Maximo Park: Our Velocity (from Our Earthly Pleasures)

The new single due in March!

Boy George at Koko

Went to see Boy George at Koko tonight, a venue I've never been in in any of its guises and I quite liked it. I'd happily go there again.

The show had a few support acts - by the time we got there QBoy was on stage doing his white-boy-wrap-hibbidy-hop-thang, sounding and looking so unoriginal that yawning would've been too much effort. O yes, I was in full slagging-off mode - that name for a start is enough to wind me up, especially when he later said he was 28... why would anyone call themselves 'boy' at that age (Mr George clearly isn't a boy)? Just wind me up and set me off ...

And then he started talking to the semi-rowdy audience about racism and homophobia in schools and how something needed to be done about bullying and how we can all support kids in schools. A lot of it was platitudes but he seemed to be involved in some campaign or other and he said it during his set in a proper music show that wasn't a little promo appearance where he takes his top off. Now, I'm not saying I liked his music (I didn't), all I'm saying is that I'm not slagging him off. He's earned another chance in my book. But please drop the name!

Next up was The Rum Circus who I assume are goths. That's about it really. I jigged to a couple of songs, another couple just passed over me while I was admiring the ceiling at Koko and, well, then they were off.

A seeming age later, on bounded Boy George looking slimmer than when we saw him in the autumn, full of smiles and buoying over with energy. Whatever he'd had for his tea tonight, I want some of it! On the other hand, maybe there just a teensy bit too much spare energy, with not being able to stand still, moving and prowling the stage. O dear.

He did a nice set, lots of his reggae songs but the highlight for me was a punked-up version of 'Church of the Poison Mind' which was always one of my favourite Culture Club songs. Fast and loud was good. He did 'Do you really want to hurt me' and 'Karma Chameleon' in his encore but they didn't have the same kind of buzz about them. Maybe his tea was wearing off? A documentary about 'Taboo' was projected onto a screen behind the stage which was a bit interesting (it's probably on the DVD).

It wasn't the best gig. The sound wasn't too good, drowning out the vocals most of the time, but maybe that's because of where we stood? More annoying were the lights. The stage was largely back-lit so we didn't actually get to see much of him. What was that about? Rarely did any light shine on him from the front so, although there were lots of lights we didn't really see much. And they all wore black except the guitarist so that didn't exactly provide a visual feast.

I'm pleased I went. I'm pleased I saw him. But it won't linger in my mind (except for the wrong reasons).

Ragamuffin Stew

My favourite Brechtian punk cabaret ragamuffins, The Dresden Dolls, have been updating the photos on their MySpace site which I drop in on every now and then (they're the only reason I'm on MySpace - I just don't 'get' it). So here, for your delight and delectation, are two lovely photos:

This first one was shot in Barcelona (therefore it must be good) with Miss Palmer striking an interesting pose.

This one is called 'the dolls in hell' and is by Amanda (it's dated 2005). It's quite eerie and Edwardian, as they walk, bowed, towards the exit sign, but hand in hand.

Both Dolls now have their own MySpace sites as well as the joint one and have been firing off blogs recently about what they're getting up to now that 'The Onion Cellar' is over. Brian is up, up and away with him doing drum surgeries, getting involved in stuff at Harvard, playing with other bands and generally enjoying himself. Amanda seems to have gone the other way, missing their togetherness, having accidents, drinking and generally seems a bit on the dark side. I worry about her. On the other hand, she seems to be working on an album of 'Fuck The Back Row' material so that's a good thing. But I'm still waiting for the DVD of the Roundhouse shows... [drums fingers on the table].

Isn't It Funny?

Isn't it funny how we interpret things differently, not just like/dislike something but hear or see things differently.

I read a good and thoughtful review of Buffy Sainte-Marie's 'Sweet America' on another blog and, in some ways, I so agree with it, but my overall picture of it is entirely different. The blogger sees it as a 'bittersweet goodbye to her adoptive homeland ...she gave us this album of reluctant heartbreak'. I hear none of that in the album.

