Monday, April 14, 2008


I went to what I believe the young people may (or may not, I have no way of knowing) still refer to as a "gig" on Saturday night, joining m'good friend Vikki to see Minnesotan minimalist miserabilists Low in Norwich. Now I like a bit of miserable, me, if it's done well. And Low, at their best, do do it well. But a couple of pints down before we arrived at the venue had me unusually perky and bordering on the mischievous such that, at times during the set, I was amusing myself by trying to provoke giggles from Vikki or resisting the monumental urge to shout "cheer up, it might never happen" between numbers or to request a cover of "If You're Happy And You Know It". So what I'm saying, I guess, is that I possibly wasn't quite in the right frame of mind to best appreciate the show, which, given that I'm struggling to remember how long it's been since I last saw a live band (over a year ago I think, possibly The Dresden Dolls) is a shame. Which is not to say that there weren't moments of transcendent, transfixing beauty along the way (there is something very special indeed about the goosebumpy interplay of whatsisname and whatsername's voices), just that they were matched by other moments, as yet another song about death started slowly up, where it all stopped teetering on the brink of self parody, pulled on its Speedos and dived straight in, thus amounting to an evening averaging out at "quite good".

Further drinking at a pub afterwards where a birthday girl sported the most amazing footwear I have ever seen in real life (vertiginous shiny red and black numbers) and a fellow, whom I took against when I heard him boring on about Funny Games, ended the evening by projectile vomiting across the table (he had apparently been drinking with a visiting friend since 3.00 in the afternoon). I am assured by the endlessly forgiving Miss V (who was sadly in the line of fire) that he's actually a perfectly lovely fellow under normal circumstances.

So, if not quite the night I had expected or hoped for, still a delight to see Vikki after too long and certainly a memorable evening, and that ain't nothing. Is this how it always is when one goes out?

These are truly the words of fortysumfing

Hey, less of the sumfing.

And at least I didn't complain about having to stand up...

Bless you Mr Shelton. I am sorry for providing such a random evening of entertainment (and exploding friends) but am glad you found it memorable!

We must do "it" again sometime - but with less vomit...

Lots of love
Miss V xx

Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?