Thursday, 9th November.
Sometimes I amaze myself. I arrived at Maida Vale at exactly
6pm. Punctuality is something I'm a little lax about. (about which
I'm a little lax? Experts on english grammar can email me at
firstname.lastname@example.org) I was looking at a flat
inhabited by a man with the unlikely name of "Phil".
Room was ok, blah blah blah, and Phil worked for a record company.
Obviously my drive to become a rock star is waning, because I wasn't
excited by this at all. Perhaps this was because Phil is a tubby
bloke in his late 30s from northern England. And because he works
at a dance music label. Who, incidentally, have just released an
album called "Aural Stimulation". Ooh er.
Not expecting him to call me back (they say they'll call, but
they never do) I went back to Jonah's joint to get ready.
There was some irony about the fact that I'm not really a fan
of Teenage Fanclub. But I was up for stretching my musical tastes.
I arrived at the Astoria ON TIME! Twice in one evening, how bizarre.
Charmari rolled up soon after and we went inside.
The first band was just a bunch of sad young shoegazers from
Scotland. I don't know what they were called, and I'm not too fussed
about that either. Second on the bill were a bunch of north
Americans (they could've been Canadian, they could've been from the USA,
I couldn't tell and I didn't ask them) who sounded like they had
listened to too many Chicago records. Nice harmonies, a bit 80s but
that's not a bad thing.
Teenage Fanclub came on and proceeded to play a whole bunch of
songs that I didn't know. Not that that was unexpected, beacuse you'd
expect them to play a bunch of songs. Some fat boofhead tried some
argy-bargey on me towards the end of the set, but I didn't budge.
Next to me some old bugger was rubbing himself up against the
girl in front of him. (Yeah mate, I'm sure every female would want
a rough-looking old bloke, a stranger at that, rubbing himself up
against them at a concert. You're on a winner.)
Then they played their Hit Song, "Sparky's Dream", and the fat bloke
with the bleach blond hair went mad and so did all his mates.
I was bumped around, thrown over the barrier, had my head smashed in
to a speaker stack, nearly impaled myself on a mic stand, cracked
my ribs on the drum riser, and ended up straddling the lighting
A pretty quiet night, really.