Fosca Mk II play their live debut as part of the Queeruption free festival, at Brady’s, Atlantic Road, Brixton, London, on Friday 25th Sept. Onstage no earlier than 9pm.

That’s two weeks from today. I have no band or songs rehearsed. It’s always been this way: book the gig first, find the band lineup and songs to play second. Just like Orlando Mk I’s first gig at the Monarch in 1993. And Orlando Mk II’s debut at Club Skinny in 1995. And Fosca Mk I’s one at Club V, 1997.

Here we go again. I’ll be singing this time too, be warned O world.

The festival includes a Shoplifting Workshop.

It was my birthday last Thursday. I celebrated by going to two indie-schmindie gigs… Firstly, Mojave 3 at Borders Bookshop in Oxford Street. They were okay in an aging shoegazers pretending to be from Texas (and not the Home Counties) sitting on stools with acoustic guitars way. They played in the bookshop’s DIY section. Rachel Thing looked like she was on her break from working there: bookshop sales assistant “chic” glasses. In the last song, she didn’t have anything to do, so she got up and had a look at the books on quiltmaking behind her. Since last seeing her when Slowdive played Bristol Fleece and Firkin in 1892, I think she’s aged in that strange way only some middle class girls do: all mumsy teeth and second-house-in-the-country chin.

I’d much rather review the bookshop. Apparently it’s famous in the US for being somewhere you can pick up people while supping coffee and browsing through the books. And this new branch has a huge cafe section on the second floor, plus lots of sofas and seats. The idea is you can browse and get crumbs and coffee on books all day until 11pm. And watch passers by down in Oxford Street, giggling at garishly coloured backpacks of tourists and stressed Englishmens’ premature bald patches.

After that, I went to see Sleater Kinney at the Kings College. There were 700 flights of stairs (forgot the lift might have been a better idea) and a packed hot, sticky ball of hip people in the venue itself. Spent most of my time there chatting to Gary Wiija, Jarvis Pulp And Jon Huggybear.

Didn’t watch the band much. They dress nicely though.

On the way back, I noticed some dog mess on the pavement that I’d avoided on the way in. It had now been stepped in by someone else. Completely and utterly, with a trail of angry smears all the way down the street.
I was the happiest I’d been for ages.

Saw Belle and Sebastian at Shepherd’s Bush Empire on Monday.Well, APART from going on far too late (though they then played 16 songs: well over an hour), and APART from the ridiculous “Quietcore” nature of the PA (apparently due to their soft singing style… not to mention standing miles away from the mikes in case they bite, they couldn’t turn up the vocals anymore without feedback, and so the instruments had to be mixed under the quiet vocals… but does anyone really buy this? I just think they’re cursed) and APART from the silly self-indulgent see-we’re-not-twee-honest jamming bits (“Spaceboy Dream”, which is B&S’s own “Revolution No. 9 / Humblebee)… they were terrific. And it was the first time I’d seen them when , now that the new album was out, they played NO new songs at all (well, unless you count “Loneliness of a Middle Distance Runner”, which though unreleased has been done on radio sessions ages ago) just all the hits.

Someone made a joke about how they’d gotten rid of all the gaps between their songs and instead put them in one big gap at the beginning….lasting 9.45 (when they were due on) till 10.30 (eventual appearance)….

And as usual at most gigs I attend regardless of “target audience”, I got my view obscured by a tall man with a ponytail… until I moved to the little dais bit at the back and could then see everything fine, if not necessarily hear it all that well.

And oh, I got to chat to Stephen Pastel. And that Mojave 3 girl was following me around.

Elliott Smith did a really good version of “Isn’t It A Pity”. No one else but me apparently knew this was a George Harrison cover. And even then they though it was a Galaxie 500 song (last song on “On Fire”)…

Got stopped while crossing Archway Road yesterday by someone who recognised me. It was Jo Whiley. It’s one thing to go up to celebrities and chew their ear off, it’s another (at least as far as one’s ego is concerned) when they collar you. Jo Whiley. Jarvis Cocker. Noel Gallagher. Not Neil Tennant though: he recognised Tim once, and ignored me altogether. I’m convinced it’s because at the time I’d just shaved my golden hair off. Now the blondness is back, and I’m a “Star” again. Strange how you can be famous to the famous, but not to real people. But the ultimately depressing thing is that name-dropping is only forgiveable if you’re as famous yourself as the names you bandy about. Otherwise you’re in danger of being remembered only for remembering others.

Current culture:
Music:
– Belle and Sebastian: “The Boy With The Arab Strap”. Predictable choice, I know: old-school whiteboy indie comfort-food, perhaps, as many stalwart lyrical and musical references of the genre are present and correct. One song, “Dirty Dream #2”, seems to be either influenced by Orlando, or (far more likely) the things that influenced Orlando: disco guitar stabs, Northern Soul rhythm, swooping strings and so on. There’s no real pain or despair here though: just a sense of cosiness and relaxed happiness with one’s lot. Naturally, I am fiercely envious of this last quality. They are not as important as The Smiths, Fieldmice, Galaxie 500, or even The Orchids, though. And even this album is not as good as:

-Divine Comedy: “Fin De Siecle”. Utterly impressive: lyrical prowess to the fore, almost Sondheim-like in use of internal rhymes, and possibly the only use of Wagnerian choirs and Broadway musical arrangements on a major pop record ever. Utter disdain for current musical trends. Utterly unique. Good monochrome sleeve photos, too.

-Plush: “More You Becomes You”. Harvey told me to get this. Not sure if I like it yet. It’s a man who thinks he’s Brian Wilson and Jimmy Webb singing and playing a piano and nothing else. Which is what Harvey’s last album was like. At least Harvey wore a nice suit on the cover.

-Bowie: all his 70s albums, of course, but I’m particularly enjoying his “Thin White Duke” late 70s period at the moment. Thin White Dickon? Anthony from Jack thinks and drinks that I should strive to make my “image” more like this Bowie, the one that was in “The Man Who Fell To Earth”, the one that sang “Heroes” and “Knock On Wood”… cool blond parting, skinniness, and really, really nice trousers.

-El Records compilations. Style over success!

Films:
-“The Last Days of Disco”: I’ve waited four years for this. Whit Stillman makes films as often as World Cups: “Metropolitan” in 1990, “Barcelona” in 1994, this one in 1998. More privileged Americans talking about Life and Love. But this time there’s room between conversations for… DANCING! And lots of it! Kate and Chloe cast against type, Chris Eigemann cast as himself again, which of course is a Good Thing. He gets to do yet another “what if….” rant or two. No car crashes. Or special effects. At all. Have seen it once alone. Hope to see it at least once more with others.

-“The Daytrippers”. Saw this one twice: once with mother and once with Kate Dornan. Parker Posey, Campbell Scott: more favourite actors of mine. Great use of Stan Getz music against NY backdrop. Witty as hell.