BABY, LIFE'S TOO SHORT...

I always liked this song and this band, throughout all its various changes in name and line-up. I mentioned them here back in 2007, and this is what they're up to now. Yes, I have stood in many a sticky floored bar singing along raucously. But this, I assure you, is not a me bigging up my mates post. No one asked me to, but I love how they've done this video and the sentiment of the song (pretty easy to deduce) is exactly right for today.

90s VIDEO SUNDAY...

I can't stop watching this video (but it gives me unfortunate visualisations of Damon Albarn being drunk and unable to, um perform). In any case, I miss Justine - why isn't there anyone as cool as her?

WHO'S THE BOY YOU LIKE THE MOST...

And the award for most good natured crowd surfing goes to Mr Thomas Mars of Phoenix. An over exuberant teenage boy next to me yelled out, "Oh my God, I got a piece of his hair!" I've never really got the concept of desperately trying to touch the artist engaged in surfing, but I guess it's the done thing and Thomas was right next to me a couple of times so I gave him a pat on the back because he seems like such a nice chap. Phoenix were excellent - full energy, great mix of songs with a few unexpected ones thrown in, such as an acoustic version of Everything is Everything with everyone singing quietly along and Air's Playground Love. I was slightly concerned at how they were going to keep Love Like a Sunset from veering into conceptual space out territory, but they did it - and brilliantly (like this).

They looked so happy, and they made us happy and then we were all happy. It was sort of like that.
{My photos}

WHAT I DID DO*...

*If I'm forced into telling people about my blog, I assure them that I don't just go on about what I did at the weekend; that hopefully I offer some kind of interesting and creative content. But here I am doing just that, because I had the best time last night - and because my birthweek is speeding up at such a rate that I need a place to record it.

To begin the celebrations of the week of my birth, we met up at Dalston Superstore, then went to Club Motherfucker. I had to drag myself out of bed to get there, having spent the day nursing a hangover, so turned up looking slightly disheveled. Handily (ha) they had manicurists from Wah Nails giving free manicures, so I ended up with blood red nails and what looks like blobs of caviar decorating my nails. It's quite understated actually, but I can't stop picking at it.

The highlight of the night was very definitely Pope Joan's set. Take a roomful of people ready to be slightly underwhelmed and then proceed to blow their minds. I don't think I've ever congratulated a drummer before. I want to see them live again (it doesn't really come across listening on myspace.) But they're really good.

We shall not speak of shattered dreams or of childhood heroes, of Lady Miss Kier's DJ set, which I had been so excited about. A few views of Groove Is In The Heart and I'll have forgotten all about it. I was not "thrilled with satisfaction", that's for sure. But I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt (as she was really sweet) and I'll guess that she might have been on the sauce beforehand (weren't we all).

*To complete this terribly pedestrian post about my weekend I even have crappy IPhone photos. (Forgive me.)

SO NOW I'M ALONE, NOW I CAN THINK FOR MYSELF...

It's been too long since I did an '80s video post. Unfortunately there was no official video made for Friends Are Electric, but we can just sit and imagine how amazing it would have been.

SEE THE STARS, THEY'RE SHINING BRIGHT, EVERYTHING'S ALL RIGHT TONIGHT...

You'll have to forgive me, my heart has been performing a number of strange acrobatics this week - breaking open, swelling, exploding - that kind of thing. It's all most unusual. So this year has been crap in countless ways, but hello December. First there was Sweden, and Sweden would have been enough wonderment for a month. But then I had bought tickets to see Depeche Mode here in London and last night I was in the second row. Closer to the stage than people standing.

I could bore you for hours about how I geeked out when both Jonathan Kessler and Anton Corbijn stood a metre away from me, but I know 99.8% of you couldn't care less. I took along my new camera to be told as soon as I took it out of my bag that the lens was too big so I couldn't use it and they should confiscate it. (Having been told at the door it was ok as long as I didn't shoot video.) I was so gutted as I had such a great close up view of the stage and one seat in the first row in front of me was empty.