There's no disputing the lyrics but I hear pride and challenge, a joyousness that refuses to be subdued. I also hear a mature woman singing to her child and, in another mood, a sensuous mood, seducing a lover.

Perhaps it's the context in which I heard it in mid-70s Newcastle with me in teenage rebel mode? I loved playing it loudly in my bedroom even after punk arrived to take over my record purchasing, and it went with me to college and again when I moved to London. It only went into my Dad's attic when the record player was dumped, I was on the move and didn't want to lug around records I couldn't listen to.

I've loved 'Sweet America' since I first got it and it's still special to me, possibly because it's one of my first Buffy records and the last of her albums I got digitised so I can hear it in the 21st Century. The thrill of hearing the proud powwow calls on some of the songs after years of silence was great indeed.

Pray up your medicine song!

What's the world coming to?

Once you reach a certain age you're allowed to say this on a regular basis. I don't think I've ever said it yet but, really, what is the world coming to when a child is shot dead outside an ice-rink and other children are arrested?

The details seem to be a bit sketchy and there are lots of questions to ask about what was going on but the simple story of children apparently shooting children is appalling. Where do you get a gun from and why carry it round (and loaded) on a Saturday night? I would have no idea where to even start looking. Leafy Streatham hasn't been suburbia for a long time but neither is it inner city. Violence can happen anywhere.

I came across more violence today with the letter bomb sent to Capita on Victoria Street. I was crossing Victoria Street this morning on my way to a meeting when a chunk of the road was blocked by police directing people to use other roads and paths. I didn't really think twice about it since roads are sometimes closed around my work area for things like royal visits, parliamentary affairs and such like. It was only when I got back to my building and saw the email from our security people that I realised what had happened.

It must have been awful for the woman involved but I couldn't help wondering about the communications skills of our security people. The email said to contact them if anything suspicious was delivered to our offices but didn't tell us how to contact security people trained to deal with a potential bomb - no phone number and no monitored email address. It also didn't reassure me about the effectiveness of security measures in our postroom. Good job I'd already opened my post that morning or I would've worried - three invoices, just like getting nothing but bills at home...

I worked in the area when the garden of No. 10 was bombed in 1991 and the windows of my office all shuddered with the sudden change of air pressure (they weren't shatter-proof back then). I worked in St James's Square during the Libyan Embassy siege in 1984. It just goes on, doesn't it?

Hope you weren't looking for any deep insights in this entry. I have none.

Soul Britannia Allstars

Despite my weakened state, I *had* to go to the Soul Britannia Allstars concert at the Barbican last night, if only to see the lovely Linda Lewis and Madeline Bell share a stage. I didn't realise it, but it was being recorded for BBC4 and will screen on 23 February.

The bit I wasn't expecting was that it was hosted by Pauline Black (formerly of The Selector way back when) which was a bit of a thrill. Even more of a thrill was seeing Janet Kay on stage in the first section and she sang 'Silly Games'! Now I won't pretend that Janet is one of my favourite singers or anything but seeing her sing that song from 1979 was pretty special, and she hit the high notes. Cor! She was doing a show called 'Queens of Lovers Rock' with Carroll Thompson for another BBC4 programme.

After the interval we moved on to Soul Britannia and short sets from various people such as Carol Grimes, Hamish Stuart of the Average White Band, Cymande and others, none of whom I'd really heard of before (ok, I've heard of the AWB but they never really rocked my boat). Then on came Madeline Bell, looking good in black leather trousers and black sparkly top, looking like she was having the time of her life and with the confidence of a grand dame of music. She only did three songs (including an old Blue Mink song I didn't recognise) but she was in fine voice considering she's been belting it out since the '60s.

Linda Lewis was on next next and opened with 'Rockadoodledoo', hitting all the high notes as well as the low, throaty ones. That's one of everyone's favourite Linda tracks and was, I think, her first hit. She only did three tracks as well but it was great to finally see her on stage. I got into Linda in the mid '70s, bought a few albums and then punk exploded. I've never really thought of her as 'soul', she's more in the singer-songwriter tradition along with contemporaries Labi Siffre and Cat Stevens.

