Come come drink some port wine with me

My friend Paul enjoys drinking in a nice pub. But he has rules about where he will drink.

1. He won't drink in any pub called The Red Lion.
2. He won't drink in any pub that is painted yellow.
3. He won't drink in any pub that has a flat roof and looks like a 1970s community centre.

My thoughts?

1. I think he is being a little harsh here. I'm not sure that I have ever actually drunk in a pub called the Red Lion, in spite of it being the second (at least according to Wikipedia) most common pub name in the UK. I'm not really sure what his objection is here. But I bet a nice pint of Waggledance on a hot day would make him break his rule.

2. I am with him all the way on this one. Yellow pubs just seem wrong.

3. Absolutely agree. When I was a student, our local pub looked just like this. Did we ever enter? No chance. It looked scary enough from the outside and looked about as local as a pub could be. There is something about pubs like this which don't exactly make you feel like venturing in.

When he told me about his rules, it made me realise that I don't really have any of my own. There are things that you look for - good jukebox, decent selection of beers, staff who can manage to work out who has been standing at the bar for a while rather than serve the next pretty girl (if they are male) or pretty boy (if they are female). But I am not sure I have anything hard and fast enough to make me not go into a pub.

Unlike Paul.

My favourite pub in the world (at least so far visited) is the Usige Beatha on Woodlands Road, in Glasgow (see photo). It's lovely and welcoming and just a really nice place to drink. It isn't called the Red Lion and it doesn't look like a 1970s community centre. Neither is it painted yellow, although it does appear to be a little bit beige. I think Paul would like it fine.

Glasgow Belongs To Me

Glasvegas at the Zodiac - 5th June 2008

Well, I've been well and truly hoist by my own petard tonight, but more of that later. Tonight's venue was again the Zodiac, for Glasvegas - yet another band that I had seen a few months earlier at the Jericho Tavern. They were utterly fantastic that night.

For once we had actually managed to get there in good time, and it was still pretty empty. Rather wonderfully, we got to listen to Little Fish on the PA (see my Supergrass post). Support tonight was provided by The Winchell Riots and Thomas Tantrum. Both were rather good, but the audience seemed a little lacklustre. We bagged our place right at the front (hooray! I avoid having the 6ft 2 man standing right in front of me) and waited for the dry ice to start.

And start it did. We listened to Moon River and then the band came on, the guitars began to swirl and we were off. All dressed in black, the band exuded effortless cool and this amazing cacophony just filled the room. Musically, it's as if the Jesus and Mary Chain has jumped in the DeLorean and gone back to the late 1950s/early 1960s. I love the way that some of the songs reach a point where you think it's over and then it just kicks off again. James Allan has an amazing voice, all the better for singing in his own native accent (the Proclaimers this ain't tho); it just suits the whole feel of the music. And Rab Allan's backing vocals complement perfectly and just add to the whole build up. They don't go in for a massive amount of stage banter, which is fine by me (half the time you can never understand what any of the bands are saying anyway) - they don't need to. I recognised most of the songs that they played last time and again, Daddy's Gone was glorious. The album is going to be fantastic and I can't wait for it to come out.

There was only one drawback - it was all over far too soon and they didn't play an encore. So, given my previous comments, I was well and truly hoist by my own petard. I would have loved it if they had come on again. Actually, I would have loved them just to have played longer. But this way, I went off wanting so much more. I can't wait for them to come back.

Feel the high, yeah cause the kids are alright

Black Kids at the Zodiac - 3rd June 2008

I saw this band a few months ago at the Jericho Tavern and was sufficiently impressed to go and see them again, in a bigger venue. They've been touted as the next big thing (number 312) by various music papers, and so this time they were playing the larger Zodiac (the upstairs room). I'm notoriously bad at estimating the capacity of venues, but I would hazard a guess at maybe between 150-200 at the Jericho and perhaps about 400 in the Zodiac. I was especially interested in seeing if there was any discernible difference between then and now.

And there was - a much larger stage seemed to suit, giving them more confidence and their performance was full of genuine enthusiasm and energy. They do a nice line in bouncy rock pop, with the female vocals providing a nice foil to the main vocals of Reggie Youngblood (whose vocals do vaguely remind me of Robert Smith, which is interesting as a friend of mine had earlier that day described them as being reminiscent of "mid 1980s Cure, but without Lovecats"). And they know the power of a good title - I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You and Look at Me (When I Rock Wichoo) being two cases in point. They romped through their set and got better as the night wore on, so that by the end, they left the crowd wanting more. Or at least most of them - I was there with 3 others and I was the most enthusiastic, with the comments ranging from "I'm not sure I'd buy their album" to "I think I would have enjoyed it more had I known more songs" (OK, I am paraphrasing, but that was the gist). Well, I think I probably will buy their album, which is produced by Bernard Butler, interestingly.