The support act, Soulsavers, was so boring everyone fell asleep. Then right before the real show started...you know when you can sense very bad energy? Two girls: one looked like a budget porn actress, the other I really can't explain, but they stumbled from some gutter into the seats right in front of me reeking of alcohol and god knows what. The one immediately in front of me was completely off her face, her head lolling around, then she tried to climb over the barrier to fight with this guy who looked at her girlfriend. Throughout the whole gig it went: fight, shout, cry, make up, spill beer on everyone, security intervention, calm down for 3 minutes then it all starts again. Oh, she was vicious that one.

I think security took pity on me because I always had to have one eye on this Exorcist like creature in front of me and at some point in the night they told me it was ok to get my camera out. I actually have a few pictures where Dave is looking right into my camera, probably thinking, "Hello darling, that lens is clearly unauthorised." To be honest, what with the bitchfight being played out inches away, Dave taking his waistcoat off and the combination of World in My Eyes, Stripped, Never Let Me Down Again and Behind the Wheel, my hands were shaking so much I'm surprised I got any decent photos at all. I was still paranoid my camera might get confiscated by someone who didn't know I'd been given permission - even Anton Corbijn gave it a few funny looks. And the possessed one was swaying alarmingly in my direction, so during Personal Jesus I started to put my camera away. At that moment something made me look up and Dave was right in front of me, singing away. I very nearly had a heart attack - I like to think he enjoyed the look of shock/joy/awe on my face.

So that was that, me and my Nikon went home to prepare for our trip to Paris this weekend. Because yes, I only went and WON the bloody competition.

So you see, pieces of my heart all over the place...

{photo by me}

80s TUESDAY...

Everything counts in large amounts.

{Dave had tamed his dance moves by the time of this concert, which is a shame.}

'80s VIDEO SATURDAY...

I actually really love this song. But what I always love about '80s videos is how quaint and amateurish they seem - full of hope somehow; like hey, let's put Nik Kershaw in a white suit and project images on it - it'll be really slick and futuristic! Bless. I much prefer this attempt to be creative, than how music videos ended up in the early 00s, the cynical age, where every "treatment" was basically boy meets random model girl, can't stop thinking about her (head holding, brooding), sees her in the street where she happens to be wearing a cocktail dress, heels and hair extensions in the daytime and he happens to be driving a sports car even though he's only sixteen (close up of sports car logo) but she doesn't see him, he's looking for her, repeat 3 times in different scenarios (him wearing a blazer and jeans, then a suit and tie with sunglasses, then a casual urban look). Cue him leaning by window mournfully lip synching wearing undone white shirt, then we see her ringing his doorbell/calling him/walking towards him wearing a fur coat, different cocktail dress and heels. They kiss. The end. (Pan to assistant stylist behind monitor attempting to slit wrists with unpicker. )

80s VIDEO SATURDAY...

Completely amazing/ridiculous/naive/including every cliched Paris landmark/wonderful/cringeworthy/from the vault of early music video. I think I actually preferred promos when they were like this.

edit: I have to link to another one, because I just realised this blog is 4 years old today. That must be a century in blog years - shouldn't we get a telegram from Al Gore or something?

LOVE . THIS . MASHUP...

People are so clever.

SUNDAY NIGHT...

What's wrong with embedding? Here.

SHAKE YOUR HAIR GIRL...

Flashbacks of a Fool was a strange film and this isn't a review of it. Starring Daniel Craig and shot on a large budget, it wasn't bad exactly, but the script had more holes in it than a colander. I exited the cinema feeling there was just something a bit wrong about the whole thing. It all fell into place when I discovered afterwards that the film is the first to be written and directed by Daniel Craig's best friend - a commercials director. Aaahh. It's a shame really, as without Daniel Craig's considerable clout as star and producer, the script may have had a few years to percolate, the director might have got more experience on a low budget flick and a better film could have been made. However. There's one scene in the film which is unforgettable (and it doesn't include Daniel Craig sprawled nude on a rabbit skin bedspread). Anyone who has seen the film will know what I'm talking about:

It's 1972. A teenage girl and boy are standing in a white shagpile carpeted room, dressed in satin and blue eyeshadow, lip synching to Roxy Music. For this scene alone I would re-watch the rest of the film. The song is If There Is Something. You can listen to it here but it's really the end part you have to wait for (at -1.27) where it goes; "shake your hair girl with your ponytail" and so on. This could be the track of the summer with a bit of remix treatment. Someone needs to call in Mark Ronson stat. I'm completely serious. I think I might try to call Mark Ronson. I'm sure Bryan Ferry would be up for it. And while we're here, let's remind ourselves why Bryan Ferry is still the coolest bloke in the entire universe...