It was great to see Linda and Madeline but how come they only got three songs each and Hamish AWB got four? And his were long songs too. That's hardly fair. They all came back on for an encore to close the show - that's Linda and Madeline holding hands just off-centre to the left in the rather poor photo below.

Two Fingers

Well, that teaches me, all right. Don't stick two fingers up to bugs and such creatures since it only makes them try all the harder.

I had a flu jab back in November to protect me from the nasties and guess what? One of the critters got through my microscopic defenses. Bugger.

Mind you, while I was half asleep, shivering and feverish yesterday afternoon, listening to the glorious new album by James Whild Lea, I planned out SLADE's one-off reunion gig at Earls Court which would be recorded for DVD and CD. I even planned the enchore where they came out in full glam regalia for a final time with Suzi Quatro and Andy Scott as special guests (Suzi supported SLADE on their 1972 tour). The DVD and CD were called 'SLADE Alive 2007' so they'd better get planning to make sure it all happens this year. I'm available for consultation and I'll waive my usual fees.

I do not do judgement. I don't take judgement.

So sayeth Mr Lydon when referring to his role as judge on Bodog's Battle of the Bands.

I realised that it was John Lydon's birthday two days ago, so this is a belated happy birthday blog to a great hero. He's 51 now - where have the years gone? And he's still someone you love or hate for some reason despite his sojourn on 'I'm a Celebrity' a couple of years ago. He's an individual and much to be admired. My favourite photo of the young John - as Johnny Rotten - is screwed to the wall on the staircase of the Retro Bar but here's a version I've found floating round the interweb.

If I was ever to make a 'top 10 songs of all time' list (which I wouldn't do) then in all likelihood he'd feature twice: 'Anarchy In The UK' and 'Public Image'. Both are perfect slices of 7" singledom, challenging and immediate. That's not to say I don't rate any of his later works - I do and there's a great selection on his compilation, 'The Best Of British £1 Notes'.

As John says in the biography bit of his website, "You don't get an EX Sex Pistol, there's NO such thing." He hasn't changed. He still speaks his mind and makes people sit up and listen. He hasn't mellowed with age and that's a good thing. Neither has Buffy Sainte-Marie - I wonder if they've ever met (now that would be an interesting meeting!)?

And as he says on his site... Enjoy or Die!

London Life

London means lots of different things to different people, it certainly does to me. The stretch of river between Westminster and Tower Bridge is full of great sights - standing on Hungerford Bridge looking towards St Paul's is a thrill at any time of year. One of the great cities of the world and I live here.

I'm sometimes pleased to work where I do despite it being a tourist trap throughout the year and occasionally a security nightmare. I exit my building, turn left and there's Westminster Abbey in all its glory, steeped in history and tradition. A few steps towards it and I walk beside Methodist Central Hall and the QEII Centre towards Parliament Square and there's the Palace of Westminster.

Tonight was one of those times when I thought, 'wow, I work here'. I walked into Parliament Square to get a bus from Whitehall and there was a bright full moon (with the rabbit looking down on us) riding over Big Ben, the Square lit with the headlights of cars and taxis and buses with the Millennium Wheel in the background lit with red lights for a change. It looked grand indeed. My photos really don't do it justice but there's a limit to what one can achieve with a camera phone.

Of course, the moment soon passed as people got in my way as I walked to the bus stop and they wandered all over the shop in no particular direction, etc etc etc. Still, it was a nice feeling while it lasted...

M Park in May

Take that you touts! I bought tickets to see Maximo Park before they go on general release tomorrow so I don't have to pay your inflated prices and line your pockets while you take the joy and pleasure out of the lives of fans who only want to see their heroes.

There was a link in the latest email missive from the Maximos to an advance-buy site. The downside is that they're selling through SEE and (as ever) the tickets will be sent by special delivery and a signature is required. Why do they do that?

Maximo Park in May at Shepherds Bush and at the Forum - yes, twice. I'm sure I have a pleased smirk on my face. It meant I was late for work again but, actually, there's so few of us these days that they should be pleased I went in at all.