There was no encore, and I kind of approve of this. I love when bands play encores but it is all supremely artificial really, especially when they haven't played particular songs and you know they are being saved for the encore. Was there ever a time when bands actually didn't intend to come back and only did so because of the reaction of the audience? Having said that, I also find it a tad arrogant when bands refuse to play encores, pointblank.

Anyway it was refreshing when they didn't, even although crowd wanted them to (I am assuming this was the case - we did leave when the house lights came up and the incidental music began playing. The crowd were hopefully chanting Black Kids, Black Kids, Black Kids, so if they did come on again, at least it was down to demand). Of course, it might have been down to number of songs, but no matter.

In any case, the Kids are alright.

Everybody Wants A Little Something

Another day, another gig. And this time it a chance for me to provide someone else with a gig revelation. The setting? Duke Special at the Venue Formerly Known As The Zodiac. I'd seen him (or is it them? I've never been very sure) last year at the Zodiac and it had proved my gig revelation of that year (I am very fond of this phrase, as you can see). I knew nothing about him and had no idea what to expect. When I heard he might be accompanied by cheese graters and whisks, I feared the worst. I don't really do whimsical when it comes to music.

However, he was amazing. A singer songwriter who plays piano and sings just the most melodious heartfelt songs you could ever hope to hear, in a Northern Irish accent. And sporting a fine line in weirdly hot eyeliner.

So, forward to this year. May 28th, to be precise and he was back. And I took along my friend Bev, so she could witness the magic. She didn't really know what to expect either. Apart from the fact that the guy is just wonderful, she is so much more open-minded than me when it comes to music, so I was confident she'd enjoy it. Anyway, it was the first time I had been to the upstairs part of the venue, which was interesting in itself. The sound downstairs can be pretty ropey, and even although I had only ever been upstairs to dance, it sounded much better. And indeed it was. He was toute seule, this being a solo tour. Just one man and his piano (plus his projector), with a mixture of old and new, and he had the audience in the palm of his hand. He handed out a song sheet so that we could have a bit of a communal sing-a-long in places (this could so easily have been cringeworthy, but it just wasn't). The vocals were crystal clear and you could hear a pin drop amongst the audience (most unusual, as I would say Oxford audiences tend to be amongst the noisiest I have ever been in, and not in a good way). He mixes in a bit of vaudeville and theatre, using old scratchy records to great effect (the scratchiness of old vinyl has to be one of the most aesthetically pleasing sounds ever) and his lovelorn lyrics, with a twist, just tug at the old heart strings.

Bev's verdict? Amazing! And finally I had returned the gig revelation favour!

Oh and a special mention to the support. Voluntary Butler Scheme - a veritable one man band, who entertained with a quirky mix of odd sound effects, guitars, kazoos and goodness knows what else. And all that on his birthday too.

You Should Be Dancin', Yeah

Sometimes you see some things that just make you smile. Simple, unsophisticated, heartwarming things that just make you feel good about being alive. Last week while going back to work after lunch, I walked by the local school in the afternoon sunshine, and saw the schoolkids dancing round a maypole. There was something so wholesome and quintessentially English about it - no technology, nothing fancy, just something old-fashioned that the kids had learned. And what's more, they seemed to be loving it, as were all the parents watching.

It put me in a good mood for the rest of the day.

Last Night, The Streets Were Ours

It all started in February. My friend asked me if I wanted to go and see Richard Hawley. I said yes – I’d heard of him, but I didn’t think I would really like it, but I’m pretty easily led and it’s a night out. Plus I had made a New Year’s resolution to get to lots of gigs this year. So, I’m sitting in the venue, waiting for him to come on, thinking to myself “this is going to be dull dull dull, but at least I’ve got a seat”. He walked on with his band, uttered the now-immortal words “Let’s ballad” and I was sold. It was my gig revelation of the year, possibly ever. The man blew me away. I am notoriously bad at describing music, unless it can be summed up in one word, like “punk” or “rock” or “rap”, so I doubt I will offer any major insights here. The word mellifluous should have been coined to describe this man’s voice and you can hear every word – a rare feat and I would be hard pushed to say that about almost any other band or singer that I have seen, no matter how much I love them. When you are wholly unfamiliar with someone’s music, it is pretty amazing when you are able to hear and understand all of the words. The music is a wonderful mix of the old-fashioned yet with a modern perspective. Or at least, that is how it seems to me. It’s nothing like anything else I like.