(images: Film still of Felicity Jones from The Telegraph.
Bryan Ferry: Getty, Another Time, Another Place cover, Nathaniel Goldberg.)

SMALL CRUSH...

Dear Jason,
It was me playing your songs lots and watching the video with your brother in on your myspace all this time. Thanks for the CD. You probably didn't post it yourself but it's ok. The special surprise gift is good. Also, you are nice. Now that everyone knows how funny and charming and clever and multi talented you are you probably have a nice girlfriend. Oh well. I hope your foot is better. I broke my foot last year so that probably means we are soul mates but I think you have a dog and I have a cat so it might not work out long term. Your brother is also quite nice but he probably has a girlfriend too. Oh well.

Bye

HOW COULD I NOT KNOW?...

I really need to start paying more attention to what's going on here in London, instead of moaning about it all the time.

There was an *intimate* White Stripes gig at the Rivoli Ballroom, erm, about a ten minute walk from my house a couple of weeks ago. And funnily enough, no I didn't find out about it beforehand. Youtube is no consolation.

SEVEN THINGS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT...

Bon.
Some cheery uppy blossom for youse. It's not all bad you know.

(1) Yesterday I spent a lovely afternoon with the hilariously witty and nice Miss Lauren Lux Lotus at my version of Tiffany's: The Wolseley. Many large pots of tea were quaffed in a leisurely manner and
(2) scones were consumed. And if it wasn't for Lauren I would not have known (because she knows more about what's going on in London after being here for a day than I do -that's how much we need her to move here ASAP)
(3) that my very favourite trio of songstrels from Brooklyn, Au Revoir Simone are playing at the ICA on Saturday!
But I can't go because
(4) I have a Very Important Wedding to attend. Not mine, silly.
So you! You must go, people in London! If you don't know Au Revoir Simone fret not. Listen. And they all have really amazing hair. I'm being serious. Also, anyone who can come up with the lyrics, "You make me wanna measure stars in the backyard, with a calculator and a ruler baby" is worth seeing live.

(5) I will get to see them though because they'll play again at The Luminaire on May 20th, way out of my comfort zone in the faraway land of Kilburn. But I'll go north west for them. I do hope they'll be playing tracks from The Bird of Music which is out here but isn't out in the US as yet. But then maybe it's better if they don't so I won't embarrass myself by getting tipsy and singing along out of tune at the top of my voice.

(6) For dinner tonight I'm thinking another trip to Ping Pong is long overdue. To drown sorrows and replace internet related ridiculous snivelling with yummy pork puffs.

(7) My ticket for the eurostar next month arrived today.

WALLFLOWER...

I just can't keep away. I have taken up residence at the broken chair in the corner of a friend's living room where I can tap away on a keyboard used mostly by friend's teenage brother who is at "that awkward age".

Oui, I am a creature of habit. I like my laptop, set up where it always is (kind of defeats the object) with my cat on one side, a cup of tea on the other and the comfort of home. I could go elsewhere but...........are you asleep yet? Apparently I have been boring everyone to death with my constant internet breakdown ramblings and blow by blow account of my soon to be ex ISP's crappy service. Sorrreeee.

So. What I really wanted to say is that I am old. I went to a gig last night - half the London fashion crowd was there; you couldn't move for people from I.D, Tank and Pop magazines jostling to take pictures of the band. I had my first real life sighting of a Christopher Kane dress and also pondered upon what kind of lifestyle one would have that would lend itself to going out midweek wearing a cat ear alice band, a stretchy lycra op art mini dress and huge Vivienne Westwood platforms. And how one would carry that off whilst still looking gorgeous, comfortable and relaxed.
I also pondered on how easy it is to lose perspective as I suddenly felt like a giant elephant being a UK size 10 amongst a horde of very very skinny, glossy, young and pretty fashionistas.

