, a massive thankyou to everyone we met, from what I remember there wasn't a single person we met who wasn't fantastic and wonderful.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Metal bodies in my finger
www.betika.co.uk
I had a random and unexpected episode of self-torture yesterday. I was folding up an old microphone stand when I suddenly felt a strange, dull pain in my finger - I looked to see what might have caused it, and discovered that a piece of chrome plating had flaked off the stand and embedded itself beneath my fingernail. Blood started seeping out, and it quickly became apparent why things beneath the fingernails were the instrument of choice for torturers from ancient China to the modern day. I tried pulling it out with a pair of needlenose pliers, but being a piece of flaky chrome plate, the bit at the end that I was pulling just, well, flaked off. I realised that I'd have to do something that was going to cause me a lot more pain before things stopped hurting. I cut away as much of the nail around the foreign body as I could bear with a pair of side-cutters, then accompanied but an awful lot of screaming and cursing I pushed one side of the needlenose pliers under the nail, (and so not to push it in further, under the piece of metal), gripped it and pulled it out as best I could. Did I mention that I was doing this with my left hand? I've probably got better than average dexterity in my left hand than the average right-hander as a result of the years I've wasted playing music, but it still felt very unnatural to be conducting exctractive surgery on myself southpaw. As a consequence, the metal came out in about half a dozen short stages, rather than the one short, sharp tug I was aiming for. When I finally got it out it was about two millimeters by four, totally disproportionate to the amount of discomfort it caused me.
I spend the day doing something much more pleasant - making field recordings of an open fire, and then later of birdsong out in the New Forest. The birdsong made me particularly relaxed and happy, spring has most definitely sprung and I reckon there were a good dozen species around me, all in good voice. And one other that didn't make a sound, as far as I could tell, and I spent ages watching it - a Green Woodpecker, not something I've ever had the opportunity to sit down at watch at length before. I don't know if they do actually peck wood, like the spotted woodpeckers do, this chap was pecking the ground with his enormous great long beak, every now and then thrashing his head around - like a dog that won't give your tennis ball back - as he wrestled with some unfortunate subterranean invertibrate.
In the evening Carolyn and I returned to the room where a very different incarnation of Betika recorded "Heads smashed in by the boy/girl thing", to record what will be the first section of the first song of the oh-so-nearly finished new record. We did this for continutiy, and a little bit out of nostalgia. The section we wanted to record was only around a minute long, but we did something like 67 takes of it! I think we cracked it around take 52, but we kept going, just in case we managed a better one. We'll listen back to it all tomorrow and find out.
I had a random and unexpected episode of self-torture yesterday. I was folding up an old microphone stand when I suddenly felt a strange, dull pain in my finger - I looked to see what might have caused it, and discovered that a piece of chrome plating had flaked off the stand and embedded itself beneath my fingernail. Blood started seeping out, and it quickly became apparent why things beneath the fingernails were the instrument of choice for torturers from ancient China to the modern day. I tried pulling it out with a pair of needlenose pliers, but being a piece of flaky chrome plate, the bit at the end that I was pulling just, well, flaked off. I realised that I'd have to do something that was going to cause me a lot more pain before things stopped hurting. I cut away as much of the nail around the foreign body as I could bear with a pair of side-cutters, then accompanied but an awful lot of screaming and cursing I pushed one side of the needlenose pliers under the nail, (and so not to push it in further, under the piece of metal), gripped it and pulled it out as best I could. Did I mention that I was doing this with my left hand? I've probably got better than average dexterity in my left hand than the average right-hander as a result of the years I've wasted playing music, but it still felt very unnatural to be conducting exctractive surgery on myself southpaw. As a consequence, the metal came out in about half a dozen short stages, rather than the one short, sharp tug I was aiming for. When I finally got it out it was about two millimeters by four, totally disproportionate to the amount of discomfort it caused me.
I spend the day doing something much more pleasant - making field recordings of an open fire, and then later of birdsong out in the New Forest. The birdsong made me particularly relaxed and happy, spring has most definitely sprung and I reckon there were a good dozen species around me, all in good voice. And one other that didn't make a sound, as far as I could tell, and I spent ages watching it - a Green Woodpecker, not something I've ever had the opportunity to sit down at watch at length before. I don't know if they do actually peck wood, like the spotted woodpeckers do, this chap was pecking the ground with his enormous great long beak, every now and then thrashing his head around - like a dog that won't give your tennis ball back - as he wrestled with some unfortunate subterranean invertibrate.
In the evening Carolyn and I returned to the room where a very different incarnation of Betika recorded "Heads smashed in by the boy/girl thing", to record what will be the first section of the first song of the oh-so-nearly finished new record. We did this for continutiy, and a little bit out of nostalgia. The section we wanted to record was only around a minute long, but we did something like 67 takes of it! I think we cracked it around take 52, but we kept going, just in case we managed a better one. We'll listen back to it all tomorrow and find out.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Endings
www.betika.co.uk
Today was the end of March, also the day that the SK5 played their last ever gig, the day that the last ever Pand'a Flesh clubnight happened, possibly the last time Cicatrix will gig round these parts, the day my good friend Ali resigned from her super-stressful job, the end of term and the day the marmite ran out.
Today was the end of March, also the day that the SK5 played their last ever gig, the day that the last ever Pand'a Flesh clubnight happened, possibly the last time Cicatrix will gig round these parts, the day my good friend Ali resigned from her super-stressful job, the end of term and the day the marmite ran out.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Sprung
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.
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.
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.
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