Last night – to the Boston Arms Music Room in Tufnell Park, for Lea Andrews’s birthday bash. The building is a something of a small legend for gigs: I remember seeing Amelia Fletcher, Comet Gain and other indie bands here before I even moved to London. Billy Childish and his various bands have played his particular brand of raw garage rock here for years, and it also saw a packed early gig by the White Stripes in the height of their Next Big Thing period, due to their association with Mr Childish.
These days The White Stripes are one of those bands whose works can be found on karaoke machines. Which is as good a measure of success as any. For Ms Lea’s birthday, she’s booked a curious melding of karaoke and a party band: Live Punk Rock Karaoke. Like the usual kind of karaoke, a screen provides the lyrics to sing along to. But instead of the backing music tinkling away on a backing track, it’s provided by a live band: a guitarist, bassist and drummer. The drummer wears headphones to keep him in sync with the lyrics screen, and the band plays along.
Their repertoire favours punk classics of the late 70s, but also a few recent rock hits of note. Such as Seven Nation Army by the White Stripes, whose riff is arguably as timeless as Smoke On The Water or My Sharona. I think the actual stage in the Boston Arms has been moved from one part of the room to the other since The White Stripes played here, but I like the historical link.
I drink too much, talk a lot of nonsense, dance about to the DJ sets, and discuss autobiographical graphic novels with Jenni Scott, as she was doing on Radio 3 lately. I also say hi to Ms Anna S, Ms Charley S, Mr Phil of Club V, Ms G the professional wrestler who was once in Stereolab and who has taken me to a Cage Rage event, plus Ms Other G who was once in My Bloody Valentine, who hasn’t. Plus Mr Ed of the Soul Mole club, who is slightly surprised I’m here and asks how I know the birthday girl, Lea Andrews.
It’s a perfectly good question. In fact, Ms Lea said to me a few months ago that she’d just realised I was one of the London people she’s known the longest. I can’t quite remember the first meeting, but it would have been around the Leyton Queercore scenesters with whom I had associations circa 1993. Bands such as Sister George and The Children’s Hour and Kidnapper, from whom Lea’s own band, Spy 51, is directly descended.
En route, I pop in for a drink at The Boogaloo, and chat with the Dean Sisters, Ms Rachel and Ms Emily. I mention I’m reading Neil Gaiman, and Ms Emily tells me she knows him personally, via her friend Ms Jane who adapted his book Stardust for the big screen. Shane MacGowan is there too, wearing a rather nice suit. I say hello to Miss Red, who assures me now that in the interests of my blood pressure she WON’T be booking The Anne Frank Peep Show for the next B&D, although it’s apparently a genuine act doing the cabaret rounds. Instead, she’s hoping to get a male voice harmony group or something equally unusual but universally inoffensive.
The band Billy Ruffian email me. They request permission to include Fosca’s “It’s Going To End In Tears” on their downloadable mixtape of influences. I say yes.
Am rather excited about procuring a copy of the RSC Shakespeare. It’s a major new edition of Mr S’s complete works, updated to include all the latest research and arguments over which lines should read what, and so on. But it’s also designed to be reader-friendly rather than academic and part of the furniture. Seems pretty much the perfect all-purpose Complete Shakespeare, and there’s a quote from Judi Dench on the cover to that effect. One of the book’s editors is Ms Lucy Munro, who’s been on tour with Fosca. Though I don’t think she mentions that in her notes.
I watch a clip on YouTube of John Lennon performing Instant Karma. It’s in a TV studio, presumably circa 1970, in the Top Of The Pops style. John sings and plays piano, and Yoko is knitting onstage, while wearing a blindfold. They both look fantastic: matching black polo neck jumpers with neat blue jeans, and matching cropped hair. Which in 1970 is quite unusual – everyone else in the TV studio has the more fashionable long hair of the day. For all my protestations against mass jeans-wearing, I do approve of deliberate jeans ensembles like this one. I once knew a couple in Bristol who always dressed like that: it was black polo necks and blue jeans wherever they went. And it suited them. I used to imagine them having long discussions about jazz.
I really must write about that Cage Rage event sometime.
