An enjoyable evening at <a href="http://www.trashclub.co.uk">Trash</a> last night. I went by myself, loafed around by myself, chatted to people I knew, took compliments from people I didn't, had my photo taken by a magazine, did a spot of people-watching, saw a live set by Gonzales, drank a little, danced a little, left by myself. That's the way to do it.
One person at the club (Swedish – naturally) said they recognised me from Sleazenation magazine, which is virtually Trash Monthly. So today I went to buy the issue in question to see for myself. I'm on page 22. A small piece, squeezed next to an article on yet ANOTHER of those garage rock bands, but I take what I can get. It's Distilled Dickon: soundbite-heavy, and containing all the bare bones of my philosophy of life. And clearly it was enough to be noticed by someone.
I shall endeavour to get it scanned forthwith.