So, suffice to say, I loved it. Fast forward a few months to last night, when I went to see him at the Albert Hall (christened the Albert Hawley for the evening). I’m not sure how you go one better than being blown away, but whatever it was, I experienced it. The most amazing gig I have ever been at. The venue itself was awesome (in all senses of the word) and he did it justice. From the first song, Hotel Room, with the accompanying glitter ball, to the wall of sound that was the final encore “The Ocean”, the night was just magical, in a shiver-down-the-spine way. We got special guests in the form of Jarvis Cocker, Tony Christie and Richard’s mum, we got a defective amp (which led to a fabulous pared-down version of Ricky Nelson’s “Lonesome Town” and we got the special dry wit of the man himself. I’m still coming down from the experience and words can’t really do it justice.

Imagine had I said no when asked by my friend back in February…. Well, it doesn’t bear thinking about really. Incidentally, she’s now been responsible for 2 other gig revelations this year – Elbow and the Guillemots, but none compare to Richard Hawley. What has she got in store for me next…

MONDAY 26th MAY 2008

PS When my parents were visiting recently, I played them some Richard Hawley, as I thought they'd probably like him. They did. So, when I heard he was playing in Perth, which is near where they live, I told them they should go. My mum couldn't, but my dad did, last Thursday! It's probably the only time he will ever go to a gig that I have recommended, but he went and he loved it. Now, if only I could get him to go and see Forgetting Sarah Marshall...

You are the latest contender - in defence of darts

January means one thing to me. The World Professional Darts Championship.

I love darts. Ever since I was about 12 and studying for exams. looking for any excuse to have a break from the books, I have become fascinated by people standing throwing arrows at the board for points and ultimately cash. I don't play - I just watch. Most people cannot really understand the allure - "it's not a sport", "it's a bunch of fat blokes drinking and smoking and chucking stuff at a board" being usual responses. But this is to take an overly simplistic view and ignores the skill and technique involved.

In days of yore, there was one World Championship, with the finals being played at the Lakeside Country Club, Frimley Green. One championship, one champion, normally Eric Bristow in the days. when I first started watching. In the early 1990s, the darts world split into two, forming two separate codes, the British Darts Organization (BDO) and (eventually) the Professional Darts Corporation (PDC). Many high-profile names were involved in the formation of the PDC, including every former world champion who hadn't already retired. There are numerous places to go and find out more if you are interested. You'll find a lot of discussion about the various merits of both codes and a lot written about how the PDC has more strength and depth. I'm not particularly interested in that - I will say however that no player has won the PDC version of the W0rld Championship without having first won the BDO.

The Lakeside tournament is the one I am interested in. It's what I grew up with and as I don't have Sky, it's the one I can watch on TV. The tournament started last Saturday and has already thrown up more than its fair share of thrills and upset.

Why do I love darts? As I said, it isn't as if I play, so there must be something that attracted me all those years ago and that keeps me interested. Without a doubt I enjoy the sheer spectacle of it all. The way the crowd get pumped up, the way the players play up to the crowd, the daft nicknames. For all the macho posturing, it is actually quite camp. The walk ons have to be seen to be believed (current favourite has to be Martin "Wolfie" Adams who comes on to Hungry Like The Wolf by Duran Duran. Wonder if Simon Le Bon is proud? Someone is clearly missing a trick tho' - why has no-one chosen Darts of Pleasure by Franz Ferdinand) But it has to be more than that, otherwise I would be into WWF. For all its beer-swilling image (interestingly, at the BDO Championships, I don't think the players are allowed to drink alcohol on stage any more), it is a game of skill and accuracy and most players are pretty adept at quick mental arithmetic. I can appreciate this. A game can easily turn on a millimetre and there is something about the delicate thud as dart enters dartboard that is aurally pleasing. I would love to go to the Lakeside - a very good friend of mine used to go every year (before I knew her) and has great tales and memories of the place. There's always next year. For now, I'll just have to make do with the TV.