Sigh. The kids these days. I have passed that point and I am no longer one of them.
I can only observe.

YOUNG LONDON BAND HAVE TALENT AND A VAN...

Said six piece band supported Babyshambles at The Dublin Castle recently and stole the show, had more supporters and got far better reviews.

iD and Wig magazine love them.

Record company execs are twitching with excitement, waving contracts.

Paris fashion week next week.

Lots of parties.

Band invited to perform at various fashion week parties.

Do you want to know what they sound like?

I believe them to be very good.

They're The Medicine Show. If you see them in Paris please say hello and buy them a beer.
You will feel pleasantly smug in a few months when everyone's raving about them.

(Yes, I have known the bass player since he was born. But that doesn't mean I'm biased.)

A DAY AT THE OFFICE...

4.30am: Get up.

5.00am: Drive to C's marvelling at sliver of moon in still pitch dark sky.

6.00am: Load people carrier with clothes until there's only enough room for two passengers to squish onto a seat.

6.30am: Arrive at location somewhere and tuck into bacon sarnie, still in pitch black darkness.

6.45am: Set up 'our room' for flurry of fittings, ironing, pinning, faffing and important decision making such as "which neckline is less friendly?"

9.30am - 12: Stand around in rain watching model on tractor wearing silky negligee and Fendi wellies (which you've proclaimed fantastically tacky) on monitor, periodically restick negligee to model's cleavage.

12 - 12.30: Sit on cold, wet step to eat thankfully edible lunch.

12.30: Meet band. Obligatory banter and chit chat. Iron stuff without ironing board. Approve of band's ability to dress selves and stay reasonably clean and uncreased.

2.13pm: Hear radio crackle with "Urgent de fluff" and run weilding lint roller.
Hang around in case needed. Meet cat named Simon.

4.00pm - 8pm: Hang out with band, re iron one shirt three times which is then not worn at all, babysit superstar chihuauha and kitten in training for stardom, watch monitor, hang out with actor, search for piece of vital missing equipment that's holding everything up. Give up search. Another sent at great expense which is then not used. Develop mild crush on guy on set (Ha!), eat slice of gross pizza standing up for dinner, procure kit kat from somewhere, take headache pill.

8pm - 10pm: Frantic behind schedule stress permeates entire crew, evening hysteria sets in. Make note to self that everything have not put in kit today because never need to use have needed. To own surprise switch object of mild crush. Hang out (hide from being shouted at for no discernable reason) with C in room, leaving only when strictly necessary, sit down or lean on something at every opportunity.

11.00pm: Watch last few shots with zombie like glazed expression. Finally wrap.
Load up people carrier, back to C's. Unload, get in car and drive home clutching new Fendi wellies which you have now decided are just fantastic.

2.00am: Home. Lola. Bed.

FRUITSTOCK: THE AFTERMATH...

Things I should have taken to Fruitstock but forgot:
Sunglasses, sunscreen, a blanket to sit on, non alcoholic liquid refreshment, a straw hat, a baby/toddler and cumbersome buggaboo stroller.

We drank and drank, and danced and danced with the sun beating down on our necks.
I was able to piece together the events of the day because I somehow filled my camera's entire memory with photo's of random humans. Apparently I was stalking a girl in a yellow dress and various blokes wearing sunglasses. I do not remember any of this. But the evidence is all there on flickr.

FUN, FRUIT AND FLIRTING - ALL INNOCENT...

Are you going to Fruitstock this weekend? I'm going to Fruitstock! How nice are the people at innocent smoothies? Fruitstock is free and it's full of good stuff, much like their smoothies except they're not free. After missing Fruitstock every year so far I.am.going.to.Fruitstock on Saturday because that's when the Puppini sisters, Nouvelle Vague, and the legend that is Norman Jay (MBE Your Majesty) are playing. I may tootle around the farmer's market, or do a bit of knitting or yoga - but seriously, by Pimm's o' clock you'll be more likely to find me staggering off the Pimm's bus in the general direction of the flirting tent.

Fruitstock
Regent's Park
Sat 5 - Sun 6 August
12 noon - 9pm